The Summer Sea
314 AC
By the time they'd reached Volantis, Duncan had already grown tired of the southern heat.
For weeks on end, his days merely consisted of simple, meager duties that might've eaten up all of his time were he a lazier man. However, Duncan was nearing towards the bright age of twenty and had all the energy one could ask for.
And so, among his responsibilities as a deckhand (checking the rigging constantly, tying bowline knots, sweeping the decks, and cleaning the long iron barrels he'd been told were called 'dàpào', which translated to cannons in Westerosi), Duncan had elected to keep himself in top shape during his voyage to the Far East.
His training was an iron routine, consisting first of bodyweight exercises; push-ups, squats, lunges, burpees, and thrusts. All of which were capped off with more jumping squats. Mormont performed each exercise in sets of one hundred reps each. Occasionally he would switch up how slowly he performed each rep to keep up muscle growth.
Additionally, Mormont took to practicing swordsmanship during his usual night shifts out on the main deck. It helped alleviate the boredom a great deal, and Duncan took pride in maintaining his technique with the longsword, even if he rather preferred a sparring partner.
Outside of this routine, Duncan largely kept to himself. Among the rest of the crew (all of which were very clearly YiTish men), he'd been singled out as the lone foreigner, the alien who'd been tolerated as long as he'd kept quiet.
None of these YiTish made any pretense of trying to be his friend or even an acquaintance. He was addressed as 'laowai' in person when food was being given out to the men, and when they'd need him to shuffle about some barrel or crate, they'd merely jerk him sharply in the back and point to the obtruding coffer before promptly ignoring him again.
It was a bloody cold reception-and quite honestly, Duncan couldn't exactly bring himself to hate them for it.
Not that he'd necessarily cared about it either, however. For most of his life, he'd been exposed to the blatant disdain of nobility in some form or another who always seemed to have a bone to pick with Mormont's family, and his father in particular. It only got worse as he got older, and as House Mormont gradually came into more power over the years.
In a way, he'd been trained to handle this sort of racket. And so, he took it on the chin.
Ironically enough, the only other crew member aboard who actively didn't avoid him or give him the cold shoulder was the Captain-or Commander in this instance.
At first, Commander Chen had only occasionally given him orders in-person, just as he did with the rest of the crew when he was up and walking the main deck.
However, it was about a week into the voyage, as the fleet of nine ships had been sailing steadily across the Summer Sea, just along the southern coastline of Essos, when Duncan had begun to notice slight… peculiarities in the good Commander's behavior.
Mormont's prior suspicions about Commander Chen having formerly been a soldier were quickly proven correct. Early in the morning, as the sun would rise in the East, the Commander would exit his quarters in the lodge just below the helm. He'd take a good long look out to the east and then the west, before making his way down the steps and along the perimeter of the main deck, always speaking with members of the crew and inquiring about the maintenance of the ship.
Always, the crewmen wouldn't dare look their Commander in the eye. They'd bow low, utter a few sentences in a reverent tone, and then promptly go back to their respective duties as their Superior Officer had moved on.
Duncan had found it all intriguing. It was as if Commander Chen was their god. He might as well have been, at the very least.
However, Mormont himself had not felt compelled to follow their example, and something, perhaps instinct, told him that Commander Chen knew it as well.
And so, when it inevitably came to Duncan's turn to face down the stone-faced YiTish with a sword on his white linen belt, he'd looked the man respectfully in the eyes.
"You, Westerosi…" The Commander had only the barest hint of a shared smile on the corners of his lips. "What is your name?"
"Mormont. Duncan Mormont." He answered truthfully. It was extremely unlikely in any case that the YiTish would even know, much less care about his family name.
Commander Chen nodded thoughtfully before speaking. "Mor-mont. Mor-mont… That is an odd word for us to say in our mother tongue. It has no actual meaning in our language. 'Duncan' however, is easier for us to pronounce."
