Chapter 131: Khal Drogo's Feast (Part 3)
After watching Viserys leave, Ian turned around and saw Jorah Mormont standing with Darren.
The man looked quite old, around forty, with weathered skin and half his head bald. He was even balder than Ian had been in his previous life. Unlike the people around him, he wasn't wearing luxurious silk—perhaps his robust frame wasn't suited to it—he was simply wearing a dark green wool doublet embroidered with a black bear, looking completely out of place.
Seeing Jorah Mormont's appearance, Ian finally understood why this guy's path to love had been so rocky.
Ian didn't know what he looked like when he was young, but as it was now, Jorah's looks were indeed... unfortunate.
If Jorah really looked like the TV actor, Daenerys might have fallen in love with him during her helpless and long journey after Drogo's death.
But unfortunately, he was just a balding middle-aged man.
"Greetings, loyal man." Perhaps noticing Ian's gaze, Jorah greeted him with mild sarcasm, then walked past him without pausing.
Greetings, simp supreme, Ian thought to himself.
He certainly wouldn't say it aloud, firstly because he didn't know how to accurately translate "simp" into the Common Tongue, and secondly because Jorah Mormont hadn't even started his infatuation yet... no, he'd already been obsessed once... Ian suddenly felt a little amused.
That was Jorah's moment of glory.
In the year 289 AC, King Robert held a grand tourney at Lannisport to celebrate the victory in putting down the Greyjoy Rebellion.
There, Jorah met the first object of his obsession, Lynesse Hightower, daughter of Lord Leyton of Oldtown.
Jorah asked her for a favor to wear in the tourney, then fought his way through the competition, defeating Jaime Lannister in the final to win the tourney and crown Lynesse Hightower as Queen of Love and Beauty.
He then asked for her hand from Lord Leyton Hightower, who accepted.
A poor knight from the North won the pearl of the Reach, and the impoverished Lord of Bear Island married the rose of Oldtown—it should have been an inspiring love story.
Unfortunately, the tourney seemed to have exhausted all of Jorah's good fortune, and misfortune followed.
Lynesse, who had grown up in Oldtown, the wealthiest city in Westeros, couldn't adapt to frugality after arriving on Bear Island and quickly squandered Jorah's entire fortune, leaving him heavily in debt.
To pay off his debts, Jorah was forced to sell captured poachers to Tyroshi slavers.
However, he unfortunately encountered a dishonest slaver who, refusing to pay, reported the matter to Jorah's liege lord, Eddard Stark, resulting in Jorah's death sentence.
Before Eddard arrived on Bear Island, Jorah and Lynesse fled by night, escaping all the way to Lys. They quickly ran out of coin, forcing Jorah to work as a sellsword to earn a living.
Soon, even greater misfortune befell Jorah—his wife ran off with a merchant prince of Lys.
In the days that followed, Jorah wandered between the Free Cities, even venturing east to Vaes Dothrak (the city sacred to the Dothraki), but things didn't improve until Varys contacted him.
Then came the familiar tale: Jorah found a new object of devotion, reigniting his lovelorn nature.
Shaking his head, Ian suppressed a smile.
Just as he was about to approach Jorah to speak, he suddenly noticed three people of evident importance walking towards him.
Ian stopped in his tracks.
"Master Yaqqa Mor, I never expected to see you in Pentos." The man ignored Ian and spoke directly to the Water Dancer beside him, his attitude extremely respectful, perhaps because he needed something from him.
"Pardon, may I ask who this gentleman is?" Yaqqa Mor asked, feigning ignorance.
"I am Oranto Lantyl, the Braavosi ambassador to Pentos. You may not recognize me, but I witnessed your bout at the Sealord's Palace; your water dance was truly exquisite." Ambassador Oranto smiled.
"Ah." Yaqqa nodded casually.
"Er..." Oranto, despite being given the cold shoulder, showed no embarrassment. He continued enthusiastically to the people behind him, introducing Yaqqa, "Master Yaqqa is a master among our Braavosi Water Dancers. Before leaving the Sealord's Palace, he had only been defeated once by the First Sword." He then gestured to the two people behind him and said to Yaqqa, "This is Prince Hazan Moharis and his betrothed, Lady Delora Haucot."
"Prince Hazan is the son of Lady Maryam Fregar, a Keyholder," Oranto added in a low voice to Yaqqa's ear.
Ian looked over. The man called Prince Hazan wore fine satin robes, a magnificent jeweled belt around his waist, and a curved sword with an ivory handle hung from it.
His eyes were keen, like a hawk's or a viper's, radiating a strong sense of command.
Hazan's presence differed from Illyrio's. Illyrio's was assertive yet measured, his gentle tone leaving no room for disobedience, but Hazan's was purely sharp; the mere sight of him exuded an invisible pressure.
Beside Hazan stood Delora Haucot, dressed in a purple off-the-shoulder gown, its form-fitting cut perfectly accentuating her shapely figure.
As the two drew closer, Ian could faintly smell the subtle scent of perfume emanating from her.
What a handsome couple, Ian thought to himself. In terms of looks alone, these two were in no way inferior to Viserys and Daenerys from before; in fact, because Daenerys wasn't fully grown, she was currently far less striking than Delora before him.
No wonder Symon Tetrus was so furious after his betrothed was stolen.
"Lady Maryam Fregar, the wealthiest Keyholder of the Iron Bank? I've heard of her... Prince Hazan, is it?" Yaqqa then slowly bowed. "So, what brings you here?"
"Master Yaqqa," this time it was Prince Hazan's turn to speak. Contrary to Ian's expectations, his voice wasn't as imperious as his bearing; it even had a courteous quality. "Welcome to Pentos. I wonder if I have the honor of inviting you to a feast at my manse tomorrow, so we can both be proper hosts."
Hazan didn't rashly invite Yaqqa to fight for him, but instead tried to establish rapport through a feast.
This was detrimental to Ian's plan. Ian wanted to finalize the agreement on the spot, not giving Illyrio a chance to object.
If he waited until tomorrow, Illyrio would have enough time to explain the implications.
Unless he directly confronts Illyrio, he will lose this chance to deliver the decisive blow to player Ander Poole.
(End of Chapter)
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