Izohoruna Province, Northeastern Yi Ti

314 AC

Almost a day after their arrival in Jingsho, and the rather close encounter with the cloaked spy they'd caught, had their group departed the border-town and made their way deep into the valley that was the Province of Izohoruna.

Rumors and whispers had come up about the township of Mosho, the capital of the province. Naturally these 'tall tales' were given to Mormont second-hand, thanks to Mobu and Suara. Yet Mormont was no less disturbed by what he heard; Inspections of peoples' homes; daily summonings into the center of town by the guard; reports of strange characters being seen lurking at odd hours of the evening; both men and women disappearing occasionally, and then magically reappearing days later and acting as if nothing had happened.

Suffice to say, it all made Mormont's skin crawl. There was obviously something shady about this part of Yi Ti. Something amiss. And he was willing to bet that it all had to do with the Cult of Starry Wisdom and whatever in the Seven Hells they were doing up on Serpent's Reach.

Serpent's Reach… while playing host to Mao's enemies (and Duncan's enemies by extension), it was still quite a marvel of a construction.

Tall curtain-like, slanted walls surrounded the mighty fortress in an odd angular shape-almost like someone had cut both a triangle and a rectangle in half and had sown the two together, but with plenty of crenelations and nests for archers. Thick stone parapets were dotted along the four impressive square-shaped drum towers, each of them given the rather ornate slanted curved roofs of tiles that were clearly more at home in a YiTish construction than a Westerosi one.

Underneath the towers lay the cornerforts, each of them as bulky and sleek as the last. From what he'd been told of the interior by Suara and the others (all of whom had much more intimate knowledge of YiTish castles) there were likely a collection of smaller inner yards, covered bridges, and various nooks and crannies, guardhouses, storehouses, and graneries within. A barracks would also be one of the key features-though Mormont knew well enough that that would've been an understatement-from the look of the place there was probably a bloody garrison stationed there.

Might as well try storming the bloody Red Keep single-handed!

As for the disturbing rumors and tall tales… Mao had agreed with him. And so had Suara and the other operatives for that matter. So, they traveled quietly down the Ninghe Highway and had passed by Mosho just as carefully, making their way further north beyond the Serpent's Steppe. Suara had some distant relatives living in a smaller village up in the northern hills, out of some blasted hamlet called Wujianfang.

The whole length of the journey had taken them an extra five days-normally it would've taken them four, but Wujianfang could only be reached by an unpaved dirt road which was thick with ice and snow. They'd arrived later in the evening, and the reception had been about as cold as the weather. Suara had been able to smooth things over with the village elder, thankfully, and they'd been given shelter.

Very early the next morning however, Mormont found himself standing out in the cold once again.

…And standing right in front of him was a great gleaming twelve-foot tall statue made of pearly white marble. Somehow, it had been carved and molded into an elegant piece of artwork that felt more at home in the household of some nobleman and not in the northern YiTish backlands.

How in the blazes had these peasants gotten their hands on marble? And somehow brought it out here of all places?

A rather tall and graceful woman stood looking up into the heavens above. She'd been adorned with a veil and a crown of white roses, along with a dress which covered her arms and bodice, the marble folds almost covering her bare feet. The dais which she was standing on was actually a large flower, with the triangular-shaped petals bending outwards in all directions around her. She was holding up both the Sun and the Moon. Already prostrating in front of the woman was Sake Da, Xoatung Mi, and Wifung Ti.

Simple. That was what he could describe her as. She was almost plain. Nothing silly, nor pretentious about the picture before him. Just simplicity and beauty combined into one elegant image.

Were this statue actually a live, flesh-and-blood woman, she'd be sought after by knights and nobles alike. Even kings.

Heavenly grace was admired by all. And for good reason.

What did she look like underneath that veil, though? Or was it just not his place to see? To know?

"You have the look of a man who has risen from the dead, my friend."

In a way he had. Duncan had barely slept two hours the night before. He was beyond tired.

It was Mobu who had made the remark. The much shorter man had suddenly appeared at his side, looking up at Mormont with the same scrutiny as he had back in Jingsho. Though this time, with some brevity about him.

