Game of Thrones: Path of the Hungry Bear

Late 276 Spring

My bronze workers lied to me. Their schedule was way off. I'd give them two months to make my vision reality and they finished in two weeks. When combined with the several week early finish of my shipwrights who seem to have gained a level on their crafting skills over the last winter I had a brand new flagship to inaugurate and two solid months of time on my hands.

Rather than mother hen the preparations for the next great raid, I yanked Ulfric and Galmar out of their beds and shanghaied them for a voyage down to Dorne. There was much shrieking, but the wanderlust of the pair blocked any complaints. I packed for all of us, considering the boys had no idea what kind of hot hell we were in for. Old Town felt quite sweltering, and we needed to keep alert for heat stroke while there this year, but the Dornish heat is famously lethal, not as terrible as the Northern cold by half, but something about desiccated bodies on the sand stood out more in the mind than the frozen masses lost in dark winter nights.

We rowed out of Far Harbor as the sun rose with an assortment of trade goods under the pryable deck of The Great Sea Baer. I didn't know what precisely would sell in the great desert kingdom, though I suspected timber might do quite well. It's possible that the heavily forested Stormlands supplies their needs, but just as possible that demand in Essos and the Reach and historic hostilities might leave Dorne without much access to the richer forests of the world.

The journey was not much more arduous than that to Old Town, but was even more boring than traveling across the coast of the Reach. The Westerlands is very crunched in their small but rich lands, with many great keeps along the sea. The Reach, despite its massive population, is far more spread out, with only five keeps along the coast. Dorne has only one keep between its borders and the quasi-city of Planky Town. Technically the fortified manor of House Dalt counts as a castle, but compared to Salt Shore of House Gargalen the Dalt's better work on their masonry and put up some real fortifications before I'll consider putting them on the tour schedule.

Planky Town is the desert version of Lake-Town, but instead of building a city on wood piles the Dornish have gone even further into whimsy and lashed every pole boat, barge, and merchant ship they can get their hands on to form a floating city that rests on the wide mouth of the Greenblood River and the Summer Sea. I need the name and contact information of whatever supernatural being that has kept this place from being destroyed by fire or storm.

I heard more than a few laughs when I donned my sombrero and made my kids put on theirs, but no one was laughing any longer now that the Dornish sun beat down upon us. The boys and I were dressed like Saudi Arabians that fell in love with the vaquero aesthetic, outfitted for maximum protection from the desert heat, and I carried extra water skins in case the boys ran out during our many water breaks.

At least the copious sweat pouring out of me caught in the thin layers of white cotton comprising my outfit, providing some cooling relief. It wasn't that Dorne was exceptionally hot compared to what I've experienced in my past life, it's just that our bodies are conditioned for the cold.

I'd already received three offers for my goods and hadn't even told anyone what I was selling yet, as I normally spend at least a week in a new market pinning down the prices of things, regardless numerous traders from Essos bombarded me for business, and by sundown I was exhausted pulling my boys in with me to the nearest brothel with anything resembling an ambiance greater than poorly mucked stable.

Food, wine, dancers, happy ending massages, and a gender split in the clientele that made it hard for me to figure out who was working here and who was just looking for good lay. Ulfric's eyes nearly popped out of his head when a topless woman with small but well shaped breasts pinched his cheeks and declared him to be 'So cute!'

Galmar slapped her on the ass and shouted for her to 'Bring food and drink!' causing me to clear my throat as my chest swelled up. Feeling threatened to overwhelm me, something rare enough to almost feel entirely new to me. Pride, pride in someone else.

"That sure don't look like any dancing I ever seen." Galmar commented as he stared at the girls dancing on a stage in the center of a back wall as a big grin split his face, "But I like it."

I'd learned to dance from Brenda Lannister, Ser Lionel's wife. I in turn passed this down to my family, and Galmar's impeccable eye for detail picked up on the vast difference between the folk and courtly dance of the Westerlands, and the sexual gyration and twerking on display here.

"Why are they dancing naked?" Ulfric asked while his eyes followed a round and brown butt bouncing up and down.

"There are many types of companionship that a man may find in his life, and all come at different costs." I explained to the boy while a plate of black and green olives, grilled peppers and thin sliced ham arrived for us, "Here a man may find sexual companionship for coin, but a fool may believe that he has found something more."

Growing up in a household with thirty four - now thirty three - siblings from nine mothers meant my nine and eight year old sons had a firm grasp of the mechanics and consequences of sex, but they were entirely unfamiliar with the concept of paying coin for coitus. Prostitution is not illegal on my island, but simply rare. The trade is inherently parasitic, and with our harsh origins the oldest profession was more an act of desperation with shameful connotation than a means of employment. With the growing prosperity of Far Harbor, and income earning jobs available to both sexes, no one was sucking dicks for food or firewood anymore.

"What would a fool think is here?" Ulfric asked before quickly reaching out for a goblet of weak wine to extinguish the burning in his mouth from one of the grilled peppers he just ate.

"Love, friendship. The women who work in these kinds of places, the ones who are good at what they do, are out to take as much coin from you as they can while giving you as little as they can get away with." I informed the boys, "A good whore will tell you everything you've ever wanted to hear, spin whatever story that hooks your attention, make you feel whatever you want to feel, and all the while taken everything she could."

"Then why are we here?" Ulfric asked and Galmar looked at him like he lost his mind and pointed to the nearest set of tits on display.

This is the kind of boy that legends are made of in Westeros. This kid will probably sail with me at age ten and have a half dozen salt wives by age fourteen, having slain their husbands, fathers, and brothers in battle. I'd put his ass on the Iron Throne if that wasn't a waste of such a fine warrior.

"Sex work degrades everyone involved, but if your heart his hard and your wits sharp, what you give up compared to the pleasures gained is trivial." I put my hand on Ulfric's shoulder, "If your heart is hard and your wits sharp."

With my wisdom dispensed I grabbed the wrist of a woman passing by.

"Get, her, and her and a room." I told her as we locked eyes.

"I don't work here." she informed me.

"And that changes things how?" I asked as we maintained our stare down.

"My husband is right over there." She indicated, but I did not look.

"Does he want to watch, or spend time with my sons?" I inquired and her wide lips split into a smile.

"Oh, we are going to like you." she nodded and left to do as I bid.

"Have fun with the other kids, but don't stay up to late." I commanded my sons, "And if anyone tries to take you from the premises, stab them."

I took that man's wife and a procession of other women throughout the night, some whores, others just interested third parties willing to tag in for a ride with the Northman ravishing all comers, and when dawn broke I extracted myself from the pile of comatose prostitutes and sluts, careful as I stepped over the remains of all the women who thought they could outlast Jorah Mormont as I went to wake my sons for the breakfast special. Ulfric needed to be pulled out of a pile of other kids whose parents patronized this establishment. Galmar woke with a battle cry and tried to bury his dagger in my chest.

We locked eyes and I nodded. He nodded back and together we sought out delicious eggs and bacon.

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