The Red Deer

- I can't contain my admiration for your cook's skills, my lord, - without really straining, the truth is usually easy to tell, Littlefinger praised the rabbit in a sauce of ginger, cinnamon and pepper, - just incredible taste.

 Baelish accepted my invitation after all (let's pretend he could have refused). A stuffy seaside evening, five lamps dispel the gloom in the rooms, a relatively small table for six was generously filled with various dishes and drinks. At my request, the Siren went to great lengths, listening to some of my advice (especially regarding the use of seasonings and spices), which is why mashed potatoes with nutmeg, rabbit meat in an exquisite sweet and sour sauce or, as I introduced it to Pinky, "in Indian" appeared on my table pork neck marinated in pepper, onion and cooked in wine sauce with garlic, cumin and thyme. And, of course, a few light salads and other small snacks. We drank slightly diluted Arbor wine, otherwise we got too strong.

 As for Baelish himself, I discovered for myself, as expected, an interesting and extremely intelligent interlocutor. Unlike Tyrion, Petyr has not only a broad outlook, but also deep knowledge, backed up by empirical experience in many areas such as management, finance, trade and, of course, politics. If we judge his biography impartially and objectively, then Littlefinger made a space career, and he succeeded not only thanks to his acquaintances and patronage, but also due to his abilities, intelligence, quick wit and colossal efficiency that always eludes the eyes of inexperienced observers. A striking example is the work at the customs of Gull City, one of the largest cities in the kingdom, which is basically purely commercial. By systematizing the system of collecting taxes and duties on his site, Petyr increased the tax exhaust significantly. Something similar happened to the royal treasury when Littlefinger became the master of the coin. Streamlining and systematization, diligence, quickly put the royal treasury in order, establishing a stable financial process. Under Petyr, the quality of financial document management reached a new level, bringing the kingdom's budget into a transparent and understandable form. Baelish and his undeclared document management reform in any of the layouts will go down in the history of Westeros, and it will be studied in future schools and financial institutions of Modern Westeros. In the meantime, few people are able to assess the way they have come.

 The question is... is Baelish stealing? Of course! That's the whole point. The financial system created, as it seems to everyone, is transparent regarding taxes and fees, hiding from many curious and even knowledgeable eyes the cunning and inventive machinations of the royal treasurer. From the simplest (by the standards of Russia of the twenty-first century) to the subtle and truly exquisite. Double wiring, a system of kickbacks, manipulation of purchases, scrolling of borrowed funds and so on along the list with the involvement of a huge network of officials associated with the Bailish in the port, customs, guards, merchant guilds and plus personal enterprises (mainly brothels). The result: a colossal network of theft and money laundering ... and at the same time, everyone is happy. The Lords, and then the Kingdom, increased their income through the organization of processes on the part of the Bailish, but at the same time they do not receive such large-scale, but significant sums of money, which are spent through the expenditure parts of the budget and laundered through improvised merchants and brothels. Did Baelish want to fuck the lords? Yes. And I dare say he's doing great!

 All these frauds are really not obvious and difficult to verify for locals, but not for a person who cut VAT and reduced the tax base every quarter. I didn't get access to his ledgers, but I don't need to. There's a bribe from my merchants, there's a request from my superiors and quartermasters, drunken conversations between my people and guards in taverns, and here I have the necessary array of information at my disposal. It was only necessary to add a ruler with graphite and old skills of working with the Excel table. Oh, another sleepless week, but that doesn't count.

"Not the cooks, Lord Baelish, but one cook," he personally poured wine into the cups, "Lady Serena is incredibly talented.

 At that moment, the daughters of the aforementioned lady came in, carrying dessert on dishes: a couple of medium-sized berry pies, cakes with apple and cinnamon, as well as a bowl with whipped cream.

- Indeed, - Littlefinger watched the eldest, Beatrice, with undisguised interest, taking a small sip from the cup, – Lady Siren is the owner of great talents.

- And you almost deprived us of these talents, - he continued his remark casually, waiting until we were alone again, - your provocation with Dim was not the most timely, Lord Baelish.

 Littlefinger froze with the cup at his mouth, frozen in a polite smile, and his gray-green colorless eyes stared into my serenely friendly face.

