The Northern Tyrant [Game of Thrones] Chapter 28 - Mines, Trust, Struggles & Submission

Tyrant's Squire System Details - https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Qg1nrWpaA-4DV3q0YKX44UDSOuTNXQtk8oVgMH1qIV4/edit?usp=sharing

Chapter Doc - https://docs.google.com/document/d/1tWgZyVuRU221BIcczsLFSw5E3oda1GSPHUTgyiuOAN8/edit?usp=sharing

A/N: Sorry for the delay, guys. Ms.Squirtle, who helps me with all the smut scenes, has taken a week off. I'm alone doing all the writing, smut, editing, and proofreading.

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Casterly Rock, 

"Twenty years more, if the Gods are kind. Maybe a few beyond that."

Tywin Lannister looked at the sheets of paper placed on his table, handwritten by Kevan, only for his eyes and then to be burned. It was the survey of the mines, a true in-depth survey. 

"This alters nothing," Tywin said evenly. "Our position is strong. We have both the strength and the time to search the Westerlands for new veins."

"Aye, my Lord brother, I’m aware. Still, it’s only sense. The mines have been yielding for ten thousand years. They’ll empty sooner or later, and when they do, we’ll have less gold left to lend or spend as freely as we’ve grown used to, unless we find more."

Tywin grabbed the papers and threw them in the hearth, scorching them to ash. "You misjudge the danger, Kevan. We hold more power than you seem to recall. And there is an event soon to turn in our favor. By the time the last vein runs dry, my grandson will sit on the throne. Then, why limit ourselves to the Westerlands? We’ll look beyond for mines.”

Kevan nodded strongly. That was the plan from the beginning. To put Lannister blood on the throne. "Am I to proceed with the expenses? It'll be quite an expensive wedding."

"And we'll receive tenfold returns for it," Tywin said dismissively. "Leave no stone unturned. Make it a spectacle fit for our new King. Turn King's Landing into a one big festival. It'll do us good if they forget the sacking."

"Robert Baratheon is a simple creature," Genna Lannister voiced right then, considered a trusted advisor by Tywin. She hadn't read the report, but it wasn't hard to make sense of what was being spoken. “Unlike a certain other towering man, Robert is straightforward. He doesn’t think in circles. He’s easy to read. The lavish wedding will serve to remind him who truly pays for the Crown. And, of course, my dear niece will revel in all the grandeur.”

A very faint one, but Tywin did smile a little. He had stopped doing that since Joanna died. He truly cherished his sister, as she had acted as a mother figure to Jaime and Cersei. He knew his children weren't without faults, but they might have turned out worse if not for Genna. 

"That she will." Kevan smiled more openly, fondly. 

"But…" Genna continued, taking a more serious tone as she straightened her back. "I never thought his idle words would demand my attention. Do you recall when we let Lord Wylis Kaiser wander the Westerlands to chase bandits?"

"Man nearly wiped out banditry for a year on his own," Kevan said. "Not something you forget easily."

Tywin nodded but said nothing, waiting for Genna to continue. He was certainly curious why the new Lord of Ramsgate's name was brought up. 

"Yes, well, I spoke with him a few times while he was here," Genna said smoothly, careful not to dwell on the details of their meetings. "He mentioned, rather casually, that he’d come across traces of gold, silver, and even a few gems on his travels through the Westerlands."

That instantly had both Lannister brothers alert. Tywin was better at hiding his surprise. Kevan was more excited. 

"How? We’ve been searching for centuries," Kevan mumbled. 

"I don't know, but he didn't strike me as one to lie."

"And he will share these locations with us?" asked Kevan.

"I suppose, but—"

"Not without receiving something in return," Tywin interrupted. "A man does not rise from the stables to his station by handing out secrets for free. The world is not so kind. Already, the bards make him a legend."

"And he's already married," Kevan added with a sigh. "We could have offered him a Lannister hand in marriage. We have plenty of girls in our family."

"He would have refused. From what I’ve learned, Wylis Kaiser is a man who values his own counsel. Even his concessions serve his purpose in the end. He dreams beyond his station and takes what he wants with his own hands. They say he married for love," Tywin stated, being a much better judge of character. In a way, he admired Wylis as a capable man. 

"Genna, after Cersei’s wedding, you’ll go North. Officially, you visit the Twins, but you will continue to Ramsgate. Learn what it is he seeks from us. I doubt it’s gold."

Genna nodded urgently, masterfully hiding the sheer excitement palpating in her chest. She loved her son, Leonel, so beautiful and strong. She wanted more.

"I’ll depart directly from King’s Landing."

####

Winterfell, The North,

"What troubles you, Ned?" Catelyn asked softly, her arm resting across his chest as they lay beneath the warm quilt. "I can see the weight of it in your eyes."

"That easy?" Ned smiled, feeling her warm presence. "The Boltons have been our bane for thousands of years. Time and again, they turned their swords on Winterfell, and time and again, we brought them to heel. We let them keep their lands, their titles, even their pride. But they never let go of their old ways. Father prepared Brandon for that fight, not me.”

"You fear you cannot manage the Boltons?" Catelyn asked softly, her fingers tracing his roughened chin.

"I worry I may not see their betrayal coming. I can’t see the reason they press Lord Wylis. The man has never lost a battle in his life. Still, I question him. There’s more behind his smile than he lets on. He’s a man of ambition. A warrior the realm hasn’t seen the likes of in many years. If they come to blows, House Stark may have no choice but to choose a side."

Catelyn Stark remained silent for a few moments. She had only met Lord Wylis once, and it was during her wedding. The memories were still vivid: how he saved her modesty from those groping hands, how he carried her to the bridal chamber. While she had noticed his curious gaze over her nude chest, there was nothing truly indecent about that tall man. And the words he spoke… She truly believed his wife was amongst the realm's luckiest women. 

"I know… I have little right to speak on matters of House Stark. I’m not of the North. But from where I stand, I see no reason for such distrust of Lord Kaiser. He has brought no harm to House Stark, nor sought betrayal. Your father never recognized his strength, and even when southern lords tempted him with lands and fortune, he remained in the North. That says much of his heart. He is ambitious, certainly, but compared to the Boltons and their long cruelty, should he not be granted one chance?"

