Right then, he heard some footsteps nearby. No longer having the luxury to grab some light, he just squeezed himself into the claustrophobia-inducing hole, all the while pulling the excavated dirt back on himself, returning the floor to as it was, hard.
Thud!
He eventually fell down once his thick body squeezed through the initial grip of the surface. And the tunnel sure was tight for him. It was only wide enough for a single man, and high enough for the same. But again, Wylis was anything but an ordinary man.
So, he had to walk sideways with his head tilted sideways as well. He relied solely on his senses, using Earthbending to feel where he was going. At first, he easily sensed the surface above, but then he noticed the tunnel going upward, and the surface became elusive to his amateur Earthbending senses.
Oh? Holy shit!
As he went, he sensed some strange things on rare occasions. Sometimes on the sides, at times above him. There were secret vaults, storages, or more tunnels running separately to somewhere else. There were also bones, some human and some clearly… dragons.
But then the tunnel ended abruptly. As if whoever was building it didn't get to finish it.
What the fuck?!
He touched his hands everywhere to feel the surroundings in that darkness.
Wood?
Woosh!
He felt a wooden panel right behind him, squeezed against his ass. He gave it a push, and it clicked open like a door.
Thud!
He fell back, ass first in a dirt covered dark area. It was roofed, and looked like a basement. There were racks and crates everywhere, and the scent of rotten… something, was in the air.
That wasn't what Wylis was expecting. He moved quickly and located the stairs. Once he reached upstairs, it was in an even worse condition. The place was abandoned, likely a shop of some kind.
But that was good for him as he easily got out of the building. He surveyed the surroundings, and the scent of filth was strong. Flea Bottom was close by, he reckoned. The street outside the shop was small, but curved down as it went right, meaning he was on Rhaenys' Hill.
From there, Wylis relied completely on his memory of what he'd read and known. He looked for a stable, one that sat on another cave. This one was supposed to be on Rhaenys' Hill itself.
Still, he had a general direction in mind, knowing where to search. He had to be careful to stay clear of the main streets. The occasional footsteps kept him on the edge.
"Neigh… snort…"
Horses?
There were many stables around there. So, he went randomly with the likely direction of the cave in mind. And as expected, it wasn't his lucky day.
He kept searching, kept hiding, his breath panting just from the sheer nervousness. He found two more stables before he finally ended up at the right one.
Right behind a stable, he found a hidden trapdoor. Wasting no time, he jumped inside and ended up in a much better, and slightly bigger tunnel than before.
This has to be it!
Once again, he followed the dark path. He soon felt the sensation of the cave turning downward again. By then, he knew exactly where he was headed.
Thanks Tywin! You probably tried to kill me. But your fucking tunnel's gonna save me too.
Moments later, he felt the end of the tunnel. It instead stretched upward now, and there was a metal ladder attached.
Careful not to make too much noise, he climbed up, perhaps a few floors length, even going above the likely street level. The surroundings changed from dirt to wooden walls. By then, he was sure he was in the right place.
Thud!
Agh!
He hit his head on the ceiling. The ladder's end had come. It was dark, but the scent was noticeable. Spicy, soft, alluring.
He felt a wooden panel on his right side, large enough for a man to walk through its frame. He pushed it further and further, and then.
Creak!
It felt like some doors opened behind that wooden panel. And then there was light, barely. It all became clear. The tunnel secretly opened into a large wardrobe, concealed by the back panel.
Hope nobody is using it.
He lowered his head a little and smoothly moved out of that secret wardrobe opening to get a complete view of that turret room. It was large and round. A great canopied bed marked the center of the room, with a single narrow window on one side, with leaded glass in a pattern of red and yellow diamonds.
It was Chataya's Brothel. And effectively, it brought him just two or three streets away from the Northern wall of King's Landing. Close enough to make a run for it and escape for good. The timer still had slightly over one and a half hours left.
Clank!
