612Chapter 14: Mending gashes and wounded pride
Sorry abput the sloppy writing last chapter. I write on my downtime, mostly on my phone, so my current writing is a slightly structured stream of consciousness.
I have a plan in my head, but I admit it's not always easy for me to lay down in text in a satisfactory way.
That said, people sometimes take their time to threaten to stop reading, as if that had any bearing in what I write in one way or the other.
Just stop reading it, if ya want. Don't feel obliged, by any means.
I own nothing, still. I'm seriously worried at this point. lol
A sharp crack resounded in the room, one of many over the last half an hour. Dacey was angry at her brother, and had no qualms in expressing her displeasure towards his actions.
In an act of unmitigated idiocy, the fool had insulted the Iron Bank in the heart of its sphere of imfluence. He probably had his reasons, he always did, but this time, he had gone too far.
She had been shaken when armed and armoured men had knocked on their door late in the afternoon. Up until that moment, her day had been perfect. She had spent it with her husband, strolling around the city, before coming back to partake in other... pleasurable activities.
Dacey was incensed. She should've known that her brother was up to no good when he seemed so eager to give them time alone, but not even in her wildest nightmares could she have believed that he would do something so daring it was stupid.
" What the fuck is wrong?" she said, through gritted teeth, peppering him with her fists. It would've been funny, with the size discrepancy, if the situation hadn't been deadly serious.
The blows didn't hurt Beor, at least not physically, but every punch and every slap she landed on his face stung his soul and his ego. That hadn't been the plan. He wanted to build himself up a bit and get the interest of the Iron Bank. But he had been sloppy, overshooting by a long mile.
He could not keep his oversized ego in check, could he? He was used to speak from a position of power, as a well renowned professor and a successful businessman. People came to him, not the other way around. Back then, he had his wife to keep him grounded. She still allowed for some of his follies, but she was always there to pull him from the brink, willingly or not.
In this world, he was too used to winning, succeeding, people either staying out of his way or actively paving the road for him. He never had to keep himself in check, not unless violence was a clear understatement.
He always believed that he had no talent for those political games, and this was more proof towards that suspicion. He was smarter than everyone around him, but that came with an unwillingness to partake in their petty word games. When you think yourself as better from everybody, as he knew he was, this was never conductive to mind games. After all, the grizzly does not negotiate with the rat.
His believed superiority coupled with his amazing abilities he had been displaying had blinded him to the far reaching consequences of his actions and words. Somewhere along the years, the solution to his problems.
He also enjoyed it. He enjoyed it a lot. The pure, unbridled, destructive rage coursing through his veins, the way those pompous roaches were quaking in front of his might. He would never tell anyone, but he had taken great pleasure in turning the tables on the Sealord and his mooks.
But in indulging in his power, he had put his loved ones in danger. It was bizarre to stand and represent more than just oneself, he thought. For their sake, he had to smooth things out with the Iron Bank and the Sealord. They may be incapable of outmuscling him, but his family and ambitions were not as intouchables. He also much preferred to be known for being a man of sciences than a brute. He had once believed himself to be the former, but he had trouble convincing himself of that, lately.
He hung his head low, and muttered an apology to his sister.
"What did you say?" Dacey asked, eyes narrowing, the edge of anger making her coice shake slightly.
"I'm sorry", Beor said louder. He knew that wouldn't solve anything, she was much too shaken for that. She felt in danger and was lashing out at her brother.
Dacey swung at him, growling, only for a hand to catch her fist mid air.
"Enough, my love, enough." Harrion, said. He hadn't said much ever since they got back, besides assessing his wife's health. He would periodically look through the curtains into the streets below.
Dacey wrenched her arm from her husband. She turned back to look at Beor, disdain on her face. "Go to hell, Beor." she said, before she spat on the ground by his foot and walked away, settling by the corner of the bed.
"Sit Beor", Harrion said, his voice somber.
After taking a seat as asked, the boy went to speak, but the Karstark heir cut him off.
"You don't get to be sorry, or apologize. You might have doomed us here, man." He did not yell nor did he show any anger. He just looked at his goodbrother with tiredness and disappointment in his eyes.
They settled in an awkward silence, facing each other, Harrion tired and dejected, Beor looking haggard and lost.
"You have to fix this." Harrion said, with a sense of finality.
