Ramsgate Port,
"So, your plan for a crew is to chain up murderers and predators and call them sailors?"
"Come here," Brandon growled, yanking Wylis by the arm into the corner. "Think, my brute of a friend. What we're about to do is treason. If the realm catches wind, we're dead men. Take sailors, they'll gossip. But if we take scum from the dungeons, no one'll miss 'em if we—"
"Kill them?" Wylis finished the words.
"Exactly!"
Wylis hummed for a moment. While he was no social justice warrior, luring men with false hope was disgusting. Yet, what other option was there? Saving Rhaella was important, and taking normal sailors was risky—the fewer people who knew, the better.
"Let me guess. You told them they'd be free if they serve me well?"
"Oldest bloody trick there is," Brandon said with a grin. "They were bound for the headsman or the Black anyway."
Wylis nodded in the end. The craven Brandon had picked knew how to man a ship anyway, and Wylis was personally going to be the captain. The plan was quite simple; secrecy was the main issue.
"Best we set out come morning."
Brandon grinned and quickly left to prepare for the journey. He was really enjoying being the Admiral of the mighty fleet of one little cog, it appeared.
As for Wylis, he went to the castle and briefed Lyanna about his coming journey. He worried for her safety and the others in the castle. So, he made Chett the head of the guards in his absence. And Lyanna had enough brains to order them around if a threat was to appear. It was unlikely, but Wylis didn't trust the Boltons.
Afterwards, he met Old Harwin, once a fisherman whose daughter was taken and murdered by Brennard. The man knew how to read and count, and hence he became Wylis's man to oversee the clearing of the forest around the castle.
Furthermore, he ordered the demolition of the abandoned buildings on the northern side of the town. The earlier the better, Wylis reckoned, and his projects gave the people work that paid them.
Later that night, he spent time with Lyanna. It was his simple rule; other women could wait. His first duty was to his true wife. He only left her after she'd finished whimpering, moaning, and falling asleep. Thankfully, the more he made love to Lyanna, the stronger he became by small fractions. Meaning, by literally fucking her, he gained stamina and strength to keep going and satisfy others.
Moreover, since Ashara was also a noblewoman, bedding her also made him stronger. And thanks to Life Quest's reward, the strength boost was four times. He really couldn't wait to bring Rhaella into safety, and if she agreed, to bed. After all, lying with her promised strength boost of a whole point-one percent.
Eventually, that night, he ended up giving all of them something. After leaving Lyanna a mumbling mess, he visited Ashara and did the same, followed by Wenda. He didn't see Ros since she wasn't one of the ladies yet.
Finally, in the middle of the night, he returned to his bedchamber, squeezed Lyanna into his arms, and fell asleep.
####
King's Landing,
"Hah! Wyman choking on his own spit, was he? No one buys that many bloody ships for a joyride, my friend!" Robert Baratheon howled from his seat in the King's private solar. "So tell me, what in the Seven hells are you planning to do with them?"
"Trade."
"Aye, I know it, damn you. Seven hells, won't get a word out of you, will I? Still, it's good to see you. Being King's a bloody curse. Day and night, some fool comes bowing their shits and crying over something. And now I've got to bed a Lannister doll with hair like spun gold. Ha! Gods save me."
Wylis didn't comment on that.
Clearly, the marriage was doomed to fail from the start. Robert had no interest in getting married. But he was doing it because it was the best logical thing to do.
"It's a burden we chose, Robert. Aye, I remember the good days too, when we could ride where we pleased without care. But duty's caught us both now, yours heavier than mine. Still, there's peace to be found in it."
"Amongst whores?"
"That, and more. A lord or a king's work isn't to fuss over every small task. It's to find the right meatbags for the right duties, then keep a watchful eye while they do their part. We drink our wine, eat our meat, and make sure all runs as it should."
