The Northern Tyrant [Game of Thrones] Chapter 25 - Reconciliation, Shopping & Tyrant’s Appetite

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Brandon Stark was far from foolish and impulsive, as many made him out to be. He was being trained by his father to assume lordship in the future and run Winterfell while looking after the entire North. He was as well-versed in politics as much as blade, though he preferred the latter. 

So, after he was saved by Wylis and found out about the rebellion's victory, he had some things to consider. Having spent a year in the black cells was enough time to ponder over many things, or else, he'd have gone insane. 

He'd seen his father die in Wildfire, so there was no doubt Winterfell would need a new lord. Since he was captured, he also knew that Ned was next in line. A little more pondering, he also foresaw Ned marrying Catelyn. He didn't feel anger since he and Catelyn barely knew each other. Though there sure was some envy because she was truly one beautiful woman with… he had to say, delectable tits. 

As everyone around him stayed busy, and he had time to decide his future, he made the decision to give up Winterfell. It was an annoying burden he didn't want to hold, and with Ned already settled in his role as the next lord, it was wrong to set him aside, not to mention Catelyn would be demoted in her rank. 

"Fucking joking, aren't you?"

"Saw it with my own eyes. There's something… otherworldly about Lord Wylis. He… when he battles, it's as if the Gods watch over him. The knights and men alike tripped around him like fools, some falling on his blade. Horses froze in their tracks. He owned the entire battlefield like his garden, there to harvest the royalists."

Brandon stayed behind in the Red Keep while Wylis left. He heard Jory Cassel summarise the entire rebellion to him. 

"Within the first few moments of the battle, he had already slain Ser Jonothor Darry and Prince Lewyn Martell. His Grace had a fever, so he was taken away, and Lord Arryn and Lord Tully advised a retreat, but Lord Wylis insisted on continuing. I was there when he asked Lord Stark to watch his back and keep Barristan away, and leave the Prince to him. The rest is history…"

Fascinated and perhaps enchanted by the story, Brandon listened to everything. From the first battle in the South where Wylis first appeared and saved Robert and killed Lord Tarly, to the Battle of the Bells, the skirmishes, and the final battle, and then saving King's Landing by ending the King. 

When considering the entire rebellion, Brandon came to the immediate conclusion that if there hadn't been Wylis, they'd have lost to the Mad King. Wylis had won every single fucking battle; he dominated each one, killed so many landed knights, men who were legends of their time, knights of noble houses. 

And then there was the claim that he was favored by the Gods. That might just be the case, Brandon thought. The man seemed to be at the right place at the right time more often than not, able to get out of dangerous situations. 

And all he asked for was a fucking castle that nobody wanted. 

To Brandon, from the beginning, Wylis was never a squire, more like a brother. He saw the potential his father didn't, and he felt the giant was underestimated. It annoyed him more as he felt Wylis deserved more rewards. A better castle, better lands, not just a shithole. 

And that was when he decided to head to Wylis. If nothing else, he wanted to meet Lyanna, whom he knew for some time to be in love with Wylis. And also, he hoped to help the young upstart Lord settle into his role. 

All that led to the incident.

He finally got to see Lyanna… just not in the way he hoped for. 

"Get out!"

"Aye, I shall, my Lord."

He left the bedchamber right away, honestly embarrassed, and aware Lyanna was going to curse the living shit out of him.

####

Wylis was annoyed, as was his wife. So, he chose to let Brandon wait. 

He ordered the maids to prepare a warm bath for him, which soon was made ready in his bedchamber, the large wooden tub filled with steaming water. He led Lyanna into it and relaxed with her, calming his nerves. 

While Brandon hadn't seen anything, the mere thought was infuriating for Lyanna. She cursed nonstop while leaning her back against his chest. 

"Calm down." He said, gently massaging her temples with his big fingers. “Brandon’s boldness is no new tale.”

"Aren’t you the least bit afraid? He knows I'm here."

“He has long known of us,” Wylis replied, catching the sharpness of her surprise as she straightened, turning to glance behind.

"What? How?"

"I can’t say how he knew, only that he did. Maybe the way we looked at each other. But he shares the sentiment. He won't try to drag you to Robert. And even if someone did, I'd sooner kill them all before they lay a hand on you."

Lyanna fully turned and knelt to bring her face to his level. Grinning wide, mischief bright in her gaze. “Ha! That’s exactly what my man would do. Gods, I do pick well.”

His hands gripped her ass, drawing her close. “Robert is my friend, and I’d not raise steel against him. But if it came to choosing, I’d choose you before the Crown. As for Brandon, he seems to genuinely want to see you."

She laughed against his lips, pressing herself close and dripping over him. "Oh, I truly struck gold, didn’t I? Found my diamond in the rough and clung tight, and now he sparkles for me–ah!"

Wylis gave her ass a playful slap and laughed low. He rose, drawing Lyanna up with him. His length pressed hot against her belly, hard as steel. “This diamond carries a sword to match.”

Her hand quickly gripped him, giggling as she rubbed. "Gods, I’d rather stay tangled up with you here all day. Why did he have to come knocking now, of all times? Let’s be done with it fast, then it’s just you and me again."

It appeared his wife was more insatiable than him, which Wylis honestly didn't mind. 

Soon enough, both of them go dressed modestly. Lyanna also tidied their son, changed his clothes, and brought him along to see Brandon. 

It was a separate, much smaller hall for greeting guests in the castle, since the Great Hall was just too much. The small hall had a couple of soft lounges, carpets, some wall decorations, and tables to write on, or some tables with jars of water and some cups. A hearth was already lit there, as it usually was at most times of the day. 

"There you are!"

Wylis watched Brandon jump from his seat and run up to Lyanna and embrace her. He didn't mind the baby she was holding and just hugged them both together. For him, it had been almost two years since he last saw her. 

"Thank the Gods," Brandon burst out, voice cracking. "I near went mad in that damned hole, tearing at the walls, thinking you gone. I had faith in our big giant, but… You're well, that's all that matters."

Finally, as Brandon broke the embrace, he stared at the large baby boy, his eyes sharp; hair that matched Wylis, and even his face showed the signs. The boy was beautiful. "And this must be my nephew? Gods, he’s a heavy one… I pity you, my sister."

Lyanna chuckled and let Brandon hold the baby. "Oh, it was hell."

"And he's handsome."

“Wait until you meet Arthria. She’ll outshine every maiden in the Seven Kingdoms," Lyanna added. 

"Arthria? You've got another child?"

"Oh, no. That’s with Ashara. Gods, you don’t know, do you? Wylis is a lively sort, and he’s got a daughter with her. Ashara and I were hiding in Oldtown, both of us. I was there when the babe came."

"..."

Brandon stared at Wylis. 

"..."