"You can call me Duncan then. Besides, I'm sure we'll be getting into the habit of seeing one another, what with you making the rounds every morning and all."
The YiTish had hummed. "Indeed. It appears we shall, Duncan." He said, then glancing down at the longsword clipped to Mormont's belt, before meeting Duncan's eyes again. "I have seen such weapons before. You seem… quite comfortable with it, no?"
Mormont shrugged. "My father taught me a thing or two about weapons."
"He was a warrior, perhaps?"
"Is. And yes, he's quite the fighter." Duncan couldn't help but keep the pride out of his voice.
"Hmmm," Chen's face suddenly split into a warm, confident grin. "That is good." He offered his hand one last time to Duncan. "I shall see you… around, Duncan."
Mormont shook it firmly before letting the older man move along.
The Jade Gates
Four Moons Later
And now it was four moons later and Commander Chen had become 'Chen Liu' while Mormont had become 'Xiánláng'. Chen had explained his name for Duncan Mormont.
"Duncan," Chen had said. "That is a strange word in YiTish. The closest translation we have for it is 'Dèng kěn'. An incredibly old and uncommon name for our people. It does not convey sufficient respect, especially not for a young warrior such as yourself. So you are now Xiánláng. This is acceptable?"
"As long as Shianlang doesn't mean a rat or anything like that in YiTish."
"Xiánláng." Chen corrected his pronunciation. "It is an honorific in our tongue. Meant to refer to a younger man as virtuous, or to the son of a trusted friend."
Mormont might've laughed. "Had to ask. I wouldn't have been entirely surprised if you lot enjoyed a lot of private jokes at the expense of us laowai. And… virtuous is one of the last things I'd call myself."
"Virtue in my homeland does not equate to perfection in oneself. Neither does it refer to purity concerning religion. Instead, the values we place on our younger generations are that of raw action. Experience. Adventure. Worldliness. All of these things are upheld as ideals for men to follow. Those who most embody such virtues, we often refer to them as Xiánláng."
The weeks continued to pass by unceremoniously and with a great shake of boredom. Except perhaps, the only upside being the development of a genuine friendship between Mormont and Chen.
Outside of working hours, the two of them would often speak atop the helm, and whenever Duncan found himself out alone on the night shift, he'd regularly be joined by Chen, and the two men would soon get to talking of weaponry and history from their respective homelands.
Chen had made it very clear that he was amused by Duncan, particularly because of how Mormont had so blatantly disregarded the strict social customs of YiTish society, even if he'd done so unwittingly.
"It is standard for working class people to bow low before those of noble birth, or before those under them in merit." The Commander had elaborated. "You remind me of a spearman I once served with. His name was Ti Bu. He was fearless on the battlefield, and would always look our officers in the eyes just as you do. Often, Bu would take on challenges he was ill-prepared for, and when the rest of us were nervous the eve before marching to war, he would simply roll over in his cot and sleep soundly."
"Sounds as if your friend simply didn't give a damn."
"That is one way to put it. He was only tolerated by our superiors because of the effect he had on the rest of us. Bu… inspired us in his strange way."
Mormont might've laughed if it wasn't for the use of the past tense. This man Ti Bu must've no longer been among the living.
The journey along the Straits of Qarth had only taken a couple of days, and it seemed that as soon as they'd reached the Jade Gates, the rest of the crew had noticeably relaxed. Almost like they'd known that the worst was behind them.
"Many of these men have families of their own." Chen had explained. "And those who do not, are wanting to return to our shores so they can find suitable wives and marry."
"Is marriage a big deal in Yi Ti?"
The Commander had nodded. "Very much so. We honor our gods and our ancestors by finding suitable spouses to marry and have families with. It is even expected of men to have at the very least four children on one of his wives."
Mormont nearly did a double take. "One of his wives?"
"Of course. Men are allowed to have more than one wife, up to three. But only if he can support them as well as any children they bear for him."
Duncan chuckled. "I might just retire there."
