P. O. V. Tigett Lannister
12.01.276
Western Lands, Lannisport
— Uh-ha-ha. At last we've escaped this underground tomb! Fresh wind, sea breeze, and the smell of a living city! What could be better? Aha-ha-ha-ha... — Gerion's loud laughter, like waves in a raging storm, carried over the streets and docks of the harbor, attracting even more unwanted attention to us.
Well, well. The entire "lion family" had come out of their castle on the cliff — me, the ever-smiling Gerion, the beautiful twins Cersei and Jaime, and little Tyrion, who was being taken to the city for the first time. Although Cersei was furious, threatening to throw him into the sea at the first opportunity, the intercession of her twin brother, Gerion, and myself managed to calm the lioness.
Our entire family, accompanied by an entourage of young maids, squires, several stewards for shopping, and Red Cloaks, walked toward four ships, their burgundy sails contrasting sharply against the morning blue sky.
Things in the capital were not going very well. Aery's Targaryen was increasingly at odds with my older brother, trying to do everything his own way and in opposition to his right-hand man. And sometimes these decisions backfired on the crown — for example, the recent construction of the giant dromon Pride of the Dragon at the Royal Harbor shipyards, which sank after setting sail. The shipbuilders and engineers who built and designed the vessel were naturally executed, but the resources and time spent on this foolish project cannot be recovered. Although I don't blame the king — no one would want to live in the shadow of Tywin Lannister.
All hope rested on Queen Rhaella, who was five months pregnant. The birth of a strong and healthy child should help Aerys recover and get rid of his incipient Targaryen madness. After all, two years ago, when his wife gave birth to their son, Prince Jhaqeharis, he was incredibly happy. But the prince died that same year, according to Kivan, shocking the entire royal court. The king fell into despair because of his death. He went to the Great Sept of Baelor and spoke at length with the High Septon. Later, it was announced that he would stop cheating on his wife (once again dragging the royal family's reputation through the mud) and become a good husband. Hopefully, the Mother will bless him and all Seven Kingdoms. If Aerys finally goes mad, very difficult times will begin.
In any case, things were not going well for the Lannisters in the Red Keep. And this directly affected the mood of Casterly Rock — for a long time, Tywin's failures and successes had become the failures and successes of House Lannister. Therefore, the arrival of ships rumored to be carrying goods from the legendary Golden Empire of Yi-Ti came at just the right time. This would dispel the decadent mood that prevailed in the castle and, at the same time, allow them to buy curiosities that even Tywin had never seen before.
Soon we approached the largest ship in the harbor, where we were already being met. A young and very tall man with short black hair and green eyes, judging by his clothes, was not the lowest-ranking person on this ship. Maybe an accountant or a navigator... I don't know much about these things.
"Welcome aboard the King of Beasts," he said as soon as we approached, bowing slightly and placing his hand on his heart. "It is an honor for me, a humble merchant, to be visited by the descendants of the kings of the West. Lord Tigget, Lord Geryon."
The fact that he correctly addressed us by name immediately indicated that our visit was not a surprise to him and that he had had time to prepare. He seemed too young to be the owner of four ships, which are not inexpensive. A member of a merchant dynasty?
"The feeling is mutual, merchant," I replied, stepping forward as the senior member of the group and introducing everyone else. Even Gerion stopped cracking jokes left and right — whoever this merchant was, if he had such goods, he was very rich. And it was better not to spoil relations with him just like that. The Lannisters may be the richest house in all of Westeros, but there's always a bigger fish. "We came to see because we heard about ships filled with rare curiosities that cannot be found anywhere else in the West."
"I won't disappoint you," smiled the merchant, pointing to the gangway. We were led across the upper deck straight to the ship's main cabin. Along the way, we could see how many wealthy merchants had gathered here. How they haggled, shouted, sometimes threatened, but it was worth it.
But I soon forgot about these thoughts—when we entered the captain's cabin, all thoughts left my head.
"Wow..." the twins shouted loudly, instantly rushing in different directions. While Cersei ran toward the shelves, where dozens of different fabrics and pedestals with jewels and decorations hung, Jaime rushed in the opposite direction—the entire left wall of the cabin was occupied by swords and blades, the most skillful workmanship, which would not be out of place as a gift to the king. Most of the ladies-in-waiting and squires instantly rushed after them, leaving me, Gerion, holding Tyrion in my arms, the accountants, whose faces had already turned pale from the realization that today their estates would be greatly reduced in gold, and the merchant, with the smile of a cat that had eaten too much cream, watching all this.