Wylis stared back, unable to think what to say. To Lyanna, it all made sense as she knew about his abilities and need to sire children. But to everyone else, it looked like he was just another Walder Frey in the making, a thought Wylis felt disgusted by. 

"I… And I heard about there being another?" Brandon asked, eyeing Wylis. "Heard that she came to the battle camp with a boy in her arms?"

Wylis chose to explain that. "That’s Wenda the White Fawn, from the Kingswood Brotherhood. I crossed paths with her on the bandit hunt, and… well, one thing led to another. Looks like she may gift me another child before long."

"Really?" Lyanna exclaimed. 

Brandon frowned, doubting his sister’s sanity as she looked so delighted with another bastard sired. 

"A-Are you two wed?"

To that, Wylis walked to Lyanna's side and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "Like I could keep her waiting. She knew my heart, as I knew hers, and once the little quarrels were set aside, nothing could stand between us."

What followed was a quick kiss between them, which Brandon snarled at. While there was nothing wrong, seeing his sister do that was just… annoying.

"Alright, alright, keep your bloody trousers laced. I’ll not press you so long as Lyanna smiles. Gods, I always wanted the two of you bound together. I even tried swaying Father, but his eyes were fixed on his southern ambitions."

"Brandon…" Lyanna took Magnus back in arms and tensely voiced. "You must keep this quiet. To others, I am Ellyn now. Only in private may you call me Lyanna. If Robert learns of it, he will do something rash."

"I know. I never wanted Robert for you. You barely knew him, and still he clung like a madman. He was blinded by his own obsession, filled with lust, and saw you like some promised prize he had already won. He’s a brute, quick to his fists and slow to his wits. Wylis, now, he has both wit and strength. Don't worry, I'm not Ned, you're safe here."

Hearing him being so caring about her, Lyanna hugged him again, more emotional this time. She always knew Brandon cared for her the most; he was just too much of an ass to show it. "Thank you."

"Fine, fine. Should he catch you, Wylis and I’ll stir up a fresh rebellion. I missed the last one."

"..."

Wylis awkwardly smiled. Such words weren't supposed to be uttered so carelessly. But again, it was Brandon Stark, the Wild Wolf; nobody could stop him from blabbering. 

Soon, they sat down on the soft, cushioned seats. Brandon busied himself playing with Magnus, making silly noises and faces. Though he stopped when Magnus showed he was indeed Wylis's son by ripping a small patch of Brandon's beard. 

"So, when are you headed to Winterfell?" Wylis asked.

"Why would I go there? I'm staying here from now on. Gotta keep my little sister safe." 

Bullshit! At least make a believable lie. 

"You don't have anywhere to go, do you?"

Brandon deflated with an exhale. "Aye, this wolf’s got no den. Going back to Winterfell is like poking a hornet’s nest. First, it'll make the command messy. Second, I’ll find myself staring at Catelyn’s tits, even without any unholy intentions."

At least he's honest about it. She… did have lovely pairs. 

"I don’t mind, Brandon. I trust you. It’s the rest I cannot. If Ned comes by, he’ll see straight through us. Benjen, he’d keep silent, but not Ned. His bloody honor and duty will come in his way, and he'll spill it all over in Robert's hall."

Though Wylis doubted that, Eddard did keep Jon Snow's heritage a secret. But he wasn't sure if he'd do the same for him. He could already sense that Eddard didn't like him for some reason. 

"Just give me a decent house in town," Brandon suggested with a grin. "Whoever comes sniffing after me, I'll keep them there. That way, you'll have enough time before they come bothering the castle. And gods know Lyanna's not the last trouble you'll face."

"Aye, Elia is doing wel—"

"Wyliiiis~"

"Speak of the devil." Wylis beamed towards the door, and there came Rhaenys running, bathed and dressed fresh. She jumped into his arms to sit on his lap. "Can I play with Magnus?"

"Of course." 

Rhaenys rushed to Lyanna and sat down beside her since the baby was on her lap. At that time, Elia also walked in with Aegon in her arms. She recognized Brandon and gave him a soft greeting before taking a seat. 

"Aye, we'll have to start a rebellion if we get caught." Brandon sighed. 

"We still got one more to save," Wylis added.

Lyanna's eyes lit up upon hearing him. "As you should! She's already suffered enough. It's time she finds some peace here."

Brandon looked confusedly between them. "Who?"

“Queen Rhaella’s stranded on Dragonstone, with no one to shield her,” Wylis said, his eyes flicking toward Elia. “If Robert finds her, he’ll not spare her nor the children. Though her son… I’d wager he’s beyond saving.”

"He reflects his raising, my Lord," Elia voiced. "I… I would see her grace preserved. But Viserys will never cease in his hunger to undo your sanctuary. He fancies himself a dragon, considers it his birthright to lord over the realm and every being in it. He'll try to escape the castle to challenge the King, get caught, tortured, and spill everything."

Is she… asking me to kill the fucker? 

Wylis sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I'll have to somehow reform him, one way or another."

In silence, he scrolled the hidden screen of the Tyrant's Squire's shop. Soon enough, he found the skill named 'Brainwashing', priced at one year. There was also the full psychology mastery, but it cost three years, and Wylis didn't want to spend that much. 

Hmm… I guess Rhaella can pay for it herself. 

While he felt shitty about already planning to breed the ex-queen, he believed it was only a matter of time before it happened. They were intimate, mentally connected in a way that couldn't be explained. If she weren't the Queen, she'd have already given him a kid. 

"He’s a bloody twat, that one. When Aerys burned Father, he sat grinning like a fool." Brandon added, arms crossed. "But the woman did no wrong. If the rumors I heard are true, she was as much a victim of the Mad King as us."

Wylis thanked whatever gods were out there for giving him a friend who was somewhat of a lunatic but also mindful and understanding. 

"That is true," Wylis remembered the marks on her body from that night. "It's settled then. I'll sail in a week to save her. Brandon, you'll join me. I'll need trustworthy men on the cog. We'll go with the intention to trade at King's Landing. On our way back, we'll have 'trouble' with our ship near Dragonstone. I'll move in the dark of the night and snatch her from the castle."

For planning that openly, Wylis had reasons. Lyanna and Elia had no cause to object, and by involving Brandon, he was making the oldest son of House Stark a partner in crime, which was pretty much treason. 

"Something exciting at last!" Brandon boomed.

And clearly, Brandon didn't mind. 

####

Dreadfort, the North,

Lord Roose Bolton sat in his solar, his hand flat against his forehead, annoyance coursing through him. He read the little parchment that had arrived through the raven, bringing rather troublesome information. 

"Who was it? Who spilled?"

"All of them, M'lord. Brennard knew about us. So did the Avery brothers. They all got caught," said Walton, also known as Steelshanks Walton, the captain in Roose Bolton's service. "The word must have reached Lord Wyman."

