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So, this one time, right, in King’s Landing—brothel called The Gilded Peach. Smelled like piss and roses, weird combo. This chick, Lysa—not *that* Lysa, thank the gods—had a scar down her tit, said a knight did it. Pissed me off, that. Some cunt with a sword ruinin’ good fun. But she laughed, said, “Better me than his wife.” Sharp lass, sharper than most lords I know. I drink, I know things—noticed her stashin’ coins under the bed. Smart. Gotta be, in that game.

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Then, outta nowhere, my phone buzzes. It’s my friend, Ana. She’s like, “Meet me at Café Central!” So, I’m like, “Sure, why not?” I rush over, dodging tourists and their selfie sticks. Ugh, they’re everywhere!

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