"A walk?" Kevin asked, trailing behind. "Master, didn't you say we were going to King's Landing?"
"We are going to King's Landing eventually. But that doesn't conflict with taking a walk, does it?"
Kevin shook his head stubbornly. "Master, we should secure a ship first. Once the passage is booked and paid for, we can stroll as much as we like before the tide turns."
Aldric thought about it and conceded the point. In this era, dedicated passenger liners operating on fixed schedules didn't exist. To travel by sea, one either chartered a whole ship for a fortune or haggled for a hammock space on a crowded merchant cog. The convenience of Earth—handing over cash at a ticket window for a guaranteed seat—was a distant dream.
If they dawdled before finding a ship, their journey south could be delayed by weeks.
"You're right," Aldric said. "Business first. Let's find a captain."
The master and apprentice left their heavy luggage in the room, locked the door, and carried only their coin purses and weapons.
The Outer Harbor docks were a half-hour walk away. The cobbled streets were lined with prosperous shops: clothiers, bakers, and chandlers selling thick yellow wax. Though Aldric wasn't a local and couldn't distinguish White Harbor fashion from Braavosi imports, the sheer variety of goods told him this city was a true hub of global trade.
Passing through the market district, they arrived at the merchant wharves.
Seven or eight massive cogs and galleys were moored in orderly rows, their heavy wooden hulls glowing a warm gold in the midday sun. Seagulls wheeled and shrieked overhead, diving for scraps.
Right before Aldric's eyes, a massive three-masted ship, guided by a small pilot boat, slowly drifted into the last open berth. Dockworkers scrambled to catch the thick hemp hawsers, winding them around the iron bollards and tying them off with practiced efficiency.
Names were painted on the prows, but Aldric didn't recognize any of them—the man who had read thousands of books on Earth was functionally illiterate in the Common Tongue.
Fortunately, Kevin knew his letters. The boy went from slip to slip, returning shortly to report. "Master, there are several ships heading south to King's Landing. The nearest departure is the day after tomorrow. But the captain isn't aboard. A deckhand over there says for twenty coppers, he'll take us to where the captain is drinking."
A sailor in an unlaced linen shirt stood nearby, leaning against a stack of crates. He raised two fingers and waggled them at Aldric.
Aldric nodded. "Fine. Lead the way."
The sailor led them back into the market district, stopping at a tavern with a swinging wooden sign. It depicted a buxom mermaid—very similar to the Manderly sigil, save for the gender swap and the lack of a trident.
Inside, the guide pointed to a thin, amiable-looking middle-aged man sitting alone in a dim corner, nursing a cup of dark wine.
The guide whispered in the man's ear, collected his coppers from Kevin, and vanished.
The man looked up, offering a professional smile. "You're seeking passage to King's Landing?"
Aldric nodded, taking a seat across from him. "Yes. Two men. And three horses."
The man frowned, rubbing his chin. "My hold is nearly full. I can squeeze in two men, but taking horses is difficult."
Aldric sighed inwardly. Old Bones had carried him from Redstone, enduring the rough road without complaint. Aldric didn't want to abandon the loyal beast.
"Is there any way?" Aldric pressed.
The captain tapped the table with his knuckles, contemplating. "If you must bring the beasts... I'll have to charge you a premium. A horse takes up the space of three men and requires feed. I'd have to throw off paying cargo to make room."
"Reasonable," Aldric said. "Give me a total price."
The man held up three fingers. "One Gold Dragon for the two of you. Two Gold Dragons for the three horses."
"Wait," Kevin interrupted, his brow furrowing. "When I crossed the Narrow Sea to Essos, it was only one Dragon per person, and that was a longer voyage."
The captain raised an eyebrow at the boy. "Are you shipping horses across the Narrow Sea, lad? Tell you what—I'll give you a twenty percent discount on the total. But you must pay half upfront. Otherwise, if I clear the space and dump my cargo, and you don't show up on the dock, I take a massive loss."
Aldric stared into the man's eyes. The captain didn't flinch.
After a few breaths, the captain leaned forward. "Fine. Thirty percent deposit. That is as low as I can go."
Aldric smiled, extending his right hand across the table. "Deal."
The captain smiled back, shaking it firmly. "Excellent. The reputation of the Lady Diana is spotless."
