Mid 280 Winter
"Look here, boys." I commanded my sons as I stood next to one of the snow bears I raised, "What differences do you see?"
After a series of half hearted answers, I nodded and continued, "Is it correct to say that the two creatures before you are two distinct types?"
After a bout of limp wristed agreement I dug into the topic of this lesson, "A Starks will say 'I am a wolf', a Lannister will say 'I am a lion'. Both of them are actually jackasses. We Mormonts are not bears. It does not matter that we look like bear shaped people, or that I control this bear, or that I can turn into a bear. I am a man, and so are all of you, and the same applies to all the jackass minded people who claim they are an animal that appears on the banner of the family they were born into."
The boys looked bored, but I didn't care. We'd been cooped up through the coldest year of my life and I'd been ruminating the entire time.
"People will use animal symbols to excuse their bad behavior, or to sound like they are smart and mysterious people talking in euphemisms and code. They are also jackasses." I declared, "Take responsibility for yourselves, and it's not a clever code if all you have substituted is known names for known symbols."
I made sure they all understood that before bringing the rest of my bears front and center.
"Now that we have that out of the way, we shall discuss the pros and cons of snow bear cavalry." I announced, "Bears in the wild are just as fast as horses, can move on a far larger variety of terrain, and possess far greater endurance in addition to their natural weapons and thick hide. These bears have been raised and trained since birth to reach their full physical potential, have a near human intelligence, and are entirely obedient to me."
I'd gained a dozen bear cubs born connected to my skinchanger magic, and over the winter they reached adulthood, achieving far greater size and prowess than the polar bears of Earth. They averaged over seventeen hundred pounds and would continue to grow for a time, likely reaching a ton each. Lean.
"A bear requires five times the feed of a horse per pound, though the volume of this feed can be lessened by high density options such as fried foods and honey. The next concern of using bears in warfare is the effect they have on dogs, horses, and men of low courage." I informed the gathering of my sons then got to work armoring my chosen mount, Trevor.
With his cooperation I outfitted Trevor in plate and chain armor and rose up into a saddle on his broad back, finally feeling truly at home in the saddle. The bear below me seemed almost too heavily armored to be real, but the athleticism of Trevor and his peers is not to be underestimated.
"Well, boys." I grinned from atop my mount, "What are you waiting for?"
I spent the rest of my winter training my sons to be the best warriors they can be. We'd reached crunch time, as I truly doubted that my growing presence on the west coast caused any disruptions in the politics of King's Landing. I made sure that my sons utilized each and every opportunity to grind their bodies and skills up into something capable of thriving on the battlefield. Overall the boys are behind where I was at their age on strength and conditioning, but their skill levels and equipment are far beyond what I had access to.
No shame on my father and aunt, but getting trained by some lifelong journeymen versus a well seasoned expert is a night and day difference. It also helped that my kids and I shared the same body types, and thus all lessons I taught them are applicable. Plus it doesn't matter to me if they need a new set of plate armor every year to accommodate their growing bodies, as opposed to griping about adjusting chain shirts and sewing together new metal lames that I grew up with. I've got fifty more sons on the ups who will one day fill those.
Ulfric, Galmar, and Kodlak all married and left my home before we began our travels in the Year of False Spring. I provided them long houses within Far Harbor, and a bronze hulled longship each as wedding gifts. With those ships came fresh crews and assigned trading routes they'd have to willfully ruin to lose money on. It was time at last for my army of Mormont men to sail out and seize greater and greater shares of the Westerosi economy, freeing me up to sail farther asea to new markets and new opportunities.
Of course the nature of the Year of False Spring is in the name, a temporary warming of Westeros, a retreat of the ice and snow, long enough to convince everyone that winter is over and that it was time for all players to resume the great game. My invitation to the Tourney of Harrenhal came with a personal request for my attendance in competition as a reigning tournament champion. Everyone in Westeros wants to take a crack at me, and who can blame them. I haven't lost a joust or archery contest since I first signed up for those events, and my win streak at the melee runs even longer than those. There is significant interest in me facing off against the other great champions of our time. Established names like Yohn Royce, Arthur Dayne, Barristan Selmy, but above all others people clamored for a meeting on the field between myself and Crown Prince Rhaegar Targaryen. There is so much buzz in the Seven Kingdoms about a potential clash between Rheagar and me that a person would feel quite comfortable believing that King Aerys chose Elia Martell precisely to build hype for the bout. The man is crazy enough that it might actually be the case.
I gathered to the Great Sea Bear an entourage of the lords and ladies that comprise my trade federation, while Ulfric, Galmar, and Kodlak sailed with us filling their ships with men at arms, horses, and equipment for the journey to Harrenhal and the awaiting competition. We saved ourselves a great deal of time and heartache bypassing the Neck and harboring our ships at Seaguard. We'd sent the ships back North with skeleton crews and packed into the Mallister Keep.
If nothing else alerted people to my success in dragging up my region economically, then the fact that the quality of the clothing worn by the Glovers, Flints, and Ryswells matched those worn by the Mallisters certainly drove the idea home. Before hand, they dressed like well off small folk, but now you might think them people who can afford a good weaver, dyer, tailor, and cobbler. Barber and jeweler too, considering the new and solid grooming habits and the abundance of silver rings and necklaces worn.
My vanity infected them as my influence grew. I'd taken to wearing no small amount of wealth over the years, putting the goldsmiths at Lannisport to use. Beaten gold and carved ivory featured frequently in my outfits, especially around my waist and neck. Any man who killed me could claim a fortune that would see him comfortable till the end of his days, if he managed to survive the fighting over my fallen body. It didn't much matter to me if my gilded garb felt gaudy and offensive to those in the upper tiers of society, because the effect it has on the lower rungs is more than worth it.
Dressing as I do inspires those following me, especially those with me from the start. It is the physical embodiment of all our success in plain view rather than hidden away in a vault. It also opened doors with merchants, as many hope to separate me from my wealth without realizing that they are dealing with a business shark. Much of my wardrobe's cost has been reclaimed by outplaying greedy merchants who thought they could get the better of Jorah Mormont.
What fools.
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This chapter finishes the prologue. The Tourney at Harrenhal - in the minds of many ASoIaF characters - is the bookend on better days, and everything that came after was worse. Before Harrenhal the princes were pure, the knights greater, and women more beautiful. It was the biggest tourney that had ever been and framed House Targaryen's destruction, much like the Tourney of the Hand was the biggest tourney ever and framed the destruction of the Baratheon dynasty.
I'll be moving through these chapters slowly, as I don't have the wiggle room the previous chapters had. If I don't get Harrenhal right, there is no do over like with the Great Raids.
You can support me and my family at
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