Roose sneered, crumpling the paper. "Why else would he set sail for Ramsgate? This… complicates matters."

"M'lord… If I may."

Roose gave a simple nod. 

"M'lord, why do you wish to kill him? He's a new upstart lord, a nobody. He has no noble lineage, just a stableboy who can swing a blade. He's no threat to us or anyone."

"Yet, Walton. That is the word. I watched him at the Trident. A dozen men fell before him, one after the other, and he never faltered. He's a monster in his nascent stage. If we do not cut him down now, nothing will contain him."

Walton sighed and remembered the battlefield. "Should I go there myself, M'lord?"

"And die? He is the finest blade in the realm, Walton. We retreat. We will bide our time. Place eyes in Ramsgate, watch every move. Let them bring word of his weakness. He breeds as if it were a sickness. Already one bastard. The realm’s champion is not as clean as they think."

"It shall be done, M'lord."

Soon, the captain left his solar, and Roose leaned back in the chair, frowning. It was only a matter of time before the entire North learns about what he did, and soon the entire realm. Wylis was currently the realm's darling, champion of the smallfolk. It was bad for him, but he didn't care about impressions. What worried him was that Eddard Stark would now become vigilant.

"How did he catch the Avery brothers so fast?"

####

Dragonstone, 

Everything was lost. It was hopeless to expect a miracle now. Elia Martell and her children were murdered, and she believed her end would be the same. Robert Baratheon seemed keen on butchering anyone with Targaryen blood. 

In silence, she lay in the bed, alone in the bedchamber, a small life growing in her womb. It would have been a lie if she denied having conflicting thoughts. Unholy prayers, hoping the babe would be stillborn, because having silver hair and violet eyes was a mark of death now. She didn't want her newborn to suffer the ill-fate. 

I…

Often, more than she liked to acknowledge, she thought of Wylis. The memory of his was enough to warm her heart and make her smile. While it was hard to gain outside information in Dragonstone with the naval blockade, ravens still slipped in sometimes. 

Lord Wylis now. 

She remembered all the words they'd exchanged through little parchments. Remembering those, she realized that Wylis had accomplished everything he wanted to. He became a lord, just as he had said. 

Yet, a pang of guilt coated her heart. The guilt of refusing him that night. Refusing to go with him, take Viserys with her. Now, she felt she should have accepted his offer. She hated herself for doubting Wylis when he said he'd kill Aerys. He had done that now. 

She hated herself for fearing Aerys, letting the beastly man cloud her judgment. Scarred her so much that she chose her own confined hell over freedom with Wylis. 

"Forgive me."

She muttered, and drops of tears slid from her eyes while he stared at the ceiling. Her hand caressed her belly, regretting ever taking the Moon tea. She was scared; she thought her birdcage was her sanctuary, never realizing it was her hell. 

Finally, she closed her eyes and imagined Wylis, his warmth, his arms wrapped around her, covering her. That night, that memory was burned in her thoughts. How safe she felt in his embrace. 

As if not a single creature in the world could pass him to touch her. 

"I wish… I had left with you."

She didn't realize she was speaking her inner thoughts out loud. 

####

Ramsgate Castle,

Wylis had big plans, but he needed to plan those plans first. In his solar, he placed a large parchment and started to draw. He wanted to use Civil Engineering to make sure that all the changes he was about to make to the castle wouldn't destroy the structure. On top of that, he wanted to plan out the town, divided into districts. Sure, it was too ambitious, but he expected it to become a city one day, and he didn't want King's Landing's stench. 

Knock! Knock!

The door opened, and Lyanna walked inside, holding both Magnus and Arthria. She was lucky that he was still working from the ground floor solar and not his tower. 

"Are you busy?"

"For you? Never," Wylis quickly put away the make-shift pencil and ruler. 

Lyanna strolled closer to him, missing her usual teasing and sunny flair. "Why are you avoiding Ashara?"

"Hm?" He wasn't expecting that. "I'm not avoiding her."

"But it certainly looks like it, doesn’t it? We’ve been here for days, and you’ve done little more than nod at her over supper and mumble about Arthria. Wylis, that’s cruel. She deserves more than being treated like a ghost. She’s frightened, rattled. She even asked me if she ought to flee back to Starfall like some lost maid."

Wylis frowned, tense. "I… don't want her to go. Arthria is my daughter, and I love her."

"Then why aren't you accepting Ashara?"

"Because I’ve no notion what to do, Lyanna. The others… Each child I sired came of my own will. I chose it, and the mothers knew my mind. But Ashara is different. She had no wish for it, nor I. We… After I cast aside Aerys’ cursed offer, we thought only to steal one last night together. Hell, I didn't even finish in her."

Lyanna winced at the detail, but she didn't let it bother her. "It happened all the same. None of it was your fault, nor hers, so why gnaw at it now? I lived with Ashara for a year, Wylis. I know how her eyes light up when your name slips out. The woman is smitten, hopelessly so. She only hides it because she’s frightened of ruining our marriage. And I told her already, I’m not some wilting girl fretting about her husband being stolen."

"You did?" Wylis exclaimed. "This doesn't bother you?"

"At first, it stung, it truly did. But I know you must, to keep breathing, to keep growing stronger.  I… It's impossible not to feel something for the woman they lie with, I get that, as much as I don't want to think about it. All I ask from you is… just promise me one thing, promise me you’ll never trade me for another. And if your love fades, tell me first, before I’m left chasing ghosts."

Yet again, Wylis felt reminded of how lucky he had been to land in Winterfell and then somehow earn this she-wolf's heart. It pained him to think how much she must have struggled accepting everything. Lyanna was feral, territorial, and for her to accept a man like him…

I fucking lucked out with her.

He scooted closer to her, wrapped his arms around her and the two babes, and kissed her lips. "I'd rather battle a Dothraki horde and die before I even think of replacing you, Lyanna."

Lyanna rolled her eyes. "Fine, fine, Lord Wylis Smoothtongue. Off with you then, Ashara’s waiting at the top of the middle tower. It's okay if you feel fondness for her, Wylis. I won't hold it against you. Besides, she won't be the last, I know. You're bringing the Queen soon."

Wylis felt like hiding his gaze from her. Fuck, he felt ashamed in front of Lyanna. All his proclamations of love probably felt hollow.  

He kissed her lips again. "But you'll always be above the rest, my she-wolf, sticking with a bastard like me. Not the smartest of the bunch, but mine."

"Hey!" She yelled, giggling, unable to smack him with her hands as she held the kids. 

Bam!

But she was Lyanna Stark for a reason, and kicked his knee. 

Wylis acted injured and walked away. But he stopped at the door and looked back. "Lyanna…"

"Hm?" She turned to look at her giant of a husband. 

"Thank you for loving me. More than anything, this castle, my blade, I'm glad I have you with me."