"Oh, finally," Petyr shuddered slightly at my exclamation, "cakes! You should try them, my lord, they turned out to be very worthy. I call them "strudel". Come on, try it! You will not experience this in Westeros anymore.

 Baelish, without changing his face, slowly lowered his hand with the cup, took one of the cakes and put it on his plate, cutting off a piece…

- Wait! – Baelish froze again, with a fork at his mouth, - how could I forget! I'm sorry, put cream on top, you won't regret it.

 The master of the coin heeded my advice, putting cream on top and finally trying my "invention". The little finger chewed for a long time and carefully, tracking any emotion on my face, gathering my thoughts and feverishly remembering where it could have pierced.

- Well? – I decided to hurry up the interlocutor a little.

- It's delicious. Littlefinger's response was restrained and polite, although I can suspect that in this situation, he did not notice the taste.

- Did it really work out? Now it's my turn.

 After repeating the manipulations with the cream, I, under the attentive gaze of the royal treasurer, pricked a decent piece on a fork and put it in my mouth. Indeed, it turned out well, although not without drawbacks. In places, the dough was almost baked, but, alas, the disadvantages of local culinary equipment. Cream too, not really cream, but more like cream, but delicious, damn it.

"Yes, the Lady Siren really deserves praise. – After chewing carefully, he commented on his impressions, - Lord Baelish, have you found something to answer me?

"Lord Renly," Petyr's voice was steady, but his eyes betrayed his interlocutor, "I'm afraid I didn't understand the essence of your claim.

"Don't pretend, Lord Baelish, you've got it all figured out. Slint, Dim and the rest of the top guards are in your deep pocket. – Without pressing the interlocutor with my gaze, I completely concentrated on eating strudel, methodically wielding a fork and knife, - you don't have to worry, my lord. History casts a shadow over you, but I do not consider you completely guilty of what happened. Perhaps this situation will teach you that ... no, it will remind you that even the most insignificant figure in your hands has its own will, desire and passions, and sometimes, having surrendered to them, throws off the leash. So, apparently, it happened with Dim. At least that's what I want to believe, Lord Baelish.

Stealing a glance at the Lord Treasurer and seeing his reaction, I realized for myself that I was not mistaken. Petyr kept himself in check, did not try to justify himself and squirm, waiting for me to get down to business.

- As a result of either your unsuccessful intrigues, or the excessive initiative of your man, I suffered tremendous damage, both moral and reputational. One half of the capital now considers me a mad executioner, and the other blames me for failing to keep my word about protecting Lady Serena, coming dangerously close to the conclusion that I am a weak ruler. – Having finished with the strudel, I leaned back in my chair, staring thoughtfully out the window, pointedly ignoring the guest. – But if the reputation and authority can still be corrected, then the moral torment will remain with me for a long time. An unexpected and despicable blow, from a man whom I revered as a senior comrade in the small council and almost a friend, deeply wounded my heart, and there is little in this world that can heal it and restore our friendship, Lord Baelish.

 Petyr, in turn, was thinking feverishly, looking for hints and gaps with hidden meaning in my words. His face was even covered with perspiration.

"Perhaps," Littlefinger found the strength, having made the decision I hope I need, "can I somehow make amends for the damage done, Lord Renly?"

- Thirty percent, - he turned his direct gaze without a trace of a smile to Petyr.

"Thirty percent of what, my lord?" – it can be seen how uncomfortable Pinky is to pull sentence after sentence out of me.

"Thirty percent of your salary fraud against the city guards, my lord.

 The scheme is quite simple, but working. Baelish and his company, taking full-size salaries of guards from the treasury, pay the guards themselves, God forbid, a third, forcing the latter to live off petty extortion and bribes. The saved funds are partially returned to the budget under other income items, (from where, at one time, Bailish withdrew money for his needs) covering some arrears and expenses for other items of little interest to anyone. In this simple way, the Lord Treasurer launders money and shows how the budget is regularly and steadily replenished. And what's really going on with the budget, Bailish only knows, and no one checking, I'm sure, will get to the bottom of it. Unsurprisingly, as soon as Bailish went to the Valley, the kingdom's treasury went into disarray.

