Chương 12: Making a Living to Making Money
Mid 270 Summer
Alsya collapsed onto my chest after she finished hard, showing me what victory really feels like. I brushed her dark hair away from my face and wiped some of the sweat from her brow.
"Tell the slave woman to bring more wine." she moaned in exhaustion causing my chest under her to rumble with laughter.
I bid the woman to do so from her place in the room nearby, then turned my face back to my naked wife, "My dear, we cannot call Ysolt a slave woman." I chuckled again at the mental gymnastics, "Slavery is illegal. She's a thrall. We're not slavers, we're just old fashioned."
"Ah yes, the one part of the culture you happen to embrace is the one that allows you to collect bed slaves, as many as you like." Alysa lightly sneered as our ginger thrall brought her a goblet of wine purchased on one my ventures in Lannisport, "It would have been far more socially acceptable for you to have simply taken out your lusts on poor Brandy. The gods know how long she has yearned for your affection."
"But, my dear, that would be adultery." I jokingly scoffed and we both laughed about it.
We knew how marriage in Westeros works. I am free to openly slake my passionate desires with anyone I so choose, only finding conflict if the male relatives of the woman are powerful enough to avenge any 'dishonoring' that has occurred. Meanwhile if I discovered that she has done the same I can - and am expected to - cast her aside and declare all her children bastards, sending them away from my lands to beg for succor with her birth family who may or may not choose to shelter her after her whorish wanton ways have shamed the family so.
I appreciated Alysa's disconnected emotional temperament. Her natural inclination to cold logic cut through so much headache. She must have suffered greatly in canon, married to a tried and true simp loser. Feeling sorry for her suffering I grabbed onto her motherhood rounded butt cheeks and started bouncing her on my cock as back pay for those years of pain.
And this time, when she wanted no more she had someone to tag in and try to exhaust my indefatigable manhood.
They made a valiant effort.
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Though I wanted to jump right into trading this year considering my large stocks of luxury goods on hand, domestic duties put a kibosh to that. The rapid shift over the last year and half of people moving to the harbor village at the foot of Mormont Keep and away from the perimeter fishing villages required an intelligent intervention before the compromises of the now start causing future suffering.
Though we never bothered creating strictly accurate census data, we knew from yearly taxes that Bear Island hosted around forty five hundred people before the boys and I dropped another three hundred and sixty thralls on our shores.
As of now the harbor village has grown from simply the largest settlement on the island to the home of over half the population, who moved there due to jobs provided by me as both the direct and indirect support for my trading ventures. Before this migration the village looked sad and poor, but now it looked like a complete shanty town. Conditions were cramped and dingy enough that we were just asking to get hit hard by a fire or plague.
Fortunately I had three hundred and forty hard as nails men who'd spent the last ninety days living rough and wild on hand to kick start the process of building an organized, clean, and defensible town capable of bearing the current population and its rapid expansion. People complained as we moved them into tents to clear and level the land required, but it was just whinging, and quickly stopped when the sturdy longhouses started going up and the crushed stone paths paved the important routes through the settlement.
The project should have taken three months to finish, but swiftly ballooned to take up the rest of the year when those living in the outlying villages left their homes and traveled to us in search of a more prosperous and secure life. While it less than doubled the need for housing, we needed to clear and grade far more land, fell and season more timber, triple the expansion of our docks, and since I had all my citizens in one place, defend them.
We build earth and wood ramparts to separate us from the wild interior and the sea. Anyone looking to harm us would find no egress unfortified. In the cold and damp conditions of our home, it'd take Danny and her dragons showing up to burn us out, and considering the highly improbable series of events that see her getting those fire breathing lizards, I'm willing to delay worrying about them for the next thirty years.
By the end of the work we'd cleared the land of trees for acres around our newly built harbor town, transformed the lives of the citizens, completed the most expansive project in the history of the island, and completely wiped out my savings as our only form of trade during this time consisted of us purchasing food from Seaguard. The complete draining of my cash reserves proved to be a very temporary set back, and an easy sacrifice for the greatly improved efficiency of my now urban population.