And then the giant sent her an embarrassing flying kiss, leaving Lyanna blushing. 

####

Away from the setting sun, Ashara Dayne looked down from the tower as she stood on the battlement. It was a steep drop, the courtyard of the castle below. She wasn't planning on jumping, even though the thought had crossed her mind. 

She knew Wylis would care for Arthria like his own and raise her with love and luxury. And that thought also made her feel unneeded. Her role was minimal in everything. While she wasn't heartbroken, because it was one-sided the whole time. Arthria was a surprise, but she saw her as a beautiful gift. 

What saddened her was the strange silence and hesitation she felt from Wylis whenever in her presence. He didn't seem to like her company.

"If you jump, I'll jump after you."

She turned to look and froze. "I… I wasn't…"

"I'll break a few bones, sure. But I can guarantee that you won't get a scratch."

"I wasn't going to jump, Lord Wylis… I was only looking," she clarified, though seeing worry on his face, toyed with her thoughts. Anything but that coldness was a blessing, she felt.

She watched him come closer and give her his hand. And he was a man she couldn't say no to. "Ah!"

As soon as she felt his grip on her hand, a harsh force pulled her. She fell towards him completely, losing her footing. She yelped, yet the pain never came. She felt his warm, strong arm snugly wrap around her midriff. The next thing she knew, she was in his embrace, flat against his chest, so tightly held that her feet were still dangling below. 

"I forbid you from ever leaving me and Arthria."

Tears welled up in her eyes all of a sudden. His voice was so unusually emotional, like he was struggling to speak. As his other arm also wrapped around her, she almost melted into him. 

"I forbid you from thinking that you're not loved or needed."

Tears slid off her eyes, onto his shoulders. Her arms wrapped around his neck, holding back herself from sniffling. But it was his emotional state that confused her. It was as if… he truly believed she was going to jump. That he'd lose her. 

"I want you here. I’ll keep you in my arms until you see that truth. I wasn’t shutting you out, only stumbling in my own confusion. I felt like a wretch, a coward, leaving you burdened with care, with my child in your womb. Shame weighed on me for dragging you into this life, and I knew not how to carry it. You must despise me for it."

"What? No! Never!" She yelped, pushed her hands on his face until he lowered her to the floor. Gods, he was so tall, she looked up, her violet eyes brimming with tears, and captured his face, raw emotions oozing from his gaze. "I can never despise you! I would never! I was shocked at first, but I love Arthria. Not for a single moment I felt otherwise."

Seeing him freeze, Ashara grabbed the collar of his doublet and pulled him down. She rose on her toes herself and met his lips with warmth, the warmth she wanted him to know. The truth of what she felt about him. 

"And that's what I feel about you," she confessed. Seven know where her courage came from. But his emotional voice broke her, feeling his tall, steel-like frame pour raw emotions. "I love you, Wylis."

"I—"

She pressed her finger on his lips before he could speak. "I know it's one-sided. I don't hope for you to marry me. I love Lyanna too, like a sister, who has been my light in dark hours. And I would never even imagine taking her place or ruining her life. All I want from you is maybe… a small place for me in your heart? I want to be with you, near you, talk to you like we used to, laugh with you, and… feel you close."

There, she had done it. As silence fell between them, she looked at him in hope. It was nerve-wracking, wondering what was going on in his mind. 

"And if… You want me gone, I'll l—"

"Like I'd let you ever go!" 

She felt his arms once again draped over her, this time gently, affectionately, around her back, pulling her against his warmth. And then his lips fell on hers, so warm and strong, she just melted, her eyes shut. 

Their faces tipped, shifted, again and again, both of them losing breath as the kiss lingered. Lips feverishly crushing and clinging, slick with their mingled spit. 

The crimson glow of the setting sun spilled across their faces, gilding their closeness in fire.

When Ashara dared to open her eyes, her heart swelled to see his still closed, lost wholly in the moment, surrendering himself to her warmth.

Right then, she knew she wanted him. Even if it was only a fragment of his heart, a sliver of his soul, she would take it and count herself lucky. To feel him, even briefly, would make her whole again. She knew it was wrong to shatter the fragile beauty of that kiss, but desire surged through her veins, demanding. 

Her hand moved before her thoughts could catch up. Sliding between their bodies, her slender fingers closed around him, capturing his soft length, filling her palm with heat.

"Ashara?"

She felt embarrassed, ashamed, but with determination, she stared into his gaze. "I want to feel you again, Wylis. Plea—"

Yet his lips fell on her again, his one hand sliding down to knead her hips. That was enough to know his answer, and the mere thought of it filled her body with arousing joy. 

"That is your right, Ashara." 

He pecked her again. 

"And Gods will strike me if I refuse a charming lady like you."

She laughed, completely undone merely by his words. This was what she wanted. His voice, his affection, his attention, and his… touch.

####

Fuck! Fuck! No! 

Wylis almost jumped when he saw Ashara standing on the tower's battlement. Countless thoughts and memories surged through his head. His fear had a basis, a fact from another reality. He feared it was going to be repeated again. 

He quickly calmed himself and approached her slowly. And what happened after that was a crash course on how not to be an asshole towards women. He was no womanizer in his past life; he was obsessed with castles and knights only. This was new, but not something he hated. 

The fear of losing her reminded him how much he cared for her. The guilt he felt for leaving her hopeless with a babe turned into guilt for not addressing it. For letting her fall into such a depressed state. 

I'm fucking dense! 

He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her when she asked to feel him again. There was no way he was going to refuse her. He wanted to keep her forever and give her all the joy the world had to offer. Share all his future inventions with her. Watch her laugh and hear her… moan. 

One dense bastard… yeah. 

What he felt for Ashara, he was clear now. Lyanna was the love of his life, the woman who had been with him from the very beginning, when he was shoveling horseshit. She was someone he felt like he was born to fall in love with. The woman he was meant to spend his life with. 

But Ashara was different. He didn't know if it was right to call it love. But he was fond of her, charmed by her voice, her beauty, her personality, and everything else. He didn't see himself waking up beside her on the bed each morning, but he did see himself going to sleep with her often. 

Still, he felt like a bastard. But he tried to fight that feeling. 

"And Gods will strike me if I refuse a charming lady like you."

With that, he lost himself in her divine warmth, his lips claiming her with hunger this time, and thanks to her being tall, he didn't have to lean too much. She was perfect, her mouth tasted of olives and something fruity. His hands roamed all over her rear, from her curving waist to her flared out, post-birth hips. 

Her tears had dried, replaced now by sinful heat. Ashara surrendered her mouth fully to him, drinking his kisses as though they were wine, while her hands busied themselves with his trousers. 

She kept her violet eyes open, watching him in the glow of sunset, her chest swelling with the sight of his face cast in crimson light, rough and beautiful. She wanted this memory burned into her forever.

