Yin

314 AC

It was a week before Mormont had heard back from Chen that he had landed an appointment with Xi Mao, a rather distinguished figure among the aristocracy in Yi Ti, and one of the richest men in the Far East-outside of the Emperor himself, naturally.

Duncan Mormont had never personally taken to bankers-he was never particularly impressed with the various ambassadors from the Iron Bank who'd come to Bear Island just to get a taste of his family's money. And so, he didn't exactly have high hopes for this supposed former general in the Imperial Army.

Chen, however, was more optimistic.

"I believe that you both will get along, as your people say, swimmingly." The Ship Commander had said from across the cedar wood lunch table in the main hall of The Temple House, a rather upscale establishment within Yin's Platinum District. Mormont had been able to get by on his gold dragons, thankfully. But only because he'd been able to exchange them at one of the local banks for the standard YiTish currency; odd circular-shaped silver coins with a square carved out right in the center of them. They were called 'Bu-Banliang' or some ridiculous name of the like. "Xi is the Royal Fleetmaster in addition to running the Hualung Exchange here in Yin. He even has the ear of the Emperor, and is a frequent member of the Imperial Court."

Mormont took yet another casual stab with his knife at the fattest of the steaming beef dumplings on his plate, easily drawing more unsightly attention to him from the various other guests seated at tables nearby. "Sounds like he's got his priorities right. But what sort of a man is he?"

"Xi Mao is the type of man to look his superiors in the eyes-though not meant to disrespect. He lives life as if he were going to die tomorrow. This is the correct way to live. He is a good friend of mine, and we share certain tastes in common. I enjoy his company very much."

"Trade routes?" Mormont asked ironically.

After just a week spent in Yin, Duncan had already figured out that his newest friend was a skirt chaser much like himself. Chen was already married with two wives and almost a dozen children, yet Mormont would often catch the older man looking for a third spouse whenever they went to one of the local Public Houses in the city.

How strange it was that these YiTish always wanted to marry the girls they met in their pubs and taverns. And especially so soon after meeting them. Then again, they seemed to do everything backward, didn't they? Their names were said in reverse, the men kept their swords on the right side of their belts instead of the left, and the women covered their hair and bodies instead of wishing to show their beauty in a dignified manner for potential suitors. It was all quite perplexing, but novel to witness.

If this man Xi Mao was anything like Chen, then there likely was a good chance he was much the same. They'd get along alright. That was a good sign for Duncan, who found himself appreciating the more blatant subservience of YiTish women with each day that passed.

Chen gave him a knowing smile. "Exactly," he said. "You have nothing to fear my friend. Regardless of what happens, it is all up to the gods now."

And so it was that an hour later, Mormont found himself pacing the narrow marble halls of the Hualung Exchange, the largest bank in Yin, and probably Yi Ti by extension.

Before leaving Oldtown, Duncan had managed to purchase a fine-enough doublet as well as accompanying trousers. He knew somehow that he'd end up in some sort of social event, which meant that he'd need to be well-dressed. It wasn't anything compared to the robes he'd see his father wear during social occasions and feasts, nor to the rather opulent coats and woven shirts that Duncan himself preferred. But he had to make an effort, at the very least. A good bath and a quick workout were all he needed from that point on. By the time he arrived at the Hualung Exchange, he was ready to meet this mysterious, yet well-meaning banker who'd agreed to see him.

Mormont heard footsteps coming down the hall towards him. He looked up, glancing past the seemingly endless rows of milk-white glass paned windows that went from the floor to the ceiling in between rounded marble pillars. He knew the footsteps belonged to a woman before he finally set eyes on her.

A girl, perhaps eight-and-ten, stopped and stood opposite of him just five feet away. She bowed deeply to him, yet did not meet his eyes. "Gong Xi Mao will see you. Follow me."

He did so. The girl led Mormont further down the hall, taking another right until they arrived at two plain cedar doors which the girl opened. Inside was an octagonal-shaped office space with a large dark wooden desk in the center of the room, as well as a few accompanying chairs, and an armor stand adorned with a set of absurd-looking dull-gold scale armor with pauldrons that resembled bearded dragon's heads. On the opposite side of the room was a bookshelf filled with countless bound tomes bearing various languages, some that Mormont did recognize, and others that he didn't. And sitting on the other side of the desk was the man who he'd come to see.