"You would have a hard time finding wives if you did, my friend," Chen said with a knowing smile. "It is rare that a foreigner is ever accepted. They must be individuals of great merit, and that is only if they manage to get noticed by those in higher society. Many of our people have bloodlines dating back to the Great Empire of the Dawn. And especially for one who keeps different gods than ours… it would be most difficult."
"I suppose I'd manage somehow," Mormont said staunchly. "But tell me more about these gods of yours. I wouldn't want to accidentally disrespect them and get killed over it."
A sort of calmness settled over Chen's square face, and those dark golden eyes of his twinkled. "It is said outside of the Empire that we have thousands of gods-this is incorrect. We have many such Saints or figures from legend whom we respect and look up to, men and women who embody the virtues upheld in our society and who have been deified over the centuries. But outside of this… we keep to two gods in particular. These, of course, are the Maiden-Made-of-Light, and the Lion of Night." He said. "The Maiden-Made-of-Light is the goddess whom we pray to when we ask for good times. She comes to our aid when we most need her, and it is her who we seek to make proud with the time we are given on this Earth."
"And the Lion of Night?" Mormont asked with a raised eyebrow.
"The Lion of Night is the husband of the Maiden-Made-of-Light. He watches over us and safeguards us from our many enemies… but as with any stern father, he is wrathful and punishes those who practice wickedness against others. He is often prayed to in times of war or unrest, yet it is done more so to appease him and to express one's gratitude."
Such a colorful cast, indeed. Mormont, naturally, was doubtful as to the legitimacy of these foreign deities. He'd grown up as his father's son and kept to the Old Gods of the North.
Still, Mormont planned to respect these YiTish gods as much as he could-it wouldn't do to get killed over some petty dispute about worship, now would it? He was supposed to get in good with these people. Setting the right impression would take him far.
In the end, however, Duncan Mormont merely shrugged and decided that he'd simply humor these YiTish.
After all, this pair of ridiculous deities-a man with the head of a lion and some goddess shrouded in a shawl of boundless light…
All of it seemed downright ludicrous.
It was on their fifth day past the Straits of Qarth when they saw Yin.
Duncan Mormont had been to many other port cities before. He'd been to plenty just on this journey alone. He was well accustomed to the sheer size and magnificence of King's Landing, Oldtown, White Harbor, and even Sunspear when he'd go and visit his relatives on his mother's side of the family.
But what he saw now, he could only describe as otherworldly.
Yin, the capital city of Yi Ti, was easily three times the size of King's Landing-and that was just from what Duncan was able to see as they made port.
The long coastal line of bilateral, symmetrical buildings with slanted tile rooftops had stretched as far as the eye could see, extending far into the horizon where the sun burned a bright orange in the pink morning sky. Deeper into the grand port city, towers stretching high above the ground atop walls of expertly laid stone, smoke rising from the roofs and chimneys scattered throughout the city. The thick stink of fresh mackerel, shrimp, salt, and seaweed permeated the air.
It seemed the city was sectioned off on two opposite sides of a long canal that led further inland to the north. The western side was filled with various streets and rows, connected with endless bazaars and marketplaces. Smoke rose from the clusters of neatly placed homes and towers, the voices of people could be heard even from the quiet upper deck of the ship.
The eastern front was different and noticeably smaller. A tall sect of walls had coiled around an enormous hill that might as well have been its city. Along the canal fronts were the docks, and stretching out across and connecting the two sides was a great stone bridge. Must be… what? Sixty? Seventy feet tall? Probably higher. How in the Seven Hells…
"Enchanted?"
Mormont immediately noticed that Chen stood at his side, also looking out across the bay to what was quite possibly the largest metropolis in the Known World.
"I'm surprised," Duncan said truthfully. "And I shouldn't be."
"Hmmm?"
He elaborated for the older man. "I was told that you lot were the oldest surviving civilization in the Known World. So… I shouldn't be so surprised that your capital is… well… like this."