"He can already smell profit, the filthy merchant," I thought, watching as Geryon and his nephew walked between the tables, looking at everything around them, sometimes laughing.
"Your niece has a problem. Let's go to her," said the merchant, whose name I never bothered to learn.
Meanwhile, Cersei was beaming. Surrounded by girls her age and two older ladies, she flitted from one bolt of fabric to another, examining, touching, and stroking each one, not knowing which to choose first.
"Young lady, can I help you?" the merchant asked her, smiling his "signature" smile once again. And while most merchants, with their fat faces and small piggy eyes, came across as repulsive, this one had a... pleasant...
"Where did you get these fabrics? I've never seen anything like them," her niece almost shouted, literally shoving a skein of silk as thin as a butterfly's wing and the color of lush green grass into the merchant's hands.
"This... Hmm..." said the owner of the shop, pausing briefly and answering almost immediately. "Young lady, what do you know about the Golden Empire of I-Ti?"
"It's a rich country in the east, ruled by the emperor... impet..." Gerion's laughter could be heard nearby, amused by his niece's forgetfulness of the title of the ruler of distant lands, which the maester had mentioned just a few hours ago. Poor Cersei even blushed with shame, but her gaze promised to incinerate her younger uncle on the spot.
"Emperors, young lady." The merchant smiled again, adjusting the skein more comfortably and stretching it out. — The Y-Ti Empire is ruled by two emperors, a hundred princes, and a thousand military commanders. This silk is made in the principality of Ailei, located deep in the Long Shi jungle, which covers most of the empire's territory. A unique plant grows there—a thread-like flower called Ua Shuo, whose petals are used to make the threads for this silk. Thanks to this, clothing made from these fabrics is very comfortable to wear, and the skin, thanks to its special properties, can breathe easily, retaining its beauty and youthfulness for much longer.
What a cunning merchant — even I could see how the eyes of all the women standing nearby lit up. It was as if a fight was about to break out.
"Are you lying?" Cersei asked, putting on a thoughtful expression. After all, her father's and my lessons had not been in vain — she already possessed one of the most important qualities necessary for any queen. Suspicion.
"Of course not, young lady." I think he was born with that smile — it hadn't left his face since we arrived. Moving as close as propriety allowed, the merchant began to point at the fabric. "Look closely at the pattern. Does it remind you of anything?"
"They're petals!" my niece exclaimed in surprise after a minute of examining the piece.
"That's right," nodded the ship's owner in agreement. "This fabric is made from whole Wu Shuo petals, without unraveling them into threads. That's how you can tell Ailei silk from a fake."
"Wow!" All the ladies immediately looked at him, unable to hide the slight admiration in their eyes. I understand them — merchants are usually not very interested in their goods and mainly praise the buyers and how the purchased items will look on them. But here, they immediately learned about the unique features of the purchase and the interesting history of distant lands. In our distant childhood, our older brother used to read books to us in a similar way, which is why we later surprised the masters and our father by outgrowing the other children of the lords. Maybe we should revive this custom? But where can we find such a good storyteller...
"What about this one?" Cersei, without looking, grabbed a yellow bundle and thrust it into the hands of the merchant, from whose hands the previous one had magically disappeared.
"Oh, you have a good eye, young lady. This silk is produced by the Tan clan from the province of the Five Fortresses. It is famous for its..." And so began a series of stories. Each time, my niece slipped the merchant more and more goods, asking about their features and where they could be purchased. Silk, jewelry, mirrors, even a few books snatched from little Tyrion's hands... their entire history and significance were recounted. I was even surprised that his tongue didn't dry up from such a long story.
"What should I buy?" I was taken aback by my niece's question. I knew perfectly well that every time she visited overseas merchants, she bought everything without regard to quality or price. "The prestige of the Lannisters obliges us to be better than everyone else," she used to say. But now something new was happening.
"Hmm..." The merchant, apparently for show, thought for a moment, even raising his hand to his chin. He would surely now offer Cersei to buy everything, foisting every trinket on her at triple the price. "That's a difficult question, young lady. I'll need some help to answer it. Sigrid, dear, come here!
