Yin, Silver Light District

314 AC

By now, it was nearing midnight. The voices and activity in the nearby harbor had since quieted down, as sailors had either gone back to their homes or were in the holds of their ships preparing to set out early the next morning.

Beyond the open partitioned window, the moon hung in the pitch-black curtain of the night sky. It might as well have been out of a Braavosi painting as it watched over the pointed, symmetrical buildings below, and the majestical towers and citadels belonging to the Golden City far in the distance. Duncan could even see its pale reflection on the distant shores of the Jade Sea.

And somehow, despite all the food and alcohol he'd consumed hours before, Mormont did not feel tired. As of right now, he was completely engulfed in this wild story of the madness-inducing Yellow King, and his deranged band of star worshipers. Mao certainly wasn't telling him this overdramatic account for no reason, not even for entertainment. Duncan knew that the motive would soon rear its ugly head. But what exactly would it be?

Mao downed the rest of his glass once again in a very uncivilized manner, much akin to how an Umber might drink an entire barrel of ale in one go. "Duncan, surely you understand the effect that such an organization would have on our citizens?"

"I don't imagine they'd be pleased to know there's a murder-happy cult running around the country."

"Indeed not!" Mao bellowed thunderously. "With this cult at large, our citizens would soon come to distrust us. All of the goodwill that the Azure Emperor has built up, all that he has done to unite the YiTish people in the last decade alone… would be completely unraveled were this to continue."

"Is the Emperor's rule truly that delicate here in Yi Ti?" Duncan asked, rather stupified that the security of this magical, grand Empire was now suddenly in question.

Mao gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "Do not be preposterous, Zūnjià. The Emperor has a most assured grip on the throne. He is most beloved by the people, and dare I say, in the last ten years we have known nothing but peace, prosperity, and progress." The older man shook his head plainly. "No. Were this Yellow King were to continue his campaign, I sense that a bloodbath among the peasantry would soon follow. Perhaps even so he can attempt to seize the throne himself. Perhaps even set off another event akin to the Blood Betrayal."

"Don't you think that's a bit overdramatic?" Duncan asked. "It's not like this cult of a couple hundred or so dissenters are in control of the country or anything. Of course there's the aforementioned civil unrest-I just don't see them being that much of a long-term problem."

"Think again, Zūnjià. These people know that were they to storm any of our major cities, or even Yin itself, that they'd be quickly laid to waste. What they are doing to target our peasantry, and the commonfolk, is a calculated approach. It is very deliberate. Imagine how many souls might be converted over to this Yellow King's doctrine and religion. How many would shed the blood of their fellow man for him? Would kill for him at will, judging alone from what we have seen?"

Mormont, reluctantly, began to see the other man's point. A bloodbath between the commonfolk alone would weaken a country without a doubt. And it would be even worse if they'd all decided to unite against the Emperor.

His father had always reminded him of that. "Let the high lords play their game of thrones-we're here to ensure that our people live well. Do not let the castles, and the women, and the shiny new swords fool you, boy. If the people wanted to do away with us, they could do so a whim. And so, you must look to them. Where are they being underserved? Are there common problems among them that must be addressed? How can we better help them improve their lives? These are the questions you must ask yourself once you become the Head of our House. Do you understand, boy?"

Duncan did understand at the time. Among all his family's travels in the South when he was a child, Duncan had only watched, observed when his father pointed out lords who'd grown up spoilt and now leading decadent, degenerate lives. Wine, women, gold… in their pursuit of personal happiness, they'd turn to hedonism and endless self-indulgence. Casually forgetting their obligations, their duties to both their families and their people. It was clearly not what his father wanted him to become.

And look at where you ended up. Gone and screwed the pooch, haven't you?

Rather bitterly, he'd acknowledged the traitorous thought and tried pushing it as far away as he could from the forefront of his mind. Piss off.

It wasn't as if he'd lived degenerately outside of having the occasional woman. Mormont prided himself on living a rather healthy lifestyle. He always trained every morning, and always made sure his people were looked after. Not to mention he was polite and kept his word when it was given. Outside of that… he was fine with living in a ditch for the rest of his life. He'd manage.

Duncan knew that he'd always had been one to enjoy life to the fullest. Perhaps he'd take the party just a bit too far if there was a feast to had and dancing to be done. Especially with pretty women about. He enjoyed the flirtatious dance, the small remarks, the company of a good woman who hung on his arm, the private adventures they'd share together until the inevitable close…

Still cocked everything up, haven't you.