Her slender fingers found the ties, tugging them loose, and then pushed the fabric down. His breeches sagged, and her hands claimed him. She wrapped her fingers around the girth of his thick shaft, and her eyes widened. 

He was still the same. Massive, hot, alive in her grip.

“Mmmmh.” She moaned into his mouth as his lips plundered hers, his tongue fucking her mouth with deep strokes. Her hands moved with hunger, stroking along his shaft, coaxing him fully hard, preparing him for what she desperately needed.

Her heart raced. Each stroke thrilled her, her palms gliding over the ridges and bulges of his manhood, exploring him. Her fingers traced his base, brushing through the hair there, then up along the thick, swollen veins that throbbed under her grip. She pushed the skin back, feeling the heavy swell of his knob, slippery and engorged, pulsing in her grasp. 

He buckled slightly at her touch, and that small loss of control made her shiver with delight. She loved it. This power, this intimacy, the sheer thrill of holding him and feeling his body betray his need for her.

Wylis’ own hands weren’t idle. He gathered the folds of her many-layered gown, hauling the fabric up in greedy fists until his palm could sink into her bare curves. He squeezed through her smallclothes first, then tore them apart with casual strength, the cloth giving way easily. They sagged and slid down her thighs, leaving her round, mature ass bare to his touch.

“Hmm..” He groaned, one hand groping her soft flesh, kneading her like dough, while the other slid between her cheeks. His thick fingers traced the warm cleft, moving downward, across the curve of her bottom until he found the dripping heat between her thighs. 

Gods, she’s already soaking wet. 

The wetness clung to his touch, slick and hot, her body begging for him without words.

Ashara shuddered, breaking the kiss with a ragged gasp as soon as his fingers touched her drooling core. Her eyes flicked down, catching sight of his cock jutting forward in her hand, thick and glistening, and her throat bobbed in a nervous gulp. 

Without a word, she turned around, heart pounding, lifting her gown herself with one hand while the other braced on the cold stone battlement.

She bent forward, pressing herself against the battlement of the tower, presenting her bottom to him with a trembling mix of shame and lust. Her hair spilling like silk over her shoulder as she looked back at him.

"Don't you want me to…"

"I’m ready, Wylis. I… Gods, do you truly believe Lyanna was the only one in need?"

"..."

He said nothing more and stepped close and lined himself up behind her. He spread his legs wide to lower his massive frame, one hand pushing her gown higher until her pale, round ass was bared to him, perfect in the fire-lit glow of sunset. His other hand guided his cock down, the swollen head brushing against her dripping slit, smearing himself in her slick warmth, the wet sound making her shiver.

Schlk! Schlk!

He was about to push when his gaze flicked upward. The horizon was aflame, but when he looked down again, at her bowed back and trembling body, he shook his head. 

No. He didn’t want her turned away.

"Face me, Ashara. I want to see you." 

Obeying without hesitation, she turned, cheeks flushed, eyes violet with hunger and devotion. Excitement radiated off her as she stood before him.

His big hand caressed her cheek, brushing dark hair aside so he could see every flicker of her gaze. And then…

"Aah!"

He suddenly grasped her gown, yanked it higher, and hooked one of her legs up and sideways against his hip, holding her half-open for him. The fabric bunched and hid her body, but he ignored it. He didn’t need to see anything but her face.

"Oh, Wylis~" she cooed, breathless.

He answered with action. His cockhead pressed firmly against her entrance, then pushed, parting her pink folds, sliding in with an intentionally slow claiming. Gods, the feel of her… fiery hot, utterly soaked, and impossibly snug. It made his breath catch. 

She stretched open for him with aching slowness, her body willingly accepted him, and the silky clutch of her cunt gripped him like it was meant to seal him inside. Each tiny push made him feel more, every ridge and ripple of her inner walls fluttering around his thickness.

For Ashara, the stretch was everything. Her violet eyes widened as his cockhead pushed her open, spreading her walls in a sting that made her bite her lip, yet aroused her beyond reason. He throbbed inside her like a living pulse, and she felt him in every inch as he sank deeper. It hurt, it burned, but it was the kind of burn she longed for. 

She stared only at his face. This was the man she wanted, the man she gave herself to, the man she would never stop craving.

“Mmmm~” she moaned, wrapping her hands around his thick neck, pulling him down as though choking him, and crushing his lips with hers. 

Her mouth devoured his hungrily, wet and urgent, her tongue darting inside, tasting him as if she would die without it.

Wylis let her take him, his lips yielding to her fevered kiss. He was too consumed by the sensation of her snug sheath swallowing him inch by inch, his eyes clamped shut as he focused on the molten grip of her cunt.

He moved in small thrusts, carving his way deeper, every motion gaining more ground until half of his cock was buried inside her. Then he started to truly fuck her. 

Each push went further, every pull followed by a claiming plunge that forced more of his length into her. He wasn’t rough, but he was relentless, driving with passion, with strength that made her gasp.

“Ungh! Ungh!” Ashara moaned and cried against his mouth, her sounds a mix of pain, joy, and delirious surrender. She kissed him like she wanted to eat his lips, her entire body trembling with each thrust.

Soon he was claiming her cunt fully, not with savagery but with hard, passionate plunges. He gave her everything but the very last inch, working her open, letting her body adjust to his size.

Ashara clung to him, her nails digging into his broad shoulders. Her words broke between moans, desperate and raw. “I don’t… care, Wylis… Gods, I don’t care about titles, wives, names… I only want you. I only want this.”

Wylis noticed her faltering. She was balanced only on the toes of one leg, trembling, her grip slipping. Before she could topple, he pulled out completely, his cock sliding free with a slick, noisy plop. Both of them groaned in annoyance at the sudden emptiness.

"Let's try… something new."

Before she could question him, his massive arms wrapped around her. He scooped her up sideways in a sudden bridal carry, one arm behind her back, the other under her knees.

“Ah—!” Ashara yelped adorably, half laughing, half aroused as he hoisted her effortlessly into the air. Her hands clutched his shoulders for support.

“Can you… put it in?” he rumbled low with hunger.

Her cheeks flushed scarlet. Surprised and thrilled, she reached between their bodies with one hand, gripped his thick cock, and guided the blunt head against her salivating pussy.

"Oooooooh!"

Her moan spilled out as he lowered her, sinking her body down onto his saluting cock. The sensation was unlike anything she had ever felt, strange, intoxicating. 

She felt weak, weightless, completely out of control. Her arms tightened around his neck, clinging to him as he held all the power. He could raise her, drop her, impale her as he pleased. She was nothing but a plaything in his arms, and it made her cunt throb wildly around him.

Slosh! Slosh!

Each wet stroke echoed between them. 

He couldn’t bottom out in that position, but that made him rougher, quicker. The short, rapid plunges drove her insane. 