When I did not arrive for any further ventures within half a year, Ser Lionel Lannister sent a raven with a message inquiring of my welfare, and after informing him of my labors the man and his wife embarked from Lannisport on a heavy trading carrack loaded with food and nails, arriving at our work in progress docks in the tenth month of the year and staying with us for a fortnight.
He congratulated me on my accomplishments, though having never seen the state of Bear Island before, the effect was far less dazzling than it truly is. He also congratulated me for the bulging midsection of my wife who was due within the next three months. They smartly ignored the swollen belly of my silent ginger servant. Little did they know, my children by Ysolt would be legal Mormonts, no need for any legitimizing by a king.
I intended to take a new salt wife with each great raid, and by the time of the War of Five Kings, the Mormonts would outnumber the Freys. We shall pass over them as a raging tidal wave, and wash away all their iniquity with blood and steel. It will be biblical.
Rockhall received its first noble guests. The underhill manse continued expanding after my marriage to Alysa, and I spent the last seven months replacing the doors, wall cladding, and furniture with weirwood. I'd mostly finished the renovations by the time the Lannisters arrived, and when the couple saw my home wall to wall full of the one of the most expensive building materials in the world their estimation of me jumped several fold.
Ser Lionel had been quite giddy when I revealed to him the quantities of exotic pelts, ivory, and weirwood I intended to take to Lannisport before the coming of the new year, and the man promised to set up an auction for the goods when he returned home. When I brought up the topic of a strategy to best monetize future supply, Lady Brenda Lannister required a fan to cool her excited blood, and Ser Lionel looked quite hot under the collar. We kept it toasty in Rockhall, but not that toasty.
As very minor nobility quite removed from the Lords of their houses the stigma against earning your coin instead of sitting around rent collecting did not apply. The opportunity to facilitate the sale of such rare luxury goods meant a giant leap in their personal fortunes, and in truth I didn't need to even be generous with their cut of the sales for them to be greatly enriched.
When the time came for us to follow them down to Lannisport, I took with me the full eight ships of my fleet, three more having been finished throughout the year. Only two were loaded with the goods for auction, but I saw no reason not to unload some more pine on the Westerlands.
Ser Lionel practically rolled out the red carpet for us, and it became apparent why when the Lannisters successfully bid for a large portion of my luxury goods. Not the Lannisport Lannisters, but a procurer for the Lannisters of Casterly Rock.
As he watched merchants from Myr and Tyroshi take their billets, the man informed us that House Lannister would reserve right of first offer in the future before any such spectacles as we put on would be nessasary. To keep rare Westerosi goods out of the uncouth hands of foreigners was worth a premium price. After all, money was of no concern to House Lannister.
"You've done it, lad." Ser Lionel declared as the procurer walked away imperiously, "You've got the attention of the richest house in Westeros."
I couldn't help but laugh, causing him to scowl.
"Phrasing, my friend." I smiled, "In different context that statement would be very menacing."
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Originally I chose the durations on Bear Island's reconstruction arbitrarily, and when I went back to do the math I realized that Jorah and the Boyz were slacking off, nearly at half their productive capacity. Which makes sense as they needed to prep the work zone and their materials. This means my numbers in this chapter were both arbitrary and factually correct. I feel like I have achieved some kind of literary paradox or I'm a scheduling savant. Yeah, 20. Definitely, 20.
I also like how G Ser Lionel is. This dude gets in the car and rolls with it where it goes. This dude let's you know what it means when the Mexicans got on boots.
You can support me and my family at
ko - fi . com / jmanm
Chương 13: This is Westeros
Early 271 Summer
I had to wait over a month and a half the next time I stepped foot on the Frozen Shore for a real battle to ensue. We didn't play possum like we did last time, instead pressing to get our hands on everyone we could find. We made no secret of where we made camp, and did not fortify it in any threatening manner, but for fifty days no one contested our arrival.
Despite the success of the last venture and my increased availability of ships, I still only had five crews with me. A number of men chose not to engage in a second great raid, but I had enough young and eager men to replace them. This lot proved less squeamish and less likely to complain, having heard the tales from the prior year and signed on anyway. They worked hard, and even joked among each other about the roughness of our joint labor.