Mormont decided that he didn't want to think about it anymore, and brought himself back to the present.

"It's a delicate situation, no doubt," he said, regaining his wits. "But you didn't answer my question. What's being done about this Cult? And this Yellow King in particular?"

Mao also seemed to have been briefly swallowed up in his own self-reflection. He glanced sharply over at Duncan once again before downing his cup. "Before I get to that, Zūnjià, I must first share with you why I know so much about this dreaded terrorist group and its twisted machinations. Officially speaking, this Cult of Starry Wisdom has been branded as a simple group of organized criminals, so as to calm our people and ensure they do not panic. Unofficially however… what I have told you thus far is only known to certain individuals within the confines of the Empire. It is, for all intents and purposes, a state secret."

Mormont couldn't help but break out an amused smile. "Mao! What's with all the cloak and dagger? It's not like you're letting me in on how the Emperor gets his kicks!"

"You misunderstand, Zūnjià." The older man hammered his flat palm against the low table, rattling the glasses and the drinks. "A few weeks ago, you made a most significant statement in my office. You said words to the effect that in exchange for a rather ambiguous type of fortune, you were prepared to aid me in any personal matter which I saw fit, perhaps even a matter concerning the security of the Empire."

"Yes, I did," Duncan said, recalling that he had made such a statement.

"Are you still prepared to do so? Do I have your word that from this point on, you will not divulge a single word of what I am about to say to anyone? Not even your own family?"

Realization dawned on him right then and there. The professional side of his mind had quickly taken over.

This was no longer just a round of drinks between friends. No longer a private visit to the home of his esteemed host. This was a business transaction. A deal that could potentially score him all the riches that he could ever ask for. A one-way ticket back to Westeros. Back to Bear Island where he'd clear his name, restore his family's honor, and hopefully, just hopefully, win back Lyarra.

And all that seemingly stood in the way, was this Yellow King, and his jumped-up band of degenerate cannibals…

The choice was obvious.

Immediately, the intoxicating effects of the alcohol and tobacco had soon ceded away from the forefront of his mind. In its place was the cold, calculating, analytical side of his mind which he'd cultivated since he was a boy.

"I am," Mormont said firmly, sitting forward. "You have my word, Mao."

Relief was evident in the other man's expression. Mao nodded and bowed to him once more. "Good. I will then tell you why I know what I know. Then I will reveal what operations are being attempted to wipe this cult from the face of the Earth, yes?"

Mormont simply nodded, beckoning for Mao to continue. He did so.

"Officially speaking, I am the Imperial Fleetmaster of the Empire. This is partially true. The Fleetmaster is often required to set out on important voyages concerning trade, or dealing with foreign nations. For the moment, this crucial responsibility is being handled by Chen Liu, who you of course know quite well. Unofficially, however, I am a member of the Imperial Cabinet."

The pieces were beginning to click together in Mormont's mind. On the one hand, it now made sense why Mao knew so much. On the other hand, he was speaking with a man who personally had the ear of the bloody Azure Emperor! What were the chances behind that?

Mao continued. "For moons, we have been putting together various operations to put down this Yellow King once and for all. And for moons, he has been most prudent in evading us. It seems that he can foretell when our forces will arrive, and will make him and his men scarce. The Emperor himself is focused on ensuring that our people live in prosperity and that they are looked after. As such, he has handed this matter to me."

"You?"

"Of course!" The YiTish said with an assured nod. "I served under him as a General in the Imperial Army. It was my responsibility to handle more… secretive operations in the uprisings that I have mentioned to you. Particularly concerning the Siege of Trader Town over ten years ago. My spies had captured an escort sent from another city that paid tribute to the self-proclaimed Orange Emperor in the forms of gold, silks, and spices. The documents they were carrying were also modified. From there, we constructed a great lion made of bamboo wood, hid ourselves in it, and enlisted some merchants to act as the escort itself. The contraption was taken into Trader Town under the order of the Orange Emperor, who had seen the documents and believed the great gift was legitimate. We waited many hours until dusk, from where we climbed out of the lion, slit the throats of the guards on duty, and opened the gates for the rest of our forces laying in wait. This act alone saved thousands of lives, and singlehandedly won us the war."

"Bloody hell, Mao." Duncan was surprised. It was easy to forget that the chunky, golden face had once belonged to a seasoned warrior. "I imagine the Emperor was quite impressed with a performance like that."

