"Building a Red Temple?" The dark-skinned woman was startled. "So they really plan to settle in King's Landing for the long term! What's the Great Sept's reaction?"
The fat man sighed helplessly. "The bigger picture comes first. The red-robed priests crossed the sea for the sake of fighting the Others as well.
In the past month, the Dragon Queen's volunteer sled patrol has been operating at full swing. The red priests have decided not to sit idle anymore. From now on, we might see the Hand of the Lord of Light leaving the city every day to sweep away the Others.
No one knows how many wights they've killed, but at least the areas around King's Landing shouldn't see scenes of 'a hundred ghosts roaming at night' anymore."
"You…" Shataiya opened her mouth, hesitated, and in the end chose not to ask why the man had gone to the North City to see the red priests.
She changed the subject and asked softly, "Do you know about the Great Trial in Fairy City?"
The middle-aged bearded man nodded lightly and said hoarsely, "I never expected something like the Three-Eyed Raven to exist in this world."
"In truth, we should have expected it," Shataiya said with a bitter smile. "Just look at the Free Cities across the Narrow Sea and compare them to Westeros. The contrast is obvious.
The Free Cities are filled with temples, and all kinds of priests and churches flourish everywhere. In Westeros, faith is terrifyingly simple.
Thinking about it now, everything makes sense. In a forest where a tiger rules, other beasts keep their distance."
"This world of gods and magic is too unfriendly to ordinary people," the man said with a sigh.
"Are kings ever friendly to the slum dwellers of Flea Bottom? You shouldn't be so naïve," the woman replied.
"Accepting reality and complaining about it are two different things. Everyone complains about how hard life is, but everyone still wants to keep living, and the longer the better," the man said with a smile.
"What do you think about the Great Trial? Do you have any plans?" Shataiya asked.
"I'm numb to it," the man replied, shaking his head.
"You can be numb about other things, but not about what concerns you," Shataiya said seriously. "All your secrets have been exposed. In the eyes of the people of King's Landing, you are the greatest source of chaos.
Their hatred for you has already surpassed that for the Mad King and Joffrey.
There's even a growing sentiment: that the turmoil of the Seven Kingdoms over the past decades is entirely because the noble knightly spirit of Westeros was corrupted by the decadent people of Essos."
"The War of the Usurper was your conspiracy. The War of the Four Kings was stirred up by you and Littlefinger. The Myrish woman Tania incited Cersei to commit countless evils and then betrayed her. Spicer, who took part in the Red Wedding, came from across the Narrow Sea. The decay of the Riverlands was caused by foreign mercenary groups.
In the later struggle among Stannis, Aegon, and Euron, Aegon was also a foreigner.
Stannis was once a rigid and upright man, but under the temptation of a red priestess from abroad, he gradually fell, eventually abandoning his faith and committing multiple acts of kin-slaying."
Shataiya's expression turned strange. "When you think about it carefully, they're not entirely wrong. Outsiders should at least bear half the responsibility for the chaos of the Seven Kingdoms over the past decades."
"People in Essos think Westeros is barbaric and uncivilized," the bearded man said dismissively.
"But their hatred for you is real, and the Dragon Queen declaring you unforgivably guilty is also real. I think there's no need for you to stay in Westeros anymore. Go into exile overseas and find a remote place to spend the rest of your life," Shataiya said with concern.
"King's Landing is my home. I'm not going anywhere," the man said firmly.
The dark-skinned woman sighed, closed the window, opened a drawer beneath her dressing table, took out a black velvet pouch, and handed it to him. "Three hundred gold dragons. I'm struggling lately too."
"That's a bit little. Food prices have gone up again," the fat man said with slight dissatisfaction.
"You said it yourself, prices have gone up. Don't my girls need to eat? And besides…" Shataiya patted the counter. "These furnishings and the house are all newly purchased.
To build the number one pleasure house in King's Landing, you need not only the most alluring women, but also the finest decorations and most luxurious furnishings. Altogether, it cost me thirty thousand gold dragons!"
The fat man frowned in silence.
The woman softened her tone. "I'm just the owner of a brothel, not a king or a trade prince with limitless wealth. I can't support your large number of 'little birds' on my own."
"If something can't be done, it's better to give up early," she advised tactfully.
"I know what I'm doing." The fat man pocketed the money, then took down a black wool cloak, sword belt, scarf, and leather armor from the wall.
Once dressed, a debauched mercenary who lived only for the moment stood before Shataiya.
She opened the door and called out in a sweet voice, "Lord Rogan, you must come visit me again!"
The mercenary Rogan looked drunk and satisfied as he replied reluctantly, "You slut, wait for me."
Like the flirting couples around them, they laughed and embraced as they made their way toward the stairs.
Passing a room, Rogan stopped. His gaze fixed on the door, which bore the image of a large pink crowned stag.