Mormont couldn't help a small smile. Ever since he'd saved Mao's life from the spy in Jingsho, the others had quickly warmed to him. Mobu, though he still kept silent most of the time, had not been an exception. "We don't have monuments like this in my lands. I'm just… surprised."

"You do not have statues of your gods in Westeros?"

"Not of my gods, no," Mormont said simply, "We have trees, though."

Mobu laughed, and he laughed in the sort of way one would if they heard a terribly funny joke. "Trees! Hah! I might like to see that one day."

And with that, Mobu had gently clapped Mormont on the shoulder before approaching the statue and kneeling before it.

The soft crunching of snow came nearer to him from his left. Mormont glanced over his shoulder and saw Mao walking over to him. The older man was not looking at him, but did stop right beside him, simply watching the marble effigy in wonderment. "You have not prayed to your gods yet, Zūnjià? Now would be a good time to do so."

"I made my prayers this morning." In the small room he'd been given to rest in, of course. Today was the day. Tonight they'd be heading out to the Serpent's Steppe and, likely, beginning their climb up the mountain.

"Your people pray to trees, no? How were you able to do so without them?"

"I looked west and made my peace. That was that."

The older man nodded. "I see…" Mao looked at him finally, now with an old, wizened smile. "And how did you feel afterwards?"

Mormont frowned, holding back the scoff he'd about to let loose. Praying to the Old Gods was just… something he ought to have done. Even if it counted for naught. Even if their reach was limited to only Westeros-something which he himself didn't know for certain.

He didn't feel any different afterwards. But perhaps… perhaps that's what was to be expected. Mormont didn't have a heart tree to pray before, and judging by how he'd publicly disgraced his family… maybe his prayers being ignored were warranted. Didn't matter that he'd only asked for the continued well-being of his loved ones, or that he wished for none of them to suffer for his mistakes.

Mormont glanced over at Mao. "Fine enough, I suppose. But I reckon it's to do with how far I am from home," he said, not wanting to reveal the other side of the truth.

"Perhaps it would do you good to pray to the Maiden-Made-of-Light."

Now Mormont really scoffed. "I don't belong to her, Mao. Don't think she'll take notice of me."

"We all belong to her, Zūnjià," Mao's tone was patient, almost grandfatherly. "It is merely a matter of perspective. You may not wish to disrespect your own gods, and that is fine. I am not asking you to 'convert' as it were, to our religion. Yet…" the older man paused. "There is a reason we pray to her. She wishes only the best for us, no matter our respective positions in life. Her message is one of hope, and making what we will of our own lives, for the good of ourselves and others. You may not believe in her and that is within your right. However I believe if you ask something of her, you shall receive it."

"Even for a barbaric laowai such as myself? A heathen for all intents and purposes?"

"Even for you, yes."

The four simple words had been said with such authority that Mormont had a hard time doubting Mao's conviction.

Truth be told, with each passing day that they'd trekked into the valley, and closer to Serpent's Reach, Mormont had felt his nerves press harder and harder at the gates of his mind. He'd continuously wondered whether or not he was walking right into a trap, and whether or not he was going to get six other men killed because of his desperation to do away with this Yellow King and the Cult of Starry Wisdom.

The facts were that the Yellow King didn't know they were coming. And still yet, Mormont had his doubts.

He'd forged on in spite of those doubts, but they were still present. Lingering just outside the walled fortress that was his mind. Prodding, poking, analyzing the defenses, looking for a way inside.

What if he was wrong? What if he'd been walking right to his own death?

He'd only ever fought in the occasional raid on Bear Island-when the wildlings beyond the Wall would get a bit too ambitious for their own good and send barges across the Bay of Ice to attack their shores.

Duncan had killed men before, had trained only with the best of the best in arms and combat, but that was only pretend warfare. This was something else entirely.

What were despondent gangs of raiders and savages compared to the religious fanatics he'd been told about? Their almost subservient conviction to their High Priest was far more dangerous than the base desires of a Northman looking to pillage and conquer. Belief could often change the tide of battle. An army made of men who so firmly believed in their cause and country was far more powerful than a fleet of sellswords fighting only for coin.

And it was this line of thought which made Duncan Mormont pause. Because, after all… he felt empty inside.

What exactly was it that he believed in?

