Two days from Broken Tooth Pass toward Silverhill.
Third morning.
Lyonel was eating bread off a roadside stall when the pane kicked.
[System]
Side task recommended: Lannisport — intelligence node (0/1)
Reward: Blue trait ×1
He pushed the bread in and gave the board three seconds.
“Bloom.”
“My lord.”
“Silverhill can wait three days.
We turn.
Lannisport.”
The map almost left Bloom’s hand.
“My lord, the hill is half a morning—”
“The hill isn’t walking off.”
“The veins aren’t growing legs.”
“That’s the proper work—”
“This is too.”
Lyonel got up on the horse and turned it.
Bronn came after him with dry meat in his teeth.
“My lord.
What’s in Lannisport.”
Lyonel looked at him.
“Girls.”
“…You’re short a girl.”
“I’m short a girl who can listen through a wall.”
Bronn chewed, swallowed.
“So the work your father named is the port trade lines.”
“Mm.”
“And the work is paying a madam.”
“You said it.”
“Fuck.
I’m coming.”
Lannisport sat six miles south of Casterly Rock.
Biggest mouth the West had on the water.
The quays were stacked with spice barrels and wool off the Narrow Sea.
Fish and salt had pickled the air through.
Lyonel took Bloom and Bronn into the port streets.
Eighteen horse stayed outside the walls.
The fifteen from the Pass went into a wrecked stable on the rim.
Bloom came behind with a book under his arm.
“First stop.”
“The Golden Sail.”
“That’s the biggest—”
“Brothel.”
Bloom shut his mouth.
Bronn whistled.
The Golden Sail took the whole three-floor stone pile on the main-street corner.
Gold anchor over the door.
Dusk.
The lanterns had just gone up.
Orange on wet cobbles, like someone had spilled small coin.
Lyonel pushed in.
Incense.
Cheap wine.
Seven or eight girls on the rail.
One ran him from face to boots, mouth twitching, and looked away.
He let her.
The pane kicked hard.
Red border.
Three flashes. This chapter is updated first at g.com.
Then gold — a mode that had never come up.
[System]
Warning: Blood Resonance (passive) triggered.
Target inside 10 yards.
Hard lock in progress—
His step shortened.
[System]
Lock complete: Shay.
No malice toward host.
State: fear / despair / thin trust.
Advise: make contact now.
The gold arrow went to the corner.
A bench by the kitchen door.
A small shape curled on it.
Dark brown hair.
Dirty hemp dress.
A bruise from the cheekbone into the hair by the ear.
Seventeen, or near it.
Black eyes under the fringe, watching the cracks in the boards.
The madam came on smiling.
The gold lion on his chest made the smile wider.
“Young master—my lord.
You’re from the Rock—”
“Passing through.”
“Passing through is good.
We have new girls off the river—”
He did not look at her.
He walked to the bench.
The madam hurried.
“Not that one.
She isn’t broken in.
Mean.
Bit a man two nights ago—”
Lyonel stopped at the bench and crouched.
He was already short.
Down there, his eyes met hers.
Her lashes jumped.
The ugly dwarf face sat in the black eyes.
Big head.
Features packed tight.
Green and black in the bad light.
She pulled back an inch.
He did not put a hand on her.
Fingertips under the chin only.
Light enough she could turn away.
She did not.
“What’s your name.”
Her mouth opened.
The voice was raw.
“…Shay.
Shay.”
The pane went quiet.
Gold border off.
One cold line in its place.
[System]
Key mark confirmed: Shay (Harem No.
1)
Target tagged.
Bond not yet built.
He took the hand back, stood, and turned to the madam.
“Her paper.
The woman blinked, then put up three fingers.
“Three hundred—no.
Five hundred dragons.
I paid—”
“The house with it.”
Her mouth opened.
“What.”
“This building.
Her paper.
Two-year hire on every girl in the house.”
He drew a sheepskin from his coat.
Blank warrant out of Tywin’s solar before they rode.
Casterly seal on it — Bloom’s night copy.
Close enough if no one put a glass to it.
“Five hundred dragons the lot.
You sign.
Coin tomorrow.”
The madam stared at the sheet.
“My lord, this house was my grandsire’s—”
“If he knew you’d kept a three-thousand-dragon house at five hundred, he’d climb out of the ground and slap you.”
She shut her mouth.
He put the sheet on the counter.
“Sign.
Don’t make me say it twice.”
The pen shook in her hand.
Shay was still on the bench.
The small back was to her.
Shoulders not done growing.
The fingers on her chin had been warm.
The madam signed.
Lyonel put the warrant away.
He did not look at Shay.
He spoke to Bloom.
“Wash her.
Fresh clothes.
The white house on East Street.”
Then he walked.
Bronn caught him at the door.
“My lord.
Five hundred dragons for one—”
“Bronn.”
“Mm.”
“You believe a person can be worth a city?”
Bronn looked at the eyes in the lantern light.
Cold as the stone under them.
His mouth worked.
Two words came out.
“Madman.”
Lyonel showed the teeth and got up on the horse.
Hooves on wet cobbles.
Fine spray.
Night wind off the water.
Salt in it.
[System]
Harem No.
1 — Shay: taken.
Bond not yet built.
Lannisport intelligence node: 1% (bound to Shay)
He checked the horse and looked toward East Street.
The white house windows were dark.
No lamp yet.
He would light it when he came back.