"Meatbag! Ha! I like that one!" Robert howled, slapping the table. "Aye, you're right. But finding the right meatbag's no easy task. I was lucky to have Jon. Would've been finer still with you and Ned, but that's too much to hope for."
Honestly, Wylis didn't know how much of the future had changed. Robert had barely fought in the Rebellion. He had stolen most of the kills. That had to have some effect. And while he had personally snatched Lyanna from Robert, the least he could do was be a reliable friend.
"You already know how things stand in Ramsgate. It'll take me five years, maybe more, to set it right. Still, I've time for you, my friend. Call upon me if some meatbag's giving you trouble."
Finally, Wylis got up, his little meeting with Robert having come to an end.
But Robert embraced him like a brother. "Ha! I'd chain you to the bloody feast table if I could. But your woman's waiting, and I'm not fool enough to cross one who tamed you. Now get out there and smash those Bolton curs to bits!"
"Will do, Robert."
With a chuckle, Wylis left the King's solar. He avoided meeting Jon, considering his wife's belly lay swollen with the seed he'd sown. While it was all consensual from all sides, he still didn't trust a man's pride. Jon was a good man, but still a man.
So, he only met with Stannis, the man he hadn't met yet. The stoic-looking, serious man was in his prime, yet had a face as hardened as a veteran of many battles.
Afterward, he left the Red Keep and roamed the many streets of King's Landing. His first stop was the Street of Steel, beginning on the south-west corner of the Fishmonger's Square, and climbed up Visenya's Hill. The entire street was marked with forges. The higher he went on the hill, the better the shops became, and also more expensive.
What a city.
King's Landing was truly a behemoth whose true potential was never reached. If he had such manpower, the things he could have built… Just thinking about that made him annoyed. But nonetheless, it was all a part of the process.
He visited shops and asked about prices. From swords to common armor, helmets, to more expensive full plate armor. Thanks to his fame, he was easily recognized in each shop and even purchased some swords and light armor for his small garrison back home.
Oh? He's here?
Finally, he arrived at the near top of the hill and noticed a shop still under construction. No, it was being upgraded, the upper floors being added. At the entrance of the shop stood two stone knights in red suits of armor, each intricate, screaming that the maker was highly skilled.
Unmistakably, it was the shop of Tobho Mott. The man hadn't been there the last time Wylis was in the city. That meant the Qohorik master armorer had recently arrived.
On the one hand, Wylis wanted to snag the man and settle him in Ramsgate. On the other hand, he knew it was impossible at the moment. Ramsgate had nothing to offer for the master armorer. Yet, he knew the future, and someday, he hoped the man would willingly walk into his halls on his own.
He walked right into the shop.
"Ah, just a moment, my Lord," came the voice of a man, working on something above on one of the building's support beams.
Wylis watched with interest.
The man wasn't that old, perhaps in his thirties. Not that tall either, but certainly strong, seeing him move swiftly to reach the ladder and jump down the last few steps.
"Ah… you're a big one, my Lord. Tobho Mott, at your service."
Wylis eyed him for a few long moments, testing his patience. Just from the way Tobho acted, it was clear that he wasn't the stubborn old man he'd one day become. This Tobho was new to King's Landing, and even if he came from Qohor as a master already, he had to prove himself first. And that meant taking commissions from known lords and warriors like him.
"I'm Lord Wylis Kaiser of Ramsgate. You're new to Westeros? I sense a slight accent… Qohor?"
"Ah, I knew it was you, my Lord. No one else fills a room quite like that. Aye, I'm from Qohor, though I've been trying to beat that damned accent out of my tongue. Still not winning, seems. Come, sit. My girl will fetch some wine before it goes warm."
Wylis usually avoided wine. But he didn't refuse because asking for water was asking for feces-laced filth from some random well. It was best to avoid it unless he knew the source.
In moments, he had a cup in his hand, as did the master armorer.
"What can I do for you, my Lord?"
"Can you work Valyrian Steel?"
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