I estimated that the army that attacked us last time numbered fifteen hundred. Their night raid turned against them, making it harder for them to see how poorly the fight was going and so they took massive casualties quickly and retreated far too late from our engagement.
This host came to us in broad daylight, coming up the coast, and they numbered around four thousand. A dread filled my men as the enemy approached, many atop sleds of bone pulled by enormous dogs. Seeing this, I knew I had to rally them.
"Line up, lads!" I shouted as my terrified forces formed up at their approach, "Archers up front!"
"A lot of commanders will tell their men that they are worth ten of the enemy each." I began to monologue while we got into position and I carried with me what looked like a large leather golfing bag, but rather than sporting clubs my back carried long bladed throwing spears, "It's bullshit. It'd be miraculous for one army to have men worth even three of the enemy, let alone something like ten. But these aren't real warriors. They're a pack of fools with sticks and stones. If you get winded killing thirty of them, we'll have to sail you around the world to the City of Whores and hang a welcome sign over your ass to let the real men know you're open for business. Cause if any of you let these flea bitten fools kill, ya, selling your ass is all you were ever good for."
Like all good ad campaigns targeting young men, I hit them in the insecurities. Throw in an accusation of homosexual leanings and let that teen angst run wild.
"They're coming into range lads. 330 yards! Nock! Draw!... Loose!" I commanded and a hundred arced longbows flung their payload into the air.
I wouldn't have been surprised if the Wildlings cut and run after seeing the devastation that volley caused in their ranks, but they kept charging as the volleys kept coming. My men, while not masters of the craft, had no problems firing their bows ten times in a minute. The wildlings took over a minute and a half to get to us, tripping over each other and stalling as the volleys started hammering the frontrunners.
The Wildings returned arrow fire during their charge, but their missiles - lacking steel bodkin points - failed to do more than sting a bit through our thick armor and padding. I felt the pelting of many such attacks as I stood in front of my company and started flinging my javelins as hard and as fast as my near demigod like muscles could manage.
The first struck one of the giant dire hounds pulling the bone sleds of the local bigshots, I aimed to thin out the biggest viable threat in their army outside of just dogpiling us with their numbers and wrestling our gear away. I don't know why they didn't break during that charge. The Wildings trampled on over a thousand of their men and women and still kept charging. They actually sped up when the archers pulled back to take up our rear line in our spear and shield phalanx.
The Wildlings leapt at us, throwing their bodies onto our spears and shields in a mad attempt to rip them down with their lives. In many cases they succeeded, but the spears in the second line bought the front enough time to take axes to hand and begin hacking down on the enemy. Both sides of our conflict howled and screamed like animals as we gave our all to the effort.
I held my spear up, thrusting down with the full strength of my tricep and shoulder over and over, the Valyrian blade slipping in and out of bodies faster than a greased cock at a Lysene orgy. It wasn't until one of those giant direhounds leapt over the fray at me that I lost my grip on it as the beast took the sword spear with it to the ground when I sunk it to the hilt in its flying body.
I wanted to retrieve it, but had to punch the teeth down the throat of a big man with a stone hammer. I pulled my axe off my belt and treated him to a hatchet attack to the neck, a service I extended to every Wildling that came within reach until finally whatever frenzy drove them forward broke, the flames of fury finally doused in the rain of blood soaking the earth.
We did not pursue.
Only a few men outright died in that battle on our end, but nearly everyone looked like they went five rounds with Tony Ferguson. Many simply collapsed in exhaustion the moment the adrenaline ran out. They fell onto a ground soaked in the blood of over two thousand dead and soon to be dead wildlings stretched out before us for a thousand feet.
After retrieving Longclaw I helped carry our wounded back to camp and got to work treating the injured. Nearly forty men broke bones in the fight, wrists and collars mostly. I ended up resetting dozens of noses and sowing up a few split brows. Mostly my men moved around like broke down geriatrics, covered in bruises from the beating they took trying to kill the enemy as fast as possible.