Xi Mao was a man of powerful stature. Though he was half a head shorter than Mormont, Mao was chunky, muscle-bound underneath the ornate crimson robes he wore. The big square face was tanned, well sunburned after spending all those years out in the fields fighting the Emperor's battles. But the two outstanding features were the abnormally large black-brown eyes that seemed to glare into Duncan's soul.

Mormont knew immediately that he was dealing with a professional. A favored saying of his father's immediately came to mind, 'real recognizes real.'

His host had risen almost instantly from his seat the moment Duncan entered the room. "Ah! You must be the Xiánláng I've heard much about! Please come in and sit."

It was then that Mao looked to the girl and spoke a few spirited lines of YiTish. She bowed to her employer before turning around and heading out the way they came, shutting the doors gently behind her.

Mormont made his way over to the nearest seat. He saw the offered hand from Mao and took the hard dry paw in his own before sitting down.

"I admit, Xiánláng," The older man had started, folding his hands on the table in front of him. "When Chen Liu requested that I meet with a young man hailing from the West, I was very much surprised. This is a most bizarre occurrence-I have not had to speak the Common Tongue in many years and it is not often that we receive foreigners in general. You must have made quite the impression on our mutual friend."

"It appears that way, yes," Mormont said, immediately remembering his manners, as well as the layered speak that all nobility used taught to him during his upbringing. "Chen has been a most gracious host. I don't quite know what I'd do without him. He's spoken most highly of you, of course. Said that you lived each day as if it were your last?"

"He speaks too kindly. I merely see life for what it is: an opportunity to make the gods proud."

Mormont chuckled smoothly. "On that, it seems we both agree."

The YiTish wore an amused smile now as he maneuvered his hands across the table to a small wooden box. He opened it and withdrew an opened pouch containing pipeweed. "You may smoke if you prefer. I have also sent the girl to fetch tea for us."

A horn sounded off in Mormont's mind. These YiTish seemed to like blatant honesty. Chen had told him as much in the last week.

"I'm not much one for tea," Duncan said plainly, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Mao had stopped filling his pipe momentarily as if to inspect him closer. "Do you happen to have coffee instead?"

"Coffee?"

Mormont withdrew his smoking pipe from within his doublet pocket and filled it with the offered pipeweed. "It's a drink made from a type of seed cultivated in the Summer Islands. Helps keep one awake and alert. My father has it quite often, and I daresay he's one of the most productive men I've ever known."

Those black-brown eyes seemed to twinkle for a moment, "I see one can still learn new things even after all these years. You do not carry yourself like the common sailor or farmer. Can I assume that your father is among the nobility in your country?"

"Perhaps,"

Mao had laughed. "There is no need to hold back, Xiánláng. I have no ill intentions towards you, and Chen has not told me anything except for your first name."

There wasn't any hint of deception in the older man's eyes, and Duncan considered himself pretty well-versed at reading people in general. He had to be if he was going to rule over a rather sizable chunk of the North one day. His family's holdings had since expanded down to Sea Dragon Point and the entirety of the Stony Shore. Even so, Mormont knew that he had reason to be paranoid. It had been instilled in him from day one. His father had enemies, and that meant that Duncan did too. House Mormont was naturally hated in the North for its close connection to House Targaryen.

But… the long overdue realization that he was no longer in the North, but in a foreign land, with foreign people and foreign gods soon hit him in full force. Would these people even care? After all, he'd shared his family name with Chen, and the Ship Commander hadn't even so much as batted an eye. Duncan didn't know. It was a roll of the dice.

Fuck it. I'm out here on my own anyway, he thought. If something happened, at the very least it wouldn't come back to haunt his family.

"Very well. I've told Chen that my family name is Mormont. And yes, my father is a nobleman in my lands, but he is not among the Lords Paramount you might know about." He explained.

Those black-brown eyes seemed to look through him. After a moment, Mao then adopted a wicked grin. "Ah… I see. I appreciate your honesty, Duncan. I must confess that I have heard of the name Mor-mont before, but only in passing whispers brought to me by the men in my employ."