"What do you mean? Fix this? How can I fix this?" Beor asked, exasperation and panic in his voice. I just had to walk through blood to get Dacey and you out of there.
You know we're in borrowed time, right? Harrion asked, frowning.
"Of course, I know that. They didn't expect things to go like this, tonight. But who knows what they'll do when I come back in the morning. Or tonight for that matter.
"Exactly, then you know you have to repare this, whatever it takes.
Beor could only sigh at that. He had an inkling of what he would've to do, but the mere thought of it grated on his pride.
"I don't know how", Harrion said, closing his eyes, fists clenched tight, "But I swear to the Old Gods and the New, if you don't fix this..." He stopped himself, taking a deep breath. Being angry or panicking would serve no purpose at all in this situation. " I don't want to be anywhere near you, I don't want her to be anywhere near, not until you've fixed this. So I beg of you, if you have any love for her or me..."he looked as if he was about to cry. "I wish I could stand by you and fight, but I can't. Not with Dacey so close. We're strangers in this city, with no one to vouch for us. You have gold, you have friends in high places back home, surely there's something you can do." He sagged in his seat, and ran his finger through his dark hair, defeated.
" I love this woman, Mormont. If anything happened to her, I don't know what I would do." He finished, standing and walking towards where Dacey was seated, her head hung low. When he got to her, she flung herself at him, crying openly, the emotions of the event finally overwhelming her.
It had been a long night. Beor and Harrion stood still guard the whole time over the sleeping Dacey, who had succumbed to slumber. Even after dawn and the city slowly coming back to life, they hadn't dared close their eyes, lest they be caught unaware in their particular state.
The Mormont had half expected to find a small army at the inn's door, waiting for him. Or to be attacked by unrelenting Faceless Men throughout, but nothing came. The Iron Bank was known to never forget a slight. They knew they couldn't get rid of him easily, not at great cost to themselves, but with Harrion and Dacey, he was vulnerable. He had much to lose and the Bank not as much, nothing that couldn't be replaced, at least.
Which made their inaction even more perplexing. Either they were as shaken about last night as he had been, or they were planning their next course of action more thourough then the previous night, now that they realized what they were up against.
Be that as it may, he had to act quickly, he decided. As soon as the sun was high enough, he had Harrion and Dacey pack their bags and head for the Lady Mormont. To his great joy, he found the frigate where he left her, still moored with his crew untouched. 'Most curious', he thought, 'but hey, you won't hear me complain about that.
"If I'm not back by noon, have Jon leave, and not look back.", he said, he made board the ship. It's the fastest ship in the whole world. Once she's in the sea, you'll be safe."
Dacey did not even look at him, but Harrion nodded.
"I don't know how, but I'll find a way. I will not let either of you die today. I swear it on my soul." He said, addressing his good brother.
Harrion nodded at that, and patted Beor's shoulder. "Don't be late, Mormont." he said, a small smile tugging at his lips.
As he took a gondala back into the city and pondering on his situation and next course of actions, he came to the somewhat shaky conclusion that maybe the Braavosi had realized he wasn't as disposable as they first thought him to be.
Had he succumbed yesterday, in the dead of night, they could've spunned any story they could to disassociate themselves from the "accident". But he had survived, against all odds. And now they were cautious, having bitten more than they could chew. They could go scorched earth and raise the whole North against them, and by proxy the Crown. Now wether he was right or wrong was still and unsettled matter.
He arrived at the Iron Bank, a small chest tucked under his arm, but found its doors closed. A small amountof dread crept up on him as he made to knock at the great iron gates, only for them to open at his touch.
Representative Benero Reyaan was standing there, hands clasped behind his back, five armoured men standiny behind him. The fat man was attempting to project an aura of serene superiority, but there was a slight layer of perspiration on his brow despite the cool morning breeze. Beor could smell it too, a light bittersweet odour in the air. His brain, for reason unknown to him, registered the fragrance as fear mixed with nervousness.
" Representative Reyaan", he said bowing his head slighlty towards the banker, " I come in peace."
" Welcome then, Beor Mormont", he answered, a slight edge to his voice. He was eyeing the Westerosi with well hidden discomfort. "You and the Iron Bank have unfinished business."
"Aye, that we do.", Beor said, nodding at the large man.