Almost immediately, a girl who looked to be Cersei's age (or slightly younger) and bore a striking resemblance to her entered the cabin. She had white-gold hair, blue eyes like the sapphire waters of the Tarth, and skin as white as the bark of a char tree. Everyone is already saying that my niece will become one of the most beautiful women in all the Seven Kingdoms in the future. And this girl, even without an elaborate hairstyle and jewelry, dressed only in a simple white dress with blue ribbons and two cheap decorations made of the same ribbons, was in no way inferior to her.
Look how my niece immediately puffed up — she sees a rival. I even smiled, attracting a little attention to myself, although I sat at the table with wine and snacks almost the entire time, playing more the role of an observer than a buyer.
"This is my ward, Sigrid," said the merchant, introducing the girl, who blushed under his intense gaze. "She will be my assistant now."
After his words, the girl tried to bow slightly, but she bent her back too far and almost fell, causing a few chuckles. So she was a commoner with the beginnings of an aristocratic upbringing.
"Young lady, do you know why people need beautiful clothes?" Meanwhile, the merchant continued, walking around the stands and selecting a variety of jewelry.
"Beautiful clothes should make a person even more beautiful!" Cersei replied without hesitation, copying the words of Lady Marbrand, the chief spendthrift of the Western Lands.
"Then, if you dress an ugly woman in the most expensive silks in the world, will she become beautiful?" The merchant asked innocently, taking out a screen and covering the blonde girl with it.
"No," her niece replied immediately.
"But you yourself said that beautiful clothes make a person more beautiful?" The merchant's sly smile stretched almost to his ears, and some of the ladies-in-waiting even let out a few giggles.
"I... I... I didn't mean that!" cried the niece, puffing up like a little hamster and stamping her foot childishly.
"Oh yes, merchant, oh yes, son of a bitch," I thought, trying to hide my smile. "He quickly made Cersei drop her mask. Today, my brother's purse will be emptied of a couple thousand gold coins."
"I understand, young lady." The merchant suddenly lost his cheerfulness and became completely serious. "Let me tell you an interesting fact. Every person has their own 'aura'. It's a unique set of characteristics that create the first and subsequent impressions of a person. And clothing is one of the most important things in this matter. Lord Tigett, who did my ward resemble when she entered?
"Okay, don't involve me in these women's things! I'm too young for this shit," I thought, but seeing my niece's expectant gaze, I couldn't remain silent. "She resembled a full moon in a cloudy sky."
"Good comparison," replied the merchant, turning sharply to Cersei. "What do you think will happen if we dress her up a little and give her some jewelry? Will she still look like the moon?"
"Yes," replied my niece thoughtfully, looking expectantly at the screen standing nearby.
"Take another look." With that, he quickly moved the screen aside.
"Wow, I didn't think clothes could change a person so much," I thought.
"It's the same white dress, but with pink trim and a few flowers. But they perfectly highlight her slight blush and the whiteness of the rest of her skin," said the merchant, proudly folding his arms across his chest and looking at the girl as if he were an artist admiring his finest creation. And she really had changed. Something had appeared that couldn't be explained. It was on the tip of my tongue, but it kept slipping away. "With a small tiara with yellow sapphire inserts and her hair down, my ward looks like..."
"A princess," Cersei whispered, looking at the girl with disbelief in her eyes. If my memory serves me correctly, she always wanted to be like someone else, other than the proud lioness of the Lannisters or an exact copy of her brother, when she dressed in men's clothes and secretly (although in fact everyone in the family knew about it except Kevan and Tywin) went to classes with the maester instead of him. I always considered it a girlish whim, but now, seeing the secret delight of my niece, I understood how heavy her heart was. The burden of the proud lioness of the West, which Jenna and then Joanna had carried before her, began to weigh too heavily on her fragile shoulders too early, crushing her with an unbearable load.
"Now you believe me, young lady," the merchant finally asked, escorting his ward through one of the secret doors and returning.
"Yes..." Cersei said, still recovering from the shock, looking at the merchant again with a kind of respect. "What would suit me?"
"It all depends on the image you want to create. If my memory serves me correctly, the Lannister family symbol is a western light-maned lion. Is that right?" asked the ship's owner, thoughtfully examining one of the burgundy silk bundles.
"As if anyone could not know that," I thought, remembering the number of lions on the clothing of the Lannisters who had arrived, on the city banners, and on the cloaks of the city guards.
