Jorah should have been ashamed; Daenerys noticed he hadn't even mentioned his wife's name. Perhaps she had long since faded from his memory, having never truly captured his heart. Yet, she had endured three difficult childbirths for him, ultimately losing her life.
The knight continued, "Not long after, my father joined the Night's Watch, and I became Earl of Bear Island. Many suitors came to seek my hand, but before I could make a decision, the Ironborn began their rebellion, and Balon Greyjoy declared himself King."
Daenerys frowned and interrupted. "When was that? Before I was born?"
"Princess, I am not that old," Jorah replied expressionlessly.
"Oh, continue," Daenerys said dismissively.
"It was the fourth year after the Usurper's War. You would have been about four years old." His voice lowered.
*Not much of a difference. He's still old.*
Daenerys realized he must be referring to the time Theon Greyjoy was sent to Winterfell as a hostage.
She asked, puzzled, "What were the Ironborn thinking? They didn't rebel during the chaos of the Usurper's War. Why wait until four years after the Usurper had already claimed the throne, when the country had settled? Where did they get their confidence? Or was their reaction time just that slow—they finally reacted and thought, 'A hero for a time of crisis'?"
"I'm not entirely sure," Jorah shook his head. "Balon has always been reckless and unpredictable. Perhaps he believed the Usurper's foundation was unstable, or perhaps someone had been suppressing him, preventing him from rising in rebellion."
During the Usurper's War, Balon's father, Duke Corin, maintained neutrality. Only after Prince Rhaegar, your brother, fell at Ruby Ford did he pledge allegiance to the Usurper Robert. At that time, House Tyrell of Highgarden stood with the Targaryens.
Corin then led the Iron Fleet—the main fleet of the Ironborn—to sea, intending to raid Highgarden in the Reach. Unfortunately, the Tyrells were prepared. They ambushed the fleet at the Shield Islands, not only defeating the invincible Iron Fleet but also killing Corin in the battle. Balon inherited his father's position after the Usurper had already been crowned king and the rebellions across the land were nearly quelled.
It took four years for Great King Balon to fully consolidate his control over the Iron Islands. Then he raised the banner of rebellion. Balon was ultimately defeated; his eldest and second sons were killed, and his youngest son, a mere ten years old, was taken as a ward by Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell. This child served as a hostage to ensure the Greyjoy family remained loyal.
To celebrate his victory, Robert decided to hold a tournament outside Lannisport.
It was there I first met Lynesse.
She was barely half my age then, having traveled all the way from Oldtown with her father to watch her brother compete.
The moment I saw her, my gaze was fixed, and for the first time, I felt such a powerful surge of love. On impulse, I begged her to grant me a token, a token for which I would fight for her. I never dared to dream she would agree, yet she did.
Your Highness, you must understand that tournaments are a knightly sport, not merely a martial contest. We Northerners have never been skilled at this Andals-taught tradition. But with Lynesse's token, it was as if I were possessed by a warrior god of the Seven.
For days, I fought without defeat, ultimately crowning Lynesse with a wreath of love and beauty.
The wine and glory emboldened me to do something reckless: that night, I approached her father and boldly asked for his daughter's hand in marriage.
Given the disparity in our families' wealth and status, Lord Leyton should have rejected me without hesitation. But he didn't.
House Hightower's domain included Oldtown, the second largest port in Westeros, as well as the Citadel, the seat of the Maesters, and the headquarters of the Faith of the Seven.
House Hightower also claimed descent from Garth the Greenhand, making them effectively dukes without the title.
Duke Tywin Lannister once proposed to Lord Leyton on behalf of his son, the Imp, hoping Tyrion could marry a Hightower daughter.
Lord Leyton refused almost as if he'd been insulted.
Jorah Mormont was lucky.
"Unfortunately, our honeymoon was short-lived. Lynesse was deeply disappointed with my homeland, finding it too cold, too damp, and too remote. The wooden longhall on Bear Island paled in comparison to the magnificent and warm castles of her family. Moreover, life on Bear Island lacked the amusements a Southern noble lady required—no masquerade balls, no mimes, no lavish banquets. Even wandering singers only came once every few years with the fur traders, and they were always old, ugly, and third-rate performers. The food in the North was far more monotonous than in the fertile Highgarden. My people considered it a blessing if they could eat their fill, but every meal was an ordeal for Lynesse."
At that time, I thought, "I'd do anything to make her happy."
So, I hired chefs from her hometown, found troubadours, and acquired gold and silver jewelry for the balls. On Bear Island, where every copper coin was counted, I reluctantly became an expert in the prices of most ornaments.
"That's why I could so easily estimate the value of that opal bracelet, you see?"
Jorah grinned like a husband who'd taken out a loan to buy his wife a gift during the Double Eleven online shopping festival.
"I tried to satisfy her every wish. As I mentioned, because of her, my potential exploded, and I won the Tournament.
The Usurper was a generous—ah, a decadent and self-indulgent king. He squandered lavishly and loved hosting Tournaments, each with lavish prizes for the champion.