"Follow us, then Lord Mormont.", one of the man behind the banker said, making way for him to walk besides the banker, flanked on both sides by sword wielding soldiers, with one leading the way.
They walked in silence again, the atmosphere heavy and solemn, eeriely similar to the night before, right until things had gone tits up.
They soon entered an large stacked auditorium of some sort, sparsely occupied, with most of the observers seated in the higher mezzanine.
The Sealord was again present, looking as kingly as he could, despite his frailty. Besides him, however, was an impressive contingent of guards, about thirty men, all of them aemoured and armed to the teeth..
It appeared that they actually realized how dangerous he was. Compared to before there was a lot more space between the Mormont and the Braavosi high brass, with plenty more disposable bodies filling the space.
Despite the heavily lopsided number on each side, Beor couldn't help but smelled the fear in the air. They had seen him fight and kill grown men as if they were helpless bugs. He had suffered grievious wounds yet here he was again, standing in front of them , unharmed and healthy.
"So you came." he said with a smile on his face, though he seemed slightly on edge, if his fidgetting was any indication.
"I did, Sealord of Braavos." Beor said, putting the small trunk on the floor.
"I suppose you came to finalize our contract?" he asked, staring at the young man.
"I would be remiss if I signed a contract in such a fashion, my lord." Beor said, bowing to the waist. " I am here to attempt to mend our differences, as much as it is possible. I do hope my arrogance and lack of decorum have not ruined any chance of reconciliation between House Mormont and the Iron Bank.
The Sealord chuckled , "Are you going to beg, Mormont, maybe apologize? Where was all this humility last night when you stood in my house and uttered threats after threats?
"I wronged you, my lord, my lords, that I will admit. I've spoken out of term and angered this noble establishment without provocation. Though I do believe that an alliance between our two organizations would only yield more prosperity for all of us, I cannot blame you for being insulted.
I will not ask for forgiveness, as it is not my place. However, I can offer something better than words. All I ask is that you hear me out, my lords, I shall prove myself."
"Mormont", a man dressed in darkly coloured silks, asked in a deeply accented voice from the upper level, "How are you still alive?, he asked. " I saw him with my two eyes, as have most of you" he continued, including the audience in his soliloque.
"You were riddled with arrows, bleeding. How are you still breathing?" he inquired, his voice serious, worry etched on his features.
Mutters broke out at that, the people present expressing their astonishment to what they had witnesses the night before.
" Are you a practitioner of the dark arts? asked another, a twinge of fear in his voice.
Beor smiled at that, feeling uneasy. "My lords, I swear upon all that is sacred that I never learned nor practiced any magic.", he said, hoping to reassure them. "My mother says that I have been touched by the Old Gods of the First Men both in my and body. I know not if that is the sources of my abnormalities, however I remain grateful of those gifts as they seem to keep the consequences of my youthful intemperance away from me."
The Sealord looked at him pensively, nodding. "Had anyone else uttered those words before last night, I would've laughed at his face for saying such foolish things. However our eyes do not decieve us. I saw you bleed, pierced by arrows a scant hours ago. I saw you leave with blood leaking still from your wounds. Yet here you stand, unharmed." He rubbed his chin, talking more to himself than to the audience around him. "Perhaps there is truth to what you say, after all."
"My lord" exclaimed one of the few women in the room. She was tall, with bright blond hair. "Surely you cannot believe such gest. All I hear is the words od a boy desperate to keep his throat intact. I say we kill the brute and get on with our lives." A few voices joined with the woman, heckling Beor, some even spitting on the ground below.
" You were not there, Lady Salys!" retorted another man, as tall as he was large, "You did not see what had occured. No normal person can do to another what this man has done. He either is blessed by the gods, or a demonic curse brought upon this city. "
He stood and turned towards the audience proper. "Whatever the case may be, we shan't raise our hand against him without due cause."
"Aye", joined another man, younger than most in the room. He was average looking olive skin toned, with short crop black hair. " My lord Norio is right. Lord Mormont acted impetuously in his actions, however, we have also responded rashly. I am a follower of the Lord of Light, and as such I know rhe forces that lurk in the dark. Whether or not the young lord is touched by them, we should not act hot headedly when dealing with such matters."
Debates broke out in the court, with Beor just looking on, attempting to gauge the general atmosphere of the room. They were divided, some wanting to dispose of him, others seeing him as some sort of supranatural individual."