She wanted to mention that Brandon Stark was living in Ramsgate as well. But she knew it would sour Ned's mood. That man… was her betrothed, and she had truly fallen for Brandon Stark; he was charming, handsome, a true warrior. Ned was… good, but lesser than Brandon. But she had come to love Ned nonetheless, having already borne him a son.

"Cat," Ned said softly, brushing a stray lock from her face. His touch lingered, warm. "You’ve every right to speak on this. You’re a Stark, whatever others might say."

And that was why Catelyn didn't mind Ned; why she loved him. Ned treated her with love and respect and allowed her to speak her mind. It was a privilege she knew not many ladies enjoyed in the South. She felt a purpose with Ned, beyond just bearing him children.

Smiling, she pecked her lord husband's lips. "That means to me more than you can imagine, Ned."

He gave a simple nod. Ned wasn't the best at reciprocating emotions and intimacies evenly. "I hear you, Cat. After Lord Wylis's efforts in rebellion alone, he deserves my trust. I’ll write to him, offer what counsel I can about the Boltons. But I can’t spare him blades. We have bled enough."

"I believe he can manage without that, if the stories the maids whisper hold any truth."

Ned nodded in silence. He had seen the Tyrant of the Trident in action. He could vouch for those stories, and they weren't exaggerated enough. Killing a full-plated knight was a hard job, unless struck in gaps; no blade or arrow could pierce that kind of armor. 

Yet he had seen Wylis thrust his sword flat in breastplates and cleave men. He had attempted it as well and had failed. The pure physical strength required to stab through an armor plate was inhuman. 

"Aye… they're true."

####

Ramsgate, 

"Last to finish owes me thirty more push-ups! Move!" 

A day had passed since he returned from the rough voyage of storms and saving. He had left Rhaella in the castle to settle down and gather her thoughts. Elia and Ashara were there to help her through it. Lyanna offered confidence. 

Lyanna, Elia, Rhaella, and all the children; Wylis knew he was walking on a very tight rope. And since he was back, his core focus was to fortify the castle and make it impenetrable by anyone. The moat was necessary, as was a secondary wall hiding the moat from outside, and then a third wall on the inner side of the moat, effectively turning the castle grounds into an island.

A part of that fortification was a strong garrison. There were only fifteen men currently, and he decided to train them personally as they were going to be the future captains of a larger force. Physical strength, stamina, and resiliency were as important as the ability to swing a blade. 

So, he initiated a morning routine. Early at dawn, he'd train them personally. Starting with a long, running session, circling the entire town five times. Then some weight training. Finally, training with blunt swords. 

Amongst them, Chett was the most eager to learn. The tall man was nearly as big as Brandon, but on the chubbier side. But ever since he got to execute Brennard, his loyalty towards Wylis was greater than a Targaryen's to incest. 

Wylis acknowledged it and hoped to train Chett into one of his first Generals because Tyrant's Squire dreamed big. 

"Brandon, break them." 

With much glee, Brandon jumped ahead with a blunt sword and started to beat the fifteen men in an uninterrupted mock battle. Since the fifteen weren't lifelong soldiers, they lost even with a numerical advantage. However, it allowed Wylis to see who was better and who needed the most training. 

At least with the recent completion of the 'Insect Infestation' quest, he had the Eye of the Judge. He had interviewed all fifteen men using that ability and made sure they weren’t criminals. Minor theft was alright, however. 

"Chett, Jonos, and Kyle, you three take longswords. Irwim, Jarl, Osmund, and Harold, you’ll do better with short blades and shields. The rest of you, grab spears. They’ll serve you well for keeping foes at a distance."

Wylis divided them into small groups according to their abilities. But to ensure teamwork, they were still going to do all the other training and activities together. 

After that, Wylis personally trained each group one after another. He thankfully had Brandon to focus on the sword group, as he was still one of the best warriors in Westeros. Wylis focused on the men with spears, as they numbered most. 

In total, the weapons training lasted a total of three hours. They did it right inside the castle at the outer courtyard. Once all men were beaten, bruised, and tired, Wylis ended the training and sent them to take a bath in shifts. 

Moreover, all the guards were to be fed three meals a day, healthy, and focused on replenishing lost energy and hastening muscle building. They were also given lemonade to stay hydrated. Heck, Wylis had made the castle's cooks follow his meal plans for everyone, all the women and kids. 

As a proper health and muscle junkie, Wylis counted calories to a degree. He wrote down meal combinations based on specific needs. For example, he had written a special meal plan for pregnant women recently after Rhaella's arrival. 

In the end, Wylis himself took a hot bath and walked into the brightly lit and chatter-filled dining hall. It warmed his heart seeing so many smiling faces. The long table was surrounded by occupied chairs. Lyanna was busy chatting with Wenda, discussing archery, while both women also cared for their children. Elia, Ashara, and Rhaella were discussing the realm. Rhaenys was busy mocking Viserys with his bald head. 

It was worth it. 

He noticed Lyanna's curious gaze, a movement of her brows asked him where he was going. He noticed the other ladies looked at him with varying degrees of fondness, some with lust. Elia was no longer wary, nor lustful, nor romantic, but comfortable. Rhaella, however, eyed him with pure love, watching him like he was the most precious treasure in the world. 

“A bit of a surprise from me. Stay seated," Wylis ordered them and walked into the kitchens. 

"Ah!"

"My Lord!"

"M'lord!"

Three men and four women were busy at work in the kitchens, cooking and doing various tasks. They were all dressed in clean attire, hair tied, beards shaved. They were permanent, tasked with preparing meals for Wylis and his growing family. They were the highest-paid members of the Ramsgate castle staff, along with all the maids. 

Their salaries started with one gold dragon a month. Wylis couldn't imprison them in the castle, but the money would make sure they'd stay loyal for some time. Although he used alternate names for all the risky women and kids, it was still a risk.

