"Free Riders are a type of mercenary," Daenerys explained. "They lack the status of knights, but they own horses and have some skill in mounted combat. The only difference between them and ordinary mercenaries is their horses."
Daenerys nodded. A good horse cost a Gold Dragon or more, and with the added expenses of tack, daily feeding, and care, ordinary mercenaries without a stable income could simply not afford it.
"Knights are more complicated," she continued. "Typically, a child aspiring to become a knight is sent to serve a knight as a page around the age of seven. They perform light duties like pouring wine and running errands, which allows them to build a close relationship with the knight.
Of course, this training isn't entirely devoid of martial instruction. Special sword masters are responsible for laying the foundation for the children's skills.
As they grow older, around twelve, when they reach adolescence, pages are promoted to squires. The knight personally teaches the squires how to use weapons and horses, and imparts battlefield survival experience.
Hmm, knightly ideals are also a crucial part of their education.
Squires are both obligated and empowered to accompany their knights into battle.
By preparing the knight's horse and armor, and fighting alongside him, squires learn more advanced combat techniques—if that knight actually possesses any such skills.
"Many squires remain squires their entire lives because they can't afford to buy their own horses and armor."
Daenerys clicked her tongue. "Couldn't his knight gift him a set of armor and a horse?"
Ser Jorah gave her a deep look, then chuckled self-mockingly. "I've lost my armor and horses so many times in tourneys that I quickly spent my last savings and had to borrow heavily from the Braavosi treasury. I'm a count with lands, and House Mormont has been around for thousands of years."
"I've heard House Lannister lent the Usurper millions of gold coins," Daenerys added.
"That much?" Jorah looked puzzled, then shook his head with a sigh. "There's a saying in Westeros: 'Lord Tywin's shit is gold.' Nobles aren't all the same. The Westerlands are mountainous, and beneath those mountains lie inexhaustible gold and silver mines."
*So, his family owns a mine!*
"Continue," Daenerys said, lifting her chin.
"Continue what? The knight or my story?" Jorah licked his lips, his mouth dry from talking so much.
"Let's start with the knight."
"Any Knight can knight another. So, if a Knight believes a grown squire is worthy of knighthood, he will lay his sword across the shoulders of the kneeling squire and loudly announce the name and family of the newly dubbed Knight.
The full ceremony is more elaborate than I've described. The newly knighted Knight also receives holy oil from a priest and must spend a night in a temple. This is part of the process of converting to the Seven Gods, which is why few Northmen who worship the Old Gods become Knights.
"So, are you a fake Knight?" Daenerys tilted her head, studying him.
The Knight's face flushed crimson. "There's no such thing as a fake Knight," he argued. "Northmen nobles are recognized as Knights without needing to be formally dubbed."
He quickly added, "I'm one of the few baptized Knights in the North. Besides the proper ceremony I described, there's a quicker way to become a Knight.
If you perform a great deed in battle, your liege lord can knight you directly. That's how I became a Knight."
"The war that helped the Usurper overthrow the Targaryen dynasty?" Daenerys raised an eyebrow.
"No, no," he hastily denied. "It was the one that quelled Great King Balon's rebellion."
Unaware that Daenerys, now with a different heart, cared nothing for Robert's Rebellion—the war that stripped the Targaryens of their throne—he quickly changed the subject. "Besides Free Riders," he said, "there are also Sellswords and Sworn Knights."
"Sworn Knights are knights who pledge allegiance to other nobles, swearing an oath to serve them. Most are minor nobles with the title of knight but no lands of their own.
"Hmm, I was once a Sworn Knight to your brother Viserys, and then to you, until you bestowed upon me the greater honor of becoming a member of the Queen's Guard."
Listening to his heartfelt account, Daenerys thought to herself: *You were the one who shamelessly sought me out to become Viserys's Sworn Knight in the first place. And it was you who asked to join my Queen's Guard. I only tentatively asked Jhogo and the others to become my Bloodriders.*
Ser Jorah, oblivious to this inner monologue, continued, "Great lords often hire Free Riders to patrol their lands. Compared to the lifelong loyalty of Sworn Knights, Sellswords are more flexible and cheaper.
"Bear Island isn't small, and I can't afford Sworn Knights. I have a few Free Riders patrolling the forests under my command."
He sighed, his voice heavy with emotion, and said dejectedly, "I'm bankrupt. I can't even pay my cook and harpist. When Lynesse heard I was considering pawning my jewelry, she..."
"For money, to keep Lynesse, her jewelry, her singers, and my cook... I..."
"My hired riders caught several poachers. By tradition, they had two choices: lose a hand or be sent to the Wall to join the Night's Watch. But for money, I finally abandoned all my honor."
"I sold them to Tyroshi slave traders. This violates the laws of the Seven Kingdoms—under the faith of the Seven Gods, slavery is forbidden."