No answer came to him.

He then chose to glance up at the Maiden-Made-of-Light.

Mao interrupted his thoughts again, "If not for yourself, then perhaps for the others. It would certainly bolster their spirits as well."

Of course.

Mormont did not believe in this Maiden-Made-of-Light. He couldn't. Not when he himself and his whole family followed the Old Gods of the North.

Yet… if making only a small prayer to this foreign goddess would strengthen the resolve of the other men undertaking this dangerous mission with him… would make them believe more firmly that they would survive, and that they'd be ultimately carving out a better future for their families and their people… Mormont decided that this small sacrifice would be worth it in the end.

Maybe just a few words, he thought to himself. He wouldn't bow or kneel or grovel. Just a respectful nod would do here.

And nothing else.

"Alright, Mao," Mormont said resignedly, "I'll be back."

As he set off towards the statue, he could practically hear the older man grinning behind him, as silly as it sounded.

He stopped just a few feet behind Mobu and the others, merely standing with his hands folded at his waist. Very slowly, he dipped his head in acknowledgement towards the goddess. Mormont closed his eyes.

Please grant me good fortune in the task ahead of me. And see to the safety of these men who will fight at my side. This is all I ask.

When he opened his eyes again a few seconds later and glanced up at the statue… was that a flash of brilliant light gleaming off the marbled skin of the woman?

Of course not! What a bloody preposterous thing to imagine. It was probably just light reflecting from the sun.

Feeling like he'd just made a colossal fool of himself, Mormont shook his head and turned around. Ignoring the looks of grateful surprise he'd been given by his fellow operatives as he went.

But when he saw Mao, the older man's smile was on full display. He seemed ecstatic, elated. Euphoric. As if he'd just seen a miracle happen right before his eyes. "Surely now the Maiden-Made-of-Light has blessed our venture! Her statue glowed like the moon! Did you see it, Zūnjià?"

"No," Mormont said firmly, "No I did not."

Satchel? Check.

Sun Fan? Check.

Flint and birch bark? Check.

Matches? Check.

Cured fish? Check.

Steel pitons? Check.

Iron hooks? Check.

Thick cloth? Check.

Small hammer? Check.

Rope? Check.

Longsword? Check.

Dagger? Check.

Bedroll? Check.

Strange black padded armor which was both light enough to climb in and warm enough to protect one from the cold? Check.

Smoking pipe and tobacco? Check. Can't forget about that now can I?

Mao had only told him to take what he needed, and nothing else. Mormont had no objections, mainly because this was to be treated as an operation of war. And also because most of his personal items were, conveniently enough, back home on Bear Island.

Inventory checks happened frequently, at least several times a day over the last few weeks alone. Mao would have nothing less. Having each man on the team going through his respective gear was a necesscity. A requirement.

Old wood squeezed underneath a boot. Mormont turned his head.

It was Suara. He stood in the doorframe to Duncan's room "Report on your equipment, Zūnjià."

"Everything's accounted for on my end. What of the others?"

"The same," said his team leader staunchly. Suara was not as lighthearted as Mao, nor as quiet yet humorous as Mobu. This particular YiTish was more calculated in the way he carried himself, or so it seemed. "We will be leaving in an hour. Get ready."

And with that, Suara simply turned away and left without saying another word. His footsteps could be heard echoing down the narrow timber hallway outside.

Mormont allowed himself a brief laugh.

Must not be terribly fun with women. Then again, perhaps their women go in for that sort of thing.

Nonetheless, Mormont followed his orders. He very carefully placed his equipment in the leather satchel provided to him.

He curiously inspected the packet of Sun Fan, before slipping it into his satchel. Apparently it was a sort of 'instant rice,' a term coined by Mobu. Mormont had known about rice before coming to Yi Ti, yet to hear of a type or rice being cooked instantly? Now that sounded like some sort of black magic. No doubt it was a staple food for the Imperial Army if they could cook it up within a few minutes.

All of his food was meant to last him roughly a week, though it was made explicitly clear to Mormont and the rest of the team that they were seeking to achieve their objective within the next one to three days.

Their objective being the complete and total destruction of Serpent's Reach.

Provided, of course, that the Yellow King and the Cult of Starry Wisdom were in fact hiding up there.