"Peace, my friends, peace! " the Sealord said, his voice strong and firm, drowning out the talking around the room. "I cannot deny what I saw last night", he said. " You are dangerous, worryingly so. Why ought I not kill you right were you stand, Beor Mormont? He asked the boy, leaning forward in his ornate seat.
"Well, my lord, for one, you have tried that already, to great effect I might even say" Beor said, as he stood tall and strong, "yet here I stand, by the grace of the gods. I do not seek quarrel, nor do I seek redress for what occured between us. I spoke in a manner you deemed insulting and you acted accordingly. That matter to me is settled.
However, I think myself more valuable to you alive than dead.
My lords, my ladies", Beor continued, addressing the audience, "I will admit, the nature of my abilities is as obscure to me as it is to you. I do not claim divinity nor do I hail from the the pits of the underworld, I'm only a Northman, nothing so scary.
I am however guilty of one thing. I have disrespect and callousness to those that did not deserve it, and if that sin is to be punished ny death, then so be it. Nevertheless, I hope you understand that I arbor no ill will for any of you for what happened. Even after fighting for my life as a result of mt temerity, I made no move to hurt or attack anyone in this city, beyond those who have attacked me or mine.
As a show of good will on my part and on behalf of house Mormont, I 'd be honoured to shoulder the Royal debt of Westeros.", he finished, playing his trump card.
The Iron Bank, historically, had been shown to be lenient towards slights when appropriate amends were made. Beor hoped that this was appropriate. He did need their partnership after all, and acquiring it voluntarily rather than under duress would a much more desirable outcome.
" You would pay two and a half millions gold dragons worth of debt that is not even yours?" asked one of the bank representative. He was a tall, wiry man, with a pinched face and a balding head. like all the others, he was also wearing darkly coloured silks.
"I would and I will", Beor said, turning to the man that spoke up. "If only to show the absence of ill will on my part.
Beyond that, there is more that I would love to say, if you permit, my lords."
"Speak, Mormont" the Sealord said, resting his chin on his fist, now interested in what the boy had to say.
Beor nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips, he was winning them over, he thought. " As I attempted to tell the honourable representative Reyaan yesterday, I believe your establishment importance will only grow in the coming years. And I still stand by that.
I am a visionary, my lords. In a matter of years, I made Bear Island into one of the richest houses in the North, and soon, the Seven kingdoms. I have the vision, and you have the capital, together we can rise to even greater heights. "
" That is a quite lovely speech, little lord. Pretty words indeed", Reyaan said, " But all I hear are hypothesis, possiblities. We are bankers and merchants alike, we deal with physical gold. Not with visions.
Beor nodded, conceding the point. "If I may?" he said, pointing at small chest he brought with him.
The Sealord made a vague movement with his hand, telling him to carry on.
He slowly reached for the trunk and opened it, careful not to make any sudden move.
He pulled out accounting reports, revenues sheets of House Mormont ever since he began implimenting his ideas.
"If it's proof you want, then here it is." he said holding the papers up.
A banker walked towards him and aftee being given the sheets of paper, began thumbing through them. He went back to the first page, that quickly flipped back to where he was reading before, eyebrows quirking up. He did that again and again, looking more and more bewildered.
He walked towards a group of colleagues, showing what he had seen. Quickly, hushed conversations started, quills and paper were fetched and abaci broken out.
For around fifteen minutes, old men in dark clothes poured over the papers offered, hawing and hemming between themselves, some of them glancing in Beor general direction with wide eyes.
One of them ran up the steps to the Sealord and stroke a small whispery conversation.
"And what of these numbers?" asked one of the bankers, holding a particular stack of papers.
"These are the projections, basically values obtained based on past revenues, current market assets and available resources. It's complicated." Beor said, smiling a bit, slipping into teaching mode.
They seemed quite taken with his "market analysis", something he knew was certain did not exist in this world. Calculus, Newtonian physics, or anything beyond that was only known to him. The Iron Bank was powwrful and ancient, but its methods had not developped beyond the level of fourteenth century Venitian banks.
"Are they accurate?" asked another Braavosi, with a thick accent.
"They've been so far. pmPast performance does not guarantee future yields of course, but you can predict those things, given a reasonable margin. I, for one, have found out that I've been too conservative with my calculations."
