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."
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