Duncan felt the adrenaline begin to bleed into his veins only slightly. So the other man had heard his family's name before? That surely wasn't a good sign.

What were the bloody chances of that, anyway? It wasn't as if the Mormonts were particularly well known in the South, or even across the Narrow Sea for that matter. If anything the Starks or the Lannisters commanded far more attention.

Before he could question Mao, there were several hard knocks on the door behind them. The older man said a few rapt words in YiTish, and the door opened, revealing the girl from before with a tray in her hands containing a ming teapot and two separate cups. She gave them their tea before placing the pot between them at Mao's request. Finally, she gave one last bow and left, shutting the door behind her.

"You've heard of my family?" Duncan asked the other man politely, keeping himself ice-cold.

Mao nodded, sipping his tea in the typical YiTish gentlemanly fashion. "As I said, only in whispers. Many years ago there were rumors of a man by the name of Mormont who sailed into the Smoking Sea. It is said that this man lives in the Far West. However, we have heard more tales of your ruler, this King Jon Stark, and of his current exploits to empower his people."

The cool sensation of relief was almost instantaneous. "That man behind those rumors was my father."

"Is that so? Tell me, if you may be so inclined to satisfy my curiosity… what compelled him to undergo such a dreadful journey?"

That Mao had instantly believed him was odd. Though Duncan was telling the truth, it was a more or less common belief among many of the Northern Lords as well as those in the South that the so-called 'Valyrian Expedition of 298 AC' had never actually taken place. Most thought it was some mad story purported by Mormont's family to get attention. And so they laughed it off.

"Well, I was quite young at the time, but I believe it was to do with something he encountered in the lands to the Far North. The details escape me." He said off-handedly. "I know the stories sound rather far-fetched, but it's all true."

"You do not need to convince me, Xiánláng. I know more than anyone that the truth is often stranger than fiction." Mao said. "However, we have not met to discuss the latest rumors or scandals. In what respect can I be of service to you?"

Mormont grinned. Down to business at last! "It was you who I was hoping to pitch my services to."

"Interesting… in what way? For what purpose?"

"I consider myself an ambitious sort of man, Xi-"

"Please, Duncan. You may call me Mao. It is only right that we can call one another by our given names."

Mormont bowed his head out of respect. He'd been told by Chen that such a gesture-the acknowledgment and permission to call one by their birth names-was a sign of trust.

"Of course, Mao. I'm an ambitious sort of man, and I wanted to bring a fortune back home to my family. I asked Chen where one might find suitable work in Yi Ti, and he referred me to you."

Mao set his teacup down on the small plate before him. "And there was no work to be found in your country before you came here?"

It wouldn't exactly do to tell the other man that he'd dishonored his own family by snubbing the Starks, now would it? "Not really, no. The Seven Kingdoms have been united these last few years. I was drawn to Yi Ti more out of curiosity. After all, it took a bloody long voyage to get here in the first place."

"Forgive me for asking Duncan, yet as the son of a nobleman, would your own family not be wealthy in its own right?"

A hole had in punctured into his story, but one that Mormont was prepared to cover up.

"You could say I've got a taste for adventure. Truth be told, I'm out here on my own. And House Mormont is a rather minor power in the North. Our wealth is naught compared to say the Lannisters or the Tyrells."

Once again those black-brown eyes looked him up and down, inspecting every inch of skin on his face. And yet, Duncan had told the truth, and so Mao was seemingly satisfied.

The YiTish had smiled warmly. "I see now why Chen had deigned to call you Xiánláng. If what you say is true, then I am most flattered that you would come to me seeking such exploits. However, I fear I must disappoint you. At this present moment, I do not need a bodyguard or a strongman. There are already many such men in my employ."

The cold, bitter taste of rejection flashed through his mind. Though Duncan had been taught to fight through it, it still pained him to know that he might've come all this way to the other side of the world just to potentially hit a dead end.

Isn't there something else he needs help with? Mormont stirred uncomfortably in his seat.

Wasn't there some bee in this banker's bonnet that Duncan could, perhaps, deal with? Surely there had to be something, some sort of lead he could latch onto.

There simply had to be.