"Don't stop, do your work. Just give me some sugar, butter, water, dried corn we kept, and a pan." Wylis moved around like he knew how to cook since birth. 

He used one of the cooking stations with a fire burning. Already, he reminded himself to start producing cast-iron pots and pans for greater use in the kitchen. Also, he reminded himself to make a pressure cooker. 

Pop! Pop!

It didn't take long before he created what he wanted. But he wasn't done. He melted the sugar in a creamy, brown soup. Then, he combined the two things, let it cool down a little, and once he was certain things were crunchy enough, he left the kitchens. 

A large tray rested in his hands with a shiny brown hill on it. The aroma was sweet and buttery, something new. And as expected, the likes of Rhaenys were the first to notice it. 

Having gathered everyone's attention, he walked around the table and stopped between Rhaenys and Viserys' chairs. "Give me your hand, both of you."

Rhaenys was first. He grabbed some of his fine cuisine and put it in her hand. The cute little girl knew exactly what to do and gobbled it down. The crunch was loud, and her reaction was the reflection of the taste. 

"Wooooh! I-It's so… sweet and so… crunchy and… Wah!"

Finally, jealous, Viserys raised his hand. As soon as the ex-prince got some, he ate it and reacted very much the same as Rhaenys. 

"It's… ama—good."

Hah! This rascal. 

Wylis ignored the boy and put some on his plate, then Rhaenys'. He walked around the table and gave some to everyone at the table. Not a lot since it was just a snack. 

"Behold your most beloved lord's handmade snack," Wylis said, settling into the broad chair at the table’s short end. “Caramel popcorn, born of corn and sugar. My own invention. Have a taste.”

Closest to him on his left, Lyanna took a bite. 

Crunch!

Just as the kids, her eyes went wide at the first bite. Soon, many more crunches came from around the table. He chuckled at their expressions. Heck, even Brandon looked surprised, but it was short-lived as the Wild Wolf then grabbed a handful and ate a big bite in one go. 

"This is wonderful!" Ashara exclaimed. 

"I bloody love it!" Wenda added, still prone to cursing. 

"Mm… Never knew I was craving this." Lyanna kept eating one single popcorn at a time. 

"From corn and sugar? I can see the southern nobles growing fond of it," Elia said, offering more to Rhaenys instead of finishing her share. "You should try selling it in the cities."

"Indeed." Rhaella joined in. "It is both sweet and crisp. I’ve no doubt the noble ladies and their children will find it most charming."

Strange to talk about popcorn with some of the most wanted and beautiful ladies in the realm. Wylis chuckled and shook his head. 

"No, it's too simple. Any fool could make that. I’ve something better to sell. This one’s for you, gorgeous ladies, and my little gremlins as well.” He glanced at Rhaenys and slid his plate her way. She was such a kind soul, sharing it with Viserys, though she didn’t much like him.

Right then, the maids arrived with the actual breakfast. Juices, milk, lemonade, eggs, meat, bread, fruits, and a whole balanced diet. Since they also ate lunch, the breakfast wasn't as heavy. 

“I hope this place suits you well, Haelen,” Wylis said to Rhaella, somewhat distant from his seat, but he stared at her nonetheless. She was lovely, hair drawn into one braid, her face lit with the gentle glow of her pregnancy, her gown soft and loose around her. Her dyed hair had now returned to being silver-blonde after the bath. Inside the castle, she didn't need to maintain a disguise, as she was 'officially' a woman from Essos according to the story, there to help Wylis care for his children.

Haelen was her fake name. Wylis honestly hated using so many fake names, but not using them meant facing the realm's ire. Thankfully, he could use their realm names in the bedchamber. 

"It is peaceful here, my Lord," Rhaella replied with a tender smile. "V… Ben truly loves this place."

Ben was Viserys. Wylis named him that out of spite, and also, it was easier to remember. 

He loves this place? Like hell he would. Wylis eyed Viserys, bald, stabbing fruits on his plate.

“Glad to hear it. I ask because I’ll be buried in duties these next few days. Too many tasks, too many folk needing my say. That’s why I’ll need you fine ladies to help keep these lands running true. Each of you should find something that stirs your heart. Something you’d stay up through the night doing, then rise eager to do again.

“Wenda’s sharp with a bow, so she’ll take charge of training new hands in archery. Ellyn…” he glanced at Lyanna, “...she’s a fine rider. She can teach the younger ones. I want each of you to find what you love and make it your work.”

It was noticeable how all the women fell into deep thoughts. It was necessary, according to Wylis. He couldn't give attention to all of them, and the more free time they'd have, the more they'd feel ignored by him. 

"I can lend my knowledge, if you seek to know more of the southern houses," Elia offered kindly. "Ashara would know much as well, my Lord."

"I… I’m afraid I have little to give, my Lord," Rhaella said softly. "Though I could tend to the young ones, if it pleases you."

"Think nothing heavy of what I said, Haelen. Tending to the young ones is a duty worth pride. But remember this: if any of you wish to try something new, whether it’s painting, writing, embroidery, or the edge of a sword, you may do so freely."

Lyanna laid her hand gently over his. “Peace, my Lord. I know your heart’s full of care for us. You’ve given us a good home, warmth, and safety. Let that be enough for now. We’ll manage the rest, you’ve more important things to see to.”

"You're important to me," he said, giving Lyanna a hard look, then the others. "Living’s more than drawing breath. It’s about feeling the life in you. I want you all to have that. To feel merry, joy, and loved here."

"Haha, they're loved alright!" Brandon coughed from his seat, wolfing down food.

"..."

Silence fell on the table for a few long moments. Lyanna's grip on his hand tightened. He eyed the others and noticed Wenda fondly smiling towards him. Ashara was leaning forward on the table, one elbow on top, her chin on her palm, eyeing him. Elia was shaking her head while chuckling. Rhaella's eyes were twinkling with emotions. 

Ugh, am I being controlling? Wylis asked himself. 

He was worried. Other than Lyanna, he had wronged most of them, for clear reasons. He had taken Wenda hostage once. He killed Ashara's brother. He killed Elia's husband. He killed Rhaella's husband and son. Common sense dictated that they should hate him. 

