“I’m telling you, stop locking yourself away in that little room with your books!
It’s been a whole week, and we’ve only sparred once!”
The Dornishman launched into a dramatic tirade, punctuating every sentence with exaggerated gestures.
Walking beside him was a calm young man from the Reach, listening with practiced patience.
Gawen had barely returned from House Hightower when Oberyn burst in, grabbed him by the arm, and practically dragged him outside.
“I’ve also been attending Archmaester Walgrave’s lessons and helping him with the ravens,” Gawen corrected him.
“I’ve even managed to sit in on Archmaester Ebrose’s lectures, along with several others.”
“Oh, certainly!” Oberyn exclaimed with theatrical sarcasm.
“Spending your days fussing over ravens and helping elderly Archmaesters—what an exciting life!”
“…Perhaps I’ve been a little too absorbed in it,” Gawen admitted after a moment.
Ever since discovering the Citadel’s library, the days had flown by.
He attended lectures every morning.
Spent his afternoons with Walgrave discussing ravens and the mysteries surrounding them.
Then read until midnight—or sometimes two or three in the morning.
Darkness posed no obstacle.
He had cultivated a luminous flower whose soft glow far outshone an ordinary candle.
His room had changed considerably as well.
Roots and vines now wove around the bed, forming a surprisingly soft mattress that had completely replaced the old straw bedding.
Even the pillow and blanket had been recreated from specially cultivated plant fibers.
“The greatest purpose of magic is comfort.”
It was a saying Gawen remembered from his previous life.
Not power.
Not immortality.
Not changing one’s appearance.
Not even raising the dead.
Humanity’s desire for comfort had always been one of the greatest forces driving magical innovation.
It was a sentiment he wholeheartedly agreed with.
Life in such pleasant surroundings had become so enjoyable that he’d unintentionally neglected Oberyn—and had nearly forgotten his promise to visit House Hightower.
[Current Environment Comfort: Good]
[Natural Energy Recovery Speed +8%]
[Rebirth Incarnation gains +2 additional proficiency per day.]
Gawen noticed that a comfortable environment subtly enhanced a Druid’s cultivation.
The increase shown on the panel was small.
But accumulated over months and years…
It would become significant.
Simply transforming his room at the Citadel had increased his Natural Energy recovery from nothing to an eight percent bonus.
Clearly, material comfort and mental well-being were just as important to a Druid’s growth as training itself.
“Doesn’t matter.”
Oberyn laughed as they stepped outside.
“Today I’m dragging you into the sunlight.”
“Let’s hope you don’t burst into flames.”
The Dornish prince shot him a suspicious glance.
“You’ll be waiting a long time for that.”
Understanding the joke, Gawen simply stood beneath the golden light of the setting sun.
The Book of Flame within him responded with quiet delight.
A pleasant warmth spread throughout his entire body.
Oberyn merely waved dismissively and continued walking.
The two chatted as they made their way through Oldtown, heading toward a destination that the Dornishman seemed to know well.
Along the way, Gawen recognized the narrow alley that Ser Harwyn had once mentioned.
The one with the famous brothel.
“…A brothel?”
His tone became difficult to read.
Gawen held rather traditional views.
He had no desire to purchase the companionship offered by the goddesses of love.
“What?”
“You’ve never slept with a woman?”
Oberyn raised an eyebrow in genuine surprise.
Gawen calmly shook his head.
“Oh…”
“Oh, my dear friend…”
Oberyn threw an arm around his shoulders.
“You haven’t yet experienced one of life’s greatest pleasures.”
“Please tell me you’ve at least tasted wine.”
“You saw me drinking at the tavern.”
Gawen replied evenly.
Druids treated alcohol with respect.
Many enjoyed brewing fine wines or crafting exceptional cheeses during their leisure time.
Beyond wine, he’d experimented with other spirits as well…
Though with mixed success.
“And what if that was just grape juice?”
Oberyn whispered mischievously as they entered a small stone courtyard.
A modest fountain stood at its center.
Stone steps led up to the building, where two men waited outside the entrance.
Thanks to his heightened hearing, Gawen had already recognized the unmistakable sounds coming from within.
A pleasure house.
“I’ve known about places like this for a long time.”
“I’ve heard that Dorne is…
Oberyn grinned and nodded.
They stepped inside.
The entrance hall wasn’t particularly large.
A graceful woman approached them, dressed in a flowing lavender gown that elegantly accentuated her figure.
She appeared to be in her early thirties.
Her mature beauty surpassed that of any of the younger women working there.
“Welcome to Sweet Delights, the finest pleasure house in Oldtown.”
Her languid, velvety voice nearly caused the young Dornishman to lose his composure.
“Master Oberyn…”
“I see you’ve brought a friend.”
“Ahem!”
Oberyn quickly recovered.
“Indeed.”
“This is Gawen.”
“Gawen, allow me to introduce Lysanna, the mistress of this establishment.”
“A pleasure to meet you, young lord.”
Lysanna greeted him with a warm smile.
Gawen nearly frowned at being addressed so formally.
“The usual arrangements today, Master Oberyn?”
“Hmm…”
Oberyn glanced thoughtfully at Gawen.
“I think I’d like to try something different this time.”
“I understand.”
Lysanna turned to Gawen.
“And what about your friend?”