Her gown was dangling behind her curving ass, bunched up on her lap, forgotten. He couldn’t see the sight of himself splitting her open, but that made it worse. His cock twitched violently, hyperaware of every moist squeeze, every hot ripple of her pussy. Like being fucked with a blind fold on, the sensations were otherworldly.

Wylis’ eyes locked on her face instead, watching her features twist and break with bliss, flushed and undone. The sight alone fed his greed and drove him to the edge.

“Ooohhh… Wylis…” Ashara moaned, breath catching, her voice trembling like a song. She held his gaze, violet eyes shining, her lips parted, her whole face blushing with desire.

Pchk! Plap! Pchk!

He moved their bodies together in short, wet jolts, his arms guiding her weight up and down on his shaft. Each plunge made her gown sway, each thrust pressed her tighter to his chest. Her moans grew sharper, her nails dragging at his shoulders, and he fucked her like that. Short, firm, steady movements, until her body broke.

“Hhhhnnngh!” Ashara’s climax hit like thunder, arms locked around his neck, hanging on for dear life as her body convulsed wildly in his grasp. 

Her legs straightened, toes curling hard, thighs spasming, her cunt tightening around him in throbbing waves. She shook helplessly in his arms, writhing as it tore through her, nectar spilling down his cock in hot gushes. She lost herself, trembling, twitching, her entire body surrendering.

Her pussy flooded, juices dripping down his cock, making each stroke filthier as he fucked her harder through it.

"Me too… Ashara," he groaned. His jaw clenched, his cock hammering inside her.

"It's okay." She said and pecked his lips, smiling through her ragged breaths, radiant despite the mess, enough to outshine the setting sun. "Won't be more accidents… I-oh!"

“Who said that?” Wylis growled, pumping into her in ragged, greedy thrusts that made her body bounce in his arms. 

His pace grew uneven as the edge consumed him, his voice deep and strained. “Ashara—I want more… two, three… a dozen, if you’re willing. But not now… later… in a year, maybe—uhh!”

His words shattered as his body locked tight. His cock pulsed like a hammer in her soaked core, and then he erupted. 

Thick batter gushed out in powerful spurts, each one flooding her molten cunt even more, forcing a wet, squelching sound. His head spun as he felt it, every pump squeezing more of his potent ointment out, the tight clutch of her sheath milking him. He groaned low, his entire frame shuddering as he emptied himself in her furnace.

Ashara’s eyes widened, stunned, her lips parting as his words echoed in her mind. He wanted her to bear him more. It hit her like another climax, a dizzy rush of joy, making her feel claimed, chosen, almost like a wife. Her heart fluttered even as her cunt spasmed around his cock.

“Ohhh… yes… Wylis…” she moaned breathlessly, voice cracking in delirious bliss. 

She felt his thick cream stuffing her insides, coating her walls, pouring into every inch. It was too much, spilling back out as it dribbled down her slit, sticky and warm, trailing along his shaft. Gods, it felt so good, so addicting. The raw fullness of him, the heat of his seed spilling inside her. She clenched around his shaft, desperate to hold it all in.

“Mmmh…” she hummed softly, smiling in glowing bliss, her body trembling in his arms as his cock stayed buried inside her.

Wylis shifted slightly, still buried deep inside her, and turned his gaze toward the horizon. The sunset painted the sky, and there they stood… His cock still thick inside her, her body still dripping, their mess joining with the fading day.

Ashara followed his gaze, resting her head on his shoulder, her heart steady at last. It was absurd, laughable, yet perfect. Standing there with her cunt filled with his flesh rod and creamy batter, watching the sunset as though nothing else mattered.

"Haha..."  She laughed softly.

"Hm?"

"Nothing, just… enjoying the moment," she said, eyes still on the horizon.

"Aye, it is worth enjoying." He said and lustfully looked back at her. "But I haven't enjoyed enough. I'll visit your bedchamber tonight, after Lyanna frees me from the bed."

"You can last that long?" She asked with a pang of jealousy. 

"Oh, Ashara, you have no idea."

And just like that, all that jealousy vanished, replaced with unstoppable desire. 

####

The currents were changing. Shifts were happening. As King’s Landing prepared for the grand wedding, some houses mourned their dead. Schemes were being woven while others were being destroyed.

Amidst all that, on a cold morning, Wylis and Brandon stood in wait at the docks as an incredibly large ship approached. A beautiful, four-masted carrack flying House Manderly’s flag, escorted by two more smaller cogs. 

Brandon wasn’t in a good mood ever since he’d learned about Roose Bolton’s plot. He had cursed and suggested storming the Dreadfort with a Northern host before it became too cold. He sent ravens to Ned, telling him to be on alert. 

But Wylis kept his calm. Roose Bolton was but a pebble. The walls that made the Dreadfort lord feel safe were Wylis’ toys. For now, he chose to tolerate the man, since he knew another rebellion was on the horizon. And he no longer was looking to gain fame and name, that time it’ll be just reaping physical rewards.

Though seeing Lord Wyman’s ship made him feel jealous. He wanted to buy one, instead of trying to build everything from scratch. He had enough treasures collected, and there was so much more to dig. Heck, with a ship, he could go for those sunken treasure ships around the Westerosi coast. There was also so much Valyrian steel to be dug out, even in Essos; the locations were in his head. 

And I haven't even started with the Lannisters yet. Fuck, so much to do. 

Soon, the gangway was dropped, and the inhumanly fat lord walked down. His massive belly jiggled in his expensive attire, a golden-threaded doublet with an equally extravagant white fur cloak on his shoulders. He had a sword dangling at his waist, and it looked too small despite being of normal size. 

One, two, three, fucking four! 

Wylis counted four chins, a record in its own right. 

"Hah." Brandon chuckled suddenly. "My vertically gifted brother's horizontally gifted friend. When do you think he last saw his own cock? Years? Decades?"

"..."

Wylis almost pouted his lips, holding back his laugh. But then Brandon, the bastard he was, started snorting, trying to hold his own laugh, which made it worse for Wylis. He controlled it by thinking of Roose Bolton's ugly mug. 

“Bahah! Wylis, lad!” Lord Wyman finally boomed, his voice as loud and amiable as ever. “That beard of yours does well. A proper northern face if ever I saw one.”

Technically, Wyman should have first greeted Wylis as a lord, rather than rambling like they were long-lost friends. But Wylis didn't mind, Wyman Manderly was on a level where he didn't have to give a fuck about etiquette. Thought one day that would change for sure. 

"Lord Wyman." Wylis went to shake hands. 

"Lord this, lord that, bah. Come here, you great ox." Wyman wrapped the giant in a hearty hug. "I wouldn't be standing here, fattened up if you hadn't saved my arse in the battle. Seven hells, I still see you in my sleep, cleaving through those royalist dogs like a butcher at his block."