"I'm sure most of your clothes are in the family colors of burgundy and gold?" He looked thoughtfully at the silent Cersei, dressed in a pale gold dress with red accents. "Those colors really suit you, but they give you too wild and commanding a look. I suggest you express another trait common to all Lannisters, but for some reason very often forgotten.
"What is it?" his niece asked with interest.
"The eyes," said the merchant with a smile, pointing to his eye. It was bright green, the color of the Lannisters. "Eyes the color of the purest emerald are one of the most recognizable traits of the Guardians of the West.
"How did I not notice that?" I thought, like everyone else, slightly shocked by this small discovery.
"A sea-green dress would suit you very well, with white shoes and white gold jewelry with emeralds," continued the merchant, pacing quickly back and forth. "You could also add a white tulle hem with patterned embroidery. Young lady, would you mind if we took your measurements? I have a good seamstress from Mierin on my ship. She is very skilled with such fabrics and will sew you the best dress possible."
"Okay," my niece replied quickly, walking over to the screen. Soon, an unremarkable woman with dark skin and stiff curly hair, who turned out to be the seamstress, entered the cabin. After quickly saying something to the merchant in a language incomprehensible to the others (which turned out to be a dialect of Ghiscari Valyrian, which I recognized because one of my mercenaries often swore in it) and showing two fingers, she quickly left, trying not to bother those present.
"Your order will be ready in two days, young lady. It will be delivered directly to the castle," said the merchant, making several notes in a large, thick book. "Unfortunately, we have to start preparing for departure tomorrow, so if there is anything else you like, please let me know right away.
Hearing this, Cersei was upset that she would no longer be able to shop here. After five more minutes of carefully wandering between the tables of silks and jewels, she finally made the decision I had long predicted.
"That's all."
"Excuse me, young lady?" The merchant did not quite understand her.
"I'll take everything here," said our little princess, greatly shocking the young merchant. "Tell our accountant the amount, and it will be delivered to you as soon as possible."
"Very well, young lady. As you wish," said the merchant, quickly recovering his composure, giving a few orders to the sailors and stevedores who had come in, and going to the other part of the cabin, where the rest of the Lannisters were still wandering around.
In the end, the same story repeated itself with Jaime, who bought all the swords on the ship, Tyrion, who bought all the books in stock, and, most surprisingly (or not), Gerion, whose cellars would soon be replenished with several dozen barrels of wine.
Jaime was impressed by his swordsmanship when he demonstrated his skill with each blade hanging on the wall, easily disarming the red cloaks accompanying us, and decided to learn how to fight with different weapons as well. And Tyrion had an interesting conversation with the merchant about the advantages and disadvantages of being a dwarf, at the end of which the merchant told him that "one clever dwarf can sometimes do much more than the most skilled knight in Westeros." So the nephew's bodyguards left the ship, cursing everything in sight, laden with huge stacks of books, scrolls, and other writings. As for Gerion... The merchant simply drank and laughed with him for two hours, ending up playing some card game, which resulted in the purchase of all the merchant's wine supplies.
The pride of lions left the merchant, whose name I never learned, at almost midnight, accompanied by the joyful laughter of his nephews and the howls of the sad treasurers, who had been so thoroughly screwed over today. By the way, I need to correct this assumption.
"It's a little late to ask, but what is your name?" You remind me of someone, but I can't remember who. Have we met before, by any chance? I asked the merchant, shaking his hand. He really did look familiar, and I couldn't understand why.
"Lord Tigett, we met almost four years ago. Here, at the tournament in Lannisport, during the melee. Prince Liven defeated you in the middle of the battle, and I was standing on the sidelines. With a large two-handed axe. I used it to strike Lord Gerion back then. Do you remember?" The more he spoke, the wider my eyes grew. This was the same Grey Knight who broke Barristan Selmy's nose and defeated Liven Martell. But according to rumors, immediately after his victory, he went to train at the Citadel and even forged several links.
"You are Felix Cold, son of Alexander Cold." I finally managed to say. "But you wanted to become a maester, not a merchant... even if you are a successful one."
"Just Felix. I am not a knight and do not yet have the right to inherit the surname. As for being a merchant... The ways of the gods are inscrutable, Lord Tigett. We do not know what we will become in the future." I've become a pretty good merchant. "Torg... Cold replied with a smile. Suddenly, he approached me and said:
"And if you don't mind, I have a small proposal for you.
Which turned out to be very good.