"Amazing, simply amazing", said the man, eyes glued to the paper.
"I know you think me a mere upstart, and with reason, but speaking strictly business, upstart or not, I can make you a lot of money, so much money, it would make you sick of being so rich. If I could do it with Bear Island, imagine what you could do with the Iron Bank and the great city of Braavos."
"And you would just hand over this knowledge of yours? Why?"
"Because, my lords, we are all better off the more this knowledge is spread. If I were touched by the gods, as some say, I'm willing to believe that this is one of the gifts from them to you, as arrogant as it may sound."
The large group looked at Beor, some with awed expressions, others with supicion, most with a combination of both. They convened for about an hour and a half, leaving him with the bulk of the guards, the tension in the room so thick you could cut it with a butter knife. He was glad that he hadn't been attacked. He had played his cards right, he thought, despite being among the smartest in the world, the leaders of Iron Bank nonetheless grew up in the superstitious World of Ice and Fire, magic was an actual thing, and gods presumably so.
Being touched by the gods was worth something apparently, however small that something was.
Eventually, they came back, trickling in the large room, still whispering to one another. Ferrego Antaryon, Sealord of Braavos took his seat again.
"Beor Mormont, we have heard what you have to say. Whether or not you have magical or godly gifts, it matters not. We have been wronged but you offered suitable compensation. Once the debt is paid and settled, you will be welcomed as a shareholder of the Iron Bank of the great city of Braavos with all the authority and privileges that come with such stature."
Beor sighed in relief, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
"Provided of course someone vouches for you. Two and a half million gold dragons is a quite the hefty sum after all. Who here speaks for the Mormont?" The Sealord asked, solemnly. Everyone knew, as Beor did, that this part was a a mere formality.
"I, Antaro of house Turco, will speak for Lord Beor Mormont!" exclaimed the younger man from earlier.
" And I, Janis of house Robard, will speak for the Mormont.", said another, this time an older man, bald of head with a greying beard.
To Beor's surprise, a few more stood up amd spoke for him, not out the nicety of their souls he wagered, they had a lot to gain from vouching for him.
"Very well, then. It is settled", said the Sealord. " What say you, lord Mormont?"
Beor bowed deeply to the assembly, "Thank you my lords. I promise that your support will not be squandered. In a year's turn, I will settle the debt I now owe, and hopefully put this matter firmly behind us.
"Yes, my lord Mormont, once the debt is settled.", Sealord Antaryon answered, with a smile on his face
It was almost an hour before noon, two hours after Beor left. The deep sea arbor was rather quiet, the other ships and boats docked nearby swaying gently with the waves and the screeching of seagulls breaking the quiet with frequent intermittance.
Dacey was looking out from the ship, waiting for her brother to come back. She had little hope of him returning, truth to he told. Despite his talents and gifts, the young man had the uncanny ability to dig himself into sordid piles of shit.
Hell, she had little hope of them even living through the day. If they leave the city proper, they stilled had to go through the defenses of the city. The Lady Mormont was u deed fast, but the odds were still heavily against them. Only a miracle could insure their survival, she thought. And eventhough Harrion had said that Beor would find a way, she found herself seriously doubting his faith in her brother.
The best option the little bear had was to flee on his own. He was strong and resourceful, she knew he would survive. But for now, however, they were sitting ducks in enemy territory, and there was little they could do about it.
"Any sign?", her husband asked for what could be the thousandth time, stepping next to her by the railings.. He looked haggard, with shadows under his eyes. Beor and him had grown close during their trip, and Harrion had come to see him as a crazy little brother too big for his breeches.
"No, my love, still nothing." she said simply, unwilling to project her anger and frustration unto him.
A few minutes later however she finally felt relief as she saw him coming towards them There was the son of a bitch, in an ornate barge, next to the Sealord and a few representatives of the Iron Bank, along with a small army. They seemed quite stiff around each other, but Beor seemed alive and unscathed.
"Over here!", Dacey almost screamed, alerting her husband. The man ran next to her, witnessing the small contingent getting off the barge. They stopped a good distance away, and only Beor and a large man walked to the ship, the former carrying a chest much larger than the one he left earlier.
"Remember our contracts, Beor Mormont", the large man said, dressed in dark clothing, as they arrived by the Lady Mormont.