Kevin reached for his leather pouch to count out the silver, but suddenly felt a sharp kick against his boot beneath the table. He instantly understood, changing the motion to a casual scratch of his leg.
Sure enough, his master spoke smoothly. "However, three Dragons is higher than our budget. We don't carry that much coin on our persons in a strange city. Will you be here for a while? We will go back to our inn and fetch the gold."
"Hmm?" The captain's smile faltered slightly. "How much do you have on you now? Give me whatever silver you have to secure the space. Time is tight; if you pay now, I can start clearing the hold immediately."
Aldric glanced around the tavern. There were no guards at the door, nothing unusual. He stood up.
"No worries, friend," Aldric smiled broadly. "Since we have a deal, I won't short you a single copper. Wait right here. Order another cup. We'll be back in a flash."
Ignoring the captain's sudden, vocal protests, Aldric turned and walked out, Kevin hot on his heels.
Back on the bustling street, Kevin looked up. "Master, was he dirty?"
Aldric patted Kevin's shoulder. "Of course he was. He didn't even introduce himself. He just agreed to whatever the guide whispered."
"Then he immediately agreed to ship horses—which is a massive logistical headache—and used it as leverage to demand a huge upfront deposit, without setting a time or place to meet at the docks."
"He looked the part of a sailor, sure," Aldric continued. "But merchants live and die by credit. Why would a real captain dump paying cargo for a stranger's horses based on a verbal promise? How can I trust he won't run out the back door the second I hand him the silver?"
Aldric snorted. "I won't let a street hustler earn a single copper from me."
Kevin looked back at the tavern suspiciously. Just then, he saw the sailor who had guided them slipping back inside through a side door.
Rage flared in the boy's chest. "I'm going to get my twenty coppers back!"
"Leave it," Aldric said, catching the boy's collar. "This isn't the wilderness. Killing men in the streets of a major city is messy. Consider twenty coppers a cheap price for a valuable lesson."
Returning to the docks, Kevin was much more cautious, insisting they only negotiate with men who were physically standing on the decks of their ships.
But after asking around all afternoon, they hit a wall. Hearing about the horses, the real captains either refused outright or suggested selling the beasts locally. Some offered to introduce buyers for a ten percent commission.
Aldric refused. They wandered the port until the sun dipped low, turning the sea a brilliant, shimmering gold.
Finally, they decided to eat and tackle the problem tomorrow.
"Kevin, let's find seafood tonight."
"Doesn't the inn provide dinner?"
"Eat again. Are you a growing boy or not? We haven't had fresh catch from the sea in over a moon's turn."
During their wilderness survival phase, eating crabs and river fish daily had made Aldric crave roasted pork. Now, having eaten red meat and dark bread inland for weeks, he desperately missed the taste of the ocean.
"There's a massive fish market in the Outer Harbor," Kevin said, his mouth watering at the thought. "But I haven't been there; it might take some finding."
"Consider it a patrol!"
The White Harbor Fish Market was located between the Seal Gate and the Outer Harbor docks. The gate was named for the massive, natural Seal Rock that guarded the deep-water channel.
This was the closest open plaza to the fishing berths. Fishermen and mongers sold their catch directly from the boats, and over the centuries, it had grown into a sprawling, chaotic market.
The best catch—the massive tunas and deep-sea crabs—went straight to the Manderly kitchens and noble mansions. The leftovers, the ugly or common fish, were laid out on woven mats for the smallfolk to haggle over.
But the real draw was the perimeter, where dozens of hawkers pushed wooden carts, selling cheap, heavily spiced cooked seafood.
"Master, this grilled squid is incredible," Kevin mumbled, grease coating his chin.
"Try this skewered shrimp," Aldric offered, holding out a stick.
Before they even entered the market proper, the dazzling array of street food had hooked them. It was a culinary battle no less intense than the fight at Lone Bridge.
Near the end of the row, Kevin finally admitted defeat, rubbing his swollen belly. "I can't... Master, I can't eat another bite."
Aldric chuckled. "Pace yourself, boy."
Aldric thought he was at his limit as well. But then, a sharp, familiar scent of roasting garlic and butter wafted through the salty air.
