Ghost was exactly where I'd left him, still sitting at the base of the steps like a white statue.
A crowd had gathered at a distance, gawking. When I emerged from the Bank, Ghost rose immediately, tail wagging slightly.
"Let's go," I said, running my hand through his thick fur. "Time to find you a proper home."
Qorro eyed Ghost warily but said nothing. We made our way through the city, the cart rumbling behind us, with Qorro providing a running commentary on Braavosi history and architecture that I barely listened to.
The properties he showed me were all adequate—townhouses in respectable neighborhoods, apartments near the canals, even a small palazzo that some minor noble had lost to gambling debts. But none of them felt right. Too exposed. Too many neighbors. many prying eyes.
"Is there nothing more... private?" I asked as we viewed the fourth property. "Away from the city center?"
Qorro thought for a moment, "Place I show you where most isolated… humm… there is one property. North of the city, perhaps two miles beyond the walls. A small manor house on a rise overlooking the sea."
"It's been empty for several months—the previous owner died, and his heir is eager to sell. The location is quite isolated, which most clients find undesirable, but given your requirements..."
"Show me."
The manor house was Braavosi in style—whitewashed stone walls, a red tile roof, wooden shutters to keep out the sun. Not large, but solidly built. Two stories, perhaps a dozen rooms. Gardens that had grown somewhat wild in the months of neglect.
But what truly mattered were the walls—eight feet high, built of good stone, topped with iron spikes. And the gates—solid oak banded with iron, with bars that could be dropped into place from within.
Private. Defensible. Perfect.
Ghost immediately began exploring the grounds, nose to the earth, investigating every corner.
"The house needs work," Qorro admitted as we walked through the dusty interior. "It's been empty for a year. But the structure is sound.
We haggled there in the empty main hall.
"I'll need it ready to occupy within three days," I said. "Cleaned, aired out, basic furnishings."
"That can be arranged, my lord. And servants?"
"Discreet servants. People who understand that what happens within these walls stays within these walls."
Qorro nodded. "The Iron Bank has a list of such individuals."
"A housekeeper, a cook, a cleaning girl, and someone to handle the grounds. No more than four people total."
"Very good, my lord. I'll have candidates selected by tomorrow."
Three days later, I moved into my new home on a grey afternoon.
True to their word, the Iron Bank had transformed the place. The house had been cleaned from top to bottom, the musty smell of disuse replaced by the scent of lemon oil and fresh air.
Furniture had been brought in—simple but well-made pieces that wouldn't look out of place in a minor noble's household.
The staff assembled in the entrance hall as my cart arrived. Qorro had chosen well—four people who looked competent and, more importantly, incurious.
Talea, the housekeeper, was a woman of middle years. "My lord," she said with a small bow. "Welcome home."
Beside her stood Morra, a stout cook who looked like she could wrestle a bull. Then Lanna, a thin slip of a girl who kept her eyes downcast. And finally Sorro, a grizzled man with the look of a former sellsword, who would handle the grounds and stable.
"Thank you," I said as Ghost padded through the door, nearly filling it with his massive frame.
To their credit, none of the servants flinched, though I saw Lanna's eyes widen slightly. "I won't be an easy master to serve. I keep strange hours. I have work that requires privacy."
They all nodded.
"The Iron Bank vouches for your discretion," I continued. "But understand this—what you see here, what you learn about my work, stays here. That's not a request. It's the condition of your employment."
"We understand, my lord," Talea said, speaking for all of them. "The Iron Bank made the terms very clear."
…
The morning after I'd settled into the manor, I dressed in simple clothes—dark wool trousers, a linen shirt, a leather vest.
Talea had breakfast waiting when I came downstairs—fresh bread still warm from the oven, soft cheese, sliced figs, and strong black tea that tasted nothing like what we drank in the North.
"Will you be going into the city, my lord?" she asked as I ate.
"Yes. I need to familiarize myself with Braavos. Learn the streets, find suppliers for… various things."
She nodded, understanding that I didn't want to elaborate. "Sorro can accompany you if you wish. He knows the city well."
"No. I'll go alone." I paused, considering. "Ghost should stay here. Draw less attention that way."
The walk into Braavos took the better part of an hour. A-train was constantly hovering above me, incase something go wrong.