We chose to cut the Great Raid short, lest the survivors of the battle return with another host from further east. We'd already almost matched the results of the last raid as we'd landed twenty leagues farther east from our first raid a handful of miles east of the Lorn Point. A hundred miles deeper into richer territory were more plants grew, more animals roamed, and more savage wildlings lived.
We'd almost lost the game due to our lack of numbers this year, but I'd have twelve ships available for the next, and I'd find a way to fill them with warriors able and willing to carry out our great labor in these lands. My people needed to harden our hearts and wills to carry out this great and terrible purpose. I'd have to tap into the spirit of a certain speechmaker from the 1930's.
Tiresome.
We staged our withdrawal over the next two weeks, three of our ships at a time making multiple trips back and forth with thirty man crews hauling our loot and later our thralls, fifty five women and ninety children.
I ended up taking a blonde built like an amazon in her late twenties for myself and her two daughters of about twelve and six years old. I'd have to be careful with Helga. Not because she was stronger than Ysolt. That doesn't really factor. No, all you had to do is look her in the eyes to see it. Big girl was smart.
Ysolt was like a deer, get her scared and she starts jumping. Helga starts jumping cause she knows that's what I want. Once we got back to Bear Island she picked up the common tongue quickly and somehow formed a deep friendship with Alysa, often taking care of the newly born Skjor.
I couldn't tell if I figured out her game or not when Ulfric started following her youngest around like a puppy. Was this the play of a brilliant social chameleon, a natural part of children growing up, or was my genetics hard coded for simping and I simply ignored it by always keeping myself busy. That last one was the only one that actually had me worried.
If it was the latter and Ulfric was a little natural born simp, I'd ensure when we head south for the Rebellion that he never makes it back to the North. Maybe I can get him on the Tower of Joy team. Ned would see the boy dead for me and I'd get sympathy points with the guy. Two birds one stone. That's the kind of thinking that gets me what I want.
Interesting domestic situations aside, the world decided to remind me that I live in Westeros the morning the boys went down to load up three ships with fir to sell down in Lannisport. It cleared a higher price per load than pine, and with my construction projects finished for now, I had no use for it. Better to convert it to resources capable of getting me more in the future when I actually need to expand again.
Thankfully we hadn't started the work before the signal horn blew and the message waving flags told me Ironborn sailed in from the west, ten ships. The horns sounding across the harbor let the fishermen know to scatter if they couldn't make it safely back, and my men and I took the oars and rudders from our longships to prevent the reavers from stealing them easily.
With all preparations at the dock made, I pulled back into the town and ascended to the wooden walkways to watch the Ironborn sail into harbor. Ten ships like the towers proclaimed, but these were not the thirty oar ships like we'd seen last time. Nine of the ships bore seventy oars, two men to an oar for a hundred and forty men at least, but with enough space for a further thirty if they packed in tight. The brow and stern both had elevated platforms for archers, making these vessels far more capable in naval battles than mine.
And at the head of them all came a hundred oar longship. Even with their banners down I knew a ship of this size meant one of the primarily Lords of the Iron Islands.
I frowned as I did the math and our forces came up very short. We couldn't sally out and face this enemy. We could only bunker down and let them do as they wish in my port. Considering I had nine longships they could haul away with theirs I felt a considerable frustration.
"Don't look so down, boy." Maege grinned as she slapped me on the back, "I dug deep into our armory and found a little something from my childhood. Got the men bringing them down now. If the Squids try us, we'll send them running fast."
"Good." I nodded, "I hope this surprise is as mighty as you claim."
Maege smiled even wider and slapped my back again, "Oh you are going to love this."
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I'm basing the invasion of the Lands Beyond the Wall of of the historical Northern Crusade against the wild Prussian tribes. Prussian society back in the day was basically the Wildings with better equipment and defensive structures. Jorah is making up for his lacking calvary with longbow tactics in this case.
The wildlings still almost drowned them in bodies, but history shows us examples of people succeeded against far worse odds than Jorah faced.
You can support me and my family at
ko - fi . com / jmanm
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