After all, it was persistence that got him here. And if there was one quality Mormont prided himself on, it was being downright persistent when it came to getting what he wanted.

He forced himself to be ice-cold. "Well, my capabilities are not only limited to guarding you night and day. I, of course, would consider myself quite the swordsman. I am not afraid of taking outlandish risks. Surely there must be some sort of lucrative task or job that a man in your line of work would need done, or even on one of your trading ships?"

"I am afraid not, my friend. At least not at the moment. If there is one such duty that requires a man of your talents, I am entirely willing to call upon you."

Damn it all! That was tantamount to telling one to fuck off. Mormont felt this opportunity beginning to slip from his fingers. He decided to give it one last hurrah. "Perhaps there's a personal matter you require aid with? Or a matter regarding the security of the Empire?"

For just a moment, Mao looked thoughtful. Almost as if he were weighing up Duncan's last sentence in his mind. The older man sat back in his seat and glanced up at the ceiling in reflection.

The pause went on longer than Mormont liked, but he stuck with it. There's something on his mind… what is it?

Finally, Mao had sat forward, folding his hands on his desk. "Duncan, my friend… what is your impression of Yi Ti?"

"It's certainly a lot cleaner than the Free Cities. And you lot don't seem to dabble in slavery, so it's a winner in my book."

"You are correct with regards to slavery." said Mao staunchly. "It is a practice we abhor greatly. But that is not why I have diverted our conversation. You have been enjoying yourself here so far, yes?"

Mormont shrugged. What were they going to talk about next? The bloody weather? "About as well as one can after only a week."

"And if I offered to take you on as my personal guest and show you the best that Yin has to offer… would you accept?"

"Possibly. Why, if you don't mind my asking?" Offers like that were never made for free.

The YiTish had waved his hand unconcernedly, almost as if they were discussing the price of corn. "I confess that I am rather curious about your country, and I wish to know more. At the same time, I may be able to help you find work among my many contacts. This agreeable to you?"

Well… that was certainly odd. This YiTish banker wanted to know more about Westeros, which was a rather believable claim-Duncan had wished to know more about Yi Ti once he'd learned about it in the Citadel after all.

There wasn't much he had to lose here except for his life, which was something Duncan valued quite highly. Still… what did he have to fear from Mao? The only worst-case scenario he saw for himself was him fighting these YiTish to the death to escape.

Escape? Escape what exactly?

Mormont dismissed the thought from his mind and decided on his next course of action.

"As long as I won't be a burden," He said with an easy smile. "Of course. I'm happy to be your guest."

Mao gave him yet another warm wicked smile. "It is settled then! I will endeavor to see to your every need, my friend."

From there, Mao had closed the appointment, offering to take Mormont to a nearby establishment for an early dinner. Duncan, with rather mixed feelings about how the interview had gone, accepted the offer. He was shortly given his new nickname of "Zūnjià," before they set off.

Yin, Silver Light District

314 AC - Present

A moon later, in the small, comfortable square-box tea room of Xi Mao's private residence where Mormont now sat after the yiji party, and where Mao had so jovially threatened him with death, an almost tender silence hung in the air between them.

Mormont carefully took another drag at his smoking pipe, before letting out a fresh plume of smoke. His chest was beginning to hurt. "Mao, I'm not exactly keen on being removed from the face of the earth. It would be a terrible inconvenience for both of us. So very well, you have my utmost word of honor."

Mao had dipped his head in acknowledgment of his guest's promise and shuffled over so he was now sitting to Mormont's right. The YiTish had poured himself yet another glass of baijiu and gulped it down in one smooth motion. The action itself, coming from such a respectable figure of higher society, had concerned Mormont. Mao refilled his glass looked at Duncan, and started speaking in a low voice. "Thank you, Duncan. You must believe me when I tell you that this matter is not one easily divulged. As a matter of fact, by telling you this, I am bordering the lines of acceptable conduct within my sacred oath to the Empire." Mao said with a heavy sigh. "It is a most complicated matter and one of great embarrassment to the Empire. I must recount for you some of our earliest recorded history for you to fully understand." The older man elaborated. "Tell me, Duncan. Do you know of the Blood Betrayal?"