"Of course, Representative Reyaan. I never go back on my word, I know the Iron Bank always gets its due." Beor answered, shaking the man's hand a seriously.
"It was quite the experience doing business with you, however unpleasant they were at first." The fat man .
"Growing pains, I think they are called." the Mormont answered, trying to break the tension.
They said their goodbyes then, Beor turning away feom him, only to be stopped by the banker who had grabbed him by the arm. Beor turned towards the braavosi, a slight frown on his face.
"You be careful now, Beor Mormont. Your business with the Iron Bank may be settled, but you still made yourself powerful enemies, men and women with very long memories. The Sealord has talked, but he is not the sole authority in Braavos.
I fear your woes may be only beginning." he finished, letting go of the younger man, who quickly boarded the ship.
" We will see each other again, Benero Reyaan." Beor said from the deck, as goodbye to the representative.
"For your sake and mine, my Lord, I do hope so", the fat banker answered with as much courtesy as he could muster.
"You did what?", Harrion almost yelled, eyes bulging in surprise.
Beor sighed. He was getting tired of people yelling at him.
They had left the Hidden City as quickly as possible, getting back to the high sea once again.
Beor, Dacey and Harrion were now sitted in the captain's quarters, the room rocking softly as the ship tore through the waters of the Narrow Sea.
"I am not the owner of the crown's debt, for all intent and purposes." He answered leaning back into his comfortable Voltaire seat . "It was the only way to put this horrible spat to rest. I did put our houses in danger, it was the least I could do."
"How much is it, the debt? Dacey asked, annoyed to even have to talk to her brother.
"Almost three million gold dragons. I can afford that much, fortunately." He answered truthfully.
" And they just handed you leverage over the crown, just like that? No strings attached? Harrion wondered, rightfully, pouring himself a drink.
"It's probably some kind of test. I promised to pay the amount in no more than a year. I believe that's how long I will be living in peace before they start making my life a proper nightmare. I'll only own the debt and officially become a partner of the Iron Bank after that."
The Karstark shook his head. "They are wily, I'll give them that. They let us leave and send their assassins after us with no way for them to be linked to the events."
"No, not us, Harrion, just me." Beor answered, falling into a chair, the stress finally taking its toll on him.
"What do you mean?", Dacey asked, curious despite herself.
"I paid them, to let you be, Harrion and you", Beor answered, turning towards her, a sad smile on his face. "Your weight in gold, as it were. These fuckers do love their gold, I'll tell you that." He answered
"How do you know they will keep their words?" Harrion asked. crossing his arms, a frown on his face. He was relieved to learn that he was no longer a target, but didn't like the fact that Beor was drawing all the fire unto himself.
" The Sealord vouched for it. It was his proposal after all. The Iron Bank does not enjoy conflict and instability, it's bad for business. With all three of us, it's too many loose ends, too many possibilities of things backfiring. But if it's just me, and with everyone knowing the mess I'm in, it'd be a lot simpler. It's much easier to tie one loose end than three, I say"
Dacey spat on the ground, by Beor's foot, again. 'This was becoming a nasty habit', he thought, smiling grimly. "Good", she said, "and next time you have a brilliant idea like that last one, keep the fuck away from me and my husband.", she finished, storming out of the cabin.
Beor sighed in defeat at her outburst. She had barely spoken more than a few words to him since his return, leaving it to Harrion, who wasn't as cold to him as the night before. He had no doubt this event would strain his relationship with the Karstarks and the Mormonts back home- especially his mother- , but he was glad that this was behind them, at least nominally.
Despite all the downsides, and by the gods were there many, there were a few successes. The Iron Bank now saw him as potential partner: They were quite impressed with his ability to turn time and ideas into gold. It wasn't just a benefit to him, however. It gave the Iron Bank a small but non negligeable amount of power over his business in Braavos and to a lesser extent, Pentos.
It also showed to the Iron Bank that Beor was not one to be confronted directly. One man he might be, he proved himself bery hard to be put away.
So in short, Beor was pulling their nipples, but they had their boots on his balls, at least until they learned to trust each other without the help of hidden machinations and well paid assassins.
"She'll come around", Harrion said, looking at the distraught Beor. "She loves you, lad, but you are too reckless, and think yourself bigger than you actually are. This stunt you pulled back there? It could've been the death of us all.