"I did as was my duty, my Lord."

The quest reward sure is working. He remembered the Savior of House Manderly hidden quest. The reward was House Manderly's friendship and Wyman's admiration of epic proportions. He just hoped it wasn't the dead Mad King's type. 

"Humble, eh? Look at you, already fitting in like a proper lord."

Then, Wyman walked over to Brandon and gave him a quick hug as well. "Alive, well, and before me! That is a gift worth more than silver. Not all was lost, thank the Seven." 

Brandon jerked a thumb at Wylis. "Should thank our tall friend here. The Mad King wanted me as bait to catch him. Then tossed me in the Black Cells and, Gods help, probably forgot."

From there, they laughed and walked into town. Lord Wyman's second son, Wendel, had also joined them. While not as fat as his father, he looked strong with his walrus mustache, already balding despite being Wylis' age. 

Thankfully, Lord Wyman didn't bring a large retinue of guards and servants with him because Wylis really didn't have a place to hold that many people. That again reminded him that behind Wyman's friendly and loud exterior was a hidden, shrewd, calculating, and intelligent mind. His fat body was supposed to be a clever front, though Wylis doubted that. The man just loved to fucking eat junk.

"Seven hells, must be over a decade since I last waddled my way here," Wyman commented, eyeing the small town, no longer smiling. "A folly of mine. They’re worse off than my memory allows."

"Half of the coin earned was being stolen. They were being forced to do hard labour for simple meals, no coin." Wylis explained and took the fat lord into the castle. 

He had sent the women upstairs, except for Lyanna, since she was his official wife. For now, she had colored her hair darker and wore heels that made her seem taller. Her face was naturally different to a small degree since her time in Winterfell, thanks to pregnancy. Unless it was Ned or Benjen, recognizing her was near impossible.

"And this is my beautiful wife, the lady of this castle, Ellyn Kaiser." Wylis introduced Lyanna as she greeted back and offered her hand. 

"My Lord."

"Ah, so this is the blossom I've heard so much about. Aye, Wylis sure plucked a beautiful flower. It's my pleasure to meet you, my Lady."

So I'm just Wylis, and she's a lady? 

Wylis was on the verge of believing that Wyman was testing him. Or trying to set up power dynamics while hiding it under jokes and laughter. 

After that, they arrived at the sizable dining hall with a large table. It was slightly decorated for the day, trays of food already placed there. It was everything that Wyman enjoyed—boiled eggs, capons, eels, lampreys, pork pies, and sausages. 

Wylis led them to their seats. He didn't bother giving the fat lord a special seat higher than his own, or anything special. Ramsgate was under King Robert, not the Manderlys. He took his seat in the middle and let Lyanna take the one on his right, then Brandon. On his left sat Wyman and his son. 

"Ah, I like the smell of this!" 

What followed was a simple, small feast. Wyman ate like a pig, something of everything as it was all to his liking. Nothing serious was discussed during that time, just matters of the King's marriage, the situation in Winterfell, and Brandon explaining he had left Winterfell. 

Wyman tried to set up a betrothal between Brandon and his granddaughter, Wynafryd. But Brandon quickly backed out; since the girl was just three years old and he was twenty-one.

After eating, Wylis led them into what he called the living hall, the simplistically decorated sitting area for guests. Moments later, the castle's ex-steward, Brennard, was brought over. The old man had become thin even though Wylis offered decent meals. 

"My Lord!" Brennard dropped hard to his knees, his hands chained, a rope tied to them that the two guards held, keeping the man from running around. "Mercy, I beg you. I was blind, aye, blind as a fool. I’ll repent, anyway you punish, only spare me."

Lord Wyman sneered and gave a nod to his son. 

Wendel Manderly stood up, walked over to Brennard and—

Bam!

Wendel punched Brennard on the face, hard enough to draw blood from his mouth. After that, Wendel returned to the lounge beside his father. 

"There, that is all the punishment you’ll hear from me. The rest is for Lord Wylis, as the land is his by right. And I'm not here for you, Brennard. You surrendered your life the day Lord Wylis caught you. No use begging me, not after the sins you committed—Seven, take him out of my sight."

Moments later, the spy from Dreadfort was brought over. He was missing a few more nails now, a broken man to look at. There was fear and submission in his eyes, having lived with his brother's rotting head in his cell. 

“He’s Holland Avery. From the Boltons’ lands, came south with his brother. Set up a fish shop at the docks…" Wylis explained and then made the man confess all of it. Wyman already knew most details since the raven had contained them. 

By the end of the easy interrogation, the room was silent. Rare, but a trace of anger was visible on Lord Wyman's face. After all, this matter was a slap on his face as much as an attempt on Wylis' life. Roose had been running his scheme with Brennard for years, since long before Wylis gained Ramsgate. And then, the same assets were used to attack Wylis, making the whole ordeal his folly, his blunder.

"I hadn’t thought the Boltons so bold," Wyman said with a weary breath. "Savage still, and treacherous as ever. A blight upon the North."

"Couldn't agree more there," Brandon said. "And as far as I know Roose, this won't be the last time he does something like this."

"Treacherous bastards." Wyman cursed and looked at Wylis. "What do you want to do, Wylis?"

Wylis again? What happened to all that admiration? That was only for battle?

"I thought to ride for Dreadfort, slip through the walls at night. Easier work than the Red Keep. I could put a blade in the bastard’s heart. But what would it change? Another Bolton would rise before the blood cooled."

"Hah…" Lord Wyman tried to chuckle for a moment, but once he noticed absolute seriousness on Wylis's face, he stopped. Wylis, the madman, actually planned to do it. "A-Aye… Agreed. Another would take his place."

Wylis continued, avoiding using words like my lord entirely. "That is why I seek your aid. I don't ask for an army or soldiers, I just hope you can spread the word of Bolton's deed. Anything that would keep him on the edge of his seat. It will grant me the time I need to set my house in order and prepare myself for him.”

"Prepare, you say? What do you plan to do?"

"That is where I truly need your help. You saw it yourself, the town is near ruin after so many years left to rot." He gave the words a pointed edge. "I need supplies and men. Carpenters, smiths, builders, and above all, sailors to crew a few ships."

"Ships?" 

That caught Wyman's undivided attention. He was the king of trade in the entire North, after all.

"Aye, I mean to try my hand at trade. Nothing near what you command, but a few ships could give this town a bit of life again. His Grace gave me a cog, though I’ve no men to sail her. I’d see about renting ships, and if fortune allows, buying them with their crews outright."

Wyman Manderly sat straight then, gave a glance to his son before focusing on Wylis. "What sort of ships do you ask for? Know that keeping them afloat and ready will drain both purse and harbor."