Mormont was fairly certain that they were-but he could understand why Mao and Suara had made that one last stipulation. First they needed to get up to the top of the mountain, then they had to observe. If the Cult was hiding up there, then they would regroup and set the Chimera's Breath barrels in key locations around the fortress.

They would only really need to set off one or two of the barrels as opposed to all seven. The primed secondary explosion would set off the rest, and with all the other explosives housed among the Reach's defenses…

It all amounted to one hell of an explosion. One that Mormont himself certainly didn't want to be in the middle of when it finally went off.

And once everything went boom… then they'd need to go in and clean everything up.

Of course, if any of them were captured, then it was mutually agreed upon (even by Mormont himself) that they were as good as dead. The operation would still move forward and the Chimera's Breath would still be primed. For those who'd get caught, their fates were up to the Gods. But it was assured that nobody would talk.

After all, it was impossible to strike up a deal with insanity.

By the time he'd had everything packed, there were still about thirty or so minutes to go. Excellent.

Mormont immediately took up his pipe and tobacco pouch and made his way downstairs. He'd already lit his pipe by the time he was out the door.

Suara and the others were standing in a sort of half-circle over by the treeline. Mormont approached them and quickly saw Mao with them as well-though he was obviously not battle-ready judging by the thick winter coat he wore over his shearling-lined doublet. Mao was not going with them-Duncan already knew this. The entire operation was a young man's game.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Mormont had spotted a woman leading her two children by the hand back inside their home-a small timber cottage that appeared to barely contain even two people, let alone three. He did not miss the sharp glance the woman had given the assembled group of eight, the look of a woman who was clearly afraid of the eight armed men in the center of the village, and of what they might do.

Duncan didn't blame her-even if he was on the other end of the stick.

He brought himself back to the present as he took another pull at his pipe. Mao was speaking in YiTish to the others, who all seemed about ready to give some sort of formal salute. No wonder, as barely a minute later, all six of his fellow operatives had actually gone ahead and raised their hands into the air above them, before sharply bringing them down again.

And then Mao had turned to him. My turn, Duncan had mused privately.

"I trust you will not keep up your smoking habits while on the mountain."

Mormont nodded, "I'm aware. Just enjoying one last tug."

The older man gave him yet another grandfatherly smile, "I have most enjoyed your company over these last few moons, Duncan. You have saved my life, and have aided my intelligence efforts greatly, and yet… even with your deeds so far, I am sending you out into the belly of the beast." Mao shook his head, "I feel as if I am asking too much of you."

"Nonsense!" Mormont gave a dry laugh, "I'll remind you that I signed up for this. And if anything happens to me, then it'll be my fault. That's how it is, Mao."

"I do not see it that way, my friend," Mao said, "You have been a good friend, and a loyal one at that, whom I have known for such a short time. It pains me nonetheless to do this,"

You have been a good friend, and a loyal one at that… those words echoed painfully in Mormont's mind, as he couldn't help but recall the reason as to why he was even in Yi Ti in the first place.

In spite of the rewards that waited at the end of it all… Mormont still felt the pain of his earlier memories… and he smiled his way through it. "Thank you, Mao, for your kind words. Now I shall give you some kind words of my own, and then we will part ways for a time," He said, "You've been a good friend to me… better than I deserved. Thank you for showing me Yi Ti. I wish to see more of it after this whole bloody operation is finished."

Mao had grinned, "You are most welcome, Duncan." And with that, the older man held out his hand.

Duncan shook the warm, dry palm firmly and gave his friend one last nod.

As the afternoon began to turn to evening, and the sun was on the low, deep into its long journey to the west, each of the men present had set eyes on the tall, lone mountain beyond the distant treeline.

The seven garbed figures had walk towards the trees, and disappeared into the light mist.

Almost as if they were ghosts.

Author's Note:

Hello again, hope you're enjoying the story so far. Just a quick update.

Since we're back, some more time is going to be allocated for this story moving forward. Been busy working and all that.

As for those of you reading Of Growing Strong, just know that I have not abandoned that project. I fully intend to finish it. Keep in mind that it's likely not going to be completed this month.

That's all for now-cheers, and have an excellent day :)