 I won't get much money (the guards don't have such a big budget), but at least I'll compensate for my stay in the capital a little. And most importantly, I will receive interest and, in the future, some services from the master of the coin.

 Baelish visibly relaxed. The tension left him, and his eyes were filled with vivacity and confidence again. He finally understood what was wanted of him.

"Thirty percent, Lord Baelish, and all possible assistance to my friends at customs. This will contribute to the healing of my mental injuries, albeit not quickly.

"I'll be happy to help you, my lord." With all humility and sincere friendly feelings," Littlefinger leaned slightly over the table, looking ingratiatingly into his eyes, "and I'm glad that we were able to resolve our... misunderstanding.

"In that case, Lord Baelish," he poured the rest of the wine into the goblets, "let's drink to our strong male friendship."

 The clink of silver glasses echoed through the room, sealing the deal.

 ***

The sharp nose of the Black Beta cut through the oncoming waves raised by a passing cyclone. The galley of Ser Davos was a large three-decked vessel with seats for rowers on the lower deck and a developed sailing armament consisting of three masts with mixed sails. The Black Beta was a fairly large ship in the Royal Navy, however, with an off-the-shelf design. Without a ram, high sides, a small number of rowers relative to the size of the vessel (and then used only when calm), large holds. The Black Beta has more in common with merchant shipping than with a warship. At the same time, the ship is very fast.

 Leaving the Royal Harbor at dawn, Davos, who was well-versed in local waters, quickly caught the wind and went out into the right current, immediately giving the order to dry the oars. The only concern was the impending cyclone, which covered the sky with black clouds, but it also went east, into the open sea. So far, the trip has been just perfect.

 Following our long-standing agreement, Davos, having finished his business, returned to King's Landing in order to take me to Dragonstone, to the headquarters of the Royal Navy. Literally ten people went with me, because I didn't feel the need to take a crowd of bodyguards or servants with me.

- My Lord, - Davos stood next to me, on the right shoulder, as well as I leaned on the side,

- we will be at the Dragonstone before sunset.

An interesting observation. How flexible a person can be. On land, Davos is a very courteous and modest man, who does not raise his voice and is in a kind of semi-bow. But here, on his ship, he is a completely different person – a straight posture, a loud commanding voice and matyugs, a lot of matyugs.

- Great, - he looked around slightly to make sure that we were practically alone, - Ser Davos, I would like to apologize to you for what happened to the Siren.

"My Lord, it's not worth it. Davos, in his manner, either out of awkwardness or out of irritation, twitched his cheek, "it's not your fault, you've already done everything you could and even more.

 The conversation died down, but we both knew it wasn't the end. After a few minutes of awkward silence, Davos took a deep breath and continued.

- I blame myself, my lord. And... I understand that if I were in your place, I would not be able to punish a criminal the way you did. To trample on other people's opinions, laws and circumstances, to stand up for the widow and her children. I'm scared and disgusted to say it, but would I be able to do the same? I'm asking myself this question. I'm answering it. And I'm ashamed of the answer.

- You are a very good and loyal friend, - I turned to Seaworth, putting my hand on his shoulder, - and you would do everything in your power to save and protect those who trusted you. Put aside these dark doubts, they will bring you nothing but sadness and self-reproach. It doesn't make sense.

 We stood in silence for a while longer, until necessity forced Davos to return to the team and leave me alone. Just me, the calming sea and my thoughts.

 I'm stepping in, but even though there's no place to go, I've galloped onto the thin edge of the path leading me to my goal. But what is the purpose? A banal and natural desire to relive future events? But this is not a goal, it is a desire or rather even an instinct. The difference between a human and an animal is that he has managed to suppress his instincts, step over them and take the top in the food chain. No, something else is crying out and bubbling inside me. Are all my plans to make money, reform the army and intrigue dictated only by the desire to survive or catch a short moment of luck and glory by the tail? Satisfy the plebeian thirst for vanity and glorification? No. Definitely not. But then what?

 Taking a small flask from his bosom, he took a couple of sips of pear brandy. A wave of fire spread through his body, driving away the feeling of cold, inspired by the sea winds.