"My Lord," Elia spoke from her seat, first ensuring all the servants were gone. "We live today because you dared what others feared to even speak of. Rest assured, we are happy, and I trust most here are held in love."

"Aye, damn right!" Brandon blurted, downed the glass of juice, and rose to his feet. "Ned, Benjen, Arryn, Tully, all of us! The whole North would’ve burned if you hadn’t taken up rebellion. Be fucking proud of yourself, Wylis. You’ll be remembered for centuries as that tall, crazy Northerner who went from shoveling horseshit to shoveling knights with his blade."

Wylis sighed with a smile and stood up. It warmed his heart that they felt that way. 

"Alright, enough dickriding then. We've work to see to."

"Huh?" Brandon frowned. “Dickriding? What’s that?”

Wylis just shrugged and left. 

####

Right after breakfast, Wylis went into the dungeons to teach Qyburn some modern medical things. It was mostly about the human body and surgery. One, Wylis got to train a surgeon. Two, Qyburn got to satisfy his curiosities. 

The exiled Maester had sent many letters, and now they were waiting for responses. Nor all of them would answer the call. But even one or two were welcome. Especially that Archmaester. 

"I have begun designing the entire administration district. The school of medicine, the navy, the army, and the rest will be built near one another," Wylis explained his plan to the somewhat mad doctor. "You will head the school. I know you only care for your studies, but no man grows wiser working alone. With a few sharp minds beside you, your work will thrive."

Qyburn nodded with a dissatisfied look. "I fear I can't escape this responsibility, my Lord."

After teaching Qyburn, Wylis went out and worked on fortifying the castle. The plan was quite simple but labor-intensive. He wanted to dig a moat around the rocky mesa on which the castle sat. 

And then, he wanted to make a high stone wall around the moat itself on the outer side, so that the moat would turn into a deep watery drop. Anyone who would jump over the wall would fall into deep water, with the high walls on one side and the mesa's cliff-like wall on the other. Moreover, Wylis wanted to build another wall around the entire backyard of the castle, making it a private garden with that hot spring. 

On top of that, he planned some extra digging around the entry into the castle. That way, anything entering from outside will have to go through two drawbridges. All that would turn Ramsgate into one of the realm's most fortified castles. 

Now, digging the moat was the easy part for Wylis. Heck, even preparing the foundation for the wall was easy for him. The hard part was building the wall. Not because it was expensive, but because he didn't have enough people to build that fast. 

Already, the town had welcomed some new faces. A few of them were red dots that Wylis left alone for the time being, keeping an eye on them through Tyrant's Fief's map. Waiting to catch their next plot before they made a move. 

The simple fact was that the scale he had in mind for Ramsgate was impossible without enough people. After the castle wall, the city's wall would need to be developed. After that, the entire manufacturing district and then the textile district would need to be constructed. He needed people to build and craftsmen to work in them. 

So much to fucking do. Knowing too much is also a damn curse. 

With a sigh, he instructed the men on building the wall around the moat. The moat wasn't dug yet; he'd do that later. He wanted to build the wall first. After leaving them to work on it, he went to the town's square and walked into the lone blacksmith's shop. 

It was manned by a boy, a little younger than himself. The boy's father used to be the town's main blacksmith in the past, but due to age, the old blacksmith was bedridden. Now it was the novice son's duty to run the shop. 

“Come on then, Martyn. Let’s get to it,” Wylis said, setting his coat by the wall and taking up a hammer. “Pay attention and learn. What I’m forging will soon be worth more than silver. Smiths and armorers will flock to Ramsgate before long. If you mean to stay in this trade, you’d best be sharp.”

"Understood, my Lord!" Martyn saluted stiffly. The poor boy was on the chubbier side and already balding. But he was willing to learn from the lord of the land. 

“What we’re forging is called a leaf spring, and we’ll need one large enough for heavy use. Without proper tools, a forge, or bellows fit for the task, it’ll take us a few days. Were we to have a blast furnace, we’d make pig iron with coke. I know those words sound strange to you now, but in time you’ll see why I bothered to teach them.”

Martyn nodded, focused. He tried to remember whatever he could, absorbing the knowledge. He didn't dare ridicule, as he knew well enough that Lord Wylis was anything but normal. He wasn't one of those pompous, cheese-gobbling nobles. 

Soon, loud hammer sounds started to echo. It was very hot since a clay shaft furnace was used. Wylis was sweating and discarded all his upper clothes, covering his scar-marked body with an ethereal shine of sweat. 

The first two days were spent making curved steel strips. It was annoying work, since making high-carbon steel took time. On the third day, Wylis took a break and actually made a pressure cooker. On the fourth day, he resumed the work and finished making all the steel strips and all the other components needed. 

On the fifth day, he took everything to the castle and started working on a full-sized carriage. Right in the outer courtyard, with the help of guards, he first removed the top of the carriage and worked on the suspension. It wasn't hard to do, it just took time. 

By evening, he put the entire carriage back together, tied Caliburn to it, and started testing it. He grabbed the reins, Brandon seated beside him, and four guards in the back, putting some weight on the suspension. 

"This is bloody madness! Gods, my arse is loving every damned bit of it!" Brandon howled.

Wylis laughed and made the carriage run faster. That was the point of having a leaf suspension. Beyond just comfort, it allowed greater speeds on uneven roads, which were pretty much all roads in Westeros. Speed mattered a lot when traveling from the South to the North, or anywhere, actually. 

“Can’t say no to that. My arse likes it too,” Wylis said, spurring Caliburn into a quicker pace. “We could buy old wagons, mend them, turn them into this, and sell for thrice the coin.”

The wind was soothing. There wasn't much road to try too much speeding, but the tests were successful. 

"Let me give it a try," Brandon asked for the reins. 

Wylis let him without much thought. 

"That's it!" Brandon howled, steering the carriage. "Gods damn it! Add some cushions and my arse’ll melt clean off!"

Wylis did plan to do that. The current carriage was barebones, just a wooden frame with nothing fancy. It was more of a goods hauler than a people mover. But making fine stagecoaches out of it was a fine concept.