"You're exiled? That seems harsh. A fine would have been sufficient to make an example and warn you against repeating it," Daenerys said.
"More honorable, and crueler, than exile. I've committed a capital offense. I'm to be beheaded."
"Uh..."
"By the traditions of the First Men, Eddard Stark must personally judge me. After hearing my final confession, he must also personally behead me with Ice."
*(Ice: The Stark family sword, made of Valyrian steel. The Duke uses it to execute criminals—noble or common, all are equal before its edge.)*
Daenerys glanced at the sketch of Westeros Jorah had just drawn on the stone slab and said, "Winterfell is quite far from Bear Island. Did you flee?"
"About a thousand kilometers, I'd say. If I keep changing horses and ride without stopping, I can reach the coast in two days and board a ship for Bear Island on the third. Three days is more than enough for me to escape with Lynesse and her jewels."
"If I recall correctly, you're the only son of House Mormont."
Jorah nodded. "Yes, I'm my father's only son. I have an aunt, but all five of her children are daughters."
"Did your father take the black?"
"Yes."
"As Eddard Stark's sworn knight, did you participate in Robert's Rebellion?" Daenerys asked.
"I also fought in the Battle of the Trident," he replied softly, his voice like a breeze brushing past his temples, carrying both caution and a hint of pride.
"After years of fighting and dying for Winterfell, standing by his side as he became a traitor and then quelled the rebellion, he's going to behead the only male heir of House Mormont over a few poachers?!" Daenerys's tone was complex, her question stated plainly yet carrying the weight of accusation.
"That's just the way Stark is," Jorah said, still indignant, clearly feeling his liege lord was being too harsh on him.
After a long pause, the knight sighed. "I suppose that's one of his rare virtues—fairness and justice, strict with himself and strict with others."
*Heh, shouldn't it be "strict with himself, lenient with others" that makes someone truly charismatic?*
Jorah's situation would have been unthinkable in any dynasty of the Celestial Empire. This went beyond impartiality; even Bao Zheng, the upright judge, had moments of leniency. Otherwise, how could the Seven Heroes and Five Righteous have survived? It seemed Eddard Stark had lived too comfortably, too stubbornly.
Daenerys couldn't help but wonder: *Is holding onto a kingdom that easy in this world? The Stark family acts so recklessly, yet the position of King in the North remains as solid as a mountain. But how did the Targaryens lose theirs? Was their father, the "Mad King" Aerys, even more reckless than Eddard?*
*Heaven help them! With such a lack of political acumen, they could still maintain a kingdom for centuries. If the last emperors of the Celestial Empire learned of this, they'd probably drool with envy.*
The Northmen are the only ones with rigid minds. Houses like the Lannisters, Tyrells, and Martells possess strategic acumen that rivals any of the Celestial Empire's most renowned rulers.
"Alright, continue," she said. She felt she had much to learn; this world's survival rules were vastly different from the Eastern ones she was familiar with.
She could only adapt. To change things, the dragons would need to grow so powerful that even crossbow bolts couldn't kill them—though no dragon had ever been shot to death yet.
Should she have the dragons learn Westerosi knightly ways and don full plate armor?
In a bare-handed duel, even the small KhaLS could find ten horsemen capable of killing Ser Jorah. But clad in armor, none of her Bloodriders would stand a chance against him.
While Daenerys was lost in thought, Jorah continued, "I told myself that only my and Lynesse's true love mattered. Honor, status, homeland, titles, family—none of it mattered. We fled to Lys, and that large ship was worth enough to sustain us in comfort for half a year."
The moment she heard the words "true love," Daenerys knew tragedy was about to strike.
As expected, his bear-like, fierce eyes turned red, glistening with moisture, and his square-faced, full-bearded visage twisted into a single word: "Misery."
"I had no choice but to become a sellsword. I have no survival skills beyond fighting for others. One day, I received a mission to leave Lys and travel thousands of miles to the Norne River to seize territory from the Braavosi. She..."
His voice grew inexplicably mournful. "I gave her the deposit. The day after I left, she took the gold and her own jewelry and moved into Trade Prince Trigo Omollen's chambers."
*How tragic!*
Now, when Daenerys looked at Jorah, the "Misery" on his broad face seemed to transform into a blazing "Tragedy."
In the original story, the Daenerys he loved and devoted the rest of his life to had always friend-zoned him. This...
If Jorah Mormont were to stand up and shout, "Who dares claim to be more miserable than I?!"
Daenerys thought hard. It seemed only the future Theon could meekly reply, "Perhaps... I could reach your trouser hem."
In truth, she was too close to the situation to see clearly. She had forgotten someone far more miserable than Jorah Mormont.
That someone was herself.
(End of Chapter)