I passed the temples—the Sept of the Sea for those who still followed the Seven, the Temple of the Moonsingers, shrines to a dozen gods whose names I didn't recognize. In Braavos, all gods were welcome. All gods were equally ignored by the practical Braavosi, who put their faith in coin.
Near midday, I found myself in a district I hadn't explored yet—quieter streets, fewer crowds, shops that catered to more… unusual tastes.
One shop in particular caught my eye.
Through the windows, I could see cages, Wooden tanks, movements that suggested living creatures within.
The shop's interior was dim and humid, the air was filled with smells of animals.
Cages lined the walls, containing birds of every color and description. Tanks or I say wooden barrel containing various fish.
A man emerged from behind a curtain—tall, rail-thin, with the dark skin of a Summer Islander.
"Welcome, welcome," he said in broken common.
"Xandarro, owner of this small shop, are you interested in my collection, I think?"
"Aye. Can you show me around."
"why not, I have rare, exotic, unusual. Birds that can speak human words. a fish which can fly, Whatever a client desires, I can find. For a price."
I studied the cages as he spoke. Here was a raven—not as large as A-Train, but a fine specimen nonetheless.
There was a golden eagle with a wingspan that must have been six feet, eyeing me with predatory intelligence. barrel held fish of every variety—some I recognized, others completely alien.
In a large barrel near the back, something long and sinuous moved through water. As I approached, it became visible—a serpentine fish perhaps four feet long, dark grey-blue, with a blunt head.
"Ah," Xandarro said, noting my interest. "The thunder fish. Very rare. From the rivers of the Summer Isles. It kills prey with lightning from its own body. Touch the water when it's angry, and you'll feel the shock through your entire arm. Quite deadly in the right circumstances."
An electric eel. I'd read about them in my past life, studied their biology.
The eel's ability to generate electricity was biological—specialized cells that functioned like living batteries, producing voltage through ion channels. If I could study that mechanism, understand how it worked at the cellular level and apply magic circulation system in it…
"How much?" I asked.
Xandarro named a price—steep, but not unreasonable for something so rare and dangerous. "The barrel is included, of course. And the creature is fed live fish—small ones. Three or four a week."
"I'll take it," I said. "And that eagle as well. And…" I scanned the other cages. "Four of those ravens. The largest ones you have."
Xandarro's eyebrows rose. "Building quite a collection, my friend. May I ask what for?"
"Study," I said simply.
It was close enough to the truth. He didn't need to know I was studying them to understand their biology well enough to replicate and enhance it.
"Of course, of course." Xandarro began calculating. "With the eagle and the ravens… shall we say two hundred gold for everything? Including delivery to your residence and proper caging?"
It was expensive—but I had gold to spare, and these creatures were investments. Tools for my work.
"One hundred and fifty," I countered.
We haggled back and forth, eventually settling on one hundred and seventy-five gold dragons. I gave him the address of my manor and promised to have payment ready when the creatures were delivered the following day.
"A pleasure doing business, my lord," Xandarro said, showing his filed teeth again. "If you need anything else—rare creatures, unusual specimens—you come to Xandarro, yes? I can find anything, given time and coin."
"I'll remember," I said.
I spent another hour browsing other shops in the district—an apothecary with shelves full of herbs and minerals, a bookseller with texts in a dozen languages, even a sword smith whose blades looked sharp enough to split hairs. I made mental notes of their locations, knowing I'd need their services eventually.
By mid-afternoon, my stomach was growling. I'd eaten only Talea's breakfast, and walking the city for hours had left me famished.
I found a restaurant near one of the larger canals—a place called the Silver Carp, with tables both inside and on a balcony overlooking the water. The menu was written in bastard veleriyan and Common Tongue, offering dishes I'd never heard of.
I ordered blindly.
The food was unlike anything I'd eaten in Westeros. Lighter, brighter flavors. Heavy use of olive oil and lemon.
I ate slowly, watching the city flow past. Gondolas glided beneath the balcony. Street performers juggled and sang for coins.
The walk back to the city gates took me through different streets than I'd used coming in. I wanted to see as much as possible, to build a mental map of the city's layout.
I was perhaps halfway to the gates, moving through a district of warehouses and shipping offices, when I became aware of footsteps behind me.
…