"Fuck! Fuck! It ain't stopping!" 

Right then, he heard Brandon crushing. Wylis woke up from deep thoughts and realised the crazy Stark had steered the carriage into the docks and they were on course to fall into the waters. 

“Caliburn!” Wylis called out and gave a sharp whistle. Instantly, the massive, muscular horse drifted with its hind legs and smoothly came to a halt. “He was toying with you, Brandon. He’d have pulled up before he went down.”

"..."

"Fuck me, your horse can jest now?"

"Neighehe!"

Sure enough, Caliburn let out a big, loud laugh.

"Best watch yourself, boy, or I’ll nick every bloody carrot you’ve got." Brandon hopped off the carriage, swaggering over to trade jests with the horse.

Wylis, meanwhile, checked how the suspension was holding up. He did stress it with four men in the back. His own weight was worth three. And then Brandon. Even as a goods hauler, it did great. 

"Ehm…"

He heard someone clearing their throat behind. Stopping his inspection, he pulled his head away from under the carriage and looked. 

"Greetings, my Lord. I’m Morgan, the fifth vice harbor master of White Harbor. I just arrived on that ship." Morgan pointed at the small carrack. "Lord Manderly charged me with settling the final sale of the ships you seek to purchase."

Ah, finally!

"But before we begin our talk, I was asked to place this letter in your hands."

That sounded very ominous. Wylis grabbed the letter from the neatly dressed man and opened it right then and there. He gave it a quick read, seeing what it was about.  

Just as expected. There is no free lunch.

"I'll deliberate on this tonight. My men will take you to the finest resthouse in the town. We’ll speak again come morning."

"As you wish, my Lord."

Right away, two guards led the man away. Wylis climbed the same carriage and headed back to the castle. The sun was setting, and with it his mood. Buying ships was proving tougher than he expected. 

"What happened?" Brandon asked on the way. 

"Read this."

Wylis steered the carriage and soon heard Brandon curse Lord Manderly's seven generations. By then, they arrived at the castle, and Wylis ordered a maid to call Lyanna to his solar. 

Inside the solar, Brandon grabbed himself a cup of wine, and Wylis only drank water to remain clearheaded. Soon, the door opened, and Lyanna walked in, holding their chunky son in her arms. 

"You both look like you stepped on shit." 

"More like read it," Brandon barked. 

Wylis said nothing and slid the folded letter to Lyanna. She sat down on the nearby chair first, placed Magnus on her lap, and then gave it a quick read. Her brows told the story, going high first, then frowning, and finally making her furious. In the end, she threw the letter on the table. 

"Who does he think he is? That fat fuck! He didn’t ask, he’s bloody demanding a betrothal. Magnus is but a year old, Wylis," Lyanna snapped. "Tell me you’re not considering agreeing to this."

“Considering? Gods, no. There’s not a woman in the whole realm worthy of this boy,” Wylis declared, an overstatement to others, but he knew the true potential. "I don't care how pretty Wynafryd grows into. I won't take away my son's freedom to choose."

"And the other thing?" Brandon asked. 

Wylis shook his head. “He wants me to take a Manderly squire. He’s got no grandson of his own, not even a grandnephew fit for it. I’ve no time for such things. And a squire will have the run of the castle. No, I’ll not take one.”

Back to square one then. 

He leaned back in his chair, annoyed but not angry. Lord Mandery was trying to secure his backyard. Wylis would have tried the same if the roles were reversed. 

"So, no ships?" Lyanna asked.

"Don't know. The letter doesn’t mention whether these are mandatory terms for the sale of ships. We'll find out in the morning." 

"What if he refuses to sell the ships?" Brandon, the great Admiral, asked.

"I’ll likely ride to King’s Landing and speak with Robert. Might be worth offering Lord Tywin a Valyrian blade for some ships. I reckon he’d take the trade. Manderly’s not the only one with ships; he was just nearest, and I thought to make good terms. If he wants more than his due, that’s his fault."

"Wylis," Lyanna called for him, her voice laced with concern. She got off the chair, handed Magnus to Brandon, and walked over to Wylis. She palmed his face. "Look at you. You look tired."

"I love doing this, Lyanna."

"I know, but that doesn't mean you should ruin your body. I fell for the tall, stubborn man who cared for every inch of his strength. Don’t forget what truly matters," she said softly, pressing a kiss to his lips.

He sighed and put an arm around her waist. "I know. It's just that… I have great things planned. Things that are possible. But Ramsgate simply doesn’t have enough people. My entire fief doesn't have enough people. How do I bring more?"

Ting!

[New Chain Quest (1/5) - A Tyrant's Lair
Description - A Tyrant's throne is heavy, and the more hands there are to carry it, the higher the throne shall rise. Raise Tyrant's Fief's population to 10,000.
Reward - Talent Hunter: There could be hidden ship captains, blacksmiths, economists, and healers amongst the poor by fate. Find them with ease.]

Yet another amazing reward, but an absurdly hard quest to complete. 

He tried to calculate in his head how high the chain quest wanted him to take the population. With a simple twice multiplier, it would take him more than half a million people to finish the quest's levels. 

Soaps, paper, private printing press, clockwork, alcohol distillation, perfumes, there's so much I can do. All simple things, but they all need hands for mass production. Hands that I don't have. 

Not just Ramsgate, the entire damn North simply didn't have enough people. 

"Easy, brother. No one’s expecting Ramsgate to be another King’s Landing before the decade’s done," Brandon said, smirking. "Take your time. Enjoy the damned work. If you rush it, you’ll kill the fun of it. That’s what happened to me. I loved learning to rule Winterfell at first. Then Father started breathing down my neck, and I hated every bloody bit of it."

They were right. But they didn't have the brain of a guy from the modern world. Knowing you could be doing something absolutely world-changing and still not being able to was frustrating. It was like having fresh air all around, but you couldn't breathe it.

“Aye, you’re right, I reckon. Best slow my pace a bit. Hm… maybe I’ll go chase after some treasure instead. If it’s ships we’re after, Essos has more than enough. Costly, aye, but beggars can’t be choosers.”