The heavy oak door wasn't fully closed, and muffled sounds came from inside.
"F** you, f** you, I'll screw you to death, you bitch princess!" a man shouted.
"F** me, f** me! I'm Robert's daughter, the crown princess's sister. Take me hard!" a woman cried out in abandon.
"I saw you distributing relief grain in Fisherman's Square. You were high above, surrounded by people, and didn't even glance at me!" the man grew more excited.
"Yes, I wore red armor and a red cloak, carried King Robert's hammer, and rode through the streets in glory. I despised you. I spat at you. Come on, punish me!" the woman shouted as she climbed atop him.
The man howled like a beast.
The woman's cries were even louder.
The two tangled together like wild animals.
"You look like you want Zhong'er too?" Shataiya pinched the fat man's waist and laughed. "She's King Robert's blood, a princess recognized by the Faith. Not just anyone can have her."
The fat man's lips twitched. "I know who she is. The red priests in the North City are talking about her too.
You're quite bold to take her in. Aren't you afraid Stannis will cause trouble?"
"Stannis doesn't even acknowledge her identity," Shataiya said softly, leaning against him.
"Some things don't need to be said aloud," Rogan replied.
"On her debut, holding the Church's 'bloodline certificate,' she made me five hundred gold dragons in a single day! What's more frightening than not making money?" Shataiya said dismissively.
"You only gave me three hundred," Rogan complained.
"She's a princess!" Shataiya exclaimed. "If she's treated like one, she must be maintained like one.
Myrish lace, Yi Ti silk, Summer Isles screens, northern furs, sea monster preserves from Queen's Crown, cucumbers and spinach from Dragonstone…
Even the crown princess in the Red Keep, or the Dragon Queen who's constantly out fighting the Others, probably doesn't eat or use things as luxurious as hers."
"If it were just her, it would be fine. But she brought a child and a group of women from Stony Sept, all feeding off her. It's like they're trying to make up for a lifetime of missed luxury all at once," the woman complained.
They chatted and laughed their way to the front door, embracing before finally parting.
After descending Visenya's Hill, Rogan walked along Steel Street toward the Mud Gate.
Before entering Fisherman's Square, he stopped outside a roadside bakery called "Other Bakery."
He knew this place.
Years ago, when he first sailed from Pentos to King's Landing and disembarked at the Blackwater docks, he had followed the smell of freshly baked bread filling the streets and bought a pineapple bun here.
Back then, old Pirlo was still alive, and young Pirlo was just a teenage apprentice. The shop had been called "Dragonflame Bakery," with a banner of a black dragon breathing fire onto white bread.
After the Targaryens were replaced by the Baratheons, the shop changed its name to "Hammer Bread," with a banner showing a giant man hammering dough.
The old, ruddy-faced Pirlo had long since died, and the acne-faced apprentice had become today's greasy, pot-bellied old Pirlo.
Now the shop had changed again.
It was called "Other Bakery," and its hot dog buns contained a blue-eyed wight.
What caught Rogan's attention wasn't just the sign. The streets were nearly empty, cold wind driving snowflakes and pushing people indoors, yet this two-story stone bakery was bustling.
Not only were customers entering and leaving through the front door, but in the alley beside the building, many citizens with scarves covering their faces stood in a long line at the side entrance, pushing carts and carrying sacks.
He touched the money pouch in his coat, swallowed, and stepped inside.
The interior was narrow, with a long counter ahead.
Behind it, old Pirlo led the bakers working by the ovens. Several apprentices carried large metal boxes of bread to the counter, handing them to a middle-aged woman for sale.
"Pirlo," Rogan called.
The fat owner in a white chef's hat glanced over and hurried toward him, even stepping out from behind the counter.
"Lord Rogan, are you here to buy bread?" he asked respectfully.
"It seems you're selling more than just bread," Rogan said, glancing at the shelves.
"As before, bread and roasted meat, just with more variety," the owner replied.
"What are those people outside doing?" Rogan asked, pointing toward the side door.
"Didn't you see? They're selling pine roots, pinecones, and wight flesh to my shop."
Rogan was startled. "I thought those roots were firewood."
"The soft, thick bark of tree roots can be eaten. Didn't you know?" the owner asked.
"Tree bark? You can eat tree bark?" Rogan said in disbelief.
"It can be dried and ground into powder. There's a complicated process. The septons taught us," the fat man explained, tearing off a piece of golden-brown bread and handing it to Rogan.
"How do septons know such things?"
"The Mother knows all. Perhaps she told them."
Rogan tasted it carefully and said in surprise, "It actually tastes better than bran bread."
"Forty percent bark and sixty percent whole wheat. It does taste good, but it lacks fat. If you eat too much, you won't have strength. It's usually eaten with fish or meat broth," Pirlo explained.
(End of Chapter)
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