"Quite so. And because of this, I have been graced with more responsibility in my old age." Mao said proudly. "As for this Church of Starry Wisdom, I have endeavored to understand their movements, how they think, and so on. Yet, I find it most fascinating that they are perceptive enough to anticipate my own movements."

Mormont broke in. "You did say you've had successes, though."

"Naturally. Though we have quashed countless splinter groups belonging to this blasted religion, more keep sprouting up like unkempt weeds in a garden. As such, I have ordered the majority of my men to continue putting down these groups, meanwhile, I and the rest of my forces are focused on finding the base of operations, the head of the snake if you will, of this cult." Mao said. "Through much reflection and investigation, I have concluded that there is a traitor among the nobility who must be sheltering this Yellow King and his followers."

"Can't imagine any of your puffed-up nobles would willingly go against the Emperor himself."

"Normally, no. However, this Yellow King somehow has the ability to entice others to follow his commands at a whim. It is not so unlikely that he may have gotten close to one of the Kings or Sorcerer Lords who pay tribute to the Emperor. It is much like the most recent civil war in your country."

Again, Mormont couldn't help but admit that Mao had a fraction of a point. Many houses in the Crownlands had secretly supported Aegon the Pretender in his rather bombastic attempt at a complete takeover.

But Aegon certainly didn't have mystical powers of persuasion. He was just mad and he had a big fucking dragon at his side. Plain and simple.

"Alright," Duncan refilled his glass again. "So who is it then? Who's sheltering this lot?"

"I have since narrowed down the list of potential suspects to three individuals. However, I have yet to decide on which one to take action against."

"Why wait?" Duncan asked with a slight frown. "The quicker you root up this cancer, the sooner it'll be gone."

Mao shook his head. "It is not as simple as that, Zūnjià. If we are wrong, then as soon as we strike, this Yellow King and his followers will fade away into the jungle mists! They will disappear and slip right through our grasp yet again! No, we cannot have that happen, Zūnjià. We must know for certain where they are hiding and who is sheltering them. One strike. One opportunity to crush them for the last time."

So that was how it was, then… Fair enough, I suppose.

Mormont could understand Mao's reasoning. A potential political scandal could be born out of this clandestine operation. Perhaps even, it would be enough fuel to ignite yet another civil war in Yi Ti.

Tricky business, indeed.

But it all came back to the root of why he was even here. Duncan didn't know. Mao seemed to have figured everything out, and even had a close list of suspects who were potentially protecting this Cult of Starry Wisdom, keeping them hidden under wraps. So why did he need Duncan's help in this matter? Why him in particular?

Mormont reached into his pocket and withdrew his leather tobacco pouch. He took his time refilling the bowl of his pipe while giving Mao an inquisitive glance. "So… what exactly is it you need from me, then?"

And yet Mao was not to be hurried! Those black-brown eyes peered into him once again, in an almost hounding sort of way. "Duncan, I will now be honest with you, as you have been honest with me, and you will not be offended because we are friends, yes?"

Duncan lit his pipe with a match, having already leveled with Mao's intensive gaze. What was this? Some kind of confession? So be it. He prepared himself mentally for the blow that was coming and nodded.

"You know by now that my people do not hold foreigners in such high regard. And for a laowai such as yourself to have ascended so quickly through YiTish society is almost unheard of. Had you not met Chen and made a great impression on him, we would not be having this meeting. You would instead be wandering the Jade District idly, not knowing where to go nor who to speak to concerning this vague fortune that you are seeking. This is the same policy we have for the Qartheen, the Pentoshi, and the Braavosi. For thousands of years, these lesser civilizations have been looked down upon as barbarians, savages, and sadists seeking endless pleasure and gratification at the expense of others. And when the wheel inevitably turns to your homeland…" Mao donned a disgusted, downward glance. "You Westerosi seem all too happy to kill one another over a pathetic hunk of iron. Your very kingdom was founded on the blood and corpses made by a group of hedonistic, inbred dragon worshipers who simply had nothing better to do than to burn those lower of stature than them-a family you yourself are descended from. Your people do not pay proper homage to your backward gods, neither do you and your proud countrymen seek to contribute to the growth of your society, but only to reap its meager rewards for your own!" Mao schooled his features and held up a hand just as Duncan was about to open his mouth to protest. "Moreover! You ignite civil war after pitiful civil war for insignificant reasons. And when all is said and done, you simply welcome the dissenters back into your society with open arms, allowing them to scheme and plot behind your back. It is as if you want them to stab you in the throat when you are not looking!"