"Mostly cogs, with one carrack among them. I've still the full purse from Harrenhal, and King Robert’s sworn me some aid. Ramsgate’s near lifeless, truth be told. Little grows here, save for timber and a few trifles. Trade is the only thing that'll keep my lands alive." Wylis said, and directly asked, "How much do they cost? Cogs and carracks?"

"You’d buy ships from me? Bah, Wylis, you needn’t ask. I’ll let you have them at cost. My purse will not grow fat from the man who saved my life." Lord Wyman relaxed suddenly. "The cost, though, depends on what sails you fancy. A cog goes from a hundred up to five hundred, a sturdy carrack with three masts from a thousand to seven, and if you want four masts, you pay whatever madness the builder demands. As for the one I sailed in, gods bless her old timbers, with all her repairs she’d fetch no less than twenty-eight thousand."

Brandon sat with his jaw hanging. It was an insane amount of money. And when thinking about the entire Manderly fleet, it was outrageous. 

Lord Wyman and his son silently focused on Wylis' face, trying to read him, see his shock. Buying ships was no small matter, especially for a small, newly founded house like Wylis'. They weren't mocking him; they'd never. But they did hope to see some level of shock.

"Hmm," Wylis mumbled something under his breath. "In that case, I'd like to buy eight large cogs and two carracks, three-masted."

"..."

The tables had turned. Lord Wyman and his son stared at the giant warrior's face like he'd demanded their livers. Buying that many ships, while not impossible, was rare. Most traders started with a single ship and then expanded. 

"Ah, that's still just close to fifteen thousand gold dragons," Wylis exclaimed all of a sudden. "Let it be three carracks then. Only, I'll count on you to help me find the sailors and their captains."

"..."

"That many ships, you say? Ho ho, quite the appetite.” Lord Wyman rubbed his chin. "I don’t doubt your purse is deep enough, my friend, but I do hope your mind’s as steady as your coin. No sense in letting good timber rot at the docks. I’ll have a word with my Master of Ships. Some hulls should be near ready, and the rest I’ll see found for you."

"I also wish to rent ten more cogs."

"..."

Now that was fucking excessive. Sure, it was nothing for Manderly's trade fleet, heck, they had more war galleys than what Wylis was asking. But still, it was not insignificant. Moreover, the real question was what Wylis wanted to use them for. 

Wyman nodded eventually, his gaze subtly different. "I must speak with my Master of Ships on the matter, my lord. Now, should you buy a vessel outright, I’ll see the price is honest and stout as oak. But hired hulls are another stew entirely, for they don’t all fly my merman. Still, rented ships do come with their own crews, which spares you the trouble of finding sailors yourself."

My lord? What changed? Coin? 

"If I may, what do you plan to trade with? My Lord?" Wendel Manderly asked. 

"That is a trade secret. But you’ll be the first to know it." Wylis smiled, a smile that hid a goldmine. "Come now, my Lord. You must be weary. The maids will take you to your room."

Lord Wyman stood up, seemingly deep in thought. He just shook Wylis' hand and followed behind the maids with his son, vanishing into the castle. It was unknown if he was worried about Wylis disrupting White Harbor, or if it was some other matter. 

Back in the room, Wylis loosened up, slightly annoyed by the unwarranted tug of war with the power dynamics bullshit. He hated politics, and this was the type of politics he hated most. Wyman wasn't like other Northern lords. Wyman's roots were southern, and so was his mindset.

"Gods be good, Wylis, what the fuck are you going to do with that many ships? Have you even got that much coin?" Brandon slid over beside Wylis. "And good job with that 'my lord' horseshit. It was getting on my nerves."

"Annoyed me too. But all’s well now, I snatched his land with Robert's decree. Even if he cared nothing for Ramsgate, he lost it all the same. As for gold, I have more than plenty, and the ships." He couldn't stop smiling, thinking about the future. "I need that many because the opportunity will be short. Eventually, others will catch on, but for a year or two, we're going to make gold hand over fist."

"What is it?"

"That's a secret, Brandon."

"You don't trust me?"

"No."

"..."

Not after you drain a whole barrel in the tavern," Wylis clarified and stood up. "Anyway, I have an offer for you. What do you think about becoming my fleet admiral?"

"Sure, I'll do that, but what's admiral?"

Ting!

Oh? Triggered something?

[New Chain Quest(1/10) - Tyrant of the Seas
Description - A Tyrant's reach has no limit. Gather a fleet of 10 ships with full crew.
Reward - Naval Command Skill (Tier 1)]

Ting!

[New Chain Quest(1/15) - Tyrant of the Lands
Description - A Tyrant's reach has no limit. Gather a permanent standing army of 50 armed men.
Reward - Army Command Skill (Tier 1)]

What's a chain quest? It'll keep repeating and getting bigger? And that reward, it's shit.

Quickly, he summoned the Tyrant's Squire and scrolled to the shop. He had seen Naval Command Skill and Army Command Skill before; they cost five months each.

There, it's nothing specia—

That was when he noticed a tiny, really tiny plus mark at the top-left corner of the skill's name. He had missed it because his eyes always focused on the price on the right. Curious, he tapped on it with his thoughts. 

[Naval Command Skill (Tier 1) - 5 Months
Naval Command Skill (Tier 2) - 1 Year
Naval Command Skill (Tier 3) - 2 Years
Naval Command Skill (Tier 4) - 4 Years
Naval Command Skill (Tier 5) - 8 Years
Naval Command Skill (Tier 6) - 16 Years
Naval Command Skill (Tier 7) - 32 Years
Naval Command Skill (Tier 8) - 64 Years
Naval Command Skill (Tier 9) - 128 Years
Naval Command Skill (Tier 10) - 256 Years]

W-What the fuck is this! O-Over two hundred… what the… 

He quickly repeated the Army Command Skill, and it went all the way up to level 15, at which the price was 291 years. It seemed to have a different cost multiplier, close to 1.5 instead of 2. But still, the fact that the two skills were being offered to him was insane. One look and he knew what they were about. But the question was, how good were they that the highest tier cost that much? 

Wait a second! If the multiplier is two per tier at the very least, then those ten ships will need to increase to over five thousand ships to reach the highest tier reward. And the army… fuck, close to a million soldiers? What am I to do with that many men? 

He felt shaken just imagining himself at that point in the future. It would take years for sure, but… if he were to bring Essos into the equation, the numbers weren't impossible. Besides, he didn't need to aim for the very top; even if he were to reach the middle, he'd be…

An absolute Tyrant!

Smack!

"Ah!" Wylis jolted awake from the stupor and found Brandon preparing a second smack. He stopped him quickly.

"What happened to you?"

"Nothing, was pondering something."

"Cunts and tits?"

“And fine wine,” Wylis added with a chuckle, still gathering his thoughts. "Let's go, I promised someone Brennard's head."

It was clear, he had underestimated just how big Tyrant’s Squire’s appetite was.