That time, I gained not only honor and beauty, but also fifty thousand gold dragons in my pocket."
(P.S.: When Eddard Stark took office, the Tournament champion's prize was forty thousand gold dragons, but I felt the significance of suppressing Great King Balon's rebellion was even greater, so I added ten thousand gold dragons.)
"So much?" Daenerys couldn't help but exclaim in surprise.
Having lived through the hardship of her original self in the various city-states, Daenerys had a rough understanding of the purchasing power of the world's gold, silver, and copper currencies.
She remembered one time on the streets of Myr's common district, where Viserys used two copper coins to buy two grilled sausages and a small bowl of sheep's milk from a street vendor. After quickly devouring his own, he snatched the remaining half of his sister's sausage.
If we equate one copper coin to five yuan, then a pure meat sausage, which was quite substantial in size, would normally suffice for a breakfast. However, Viserys was in his developmental years and was often undernourished.
One gold dragon could be exchanged for 30 silver moons, and one silver moon for approximately 800 copper coins.
This meant that one gold dragon was equivalent to 24,000 copper coins, or 120,000 yuan in purchasing power.
Fifty thousand gold dragons would be roughly six billion yuan.
*Holy shit!*
Daenerys recalled that in the original plot, Robert had accumulated 6 million gold dragons in foreign debt over his 14-year reign. Seven hundred and twenty billion?
Three million of that debt belonged to House Lannister.
"This..."
Hearing Daenerys's gasp, Jorah sighed. "Indeed. Bear Island couldn't earn 5,000 gold dragons in a century. In terms of spending, you're more like your father, the 'Mad King.' Uh, I mean..."
The knight blushed, flustered.
Daenerys said nothing, merely nodding calmly.
Ser Jorah breathed a sigh of relief and continued his love story. "It was those 50,000 gold dragons that allowed me to fulfill Lynesse's every whim in those days.
To indulge her, I commissioned a grand ship and we traveled to festivals and feasts across the Seven Kingdoms and beyond. She set foot in Lannisport, Oldtown, King's Landing, Lys, and Pentos. Our farthest journey took us to Braavos."
"From Bear Island to Braavos? You're mad?" Daenerys exclaimed in shock.
Braavos was actually quite close to the North. In a straight line, if there were planes, the flight from Bear Island to Braavos would be about 3,000 kilometers.
*Hmm, 3,000 kilometers still feels quite far.*
The real issue was that Bear Island and Braavos were separated by an entire continent and a sea. By ship, one had to sail all the way around the continent of Westeros.
*That's...*
It was an impossibly long journey, with treacherous seas and the likelihood of taking detours.
One thing was certain: the voyage would easily exceed 10,000 kilometers, longer than the trip from Shanghai to Los Angeles.
Jorah truly risked his life for his wife.
But this was not the end; Jorah continued to recount his journey of "burning through his life."
"For money, and because Lynesse wished to regain the crown of love and beauty—the highest honor for a true queen—I continued to participate in tournaments. But miracles ceased; I never won again. Each defeat meant the loss of a warhorse and a set of armor, which I had to redeem at great expense or replace entirely."
Daenerys asked curiously, "How much does a set of armor and a warhorse typically cost?"
The original Daenerys had lived among commoners and knew the price of ordinary food and drink, but she was far removed from the cost of noble weaponry and steeds.
"A trained warhorse costs at least one gold dragon. My former warhorse was superior, averaging around three gold dragons. A good full set of armor is about four or five gold dragons. I must purchase superior armor," he told Daenerys solemnly. "For knights like us, with our family's legacy, our familiarity with armor is as deep as our knowledge of our own palm lines. Under normal circumstances, I can spot the flaws in an opponent's armor with a single glance—if any exist.
Similarly, my opponents can see the flaws in mine. Therefore, I cannot afford to have any obvious weaknesses, nor can I use inferior armor. Otherwise, during combat, my life would be in danger."
"I'm not afraid of death, but to die in a noble tournament because of faulty armor... that would be the height of humiliation."
After a pause, Ser Jorah's voice grew complex. "I've participated in many tournaments, and every time, knights have died—mostly free riders seeking wealth and glory.
"Almost none of the noble-born participants have perished, because under the rules of lance combat, no one can breach their defenses."
If Daenerys had witnessed the Hand's Tourney held in King's Landing over a year ago, she would have understood Ser Jorah's words more deeply.
In one match, Renly vs. the Hound, the Hound's lance struck Renly's chest during the charge. Renly was sent flying backward from his saddle, soaring over ten meters in the opposite direction. The golden stag antlers on his helmet, as thick as a child's wrist, were snapped off in the impact. And the result?
He emerged unscathed, dusting himself off, waving with a flourish, and responding to the roaring crowd with a practiced smile.
Had it been someone else, with a thinner breastplate or insufficient padding, such a brutal impact could have shattered their ribs or ruptured their organs.
In this world, a fatal blow to the internal organs meant certain death.
"What's the difference between a free rider and a knight?" she asked curiously.
-----------------------
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