 It's been months since I started throwing around, but I keep coming back to these questions and problems whenever I'm alone. But today, unlike other days, it is necessary, if not to find, then to get closer to the solution, to my "why". A lot will depend on this soon. A party that clearly knows what it wants will always be able to see a path or start cutting one in the direction of a given goal, and will also have an understanding of exactly what tools will need to be used in the process. Only a weapon used at the right time and in the right place will bring victory and success. There is no other way.

 Do I want power? Yes. Do I want more power than I currently have? Also yes. But for me, power is still not a goal, but only a means necessary to ensure my personal freedom and independence to realize my ideas and ... dreams. Dreams? Dreams about what? The "modest" dream that Westeros will not perish in the fire of endless civil strife, becoming a nutritious mass for neighbors from the east. Dreams of reform, of social and economic progress, frozen by the Targaryens three hundred years ago. The centralization of the state, the spread and strengthening of humanism, the development of education and medicine, the expansion of the rights of cities and estates. Development of trade and production. Dreams of greater justice in society, even by a gram or a millimeter. Dreams of enlightened government. Dreams of the Renaissance for Westeros. Dreams of spring.

 How suddenly Westeros and his people became close to me. The rapprochement, however, is greatly helped by the understanding that either my future family and I will prosper with Westeros, or we will perish with him. Run away, act like a coward? I don't have the courage or the unscrupulousness to do such a thing... but life is short, especially in this harsh age. Having spent all my strength on realizing my dreams and ideas filled with idealism and philosophy alien to the locals, I will condemn myself to a decade of senseless struggle with everything socially existing. And for what? So that in the end those who come after me will destroy and finish off the little that was done and embodied by me? Dreams. That's why they dream, to remain disembodied ghosts, ripples on the water, sea foam.

 My goal in this world... is not to build a new Europe, not to impose alien ideas and traditions on people, not to sow new hostility and hatred, not to clash their foreheads for the sake of their ideas. No. My goal, the only worthy one in my position, is to preserve the state of the Andals, the Roynars and the first people, to give the opportunity to cultivate useful and gently cut off evil shoots. To educate the people around them, to give them inner strength, firmly based on faith. The belief that they are fighting, living and dying for the common good and the future, and not just for someone's selfish interests. My goal is to transform society and the state, to guide, as it seems to me, to the right vector of development. Westeros has to go through its path of formation from beginning to end, and my mission is to help just a little bit and smooth out the most acute and destructive corners. Idealism? Without a doubt. In the spirit of the times? Absolutely.

 And to achieve my goals, to my deep regret, I will have to get involved in a future civil war and walk the path prepared for me knee-deep in mud and the blood of innocents. It's like the motto of the Canadian armored forces: "Through mud and blood to the green meadows in the distance."

 *** 

Leaving the Driftmark on the port side, as Davos had hoped, the Black Beta approached the Dragonstone in the rays of sunset. The mighty citadel of black stone shimmered with red-yellow hues in the sun and it seemed that the huge towers in the form of black dragons were about to come to life and soar into the sky. The citadel is built on a stone cliff, at the foot of which there is a small port city connected to the fortress by a narrow winding road.

 In the town bearing the same name as the citadel and the island, we were greeted by squires and servants of the fortress with torches and lanterns. After quickly unloading my belongings and chests with gifts to Stannis's household, we began the ascent in the dark.

 Being already in the middle of the way, the same thought stuck and beat in my head. How can you even take this damn fortress? Really. I thought Storm's End was impregnable. Ha! At least the army can be brought to the Storm Limit. And where to here? The only narrow path that a dozen people can hold. The walls are as high as a ten-story building, to which you can't even put a ladder. No, you can't take the fortress by conventional means. Starvation or sabotage. Well, or thousands of victims on the part of the stormers.

 Meanwhile, Davos and I were greeted by a real hobbit. Bigger, meaner and in shoes, and so, a hobbit is a hobbit. Axell Florent did not shine with either beauty or fame as a great warrior, but, apparently, he was a good administrator if he was still kept as a castellan. Upon our arrival, while waiting for me to catch my breath and be able to return the greeting, Ser Axell bowed in front of me, showing his crooked teeth in a fake smile. He reported to us that we missed Stannis by exactly one day, my brother went to the Driftmark to solve some problems. This is an ambush, I didn't plan to stay here for long.