His head snapped towards the noise with a predatory precision. His massive body cast a huge shadow in that already dimly lit room.
Fuck! I'm not alone.
Hidden behind the bed's canopy curtain, he noticed a tall, female figure. It was only her, thankfully.
"I'm just passing through, whoever you are," Wylis said, voice steady but guarded. He couldn't make her out in the dark. "I mean no harm."
"Ser Wylis?"
Wylis frowned, still unable to see. But that accented speech did give it away. "Lady Chataya?"
"Mmm, I thought I knew that voice. No other man's bold—or foolish—enough to call me a lady."
Chataya finally walked out of the shadows, into the light of a single candle on a dresser nearby. Surprisingly, she stood naked there, not a single thread on her, but she held a knife in her hand.
She stood proud, tall, and perfectly proportioned. Her smooth, ebony skin caught the candlelight in all the right places, revealing subtle muscle beneath her curves and a gleaming softness that made her flesh look almost edible. Her hair was styled similar to a golden-threaded Nubian bun, intricately wrapped and held together with delicate braids. It was regal and exotic, like an exquisite flower from a distant, forbidden isle. Untouchable, yet begging to be tasted.
Wylis' gaze rested on her busty, full tits for a moment, and then those curvy hips filling up those plump, curvy sides. She was a sight to behold, her ebony skin smooth and shimmering even in that flickering candlelight. And the best part, she was taller than any woman he'd seen yet. Certainly close to six feet.
"Any man with eyes would call you a lady—and he'd still be underselling it. The so-called ladies out there? They can't hold a candle to you."
Chataya smiled sultrily, her dark red lips curving wide to reveal her pearly white teeth. She put the knife away and paced closer to him. "I see the Lord Hand's secret isn't a secret anymore."
Feeling awkward, Wylis unashamedly grabbed the wooden back panel and shoved it back in, and then closed the wardrobe's doors. Then, he clapped his hands, cheekily eyeing the proudly naked woman.
"I saw nothing, and I know nothing, my lady."
Chataya chuckled at that and walked even closer to Wylis. With grace, she looked up at his face, meeting his warm gaze, and then dusted his shoulders, wiping the dirt. "Mm, I doubt you came here to request the same thing you did last time, Ser."
Wylis's single brow raised high. He saw the signs, the signs as old as man. The signs of a woman's desire for his body. A sign he'd seen in plenty of women already.
"Why? Ready to accept it this time?"
Fuck! What the fuck am I doing? I should run away!
She smiled faintly, lips pursed, while her long, elegant fingers grazed over his chest. Even through the fabric of his tunic, she could feel the solid wall of muscle beneath, the quiet strength of his body. Her touch was slow, almost curious, tracing the broad plane of his torso with ease. Then, gently, she let her hand trail upward to his thick neck, her thumb grazing the pulse there with something like reverence.
"Perhaps I am, sweet Ser…" Chataya's voice purred, her Summer Isles accent wrapping around each word like silk, more exotic. "But tell me… is it not true that you bested the White Bull, the Sword of the Morning, and even Barristan the Bold himself—all on your lonesome?"
Wylis ground his teeth, trying to resist the pull. But he couldn't ignore the faint shimmer of that goddamn timer in the corner of his vision. Another hour left, maybe more? And here she was, everything he needed to seal in some more years to his life. And more than that, she was offering herself willingly.
With hungry intent, he gripped her at the waist with both hands. His big, calloused hands engulfed her smooth curves completely. Her skin was satin-dark and warm under his touch, hips flared wide like a goddess of fertility. It felt like she'd been made to give life, and just maybe, made to take his seeds. She was a mother, her body ripe from recent motherhood, a woman already proven to bear life.
"I did, my lady. Though calling it besting feels generous. They came close to finishing me off—and even then, they didn't strike with full force, holding back." Wylis confessed truthfully, feeling that lying to Chataya would hurt him in the long run. Chivalry was hard to earn.
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