Chen dipped his head. "Your praise is accepted." He said, clearly pleased that Duncan had been so caught off-guard. Chen pointed to the eastern portion of the city. "See that? That is the Seat of the Heavens or the Golden City. It is the Azure Emperor's seat of power, and is reserved only for him and his family."
Duncan felt the pit that had long been growing in his stomach now drop swiftly. "You're telling me that damn near a third of the entire capital is the bloody Royal Palace?"
"Of course," The YiTish said nonchalantly. "You do not have similar accommodations for your rulers?"
"Of course! Of course!" Mormont sputtered out. "Just not…" He trailed off, unable to find the right words to say.
The Emperor had his own privately reserved city as his backyard. What were the actual chances that he'd used all of its facilities? How many man-hours went into keeping the whole bloody thing running? Too many for him to count just then.
What the actual fuck was he supposed to say, even? That his own country might as well have been the Iron Islands compared to the sheer work of genius and beauty that stood before him? That Westeros had nothing that could compare to the wonder that had now burned itself into his mind?
He'd been to the Red Keep before, and he practically knew Winterfell like the back of his hand. But this? This wonderful piece of pristine, outlandish architecture immediately shattered all of his expectations.
How did this place even exist? Moreover… how was it that no other Westerosi had managed to discover it before him?
Yi Ti… if this glorious monstrosity of a city was their fucking capital… then what other miracles were these lands hiding?
Chen seemed more amused than ever at his amazement. "We make port within the hour. You will work with the men and unload the hold. Then I will show you Yin and its many pleasures. This is acceptable for you, yes?"
Mormont could only manage a simple nod before returning to work.
An hour later, they landed on the eastern shore, where the rest of the merchant fleet had followed suit, making port in the reserved docks. Approximately five hours after that, Duncan had soon been so sweaty and exhausted from all the lifting and unloading that he was almost relieved when Chen had announced that the rest of the men could now depart and that their work was finished for the day-in YiTish naturally, but Duncan knew what was going on as the rest of the sailors started filing off the long plank in rows.
Chen approached him then, "Collect your things, Duncan. Come with me. There is a wonderful establishment not far from here, we will eat and drink."
The prospect of fresh food was overwhelmingly tempting, and so Duncan did as he was told. He collected his belongings from his cabin and made his way back out onto the main deck. Chen was waiting for him.
The two of them set off down the plank and onto the tall granite docks where the cargo they stacked was now being loaded onto various wagons and carriages being led by surprisingly small and lean horses.
Mormont watched as, further down the pier, the sailors whose faces he'd remembered were met with their families. They embraced their wives and children. The younger men, though were met with their parents or other loved ones.
As he walked by, none of them paid him much attention. And Duncan didn't expect them to. Still, he occasionally managed to hear 'laowai, laowai' on the lips of those passersby.
He wondered briefly what it would be like to have been one of those YiTish, just now coming home to their wives and families. They must have felt an almost immense sense of gratitude. Finally, after so many moons of long arduous, tedious work they stepped off the plank and got to see their wives smile at them, beaming with admiration and thankfulness for their toil at sea, for keeping their children fed and happy. The world itself would light up from that alone.
Was that the sort of treatment he'd get once he returned home? If he returned home, even. Mormont hoped so… even as he recounted the last few words his father gave him before throwing him out.
Chen led him further along the docks. They passed by hordes of people shuffling and walking down the finely cobbled streets in clumps and packs.
Others were speaking in rapid, spirited intonations of YiTish, all of which sounded like complete gibberish to him. They stood at tall market stands, moving their hands in animated gestures as they spoke with one another. One man seemed to be haggling over some haddock and had been thrusting his palms into the air as if his life depended on it while the fisherman seemed to be simply nodding along.
They went by crates filled with fresh batches of cabbage, melons, and cucumbers. The stench of fish and salt was in the air. The sun beat down on Duncan's skin, and there wasn't even a slight seabound chill to counteract it. With such proximity to all of these people, with the smoke that was present around them, Duncan soon found himself heating up and sweating again.
