Game of Thrones: Path of the Hungry Bear

Late 271 Summer

Gawen nearly had tears in his eyes when I showed him the writs from Lord Stark. He'd taken more heat than I had for my choices. He didn't live on an island, had actual bannermen, and attended feasts. People treated me like a joke, and him by extension for my marriage to Alysa.

Now that I'm the second most powerful man in the North, it's our turn to laugh.

I wanted to sail home and rub the documents of my total victory in Maege's face, but when The Thunderer pick up Gawen and I we sailed across the Bay of Ice to the lands controlled by the Mountain Clans, specifically to the coastal territory controlled by the Wulls.

Big Bucket, the clan chief and owner of the biggest belly in the Northern Mountains met with us and after I wrestled three of his strongest men and told him my plans he declared me Jorah the Great, greatest Mormont to ever live, and had his men help me with contacting the rest of the clans. It was a bit rinse and repeat with the Mountain Clans, they were simple people after all, and so very full of hate.

Hate the Ironborn. Hate the Wildings. Hate outlaws. They'd back me to the hilt so long as I was the man getting them into the fight against any of those.

I'd make precious little trading with these people, but I'd never find more willing raiders. I actually had to deny a number of clansmen as Gawen and I chose to each provide eight hundred men for the great raid of 272. My ships could only transport 2420 men in total, so that left me with about four hundred mountain men demanding that I make more boats.

I planned to land the men in stages, so I could bring them, but that would tilt the split Gawen and I agreed on with the Mountain Chiefs. 30-30-40 with the big cut for me due to owning the ships. Each of us prepared our forces for the conditions I described, and when the new year came my eight hundred men and I set out. This time we packed our ships with supplies and horses. Last thing I wanted was food shortages with a mixed army, and we'd have enough men with us this time to ensure the safety of our valuable mounts.

I landed my men first - fifty miles east from our last raid instead of the hundred I planned due to cutting our efforts short last time and the increased resources as we moved further east - and skeleton crew sailed my ships to pick up the Mountain Clans and then the Glovers - led by my brother-in-law Galbart.

It took us a week to get everyone landed and our camp established, this time not forgoing proper fortification. During this period we established the proper working specializations. Galbart, with his many lumber focused bannermen such as the Forresters, was in charge of cutting down every tree we could find, and finally we would be able to safely fell the mighty Ironwoods.

I didn't say anything regarding the weirwoods and when Galbart's men ignored them I let it go. Cutting them down would splinter our morale, so I simply marked the locations of any we found on the map I was making of the region. I'd return at a later date, take the trees, and not have to split the ultra valuable lumber with anyone.

The Mountain Clans were absolutely eager to kill everything that moved and were far better at it than my men and I had been. They took every kind of game the land provided, happily adding more and more meat to their stews each day. The only thing they loved more than all the big game hunting was every time they encountered Wildlings. Each day they'd drag the bodies from the previous into the bay at low tide and happily chum the waters for me. I didn't even need to explain why to them. They just loved it, and appreciated that I thought of such a useful way to dispose of their hated foes. I wouldn't need to look very hard for volunteers this year when we get to the 'disobedience, death' portion of our boy's retreat.

My own men provided support, a good number using my smaller ships to fish along the bay. This year, when the sharks came, we ate the sharks. It was hardcore. Plus certain parts of a shark's skin make for absolutely fabulous grips for your weapons. High function, high fashion, and used to be a great white shark. I can think of little more satisfying, and was sure I'd find buyers for the material and the jaws of the beasts it came from.

My choice to bring horses this year came in clutch, as the Wildings decided not to try a big night raid, or a direct battle, but to flee east when they heard of our coming. The hundreds of riders Galbart and I brought for this go around caught over a hundred and thirty fleeing families and a half dozen clans.

Because of the complete lack of resistance we stretched ourselves thin, building several additional camps to process all the materials we gathered. I kept waiting for the hammer to fall, but it never did, and by the end of the great raid we'd suffered only the injuries and fatalities one would expect from the kind of dangerous activities we engaged in. The only hiccup we hit in the operation was when Galbart refused to take any thralls and refused to allow his bannermen to take any, demanding their value in trade goods.

The Mountain Clans only wanted female thralls, and when Galbart demanded more of the trade goods since he would not take thralls, the clans also demanded more of the goods.

The shouting didn't end till I punched Galbart in the mouth and announced that what they spoke, putting a tradeable value on human life, had crossed the line into slavery - something outlawed by both our gods and our king. I declared that anyone who refused to take thralls would simply not take thralls, and there would be no shifting of goods or coin for it, then dismissed them.

We met again two days later and Galbart reluctantly agreed to take the boys of his cut for hard labor, and the Mountain Clans took their cut of the females for hard fucking. As such I wound up with two thirds of the thralls for a total larger than both years' hauls combined. For my headache I took the five best looking females for myself and the three children they had between them. Two boys, one quite young and the other an adolescent - who likely only missed the cut off for us cutting him up because of his diminutive size - and a girl of approximately nine years.

The rest my men would have to figure out for themselves as over three hundred of them could take salt wives and there were nearly six hundred children to distribute. The children, while another mouth to feed, were also able to bring their households income. The boys as ironworkers, farmhands, fishermen, and the girls as weavers, though most were directed at domestic duties.

It was a hard life for children whose only crime is the location of their births, but it is a hard life for nearly everyone on this planet, and shit runs down hill. Their children would be born free, and I'd offer citizenship in return for military service in the future. Likely during the Ironborn Rebellion. I have over five hundred boys right now, enough to crew two great ironwood longships, not that I'd use thralls on my elite ships, but the image fits, and I'd have more in the future.

We extended our stay on the Frozen Shore by another month to safely ship our massive stockpiles of lumber, furs, and animal products such as ivory, antlers, and the skulls of predators. The zones in which we landed these goods quickly became small ports, and the pick up destination for future trade between our allied forces. While ultimately raven communication served for scheduling pick ups and drop offs, the Mountain Clans only counted as nobility in the loosest regards and lacked both maesters and their vaunted mail service. As such we built a small ferry at the small port on Wull land for carrying messages between Bear Island and my most difficult to reach allies.

The third great raid brought us enough trade goods to leave all participants greatly enriched, which was of vast importance as in the middle of 272 the Citadel released the white ravens, alerting the Lords of Westeros of the changing of the seasons. We'd have at most a year before the Starks once again got to feel smug. Winter is coming.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jorah has reached peak profitability on his Northern Crusade. From here on, things get harder. Jorah is obviously going to win, but the Wildings are done trying to beat him or out run him. Now they can either flee to the Frostfangs, or be as annoying as possible to defeat. Considering their absolute scorn for southerners, I think we know which option they'll pick.

Do you all think Tywin would be there for the purchase of Red Rain, or should it be Kevan? Either way I think I'll be vague about the value, as I cant remember if the million dragon offer was fanon or canon. No matter what Jorah is getting enough to become the north west regional lending bank and build a kick ass castle.

Have you ever seen Hochosterwitz Castle? I think its pretty perfect for Jorah and his growing Mormont Army now that Rockhall is reaching it's limits.

You can support me and my family at

ko - fi . com / jmanm