"Hah! I like that one. Beggars can't be choosers." Brandon laughed. "Will use it next time when the tavern maid refuses to lend me more wine."

"..."

Lyanna frowned at her brother. "Aren't you the beggar in that case?"

"Who bloody cares? She’ll hand me a whole jar of wine before she even figures out what it means."

"..."

"Why don't you just buy it?" Wylis asked.

"With what? I got no coin."

"Huh? Don't I pay you?"

Brandon scoffed. "Not a penny."

Frowning, Wylis looked at his gorgeous wife, as she was responsible for handing out payment to the castle's maids, cooks, and that included Brandon. 

"He never came to me." Lyanna shrugged.

"..."

"Settle it yourselves, both of you," Wylis said with a sigh, pushing to his feet to leave. "I’ll get a bite to eat, then see how Rhaella’s doing."

They didn't even respond to him. Brandon called her a greedy bitch. Lyanna first grabbed Magnus, covered his ears, and started rambling the vilest curses to her brother.

Wylis just shook his head and left, holding back a laugh.

####

Rhaella Targaryen was alone in her bedchamber, lying under the quilt. She had sent Viserys to sleep already, and thankfully, the boy was behaving well. Now, all alone, there was nothing to do but stare at the dark ceiling. 

She had no complaints. Her room was decorated and luxurious, and the bed was soft. There was a maid outside her bedchamber at all times in case she needed anything. Besides, she knew she'd soon bring another life into the world. 

It was the silence that made her feel anxious. Sometimes she remembered how she was living at Lord Wylis's mercy. If it weren't for him, she'd likely be dead. 

Five days had passed since she arrived at Ramsgate, and she was grateful that he gave her so much time and space to gather her thoughts. But now… she started to feel it, his absence. She wanted to speak with him alone. But he was far too busy with his noble duties. 

Knock! Knock!

And as if the Gods somehow passed her desires onto him, the door to her bedchamber opened, and the man she wanted to see dearly walked inside. A maid would have asked for her permission first, but he had the right to walk in. Commonly, a terrible idea, but because it was him, it felt right.

"I hope I didn't disturb you." 

She watched him, this beautiful man, give her the most charming smile. It was infectious as she also smiled. She watched him shut the door, lock it, and walk over to her bed. Without a word, she shifted, leaving him some space. 

"Not at all, my Lord."

"It's just Wylis for you." 

It felt so warm as he smoothly removed his boots, and then… even his tunic. With nothing covering his battle-scarred, muscle-clad upper frame, he slid into the bed right beside her, under the quilt. The bed groaned, creaked, which made her chuckle. 

Rhaella couldn't bring herself to wait. At thirty-seven, she felt like a girl newly in love. She wanted to feel the real warmth of his body, and as soon as he was flat in the bed, she turned and hugged his frame, laying half her body on his, her hand greedily rubbing over his chest and abs. 

"I was just thinking about you, and here you are," she said, without realising, feeling a strange attraction. Her face leaned closer to his as his thick arm softly slid under her ear, acting as her pillow. "That makes three times now. You must have some magic in your ears, Wylis, to hear my thoughts so well."

"Hah, I suppose I do." His large arm reached from under her ear, down, and hugged her. 

Rhaella didn't mind his spread palm on her ripe rump; it wasn't the first time. They'd slept together like this during their ship voyage as well. They had kissed endlessly, nothing beyond. But now, it felt so much better. Peaceful, intimate, and she felt ashamed to confess, arousing.

"How are you, Rhaella?" 

"Hm…" She liked him calling her by her name. "I’m alive, whole, and at peace, because of you."

She almost purred when she couldn't keep her hands to herself. Down from his chest, his abs, she dared to move further. She hadn't done this on the ship. She hadn't touched him there since that night. Now, she really wanted to. 

With ease, she slid her hand under the waist of his loose trousers, her fingers brushing against the warm, bare skin before delving lower. 

“Um..” A soft hum escaped her lips at the absence of smallcloth, the discovery sending a thrill through her. 

There it was, his semi-erect shaft, thick and heavy in her palm as she gripped it from the middle, her delicate fingers straining to encircle its girth. He was so much, living up to his giant frame. The velvety skin was already warming further under her touch, pulsing faintly. The sheer size of him caused a rush of heat between her legs, reminding her of how utterly filled she had felt before.

She bit her lips, the sharp sting grounding her as memories of that night flooded back, vivid and intoxicating. 

Gods knew how she had taken him then, her body yielding to his impossible thickness inch by inch, every ridge and vein dragging against her inner walls in pleasure and pain. It left her trembling and breathless. But she had loved every second of it; the way he moved inside her like he owned her soul, the raw intensity that made her forget kings and crowns. 

Now, as she felt him stir in her hand, her nipples tightened against the fabric of her nightgown, her breath quickening with the urge to relive even a fraction of that bliss.

She loved it even more when his hands started to grope her ass, his large palms kneading the soft, ripe flesh with a gentle possessiveness. His fingers were sinking into her curves like he was savoring a treasure, pulling her closer against his solid frame and making her feel desired, protected, utterly feminine in his grasp.

The warmth of his touch seeped through her thin gown, igniting a slow burn in her core that pooled between her thighs. Her body responded with an instinctive arch, pressing back into his hands as if begging for more.

"Oh, Wylis."

She just couldn't take it anymore. Staring at his gorgeous face, into his ocean-like eyes, she vanished whatever space was left between them and kissed him with an intensity that would even embarrass lovers. 

She rammed her lips with desire. To feel him again. Her regret, her peace, her future, she reckoned. So many nights she spent dreaming of what if she had taken his offer. What if she had escaped with him? What if… she had asked him to kill Aerys? 

"Mmmm-hhh!"

She knew it. He'd have done it. He'd have killed Aerys and then made love to her that whole night. 

She saw how he closed his eyes, so she did the same, surrendering to the darkness where only sensations were felt. She let herself drown in this man, her savior. Her tongue slithered into his mouth like a serpent seeking warmth. 