Garlic roasted oysters? Aldric followed his nose to a small, battered wooden pushcart. It held a shallow clay stove filled with glowing charcoal. Smooth river stones were placed among the coals to distribute the heat. Sitting perfectly on the stones were large, open oysters, topped with sizzling, finely minced garlic that released a heavenly aroma.
The owner was a boy, barely ten years old, furiously fanning the coals with a piece of driftwood. His eyes held a hard, street-smart shrewdness that belonged to a much older man.
He glanced at Aldric, noting the fine clothes, and smiled brightly. "Five coppers a piece, my lord."
"Five coppers?" Aldric raised an eyebrow. "I could buy a horn of decent ale for that."
"My lord, then you definitely didn't buy it in White Harbor," the boy shot back without missing a beat. "Even at the Lazy Eel by Fishmonger's Square, a horn of sour swill is thirteen coppers. And that place has the oldest whores and the worst wine in the North."
"Oho," Aldric laughed. "You don't even have fuzz on your lip, and you know so much?"
"Just a friendly warning, my lord. Lest you drop your trousers inside and catch something that rots your cock off."
Aldric barked a genuine laugh. "Thanks for the warning. Fine, give me ten. Kevin, pay the man."
Kevin grumbled, fishing a Silver Stag from his pouch.
The boy pinched the silver coin with two dirty fingers, inspecting it with clear delight. "Dear lord, I don't have forty-six coppers to make change. Why not take two more oysters, and we call it square?"
"Sure. Keep the change."
The boy pulled two broad, waxy leaves from under the cart, expertly arranged the steaming oysters inside, folded them into a neat packet, and handed it to Aldric.
"Thank you, kind lord. May the gods grant you good health."
Aldric took the packet and walked away, eating the rich, savory meat right off the shell.
"Master, those oysters weren't worth a silver stag," Kevin complained quietly.
"I know."
Kevin looked confused. "Then why?"
"That kid is younger than you," Aldric said, tossing an empty shell into a designated refuse bin. "He's running a stall alone, cooking a good product. He's not stealing, and he's not begging. That's rare. Let him have a good night."
Kevin still hurt for the lost coin, but since it was Aldric's money, he kept his peace.
After wandering the market and finally stuffing themselves beyond capacity, the pair turned back toward the White Salmon.
Passing the oyster stall again, Aldric stopped.
Two disheveled men with crude anchor tattoos on their necks were looming over the young boy.
At first, Aldric thought they were customers haggling over price. But a moment later, the larger of the two men kicked the wooden pushcart. It tipped over with a crash, scattering glowing coals, stones, and ruined oysters across the cobblestones.
The boy screamed in fury, clenched his small fists, and rushed at the man, only to be shoved violently to the ground.
If they had been strangers, Aldric might have sighed and walked on. The city watch was paid to handle local disputes. But he had just shared a laugh with the kid.
Aldric stepped forward, his massive frame easily shoving the two thugs apart. "What's going on here? Why are you hitting a child?"
Aldric stood six-and-a-half feet tall, with a sharp, dangerous aura and a heavy greatsword strapped to his back. He looked incredibly intimidating.
The thugs hesitated, eyeing the blade. The chubby one sneered, trying to sound brave. "Outlander, this is White Harbor. To live a long life here, everyone knows one simple rule. Do you know what it is?"
Aldric tilted his head. "Enlighten me."
"Mind your own fucking business! Fuck off!"
The thug stepped forward and shoved both hands against Aldric's chest.
Aldric didn't budge an inch. He moved with blinding speed, catching the man's wrist in a brutal reverse grip, twisting it until the thug gasped in pain and dropped to his knees.
Aldric looked past the kneeling man to the boy, who was sitting among the ruined coals, biting his lip to keep from crying. "Kid. Why are they beating you?"
The boy remained silent, staring at the ground.
The second thug, thinner but looking fiercer, drew a short knife. "Outlander, let him go! To run a stall on this wharf, you pay the 'portion money' to the Long Fish Gang. This little brat won't pay his due. Shouldn't a thief be punished?"
The boy finally looked up, his eyes blazing. "The fee is thirty coppers a day! It's been thirty coppers since my grandfather ran this cart! Today you demand a full Silver Stag!"
"Your grandfather, Old Barry? He's dead," the thin thug spat. "And prices change. Today, the fee is a Stag!"
One Silver Stag a day for protection money? Aldric thought. That's sheer extortion.