 They've given me some nice rooms. Although it was gloomy and chilly in them, but the day was hard, and fatigue was taking its toll. Wrapping myself in a blanket and throwing a couple more things on top, I quickly fell asleep.

 *** 

In the early morning, frankly impetuous and nondescript maids brought me a bucket of warm water, as well as everything necessary for morning exercise. Throwing off his shirt, he began to wash his face.

 There was a soft knock on the door and it was opened, receiving my permission shout. A hunched, lame old man cautiously entered the room, jingling a chain around his neck.

"Lord Renly," Cressen was practically bald, with sparse gray hair only on the sides of his head, but the picture was smoothed out by a snowy beard up to his chest, "I am glad to welcome you to Dragonstone.

- Cressen! – Renly's emotions flooded my mind, jumped up to the old man, gently hugged him, - how glad I am to see you!

 After the disaster with the parents of the Baratheon brothers, Kressen partially replaced our father. He taught and educated. He put his soul into it. But if Robert was already old enough and had flown out of his father's house, and Renly was too young to understand and respond much, then Stannis became the main center of application of his pedagogical powers and paternal feelings. For which he went to Dragonstone without hesitation.

- How have you grown up, my lord, - moisture appeared in the old man's eyes, - so handsome, handsome.

The old man pulled back a little, carefully looking into my face and eyes.

"You look very much like your father, my lord," Cressen sighed heavily, and, as it seemed to me, a little relieved, "the same intelligent and penetrating eyes.

- Yes? And everyone tells me that I look like Robert. – I answered the old man with a smile, carefully seating him on the bed and sitting down next to him.

"How long have you been staying with Lord Stannis?"

- It all depends on how soon he returns from the Driftmark. Without him, all my business has stopped.

- Business? Don't be impertinent, my lord, but what brings you to this beautiful but gloomy place?

- It's not a secret. In addition to meeting my niece and communicating with my beloved brother, I plan to meet with the eldest sons of the well-known Ser Seaworth. I want to offer them something... if Stannis allows it, of course. After all, they are in his service.

"I think he won't refuse you," Cressen chewed on his lower lip, suddenly took my hand and, approaching my face, quickly whispered, "Renly, be careful, there is a woman in Her Ladyship Selisa's retinue, a very dangerous woman. Appeared about a year ago, a foreigner, worships fire…

"...all in red?"

"Yes," the old maester looked at me in surprise, "have the rumors reached the capital yet?"

- No, not rumors. It's just that I'm well informed about the priests of the fire god R'glor, there's a drunkard wandering around Robert's yard.

- An unholy belief. Melisandre, as she called herself, quickly ingratiated herself into the confidence of the mistress, and has a huge influence on her and her surroundings. She claims that she sees the future on fire, convincing fools with cheap tricks. And not only fools, unfortunately. Be careful and don't forget these words – she is very eloquent and convincing.

- Old friend, be calm, I'm used to tricks, – but for a worried old man, I decided to consolidate my words, - no matter what I say or do, remember, I'm in my right mind.

"You haven't calmed me down at all, my lord," the old man supported me with a wry smile, but still more calmly, "and one more thing, my lord. Please be kind to Shireen, she is already…

- You don't have to worry, my friend, - interrupted the meister, raising his hand slightly, - I won't hurt the child.

"Thank you," Cressen smiled, calmly and freely.

 We talked for about half an hour more, until the old man, referring to his business, left me. And after another twenty minutes, one of the maids invited me to breakfast.

 *** 

Stannis has always been very indifferent to various protocol actions. Scraping, bowing, letting go of ornate and totally empty phrases at the same time. He is a military commander, a naval commander – he does not and did not care about this. Has a guest arrived? Great! To meet, to make sure that he is alive and well, to place, to feed. But to meet in person? What for? It is possible, even likely, that many people perceive this as an insult, which is why Stannis always has few guests. However, Selisa Florent is a completely different breed of person, and the proper behavior of a noble lady welcoming guests is firmly hammered into her subcortex, and nothing is able to uproot it.

 The maid led me through the gloomy corridors for a while, eventually leading me to the master's refectory. A large, wide table made of precious wood, designed for a large number of people, immediately caught the eye, from the end of which four people could comfortably sit.