Mormont leaned back and laughed. "You've got a bloody cheek, Mao! I wonder how it is that you've come to that conclusion when you and yours barely even pay our humble little island a single glance."

"It is precisely because of what I know concerning your country's history, that we have not attempted to initiate trade with your people. Your kind is a degenerate lot. Seeking only to squeeze what indulgence you can out of what you consider arduous lives, and never seeking to find deeper meaning in what life has to offer. Why should we parlay with you? Especially when it is all too likely that your King will lose his throne within the next thirty years? What good is an unstable society such as yours? Especially when your Great Houses are totally unconcerned with what crimes and wrongdoings their lesser lords are committing in the public eye."

Duncan forced the ice into his veins. "Respectfully, Mao… that sounds like a whole load of bullshit. You, my fine friend, haven't spent even a bloody second on Westeros, and yet here you are looking down on us with all the snobbery I might've expected from Casterly Rock! Just because you are supposedly more pious and upstanding than the rest of us doesn't mean we're any lesser than you. Sure, our Great Houses may be more concerned with their own well-being than with their own people, and perhaps even you're correct about the injustices that some of our lesser lordlings carry out on their lands, but we still have a knack for accomplishing the impossible! We pick up ourselves out of the dirt and sail right into the heart of Valyria! And at the end of the day we stand together! Even against a lunatic and his dragons and his fifty-thousand-strong army of mercenaries, we put on a brave face and stand tall. That, my fine friend, is more than I can say for you and your cowed peasantry. And especially for your ridiculous fugitive band of madness-inducing cannibal star worshipers."

A pause soon followed after Mormont's biting retort. He kept his gaze strictly focused on Mao, not willing to look away, not wanting to lose the game of wills.

And just as quickly, it was broken. Mao's golden-tanned face split into a wide grin as he laughed uproarously. Mormont was not as amused. He simply simmered as he continued listening to Mao chuckle, and took another drink.

Mao sat forward, this time refilling both of their glasses with baijiu. "Well done, Zūnjià! I thought that, perhaps, your impressive stoicism would shatter if I hit hard enough. I… just wanted to know for certain." he gave an approving nod. "And regarding this habit of accomplishing the impossible… I believe this to be true. I said just as much to the Emperor in our most recent cabinet meeting."

What? Mormont was confused. Now the older man was praising him? What was the angle here? "What do you mean?"

"I mean, Zūnjià, that last week… I attended a private cabinet session with the Emperor. I informed him of your purpose in being here, and I told him that you were exactly what we needed to finally cleanse this blighted cult from our lands once and for all."

"What? Some lordling from Westeros who doesn't have much to lose?"

"No, Zūnjià. A sign from the Maiden-Made-of-Light herself! A man whose own father is said to be the only man in the world who has sailed the Smoking Sea and lived. That is what we need in a time such as this. Someone who can do the impossible, who can help us find this Yellow King, and cut the head off the snake at the same time."

Duncan went wide-eyed. "Me!"

"You were sent to us. It might have been another." Mao said easily, then opting to continue where he left off. "And do you know what the Emperor said to me in that very same meeting? He said, very well, Xi Mao. Put this foreign Xiánláng to the test. If he succeeds, then I will agree that there is an elite in Westeros and that perhaps, they are worthy enough to consider friends of the Empire. He will be granted all the wealth he is looking for and more. If he fails to provide sufficient value, then he will be respectfully turned away."

Mormont got back to relighting his pipe. The bloody thing just wouldn't go. All the while he was still thinking of Mao's harsh words against the Westerosi people, and even of the Conqueror in particular. And now of the sudden polarity in the conversation itself, the unexpected praise that Mao was now heaping upon him and his countrymen.

But then another thought slipped into his mind. What in the Seven Hells was this test that Mao was speaking of? And what exactly would it entail? "So what is it you want me to do? Can't be anymore ridiculous than what you've told me so far."

"It is very simple, Duncan." Said Mao as he leaned forward again. "You are to help us find where this Yellow King is hiding, and put an end to his reign of terror once and for all."

Author's Note:

For those of you who are keen to see the next chapter for Of Growing Strong…

I have not forgotten about it. So…

…keep an eye out within the next few days ;)

Cheers