Kapitel 60: Ch 60: Vodka and Murder
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Late into the night, Jorah sent a deposit to Lord Rockwell, who hurriedly departed to retrieve his "goods." The deal was concluded, and Jorah was content with the outcome. For Bear Island, transitioning from a primitive farming and fishing economy to a more trade-oriented and profession-based society was a monumental leap forward.
While it might appear insignificant to some, for Jorah and the people of Bear Island, it felt akin to a man landing on the moon. A small step for a person and a giant leap for Bear Island.
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Three months had elapsed since the deal with the slaver, Lord Rockwell, had been concluded. In that span of time, Bear Island saw little significant change, except for the printing press, which now boasted a plethora of new orders. The church's order had been fulfilled with a speed that left many in awe, birthing rumours of a magical device.
This newfound reputation of Bear Island and House Mormont made even the maesters of the Citadel and House Hightower take notice. House Hightower, a family as wealthy as the Lannisters, if not more so, held sway in the grand city of Oldtown, the oldest, largest, and second most populous city in Westeros.
Amidst this, Jorah was engrossed in perusing a book recently sent by the Citadel.
"Maester Allen, is this the correct order? Take a look," Jorah handed over the documents to Maester Allen.
Maester Allen meticulously examined the order and nodded in affirmation.
"Lord Mormont, if I may inquire, this pertains to the process of making wine. I still cannot fathom why you devote so much attention to it. We have no fruits, not a single one suitable for wine-making—apples, grapes, or any other variety is far too costly for us," Maester Allen finally voiced the question that had been gnawing at him.
"You need not concern yourself with that, Maester. Please tell me, how much time will it take to set up this process?" Jorah inquired.
"Well, Lord Mormont, we can commence in a day's time. We simply require the necessary pots and wooden drums. It shouldn't pose a significant challenge," Maester Allen explained.
"Very well. You will prepare the setup and keep it discreet. Tory will be there to assist you in every way," Jorah instructed.
"Understood, M'Lord. I shall take my leave," Maester Allen departed, armed with his new directives.
After finishing the last sip of his wine, Jorah made his way back to his room. It had taken him nearly two days to find the most suitable wine-making setup for Bear Island within a Citadel book. Amongst the plethora of knowledge that the Citadel maesters had brought, the art of wine-making had caught his eye.
Bear Island, and the North in general, lacked the necessary conditions for producing wine. It was a fantastical notion, given the unsuitable soil and climate for growing grapes or any fruit. However, with a slight modification, they could potentially produce vodka—the beverage Jorah aspired to create.
In the book that presented a straightforward method of making wine, Jorah incorporated three new steps: distillation from a clay or wooden pot, collection of the liquid from distillation, and repetition of the process to create a more potent beverage.
These three seemingly simple additions promised not only to alter the drink's taste but also to make it significantly stronger than traditional wine—potentially five to eight times as potent. Jorah hoped that this new industry could bring substantial wealth to Bear Island.
"Jorah, please, just get some rest," Lady Annara urged, gently pushing Jorah onto the bed, her concern etched on her face. Jorah knew she was right, and there was no need to argue. He acquiesced, allowing himself to surrender to sleep.
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"Can you hear me...?"
A childlike voice roused Jorah from his slumber. He surveyed his surroundings and found himself encompassed by a boundless white expanse. No sky, no earth—just an unending sea of white.
"Who are you?" Jorah inquired cautiously.
"It is me... Your forebears used to refer to me as the Old Gods of the Forest."
"The Old Gods?" Jorah nearly stumbled at the shocking revelation.
"I once was... now, I am a seeker," the voice replied, tinged with sorrow and helplessness.
"What do you mean?"
"I have been waiting for you, Jorah Mormont. I have waited a long time. Will you come visit me?"
"Where?"
"Here..." the voice responded, and in an instant, the surroundings transformed. Jorah stood on a small hill, a towering ancient weirwood tree at its summit, surrounded by ice and snow.
Jorah recognized this place—it was the hiding place of the Children of the Forest and the Three-Eyed Raven. But why him?
"You recognize this place, I can see..."
Jorah steeled himself but chose to remain silent.
"I understand. Since you humans are fond of making deals, I propose a bargain. Come here, aid me, and in return, I shall bestow upon you abilities beyond your wildest dreams."
Jorah's mind raced, and he blurted out, "What do you need me to do?"
"End a life. The life of one who betrayed me, who betrayed my people, who betrayed the entirety of the human kingdom. I want you to kill the Three-Eyed Raven."
The gravity of the situation hung heavily in the air. The request was not made lightly, and Jorah could feel the weight of responsibility pressing on him.
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Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein