Lannisport is a city on the Sunset Sea, west of Casterly Rock, where the River Road, the Gold Road, and the Coastal Road meet.
This port city is one of the Seven Kingdoms' most important harbors and the largest city in the Westerlands. In terms of size, it is far smaller than King's Landing and Oldtown, yet much larger than Gulltown and White Harbor.
The golden afterglow of sunset spilled across the docks, which were crowded with merchants closing their stalls, dockworkers hurrying home, and all manner of people going about their business.
A green-eyed crow perched on the roof of a house in a narrow alley, its round eyes scanning the crowd below.
"Shae!" girls called out from the street. They walked in small groups, carrying baskets or cloth bags. "If you don't leave the city soon, you'll be late! The camp has curfew tonight!"
"I know!" Shae shouted back over her shoulder.
Walking along the street, Shae wore more cloth than she had in the camp. The green-eyed crow blinked and tilted its head, watching. A group of camp followers.
"I still need spices!" Shae called as she ran. "You go ahead and wait for me at the gate. I'll catch up soon!"
"Then hurry!" The other girls laughed and drifted away.
This was a secluded alley near the harbor.
The air carried a faint salt-damp freshness mixed with the clean scent of seaweed drifting in from the wide sea nearby, mingling with the occasional trace of flowers from within the alley. From time to time, a seagull skimmed past the entrance, leaving a string of sharp cries that lent life to the quiet space.
They won't fly in here, the green-eyed crow thought as it listened to the gulls. Those white thieves would only venture inland for one thing—garbage.
The alley's entrance was half hidden by several old locust trees weathered by time. Sunlight filtered through their branches, casting dappled gold across the narrow passage like a thin veil.
Spice merchants usually set up in the more visible parts of the harbor. Those here mostly sold old stock or smuggled goods.
Shae slipped sideways through the piled wares, sometimes lowering her head, sometimes tugging at her skirt.
"I'm here," came a low voice. A hooded figure emerged from the shadows—common enough in Lannisport. A smuggler.
"You're late today," he said, retreating deeper into the shade before handing over a bundle. "I wouldn't have waited much longer."
"The army's about to march," Shae said, taking the package. "I need more supplies. This is twice the usual amount—don't tell me you've shorted me again."
"Of course not," the smuggler replied. "But what if it's a little less? You couldn't get this price anywhere else. Only I care for you this much…"
He reached to wrap an arm around her waist, but Shae slapped his hand away.
"Take it." She shoved a handful of silver stags into his palm. "Not tonight. I'm already late—if I don't leave the city, I'll miss the army's departure."
"Then stay with me… you could come find me…"
"She won't go with you," came a hoarse, ancient voice from another corner.
The crow's gaze snapped toward it. An old woman stood there—so old it was impossible to guess her age. She was short, stout, her skin lumpy, her yellow eyes glinting with malice, and her chin jutting like a pair of green pebbles. She wore a loose robe painted with white shells.
"The Toad Witch!" the smuggler exclaimed. "I haven't seen you in the harbor for nearly ten years."
"She won't come to you," the witch said, stepping in front of Shae. "She has her task. She must go find her prince…"
"Fine, then give her a task and be done with it. You two talk." The smuggler backed away as if fleeing a plague. "Shae, we'll meet again."
Shae watched him disappear, puzzled. He seemed terrified of the old woman—as if she truly possessed some strange power. And her words…
"A prince? What prince?" Shae asked. "What are you talking about? A fairy tale?"
"The prince of prophecy," the witch said, her toothless mouth curling in something that might have been a smile or a grimace. "The prince born in the land of smoke and salt…"
"A prince?" Shae could hardly imagine it. "How would I ever meet a prince? I'm just a whore, grandmother. Meeting a knight or a squire would already be lucky."
"You are not the point, girl," the witch continued, her yellow eyes rolling. "Every prince needs a witch. Without the witch's sacrifice, how could Azor Ahai draw the burning sword?"
"And who's Azor Ahai?" Shae repeated clumsily. "What sort of place gives someone such a tongue-twisting name? Dorne? Where am I supposed to find a prince like that?"
"You don't need to find him," the witch said, turning to rummage behind her. "And you're no witch. Just an ordinary girl."
She tossed a handful of powder into the air. Shae sneezed.
The Toad Witch began to mutter, chanting words Shae could neither hear clearly nor understand.
The green-eyed crow hopped closer, trying to listen.
"Born from the womb of the dragon… born from the womb of the wolf… born from the womb of the lion…"
It wasn't the tongue of Westeros, yet the crow understood. What was it—Valyrian?
The witch scattered more powder, her voice rising and falling. Shae stared, bewildered.
After several minutes, the ritual ended. The witch fixed Shae with a piercing gaze, while the crow watched them both intently.
"Girl, now you are my vessel… you will find the prince…"
Fear crept into Shae's eyes. She tried to pull away, but the witch's withered hand gripped her sleeve.
"What do you want?" Shae asked, clutching the spice bundle.
"One more thing," the witch said at last, smiling. "I have a prophecy for you."
"I don't believe in prophecies."
Ignoring her, the witch continued. "You will meet the prince of prophecy. He will bring you endless wealth, supreme status—you will contend with princesses…"
"Will I marry the prince?" Shae blurted, then instantly regretted it. How could she ever marry a prince?
The witch did not mock her. "You will roll your eyes back and rise higher, suffocating as you ascend."
Shae laughed. "You really say such things. How could I believe any of it?"
The witch released her sleeve and raised a crooked finger with long yellow nails.
The crow saw she was pointing directly at it.
"Look," the witch said. "The green-eyed crow has already arrived."