Mormont glanced up at the tiled rooftops high above them. Strange, barrel-shaped red lanterns hung over them, in addition to white flags adorned with symbols and letters in YiTish-or what Duncan had recognized as YiTish.
This was a strange land, indeed. And here he was, the stranger, the lone wanderer who just walked off the boat.
What did these people think of him? If they thought about him at all, that is?
Quite possibly, they just don't care. It simply made more sense that they cared more about their individual lives than about some odd pale-skinned foreigner from the West.
"The people who live in the countryside typically come here to buy and sell their goods," Chen explained to him as they made their way further up the street. Somehow, Duncan could hear the other man over the sea of voices all around them. "Many of them are farmers or fishermen, but others manage to find work here in the city."
"Not entirely unlike us, then," Mormont noted. "Where are we going?"
"To what I believe your people call a 'tavern'. They make the best Kung Pao in all of Yi Ti."
Kung Pao? What in the Seven Hells is a Kung Pao? He voiced his internal question to Chen, who merely grinned and told him to, "Wait and see."
Finally, they'd arrived at their ultimate destination. Mormont marveled at the site of the symmetrical tall square-shaped three-storied building. For each floor, there was an outer balcony with clean wooden railings and the banisters set in angular shapes below the guardrails. The eight-foot-tall doors were inlaid with silver and carvings of long-bearded serpents, and out front stood two robed young women who bowed to the both of them as they went inside.
The interior was starkly different from the simple exterior of fine stones and polished wooden beams. The walls and floors of the main entry hall were almost entirely composed of white marble, with occasional separators of black painted wood.
Red lanterns burned brightly in each corner of the hall, and Mormont watched as men clad in silken robes and fitting tunics crossed underneath the archway opposite of him.
Almost immediately, Duncan felt self-aware of the fact that he was, for the first time in his life, severely underdressed.
"Do not worry, Xiánláng." Chen seemed to have noticed where Duncan's eyes had been wandering. "You are my guest here. You will not be judged for your lack of formal wear."
Formal wear? What did these YiTish consider formal? "You mean those fancy robes of yours?"
"We call them hanfu." Chen nodded, "They are traditional garments dating back to the Great Empire of the Dawn. They are pristine, no?"
"They look a bit constricting, but it's not exactly my place to judge." Mormont shrugged. "I just dislike being ill-prepared for social events."
Another man wearing white robes approached them. He completely ignored Duncan and only addressed Chen. The two of them spoke in YiTish and laughed while Mormont simply stood there feeling like he was a fish out of water.
After a few moments, Chen turned to him again. "Xiánláng, this is Qi Go. He is our host and a good friend. He too speaks the Common Tongue."
"Pleased to meet you," Mormont said to the new man.
"Likewise," Qi Go looked at him now and gave a short bow. "You are an Andal, yes?"
"Not quite. I'm from Westeros."
"Westeros? Ah, that is very far, indeed. Beyond the Summer Sea, yes?"
Mormont nodded, going along with the stage conversation. It was all polite, of course, but it was clear to Duncan that Qi Go felt much the same as his kinsmen regarding foreigners. "Yes, of course. All the way from the North. But I've heard good things about Yi Ti and heard the call of adventure." He put extra emphasis on that last word.
In response, Qi Go's brown-black eyes seemed to twinkle. "Ah, I see now why Chen calls you Xiánláng." He said, clearly pleased now with the stranger in his establishment. "You are most welcome here." Qi Go looked back to Chen. "Please come and sit! The yiji have begun their performance."
Chen's large face split into another grin, "Ah, you are in for a treat, Xiánláng." and beckoned him to follow. Duncan did so.
They entered the main hall, a large square-shaped room that reminded Duncan of the Great Hall in Winterfell. Except here, the walls were set in marble, coated in orange-gold, and draped with tapestries depicting warriors clashing on the battlefield. Tables made of wood were dotted all around the room, with a massive stage being the center of the room itself.