“He hasn’t been with a woman before,” Oberyn explained casually, wearing an apologetic half-smile.
“I see…”
Lysanna studied the young man more carefully.
She looked into his eyes.
What she saw wasn’t an inexperienced boy.
It was a composed, self-assured man.
Every instinct she had developed over years in this profession told her the same thing.
“And what are your preferences, young lord?”
“Come on, Gawen.”
Oberyn broke the brief silence.
“Don’t hesitate now.”
“It would be rather awkward to turn around and leave at this point.”
Gawen sighed softly.
Oberyn wasn’t wrong.
Leaving now would certainly be awkward.
Then again…
When had he ever cared much about what other people thought?
“I hope your prices are at least reasonable.”
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
“Oh, to the Seven…”
“I’ll pay for you myself if I have to.”
“Just come on!”
Oberyn exclaimed in exasperation.
“I’ll take you upstairs.”
With a graceful gesture, Lysanna beckoned the two young men to follow.
She led them to the second floor and stopped before a door.
Inside was a spacious private room.
A broad bed, large enough to accommodate several people, dominated the center of the chamber.
Elegant tapestries adorned the walls, lending the room an air of understated luxury.
A fireplace crackled warmly in one corner of the room.
Beside it stood a small table surrounded by cushioned armchairs.
“Please, make yourselves comfortable,” Lysanna said.
“The girls will be here shortly.
Would either of you like some wine?”
“Of course,” Oberyn replied without hesitation.
“The usual.
Double.”
Then he threw himself backward onto the bed with complete ease.
“I’ll have it sent up immediately.”
With a graceful smile, Lysanna left the room.
The moment the door closed, Gawen let out a sigh and sank into one of the armchairs.
“Why exactly did you drag me here?”
Oberyn propped himself up on one elbow.
“Why are you being so reluctant?”
“It’s not reluctance.”
Gawen frowned slightly.
“I simply don’t understand the appeal.”
In his previous life, he hadn’t been entirely unfamiliar with places like this, though he’d never had much reason to visit them.
As for this body…
Well…
It had only just begun to mature.
People in Westeros also came of age far earlier than those in his previous world.
Oberyn leaned forward, staring at him as though he’d just heard the most unbelievable thing imaginable.
“You’ve misunderstood me.”
Gawen sighed again.
“I understand perfectly.”
“Probably better than you do.”
“But what I’m looking for is affection…”
“…not simply satisfying desire.”
“And to be honest…”
“My desires aren’t particularly strong at the moment.”
“Oh?”
A knowing smile spread across Oberyn’s face as he folded his hands behind his head and lay back down.
“So you’re a romantic.”
“I suppose you could say that.”
Gawen shrugged.
The door opened once more.
Lysanna returned, followed by several young women dressed in far more revealing attire.
They carried trays laden with wine and fresh fruit, setting everything neatly upon the table before approaching Gawen with practiced warmth and inviting smiles.
He merely glanced at them with polite indifference.
The women formed a line, allowing themselves to be looked over.
“Haa…”
Oberyn let out an appreciative sigh, his gaze traveling openly from one woman to the next.
Every one of them was beautiful.
Some youthful.
Others more mature.
Tall.
Petite.
Slender.
Curvaceous.
Blondes.
Brunettes.
There was a charm to each of them.
“I believe our young gentleman has already made his choice.”
Lysanna smiled knowingly.
Gawen’s gaze moved slowly from left to right before finally coming to rest on one young woman.
She had dark hair.
Blue eyes.
She wasn’t particularly tall, nor was her figure especially striking.
Yet beneath the soft pink fabric she wore, everything about her seemed graceful and well-proportioned.
There was simply…
Something about her.
Perhaps it was her gentle, endearing face.
Or perhaps she reminded him of someone he’d once known long ago.
“My, that was a swift decision.”
Oberyn laughed as he sprang to his feet and strode toward a taller, more voluptuous blonde.
“Tonight, let the sun brighten my night.”
Taking the young woman’s hand, he disappeared with her, accompanied by her playful laughter.
“I hope you both enjoy yourselves.”
Lysanna offered a courteous smile before leading the remaining women from the room.
“If you need anything at all, simply call.”
The door closed behind them.
The room fell quiet.
“…My lord?”
The young woman Gawen had chosen remained standing where she was, clearly uncertain why he continued looking at her.
Gawen gave a small cough and shook his head.
“Please…”
“Don’t misunderstand.”
“As you wish, Lord Gawen.”
She nodded obediently before walking over and, somewhat awkwardly, settling herself on his lap.
His calm, unwavering gaze made her unexpectedly nervous.
“So…”
“What should I call you?”
“Whatever name pleases you, my lord.”
“I don’t want ‘whatever pleases me.'”
The corner of Gawen’s mouth twitched with mild exasperation.
“Forgive me.”
“I’m simply not accustomed to…
this sort of situation.”
He spoke more gently this time.
“I’d just like to know your real name.”
His stern tone—and the faint glimmer of fire that had briefly flashed in his eyes—had startled her at first.
But hearing the sincerity in his voice, she gradually relaxed.
“…Sara, my lord.”
She answered after a moment’s hesitation.
Perhaps it wasn’t her real name.
Perhaps it was.
Either way…
Gawen didn’t particularly mind.
Send those stones my way—the more, the merrier.