Chapter 30 - Chapter 30: Who Dares to Be More Miserable Than Me

"Free riders are a type of mercenary," Jorah explained, his voice calm but precise. "They lack the status of knights, yet they possess horses and some knowledge of fighting on horseback. The only difference between them and ordinary mercenaries is that free riders can maintain mounted combat—they have a horse, and they know how to use it."Dany nodded thoughtfully. Indeed, a good horse cost more than a gold dragon, not to mention the saddlery, daily feeding, and care. Ordinary mercenaries without permanent property could never afford such luxuries; they were limited to the cheapest mounts, if any."Knights, however, are far more complicated," Jorah continued. "A child who aspires to knighthood is typically sent as a squire at the age of seven. He performs menial tasks, pouring wine, running errands, and cleaning armor, but this period allows him to build a close relationship with a knight."Training begins early. Sword instructors and martial masters lay the foundations. Once the squire reaches puberty, around twelve years old, he advances to more intensive training under the knight's personal guidance. He learns to handle weapons and horses, understand battlefield tactics, and, most importantly, develop survival skills. Chivalry is also instilled during this time—it is not merely a code of conduct but a form of practical education in honor and duty."Squires are not merely assistants; they are apprentices preparing for the battlefield. They carry armor for their knight, accompany him into war, and gain knowledge from direct observation and participation. Yet many squires remain squires for life. Without wealth to purchase their own horse or armor, they cannot ascend to knighthood.Dany clicked her tongue. "Can't a knight simply provide a squire with a horse and armor?"Knight Jorah let out a wry laugh, shaking his head. "That would be ideal, but my life was anything but ideal. I repeatedly lost my armor and warhorses in tournaments. Eventually, my savings dwindled to nothing, and I had to borrow heavily from the Braavos treasury. I am an earl with a fiefdom, and the Mormont family has existed for thousands of years—but wealth does not flow like water, not even on Bear Island.""I heard the Lannisters borrowed millions of gold coins from the Usurper," Dany said, her voice tinged with curiosity.Jorah raised an eyebrow. "Millions? Perhaps. There is a saying in Westeros: 'Lord Tywin's excrement is gold.' The great houses are different from ordinary nobles. The Westerlands are rich with mountains, veins of gold and silver hidden beneath them. Tywin Lannister had enough to lend millions without straining his coffers. We Mormonts? Not so fortunate."Dany leaned forward. "Go on.""What? My story or the knights'?" Jorah asked, licking his dry lips. He had been speaking at length and felt parched."The knights first," Dany said simply.Jorah nodded, settling back. "Any knight can confer knighthood on another. If a knight deems a squire worthy, he places a sword on the squire's shoulder and announces the new knight's name and family. The process may seem simple, but it is ceremonial. Newly knighted individuals are anointed with holy oil by a septon, and they spend the night in the sept, converting to the Seven Gods. This ritual discourages many Northerners, who follow the Old Gods, from seeking knighthood."Dany tilted her head. "So… you're a fake knight?"Jorah blushed slightly, shaking his head. "Not at all. Northern nobles can be recognized as knights even without the full ceremony. I am one of the few baptized knights in the North. There is also a faster path: if you distinguish yourself in war, your lord may knight you directly. That is how I earned my title.""The war that helped the Usurper overthrow the Targaryens?" Dany asked, raising an eyebrow."No," he said quickly. "That was not the case. I was knighted after helping quell King Balon Greyjoy's rebellion."He paused, glancing at her, realizing she cared little for the Usurper's war or the Targaryen throne. "Besides free riders," he continued, "there are mercenary knights and sworn knights. Sworn knights serve other nobles directly. They pledge loyalty and receive protection and maintenance in return. Many are minor nobles with little wealth or land.""I was your brother Viserys's sworn knight once," Jorah added, his voice tinged with pride and