She tasted wine on him, a subtle tang that lingered on his breath, and it stirred a flicker of curiosity in her mind; Wylis rarely drank, his discipline as unyielding as his body, so this indulgence must mean something weighed heavily on his thoughts, perhaps the same shadows that haunted her own dreams.

But she asked no questions, content to lose herself in the moment as his powerful tongue coiled with hers, a dominant swirl that sent sparks of pleasure darting through her. 

Her hand clenched into a loose fist around his shaft, stroking him slowly from base to tip, feeling him swell to full, throbbing length. The veins pulsing like rivers of heat against her palm, each twitch was a visceral reminder of his vitality. She wanted to feel it inside, to be impaled and filled until she shattered. 

But she knew she couldn't; with his size and her delicate pregnancy, it was too risky, a forbidden fruit that only amplified the teasing torment in her core.

But that didn't mean she couldn't feel him in other ways, her mind racing with wicked possibilities that made her cheeks flush with a mix of shame and excitement. The thought of pleasing him, of tasting him, of letting her mouth worship what her body craved, sent a fresh gush of arousal between her legs. 

Her free hand trailed up to cup her own breast through the gown, pinching lightly as she imagined everything.

"Ummmmh…"

Amidst the kiss, her fingers fumbled with the drawstring of his trousers, tugging them down past the swell of his hips until they bunched at his knees and finally kicked free. 

His cock sprang up, ready, making her gasp into his mouth. Then, taking a chance, she shifted and climbed, straddling him. She hated the cool air that rushed between their broken kiss, but gods, she loved the way he stared at her in that dim candlelight, hunger carved into every hard line of his face. He looked like a man starved, and she wanted to be devoured, wanted to feel every inch of that gaze licking over her skin.

"Help?"

At her soft plea, Wylis smiled and shifted beneath her. With effortless strength, he slid back, sliding against the carved headboard until he sat upright, the muscles in his chest and arms flexing in the low light. 

His hands found the hem of her nightgown, gathered the silk in rough fists, and peeled it up and over her head in one fluid motion. Cool air kissed her bare skin; her nipples tightened instantly, aching.

"Ah!" Rhaella yelped, arms flying to snatch the quilt from behind her, yanking it up to shield her belly and heavy, leaking breasts. Shame burned hot in her cheeks. The stretch marks, the way her breasts strained and dripped. She was no longer the lithe queen, and she felt it deeply.

"No."

Just that. A whisper from him. His hands, calloused but impossibly gentle, closed over the quilt’s edge and pushed it down. He refused to let her hide. 

The fabric slid off her arms and pooled at her waist, baring her completely. Candlelight painted gold over the curve of her belly, the sheen of milk beading at her nipples, the slick shine between her thighs where she still hovered above him.

"Um."

His cock throbbed beneath her, the fat crown nudging insistently at her soaked folds, parting them just enough to make her feel it. 

"You’re beautiful, Rhaella. This is just momentary. You’ll give this realm the most gorgeous girl, know that."

There it was, that impossible certainty in his voice, as if he had already seen the babe in her arms. It confused her, but she believed him. The words sank into her like warm oil, loosening the knot of doubt in her chest, and she felt her hips roll forward of their own accord, sliding her slick lower lips along his length in a slow, teasing glide that made them both groan.

Then his hands moved, cupping her swollen breasts. They had grown since their last night together, heavy with milk, veins faint beneath her pale skin. He tried to engulf them, thumbs brushing over the stiff peaks, but they spilled over his palms. A bead of milk pearled, then trickled down the curve of one breast; another followed, warm and sweet-scented, dripping onto his wrist. 

Embarrassment flared again, hot and sharp. "W-Wylis…"

"Hm?"

"Just once…" The words trembled on her tongue. She wanted to confess to the man who had saved her, who held her heart in his scarred hands. "Can I say it? You don’t have to reply."

He nodded, eyes never leaving hers.

"Wylis, sometimes I think I’ve lost my wits. To find love now, at this wrinkly age... and to love you so deeply. I… I merely want to say that I love you."

"If you're wrinkly, half the realm's rotting in a grave."

"Mh..." She snorted a chuckle and froze. His one hand came up and held her chin softly. 

"Rhaella, I can’t speak those exact words. I gave them to one woman and must keep them. But I cherish you as deeply as a man could cherish a woman. Once I offered to kill a King for you; I would do so again if the day came.”

"You would defy Robert?!"

"If he refuses to find sense in the truth that you were a prisoner of that man, then yes. If he chooses to hunt children and women who were themselves victims of the same throne he usurped, then yes. For as long as I live, no one will take the throne from Robert. But if he decides to take what's mine in his blind rage, my blade is sharp."

Rhaella froze for a short moment, on the verge of tears. She had never felt so safe, loved, protected, and cared for in her entire life. And to think she had lived half her life without ever feeling these emotions. 

"Wylis… What happens to me now?"

"Are you mine?"

Such a simple question. Yet so profound in its meaning. Still, the answer was right at the tip of her tongue. 

"I've been yours since that night."

"Then Ramsgate is your home, and you're mine."

####

Wylis didn't know why, but he felt extremely protective of this woman. Since the time he met her in the Red Keep, even before that night, he wanted to snatch her away and give her all the laughter and joy she had never found in her life. 

Now, as she sat on his throbbing crotch, his one hand on her bust, the other caressing her warm face, he knew he had her. He'd finally snatched her away. A little late, but she was with him now. 

"Wylis!"

His name slipped from her lips like warm honey, and heat gathered low in his gut. Once the sound had pricked him with guilt, but the thought dissolved. Lyanna was wildfire; Rhaella was moonlight. No one could eclipse the other.

Rhaella was Rhaella, Lyanna was Lyanna, his one true wife.

He let her drift closer, let her mouth find his again. Tracks of tears cooled on her skin as she rocked in slow, careful circles. His cock lay rigid under her petals, trapped between their bodies, kissed by the slick heat of her folds. Each gentle sway dragged her pussy along his length.

“Ummmh.”