Men and women were seated at the lower tables, all of them watching the trio of robed girls standing on the stage speaking slowly in YiTish. Occasionally they'd speak to each other, or take bites out of their food. Meanwhile, Mormont followed Chen and Qi Go to the high tables atop platforms overlooking the rest of the hall.
Once they were seated, Chen had asked for that blasted Kung Pao he mentioned earlier. Qi Go quickly bowed again and left.
"Duncan," Mormont had immediately noticed the serious usage of his name. He faced Chen now, who sat at the head of the small square table. "Would you care to satisfy my curiosity about your countrymen?"
Mormont was surprised. Genuinely. It wasn't often that Chen had asked him about Westeros in general. "Of course,"
"Is it true that your people worship animals?"
He blinked once, then twice. And then a third time. "What do you mean?"
"I have heard stories of your lands in the west. It is said that your nobles worship animals; wolves, stags, lions. Is there truth to this?"
"Ah…" Mormont immediately understood what the other man was getting at. "Well, not exactly." He said. "Nobles throughout Westeros are beholden to one of the Seven Great Houses, all of which in turn swear fealty to the King. Each house has its sigil which they use to make themselves distinct from others. It could be either animals or other symbols, like a spear for instance. There's no worship involved, though. We save that for our own gods."
Chen, for his part, seemed vastly interested in the topic at hand. "I see. Often in Pentos or Braavos, we would see ships bearing sails with grey wolves' heads, or those of golden lions and squids. It is most strange."
"Well… the squids are the ones I'd look out for if I were you. Those lot aren't exactly the friendliest, nor the brightest for that matter."
A serving girl came over to them with a small tray in her arms. Very carefully, she placed a small glass cup in front of them both before pouring a clear liquid into their cups, filling them up to the brim. Finally, she placed the flask between them and smiled at both Mormont and Chen before bowing and whisking away.
"What's this, then?" Duncan asked. He knew the drink wasn't water judging by the rather potent scent coming from his glass. It smelt almost like boiled wine.
"Baijiu." Chen had answered. "It is a most popular beverage here in Yi Ti. Drink, drink."
Mormont did so, raising his glass and downing the shot of alcohol in one quick motion.
He was pleased to find that it tasted similarly to Braavosi Firebrand, a much-beloved beverage that his father kept tucked away in the cellars beneath Bear Keep. Oak, spices, and the aroma of rice.
"Damn…" He said as he poured himself another glass. "That's rather good stuff if I do say so."
Chen seemed to have been pleased with his praise. "Your performance in drinking it was most sincere."
Mormont felt his nerves slacken as he started watching the live performance on stage. The three YiTish women who were on the wide dais had finished speaking and bowed to their audience. Loud applause soon followed from those who sat at the tables below, and the girls walked off-stage.
"What were they performing? Some kind of song?"
"No. A poem."
Duncan merely raised an amused eyebrow. "Poetry?" He asked, bemused. "You have women perform poems here?"
"It is a most dignified practice, I assure you," Chen said. "They are Yiji, or 'Singing Girls' in your tongue. They read and write poetry, among other things. They can also perform ceremonial dances, or even sing, and are meant to be entertainers for men who have come to rest after a long day's work."
"Entertainers, eh…" Mormont snickered. "Guess you bunch are a lot more sophisticated when it comes to that sort of thing."
"Indeed. We do not have whorehouses here in Yi Ti, as whoring goes against our religious practices."
Food soon came. Qi Go returned, this time with two more serving girls behind him. He shot out a few words in YiTish. Plates containing strange, onion-shaped chunks of dough were set before him along with a pair of sticks, a bowl containing a rich mix of freshly cooked chicken doused in a strange sauce, paired with steaming white rice, cut green onions, red peppers, and roasted peanuts.
The same food was set before Chen. And again Qi Go bowed to him and Duncan, wishing them a fine meal before he and the girls left.
