Game Of Thrones : Merchant of Two Worlds

Theon Greyjoy couldn't help but think of the strange clothes he had heard about from the soldiers in Winterfell. They mentioned the uniforms worn by the hundreds of men recruited by Lord East, the Earl of Starfire City.

Now that he thought about it, Jon was wearing something similar.

That's right—Jon Snow was dressed in a camouflage outfit Jason Liu had brought, paired with a black stab-resistant suit.

No wonder Theon found his appearance odd.

Jon's expression was serious and cold, like a hard, unyielding stone from the North. His sharp black eyes locked onto Theon Greyjoy, who stood before him with a smirk of amusement playing on his lips.

Jon's left hand rested on the hilt of the sword at his waist, his fingers tightening slightly around it. Though there was a flicker of anger in his eyes, he kept it in check. Pressing his lips together, he finally spoke in an indifferent tone:

"Greyjoy, if you came all the way here just to say this, to give me your so-called congratulations, then let me make it clear—I've already heard your congratulations."

"Congratulations?" Theon burst into laughter as if Jon had just told the funniest joke in the world.

His loud laugh drew the attention of McCann, dicken, and Bud, who were training nearby. They paused to glance in Jon's direction, curious about what was happening.

Marbu, noticing the situation, subtly gestured at Jon, silently asking if he needed any help.

As men from the lands near Winterfell, Marbu and the others were familiar with Theon Greyjoy. Everyone in the region knew him as the son of Balon Greyjoy, the ruler of the Iron Islands.

However, for commoners like them, Theon was a distant figure—a nobleman they could only hear about. From what they'd gathered, he was an arrogant young man who, despite being a ward in Winterfell, behaved more like a lord.

Whenever people in the area talked about Theon, it was rarely in a flattering tone.

Jon subtly shook his head at Marbu, signaling that he didn't need their assistance.

Theon, of course, noticed this small exchange. Following Jon's gaze, he looked over at the group of young men in the distance. They were all dressed alike, marching in step as part of their training.

Seeing how these young recruits were beginning to show the disciplined movements of an army, Theon's playful expression faded, replaced by a flicker of surprise.

"So, these are the soldiers of Lord East," he muttered, his tone tinged with disbelief. "I heard they're just farm boys recruited from nearby villages—peasants who've spent their lives holding hoes and pitchforks, not swords."

Jon glanced at the soldiers training nearby, his face impassive. "They're not just farmers anymore. They're becoming real soldiers. After more than a month of training, I'm more confident in them than ever."

The confidence in Jon's voice was unshakable, and it annoyed Theon to no end.

"Pfft." Theon sneered, rolling his eyes. "They might look decent now, but when it comes to real battles, I bet they'll fall apart."

Jon didn't bother responding. He didn't see the point in arguing with someone as arrogant as Theon. It was the same as always—he let Theon's words roll off his back.

"I need to get back to training the soldiers," Jon said bluntly. "Do what you want." With that, he turned and walked away, heading toward the recruits.

Being brushed off so casually left Theon stunned. His face quickly turned red with anger, and his gaze burned into Jon's retreating figure. How dare he, a bastard, ignore him?

But then, a bitter realization hit him. Jon was no longer just an illegitimate son. He was now a knight under Lord East, someone with status and recognition, unlike before.

Still, Theon comforted himself with a sneer. "A knight of an earl? And an earl who isn't even recognized by Westeros? That's hardly impressive."

Despite his bravado, Theon felt humiliated. His fists clenched as he glared at Jon. Part of him wanted to charge forward and teach Jon a lesson, just like he used to when they were children. But looking at the soldiers, he hesitated. He didn't dare.

Frustrated, he kicked a stone on the ground with all his might. Pain shot through his foot, making him wince and hop on one leg. In the end, all Theon could do was limp back toward Winterfell, cursing Jon under his breath and vowing to settle the score someday.

Meanwhile, a line of carriages rumbled to a stop in front of Jason Liu's shop. The carriages bore the banner of a flaming tower.

A middle-aged man stepped out of one of the carriages. He was dressed in fine silk robes, his short beard neatly trimmed. As he climbed down with the help of a servant, he surveyed the shop's exterior with an approving nod before heading inside.

Lena, Martha, and the others working behind the counter noticed the arrival of the convoy but weren't particularly surprised. They were used to seeing merchants from across Westeros visit the store with long trains of carriages.

Sam, who was wiping down a chair, quickly stepped forward to greet the visitor. "Good day, sir. How can I help you?"

The man gave Sam a brief glance before letting his eyes roam around the shop. Finally, he nodded slightly and introduced himself.

"I am Calvin, steward to Lord Gerald Grafton, Earl of Gulltown. I've been sent here to purchase gel pens, white paper, soap, and other goods made by Lord Jason East. These items are said to be quite unique and come from Lord Jason's homeland."

As Calvin spoke, he glanced around again and added, "Is Lord Jason here? If possible, I'd like to convey Lord Gerald's regards personally."

Lena stepped out from behind the counter, her expression apologetic. "I'm sorry, Mr. Calvin. Lord Jason isn't in the shop at the moment. He's currently away on business, so I'm afraid you won't be able to deliver Lord Gerald's greetings in person."

Hearing this, Calvin's face fell. He hadn't come all this way just to deliver greetings—his true purpose was to negotiate with Jason Liu about exclusive distribution rights for these goods in the Eastern territories.

Without Jason's presence, Calvin felt caught off guard. If they couldn't secure a deal, the lucrative market for these unique products would be snatched up by small-time merchants.

Watching the opportunity for profit slip through their fingers, Calvin couldn't help but feel the frustration mounting.

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