 A welcoming delegation headed by Selisa Florent herself and a girl of seven or eight years old gathered a little to the side of the table. What can I say about my brother's wife? In short, the actress from the series was a real beauty compared to reality. Selisa is tall, but very thin, with a pointed nose and pale eyes. I won't say anything about the daughter-in-law's family ears. In general, she is thin, pale, and somehow wrinkled. But it is worth admitting that she clearly does not save money on clothes and jewelry and even understands them. Shireen, on the contrary, is a sweet sad girl with her father's blue eyes in a simple but high-quality dress. Shiren's left cheek and part of her neck were covered with a gray-black stain, like dried cement, contrasting strongly with her snow-white skin and blush.

 In addition to the mistress of the castle and her daughter, there were a couple more people in the hall, namely, Axell Florent, who met me yesterday, standing in a doublet, which he probably considered very beautiful and fashionable, in the colors of his house, as well as a woman in red. The "woman in red". Melisandre. A tall, slender, narrow waist, high breasts, milky white skin and a shock of copper-red hair, delicate and graceful facial features and, damn it, red eyes. Of course, Melisandre is a very bright and beautiful girl. The priestess is dressed in a red dress of obviously oriental tailoring with a red cape. The image is completed by a gold chain with a bright red ruby located on an elegant neck.

"Brother-in-law," Lady Florent's voice is hard and raspy to match her appearance, "we are glad to welcome you as our guest.

- Thank you for the warm welcome, sister-in-law, - coming closer and armed with the most charming smile that I could put on my face, I marked the kiss of Selina's right hand in a half bow, and turned to the girl with a much warmer smile, - my lady.

"Shiren, meet your uncle– the High Lord of the Stormlands Renly Baratheon," and already addressing me, "Lord Renly, let me introduce Shiren from House Baratheon, our daughter.

"Glad to meet you, Shiren," he got down on one knee in front of the girl and held out his hand.

"And me," the girl squeaked and gently shook my hand, hurriedly oohing after in response to her mother's dissatisfied hiss, and having already performed the correct curtsy.

"You've already met my cousin," Selina continued after I straightened up, "in that case, let me introduce my close friend and confidante, Lady Melisandre.

 Selisa introduced her "friend" with a degree of tenderness and love in her voice that could be compared to obsession. Melisandre, in turn, stepped forward a little and slightly tilted her head, not taking her poorly readable gaze off me. Hmm. Still, she managed a pale smile out of politeness.

"Pleased to meet you, my lord." – The voice of the red priestess was sweet and alluring, matching the appearance, I want to listen and listen to everything.

- Likewise, Lady Melisandre, it is fraught to remain in debt to such a woman, as well as to arouse a special interest in your person... but my nature is such a nasty one.

 We did not shuffle for a long time, the five of us settled down at a huge table, which quickly began to fill with dishes. The locals did not particularly highlight the morning meal, so the set of products is basically the same as for lunch and dinner, the same applies to drinks. Why the audience was pretty surprised when I asked the servants for warmed milk with honey, I even had to explain.

- I'm sorry, it's already become a habit to start the morning this way.

- Ha, as for me, nothing is more invigorating in the morning than a mug of ale. The castellan of the castle spoke up.

 Smiling politely at the uncomplicated joke, I began to wait. When the servants finished arranging the dishes and drinks, I no longer began to restrain my nasty temper, but at the same time began to study the reactions of others.

- Let's pray to the Mother for the food and grace sent down, - having said the simple words of a short prayer, I began to eat, ignoring the awkward silence of others.

 Selena calmly stared at her plate, while Melisandre smiled faintly at my childish provocation. That's just let it be a nursery, but it worked for me as it should – I found out what I wanted.

 Smiling once again, he turned his full attention to the food served, limiting himself to bread, butter and cheese. Shireen, despite her mother's constant prodding, ate a little, looking in my direction with interest. The ladies enjoyed eating cottage cheese with spices and pieces of fruit. With "with pleasure" is, of course, embellishment on my part, because they chewed on Melisandre and Selena, with downright stoically indifferent faces. The only one who couldn't restrain himself was Axell, who was emptying plates at such a speed as if he was being kept on starvation rations. At the same time, Selena's cousin did not stop talking for a second, asking me about the capital, the royal court, expensive horses and so on. And all this with a characteristic greedy gleam in his eyes. I dare say that's why Selisa invited her cousin to breakfast. No, not in order to find out from me the latest rumors, news and details of metropolitan life, but in order not to bother entertaining a guest with small talk. But all the same, I learned the main thing – I still have a couple of days to wait for Stannis. It's going to be a very long and difficult couple of days.