nostalgia. "Later, I became your sworn knight until you elevated me further as a member of your Queen's Guard."Dany internally groaned. So you sought Viserys's service yourself, and now you serve me as a bodyguard, yet you still think it was all fate?Jorah remained oblivious. "The great houses often hire free riders to patrol their lands. Loyal, lifelong sworn knights are costly; hedge knights are cheaper and more flexible. Bear Island is vast, and I could not afford a full complement of sworn knights. I employed a few free riders to maintain security."His voice grew heavy, sorrowful. "Yet I was broke—unable even to pay my cooks and harpers. Lynesse demanded luxuries, jewels, singers, and fine food. I considered pawning my jewels to meet her needs, but then…" He faltered, shaking his head, the shame evident. "I… I sold captured poachers to Tyroshi slave traders. Slavery is forbidden under the Faith of the Seven. I broke the law, violated my oaths, and sacrificed my honor—all for money, to keep Lynesse content."Dany's eyes widened. "Exile, perhaps?" she asked. "Surely the punishment could have been a fine, or a warning."Jorah shook his head, eyes dark. "Exile would have been mercy. My crime was capital. According to our tradition, Eddard Stark himself would judge me, hear my confession, and strike me down with Ice—our family sword of Valyrian steel."Dany looked at the rough map of Westeros Jorah had sketched on the stone slab. "Winterfell is far from Bear Island. Did you escape?""About a thousand kilometers," he said. "With fresh horses, I reached the sea in two days, Bear Island on the third. Three days were enough to escape with Lynesse and her jewels."Dany considered his words carefully. "You are the only son of House Mormont?""Yes," Jorah replied. "I have an aunt, but her children are all daughters. I was my father's only male heir."Dany's mind raced. "And you fought under Eddard Stark during the War of the Usurper?""I also fought at the Battle of the Trident," Jorah said softly. His voice carried pride, yet caution, like a breeze brushing over the seas."You've fought for Winterfell for years," Dany said, her tone laced with incredulity. "Accompanied Stark as a loyal knight, quelled rebellions, and yet now, because of a few poachers, you might be executed? That is absurd!"Jorah nodded, his eyes darkening with restrained fury. "Stark is fair, just, and relentless. He is strict with himself and others—one of his rare charms."Dany could not help but marvel. In any other dynasty, Jorah's story would seem impossible, unbelievable even. Only in Westeros could justice be so rigid, honor so intertwined with duty, and yet so brutal.She considered the political reality. Even with Stark's strictness, the North remained secure. Yet the Targaryens, ruling from afar, had lost their throne—was it due to their lack of cunning, or the strategic brilliance of their enemies? The complexities of Westerosi survival fascinated her, forcing her to reconsider her own methods.Jorah's voice softened, drawing her attention back. "For a time, only Lynesse and I mattered. Honor, wealth, status—none of it mattered. We fled to Lys. That ship, modest yet serviceable, carried us to a temporary prosperity. But… love can be cruel."His eyes darkened. "I was a sellsword. I had no skills beyond fighting for others. I delivered her jewels, paid her deposit, and the day after I left, she moved in with Trade Prince Trig Omolen."Dany saw it now—the bitterness etched into his bear-like, fierce features. The gleam in his eyes dimmed, replaced by the raw misery of betrayal and loss.In the original story, the woman he loved—the woman he devoted himself to—always played the role of the 'good girl.' But in this moment, Jorah seemed ready to cry out, "Who dares to be more miserable than me?"Dany thought deeply. Perhaps, only someone like Theon, in his own twisted way, could humbly match such wretchedness. Yet, even then, she realized—she, herself, bore burdens far heavier, alone, as the last Targaryen. In truth, the world's cruelty spared no one, not even a queen in her prime.And so, for a fleeting moment, the misery of Jorah Mormont, fierce and loyal, merged with the quiet storm of Daenerys Targaryen's own trials. The sky above White Cloud City seemed to echo their unspoken grief, the distant cries of dragons a reminder that survival demanded courage beyond comprehension.(End of Chapter)---