"Ah, dumplings. I believe these are filled with beef." Chen pointed to the onion-shaped lumps of dough that still steamed with perspiration.
Mormont, however, was still fascinated by the lack of knives or forks. He was thankful for the lone metal spoon next to his bowl, but he couldn't help but glance uncertainly down at the pair of sticks he'd been given.
What in the Seven Hells are these meant to be?
He looked up and watched as Chen took up his sticks in his right hand, holding them between his thumb, index, and middle fingers before taking one of the dumplings between the two narrow wooden tongues.
"Err…" Mormont shook his head. "You people don't happen to have forks, do you?"
"No, Xiánláng. We do not."
Well, that's just fucking wonderful, isn't it? Here he was at the end of the world and not a single fucking soul knows how to use a fork or a knife. Marvelous.
"Then what the blazes are these supposed to be?"
"Ah… these are kuàizi. Meaning 'quick' and 'bamboo'. We use them to eat."
Mormont scoffed. "Well, I know that but…" He immediately decided that it was probably best not to argue. Neither was he one to complain. And so, he got to work. Duncan decided to stab his dumpling with one of the chopsticks instead, completely throwing these newfound social customs out the window. If they thought he was just some northern barbarian, he might as well stick to it.
Chen was noticeably amused by the display but said nothing as he continued to enjoy his meal.
He felt several pairs of eyes glue onto the back of his head as he continued stabbing the dumplings with his sticks. Duncan, however, decided not to care. The baijiu was certainly helping in this regard.
Yet… the dumplings themselves were delicious, with all the necessary portions of salted beef and pepper, along with dough that had been churned with just the right servings of butter. He was quickly satisfied.
"Chen," Duncan started, now four glasses of baijiu in. It was barely enough to even induce the slightest hints of drunkenness. "Where does one find work in Yi Ti?"
The Commander had wiped at his mouth with a silk handkerchief before leveling his gaze with Duncan's. He paused, reflecting for a moment before he opened his mouth. "There is always work to be done in Yi Ti, Xiánláng. It simply depends on the type of work you are looking for."
"If I was looking to become wealthy, for instance… where might I begin?"
Chen sat back for a moment and stroked his beard. "I fear you would have little success selling your services as a mercenary. Yi Ti has been largely united for the last ten years under the Azure Emperor. Perhaps on the northern borders with the Plains of the Jogos N'hai, you might find profitable work with the warlords who live in the lowlands, but the dangers outweigh the benefits." The YiTish had said. "If you seek to become wealthy, you would do well to acquaint yourself with the nobility here. They are always looking for good swords to handle their private affairs. But…"
"Hmmm?"
"But… the nobles would not hire just anyone off the streets-much less a foreigner."
Mormont shrugged. "Expected as much. Never figured it would be easy to get their attention."
"In most cases, it would be almost impossible for you. However, if you prefer, I could put in a good word with my employer. He is a member of the Banking Clan here in Yin and a most influential one at that. He is also a renowned General. I served under him during my days in the Imperial Army."
A banker? What sort of troubles did bankers get up to these days, especially the YiTish ones? Mormont had almost been tempted to laugh.
Still… the prospect alone was enough to ignite Mormont's greed.
"Are you sure?" He asked, making a show of being hesitant. "I remember what you said about outlanders. I wouldn't want to lower this man's estimation of you."
Chen made an off-hand gesture. "Nonsense. Your company has been most refreshing these last few moons. And you have proven that you are not afraid of difficult work. I would be honored to put you two together."
Well… how about that? Here he was just a day into this city and he already had his foot in the door! Pride sweltered throughout his being. Duncan felt like he was ready to take on the world itself at this point. Surely, within no time at all he'd be on his way back to Westeros with his prize in tow!
Naturally, there would be some sort of arduous task ahead of him. Mormont did not doubt that. Yet he knew that, whatever it was, he'd be ready for it. Completely and entirely.
And oh, how wrong he was.