Slave Traders and Traitors

The daylight gradually faded.

Elin stood by the sea, silently gazing toward the palace.

The palace by the bay had nine tall towers. Gorgeous and elegant, pale ivy climbed across its towers and walls.

It was a gift from the Magisters of Pentos to Khal Drogo.

Everyone knew that the Dothraki lived as nomads. Their tribes were called khalasars, and the leader of a khalasar was known as a "khal." Khal Drogo ruled the largest khalasar, with more than forty thousand warriors under his command.

Yet Elin intended to make an enemy of him.

At the banquet more than ten days ago, Khal Drogo had taken a liking to Princess Daenerys Targaryen, and the two had already become betrothed.

Elin did not have much time.

Fortunately, Khal Drogo had since returned to his khalasar on the grasslands outside the city, leaving the palace for the Princess and the others to stay in temporarily. Elin had finally met Jorah Mormont as well.

A deep voice sounded behind him. "What do you want with me?"

Elin turned around.

The burly middle-aged man before him was slightly balding, with dark skin. A black bear standing on its hind legs was embroidered on his dark green coat.

He was none other than Jorah Mormont, the exiled former Lord of Bear Island.

"My lord, can't you see Viserion's stupidity and madness? Why would you willingly serve him?"

Jorah narrowed his eyes. "Watch yourself, squire. Choose your words carefully."

Elin knew he had to press on. "Following the mad Beggar King, or mingling with a savage nomadic tribe—is that how you want to spend the rest of your life?"

The waves crashed against the rocky shore, providing a little cover for their secret conversation.

"Or," Elin lowered his voice, "do you still long to return home? Is everything you are doing now because of a promise from someone across the Narrow Sea?"

Threateningly, Jorah placed a hand on the hilt of his sword. "What exactly do you mean?"

"The Spider whispers. The promise you received came from the Eight-Legged Spider."

Elin could only hope the Crown Prince's intelligence was accurate. "The Spider will soon be consumed by wrath. His promises are worthless. What you need is the throne's pardon."

"My lord, do you want to return to Westeros or not?"

Jorah's thoughts were in turmoil, but he truly longed to return to what he once had. "There has not been a single day when I did not miss Bear Island. You want my answer? Then yes, I do."

"Elin, who are you?"

Jorah considered many possibilities, but when he heard Elin say, "His Highness the Crown Prince sent me," how could that possibly be true?

The idea of a child barely in his teens?

Still, Viserion had indeed bragged about Elin's former identity—the squire Prince Joffrey had forgotten. So it had all been a disguise.

Jorah felt a keen curiosity toward the Prince Joffrey he had never met.

Elin laid down his bargaining chip. "His Highness mentioned you to me specifically. If you are willing to help me complete my mission, those charges will mean nothing. My lord can regain all your honor and standing."

His father's face rose before Jorah's eyes, and he gave a bitter smile.

"No. My honor can never return, and The North will never welcome me as it once did. It is enough if I can wash away some of House Mormont's disgrace."

Elin waited quietly.

After a long while, Jorah spoke. "What does His Highness the Crown Prince want?"

Elin did not answer directly. "Allow me to remind you, my lord, that my loyalty to His Highness has never wavered. If my mission fails, I fear your true identity will no longer remain hidden."

Jorah said nothing.

Elin then revealed his mission.

Jorah turned to leave at once. "How could that possibly be done?!"

"The Princess and Khal Drogo will be wed in a week. He has more than forty thousand warriors and the strongest khalasar. What can the two of us possibly do?"

Elin blocked Jorah's path. "Isn't it a little late to back out now? If you want to leave, fine—but draw your sword and kill me first!"

Of course Elin understood how difficult it would be, but he had no way back.

"The valiant knight who once won countless tourney championships is actually this cowardly?! You are not even as brave as a mere squire like me?"

Jorah sneered. "You think such petty tricks can provoke me into throwing my life away?"

Elin shook his head. "Once your identity as the Spider's informant is exposed in Pentos, do you think it will be any safer than this?"

Jorah fell silent.

Elin hurriedly continued persuading him. "Besides, it will not be just the two of us. I have been in Pentos for four months already. Naturally, I have friends willing to help."

Jorah did not believe such claims at all. At most, they would be mercenaries, assassins, and other desperate criminals who could not show their faces.

Elin saw Jorah's attitude.

"My lord, why not hear my plan first?"

"How can you call it throwing our lives away? For the sake of completing the mission, I naturally hope we can all cross the Narrow Sea safely."

Jorah looked forward to seeing what brilliant plan this fellow could possibly come up with.

But after hearing it...

"Elin, if this does not count as throwing our lives away, then I suppose only slitting our own throats on the spot would."

To be honest, Jorah was beginning to admire the squire's loyalty and courage.

The boy truly did not care about his own life.

"My lord, I still remember who I am. Rather than suffer under the Beggar King for the rest of my life, I would rather die carrying out a mission of honor!"

Elin's face was filled with resolve.

The hardships of the past few months had only purified his conviction further. Storms, mockery, hunger, slaughter, humiliation, suspicion, beatings and scoldings...

The only thing that comforted him was the mission he bore.

Abandon his mission and wander in exile across Essos?

No.

He only wanted to return to the Red Keep, to those Familiar People, to the life that belonged to him.

He had to capture the Beggar King and Daenerys!

"The Magisters of Pentos and the khalasar are far too powerful. We naturally cannot confront them head-on with just a few people. This is our only chance."

Elin seemed already to see the wonderful ending that would come with victory.

"Just imagine it. What a stunning sight it will be—Pentos awash in blood, and us escorting the Dragon Spawn back to King's Landing. His Highness will surely be pleased."

"Not only will House Mormont be cleared of disgrace, my lord's own stain will be completely washed away. You may even gain greater glory than before!"

Jorah was rationally pessimistic. "Let us hope we both live to see that day."

The two returned to the palace one after the other.

Viserion was already drunk and playing in bed with a maid, while Daenerys sat alone in the courtyard, admiring the moon.

"Your Highness." Elin respectfully approached from behind her.

Daenerys felt a little homesick.

Kind Ser Willem, the house with its red-painted door, the lemon tree beyond the window, the brother who told her stories of her father and mother, of the Seven Kingdoms—those were the childhood she had lost.

She could never return to it. There was only the Dothraki Sea, and the Seven Kingdoms Viserion yearned for day and night.

She would rather go to that homeland that existed only in words and imagination. A place of rolling green hills, flower-covered plains, and deep rivers rushing onward.

"Where is Ser Jorah? Ask him to come tell me some stories about home."

Elin bowed. "I fear Ser Jorah has already gone to sleep. If Your Highness wishes to know more about your kingdom, Elin also knows some stories of King's Landing and the Westlands."

"I believe you will enjoy them."

Princess Daenerys glanced at him and nodded reluctantly.