We only have the gods to thanks for your abilities. The Braavosi were intent on killing us that night, or at least you. You scared them enough for them to rethink their actions, but they will not forget."
"This wasn't supposed to happen", Beor groaned, leaning his forehead on the table. He knew he should've waited longer before approaching the Bank of Braavos, but with time ultimately not being on his side, he had opted to do so sooner than later.
Coupled that with the awful way he lorded his accomplishments over the bankers as if it was supposed to mean anything to them, it had been a recipe for disater.
For now the crisis was averted, at least nominally, but he had no illusions that the braavosi and him were now fast friends. He had stepped on toes of powerful people, people that didn't take well being challenged in such a fashion.
"Are you certain this is wise, lord Antaryon?" asked Tycho Nestoris, who was standing by the Sealord, as they watched the large ship disappear in the distance.
"This was the path of least resistance, my dear friend", the Sealord answered, arms crossed, his cape fluttering about, as the wind played with the garment.
"Care to explain further, then, my lord?, he wondered.
The sealord turned towards the banker, meeting his gaze. "I'm a sickly man, Tycho, that is hardly a secret." he began, putting his hand in the taller man's shoulder. "I was never the best fighter, nor the brightest. Any common street thug could walk up to me, beat me to an inch of my life, and rob me of all my possessions, if it tickled their fancy."
"My lord, we know that could never happen, that much is obvious, isn't it?" said Reyaan, who was sitting on a nearby crate, his large body wrapped in a coat to protect himself from the cold sea breeze.
" Is that true, Bennero?" the sealord asked. " And pray tell, why is that?"
"Well, my lord, you are the Sealord of Braavos, no one would dare lay a hand on you." Benero Reyaan answered as if it were the most obvious possible line of thought.
" When Beor Mormont walked up those steps and looked at me in the eye after butchering those men like they weren't skilled murderers, do you think being the Sealord of Braavos meant anything?", he asked, staring at the horizon, the scene replaying in his mind.
"Tell me then, how do you deal with a beast you can reason with nor kill, friend? Because the gods he should habe been dead, as we've all seen.
The two men were silent at that.
" Let me tell you, then", he said, not waiting for an answer. "You corral it, keep its claws away from you as possible, and hope that it fangs sink into some other idiot, preferably one you dislike, or even better you hope it meets its match and dies taking some other pest with it"
"But he is only one man, my lord", protested Tycho.
"Aye, he is. And praise the gods for that. There is one of him, and many of us. We can kill him, not with a lot of difficulties. Attacking a beast in our midst would only have caused more casualties. And attacking him from afar would only be a source of needless headaches.
Let the others attack him and try their hands at putting the brute down. As for us, we will ride this new wave as far as it will carry us."
"Aye", Reyaan piped up, understanding what the Sealord was saying, "An investment in the young Mormont, however... short tem it might be, will only be financially beneficial. That is until he meets his inevitable end. Let him gallivant around , then sooner or later he will stumble and fall. But the Iron Bank will still stand, long after his star had burn bright and faded."
"Indeed, my friend", the Sealord said, smiling approvingly at the large man. "The path of least resistance."
Tycho Nestoris was silent during the exchange. He did not like this situation one bit. He despised gambling, especially when the odds were so vague.
He felt dread bloom deep inside his core. Had the bank really tricked a powerful yet naive man into making them tons of money, or they made a deal with a devil they could not control? For some reason, the answer was not one he was eager to find out.
The trip back home had been a lot quieter. They stopped in Tyrosh and Pentos to deliver some cargo to merchants with whom they had contracted, before heading back towards the Sunset Sea.
He had reached most of his goals, but had also made himself a fresh batch of people who wanted to flay him alive given the chance. All in all, it wasn't the disaster it could've been, no one had died, surprisingly, and he was returning richer than he had left.
He also knew that soon, faceless men would potential be sent after him, but that would be something for future Beor to worry about. He had other fish to fry, and probably also a realm to save, both from itself and terrible ice monsters from the Lands of Forever Winters.
'Oh, what a time to be alive', he thought he thought as the Lady Mormont made his way North back to Bear Island, back to where he called home.
k, that's it. Essos is done for now. Next chapter will jump to almost canon time, though in my story I make it happen a bit later than in the books, so all the characters can be a bit older than what GRRM planned.
Hope you enjoy reading this chapter as much as I did writing it.