"I can't say that I do, no."

"No matter. You will have known by now that our current Empire was preceded by another. We call it the Great Empire of the Dawn. Our first ruler was known as the God-on-Earth. It is said that he was sired on the Maiden-Made-of-Light by the Lion of Night. The God-on-Earth ruled peacefully for ten thousand years before he ascended into the stars, and his son ruled a thousand years after him. Each successive ruler had reigned for less and less time, as countless threats hounded the borders of the Empire, many monsters and beasts that threatened its security. Lesser kings grew dissatisfied with their wealth and status, and many rebelled."

Mormont had to laugh. "Ten thousand years? Seems a touch out of reality, doesn't it?" he said boldly. "Not even the Targaryens could live forever, though I'm sure some of them were mad enough to go in for that sort of thing."

Mao, however, was not offended by Mormont's downplay of YiTish history. "He was called THE God-on-Earth for a reason, my friend. He was the only offspring of our two most sacred deities." He waved his hand dismissively. "In any case. One of the final rulers belonging to this line was the Amethyst Empress. The Amethyst Empress was a much-beloved monarch, but she was cast down and slain by her brother, who subsequently crowned himself as the Bloodstone Emperor."

History was among some of many the subjects which Duncan occasionally found fascinating in his time-though he always hated his mandatory lessons with Torwyn with a fiery passion, even though the old man was practically a grandfather to him. A sense of deja vu washed over him then, like he'd heard all of this before.

How many Targaryens had done the same to one another as this Bloodstone Emperor had to his sister? The Dance of the Dragons, as well as the Blackfyre Rebellions, came to mind. As unfortunate as it all was, it was history, and there was nothing Duncan himself could do about it.

What in the Seven Hells was all this building towards anyway? As interesting and mysterious as Yi Ti was, Mormont hadn't come all this way for a history lesson. When was Mao going to get to the bloody point?

Mormont downed his glass of baijiu and quickly refilled it. He nodded politely as Mao continued.

"The Bloodstone Emperor went on to enact the Blood Betrayal, a most hated event in our ancient past. He took to worshipping a black stone that fell from the sky and turned his back on the Maiden-Made-of-Light and the Lion of Night. He practiced cannibalism and necromancy, feasting on human flesh as well as raising the dead and insulting the circle of life. Millions of his people were enslaved under his orders, and he even took a tiger-woman for a wife."

"Tiger-woman?"

"It is said that the Bloodstone Emperor practiced the dark arts. He used foul magic to mate humans with animals. One of these degenerate offspring were the tiger-people." Mao elaborated. "The atrocities he committed made the Maiden-Made-of-Light turn her back on the world in shame, and so the Lion of Night came forth to punish man, bringing what I believe your people call the Long Night."

Ah… Mormont leaned forward slightly. Now that was something, wasn't it? Even the YiTish had their version of the Long Night… Though Mormont doubted the veracity of this little story (what were the chances all this had happened, anyway?) he believed that Mao was being sincere. That was all that mattered.

Mao again drank the entirety of his glass before refilling it once more. "You may have been wondering why I have been regaling you with this legend. Well, it is because even today, tens of thousands of years later, we are still dealing with the consequences of the Bloodstone Emperor's horrendous crimes against the gods."

"How so?" Mormont asked. "It's not like I've seen any of your people eating each other in the streets since I've got here."

"You are pleased to jape, Duncan. But this is no joking matter. Even as we speak, there is an organization of a most sinister nature festering within the heart of the Empire. A cult started all those years ago by the Bloodstone Emperor, most unfortunately, it is still in operation today; practicing the foul rituals and dark arts that are best left forgotten. Moreso, they are active here in Yi Ti."

Mormont sighed, throwing his hand up. "And why exactly is it a problem for you? Can't the Emperor just send in the Imperial Army and be done with it all?"

"It is not quite as simple as that. The calculated ingenuity behind these people, their understanding of our movements, and how they have been able to evade us… it is almost as if they could tell the future. In the opinions of our intelligence agents and operatives, it is even possible that this cult has spies within the Imperial Court."

"What in blazes is this organization called anyway? You never did tell me."

"It is called… The Church of Starry Wisdom."