The hum vibrated against his tongue as she kissed him deeper, frantic fingers threading his hair. His palms slid down to cradle the plush weight of her ass. Round, impossibly soft, trembling under his grip. Her juices painted his shaft in glossy streaks, her tongue surrendering to his own. 

The thought flickered. Would she ever truly…

"Rhaella…"

"Hm?" She broke the kiss. 

"You don't have to answer, but I want to ask this, so you know what I’m hoping for. Will you… Bear me children?"

Rhaella froze on his lap. He felt his heart travel to his throat. He felt nervous, yet also longed to hear her reply. A positive one. But even if it were a no, he would accept happily. 

No, no… What happened?

He saw tears freely fall from her eyes. He really didn't know why. 

"With love…" Her whisper came. He felt her forehead against his. "With lust… with joy."

"..."

And that was it. He melted for this gorgeous ex-queen. He engulfed her body in a soft, draping hug, big arms covering her entire back. He felt her lips return on him and he… drowned. 

Grief melted into raw desire. 

Rhaella’s hips rolled faster, slick folds gliding along his cock in desperate, stuttering strokes. 

Then abruptly, she straightened, spine arching, and cupped her own breasts with intent, lifting them to his lips like an offering.

Wylis latched onto one dark-rose nipple, sucking hard. The ex-queen’s warm milk flooded his tongue in a thick, sweet rush, richer than honeyed cream, laced with the faint salt of her skin. 

It spilled from the corners of his mouth, streaking down his chin, dripping in pearly rivulets over the ridges of his chest and belly to pool between them. And still he drank, greedily, until milk glazed his throat and her moans cracked the air.

“Oh OOhh”

His cock throbbed, iron-hard against the cradle of her thighs. Each rock of her hips smeared her arousal along his length, the slick drag sending sparks up his spine. She was close; he could feel it in the frantic tremor of her thighs, the way her breath broke into tiny cries.

Rhaella squeezed her breasts together with trembling hands, pressing both nipples to his mouth at once. 

He obliged with his tongue lashing out, cheeks hollowing as he sucked hard. Twin streams of milk jetted against his throat. Her pure maternal essence overflowed in messy torrents that soaked his chin, his chest, the valley between her thighs until the room smelled of sex and milk.

Wylis’s senses drowned in her taste, her scent, the slick heat grinding against his shaft. Every pulse of her hips dragged him closer to the edge. This was so dirty and yet so hot.

“Unghh~” A soft whimper escaped her as the first ache bloomed. 

She shuddered, hips shaking, and came in a quiet rush. Her pussy fluttered against his cock, a warm gush of her own slick mingling with the spilled milk pooling there. Her body curled forward, forehead to his shoulder, panting in delicate aftershocks while milk still leaked from her nipples onto his skin.

Finally, Rhaella eased backward with feline grace, milk still glistening on her swollen nipples. 

A shy, radiant smile curved her lips as she slid down between Wylis’s spread thighs. She dipped her head, tongue darting to lap the warm trails of her own milk from his chest, each lick a soft kiss that dotted his skin. She went lower and lower, tracing the ridges of his abs, until her mouth hovered at the root of his cock, flushed and straining like a war-banner.

“Gods!” The word tore from Wylis’s throat.

Rhaella giggled and cradled his shaft against the delicate plane of her face. The contrast was sinful, her regal features dwarfed by the thick, veined column that pulsed against her cheek. Her lips brush the base of his cock with feather-light kisses. 

Once, this woman had worn the crown of the Seven Kingdoms; now her milk still dripped from his beard, and she knelt to drink the milk of the man who had stolen her from hell. She loved him. She loved this.

“Ummmh…”

A low, hungry hum vibrated against his cock. 

She started at his balls, rolling each heavy orb with her tongue, suckling gently until they drew tight. Up the underside she traveled, planting wet, open-mouthed kisses that left glistening prints. At the tip, she sealed her lips and sucked hard, and his cock jerked in her grip.

She stroked with frantic devotion, wrist flicking fast enough to blur. Then she stretched her jaw impossibly wide, and took him in, cheeks hollowing as she impaled her own face on his length. Saliva spilled in glossy threads; her throat fluttered around the blunt intrusion.

Halfway down, and he already kissed the back of her throat. A god in mortal flesh, splitting a queen open with nothing but heat and need. Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes from the exquisite burn in her gullet. Her breasts swayed heavily beneath her, nipples grazing his thighs, milk still leaking in pearly drops.

“Ungh… almost!” Wylis growled, hips jerking in warning.

She answered by clamping her lips around the crown. 

The first spill hit her tongue thick and scalding; her cheeks ballooned, then hollowed as she swallowed greedily. Gush after gush flooded her mouth, and still she gulped, throat working in delicate ripples, refusing to spill a single drop. 

When the last pulse came and left, she suckled the sensitive cockhead with soft, coaxing pulls, pulling out the last beads onto her tongue.

Only when he was clean and trembling did she release him with a wet pop. 

Then she climbed back into his lap, thighs trembling, and straddled him once more. A thin ribbon of seed glistened at the corner of her mouth; she licked it away with a shy, satisfied smile.

"You’ll spoil me, Rhaella."

"With love," she chirped. 

Wylis saw her panting and grabbed a cup from the bedside table. He poured some water and handed it to her. As he watched her drink it, he noticed the movement in her neck, then below at her large breasts, so gorgeous, fluffy. He couldn't wait to feel her from inside again. 

"Will you stay?" Rhaella asked. 

"For as long as I can." 

With that, Wylis shifted to lie flat. He eased Rhaella so half of her was on him, and half on the bed, so she wasn't flat on her belly. She snuggled against him, his warm arms engulfing her under the quilt, her one hand obsessively resting on his calming shaft. 

In complete, serene warmth, both closed their eyes and fell asleep. But sleep only came for the previous queen. The young lord was woken up by ill-timed good news. 

Ting!

[Trueborns & Bastards Triggered!]

[Twin Sons(Bastard) - Anna]

It's starting. Fruits of that Stoney Sept orgy.

____________________

Choice Question - Genna Lannister arrives. What happens next?