"Lady Melisandre," we reached a point where I was completely fed up with Axell's chatter, and I decided to have a little chat with the red priestess.

 Axell fell silent, swallowing the rest of the sentence, and Melisandre straightened up, turning her fiery eyes full of quiet triumph directly at me.

"Dispel my curiosity," the red woman gracefully arched her brow, "you are a priestess of R'glor, aren't you?"

"Absolutely, Lord Renly. My life is dedicated to the Lord of Light. Melisandre smiled majestically, but at the same time gently, as if the priestess was now explaining the basic truths to a child.

- I have heard a lot, I have heard a lot about your faith, - it did not escape my peripheral vision how the Florents tensed, - as far as I know, there are temples of your god in Old Town and Dorne… but you're clearly not from there. So satisfy my curiosity! What brought you so far to the west, Melisandre Asshaisky?

 The priestess's gaze instantly changed from disdainfully arrogant to prickly attentive and even suspicious. No one told me where she came from or what her nickname was, and my awareness of these moments may indicate... different things. Melisandre was in no hurry to answer, continuing to look at my serenely interested face.

"Faith brought me here, my lord," the priestess replied, when her silence could already be called indecent.

"Really," he couldn't get behind the lady, "are you looking for Azor-Ahai here?"

"You are absolutely right, Lord Renly," the priestess returned to her serene mask of an omniscient missionary, "each of us spends our lives searching for the reborn Azor-Ahai.

- I will fervently pray to the Seven that your search will end in nothing, - on this delightful (at least for me) note, Melisandre burned me with a look full of pent-up irritation, - I would not like the culmination of the battle between the Lord of Light and the Lord of Darkness to fall to the lot of Westeros and our generation.

 Laughing good-naturedly at the end of my antics, I returned to breakfast, not paying attention to anything else. Except that he sometimes began to agree with Axel, who began to gain momentum again with meaningless chatter, felt a chance to draw attention to himself again. And Melisandre didn't stop glaring at me, gradually regaining control of her emotions. She's not as cold-blooded and calculating a bitch as I thought she was before. Or is it just that she first encountered in Westeros with a man who does not stew in her presence and is a little savvy in Chlorianism.

After the awkward breakfast was over, at mass, the servants brought several chests with my gifts to the owners of the castle. Celise, traditionally a married woman of the Seven Kingdoms, got expensive fabrics and flashy oriental jewelry, and Florent accepted them, perhaps thawing a little from my behavior. I presented baby Shiren with traditional dresses and toys, but mostly her attention was attracted by books with colorful engravings: "Nine Voyages" about Corlis Velarion, books by Lomas the Traveler, as well as a description of Alin Velarion's sea voyages.

 Of course, I had a reasonable fear that the girl would not be particularly happy with books at such a young age, but when I saw the baby's eyes shining with anticipation, I immediately realized that I had hit the nail on the head. Chattering, forgetting about the toys and not paying attention to the dresses at all, she began to dump on me a lot of information about the books she had already read, about her lessons with Kressen and about what she learned from them. Soon, under the surprised glances of others and the disapproving comment of my mother, I was captured and dragged into the room of the young daughter of the house of Baratheon.

 The young lady's room was ordinary for her status. Not the cell that was shown in the series, but a nice, large and bright room. The girl, in a fit of curiosity and enthusiasm, showed the books she had already read, showed the redrawn maps with her own hand, boasted a little about her toys and crafts. And when she found out that I arrived on Davos's ship and was on good terms with him (and she most likely hid her sympathy and affection for the Onion Knight from her entourage ... and not for nothing), she began to talk about their friendship. That's how I found out that Davos, whom I couldn't find in the morning, had already managed to drop in on Shireen, give her something, chat and retire to the port on his own business. The girl, apparently, finally got to the person with whom you can just talk, broke up in earnest, but I didn't have the courage to interrupt her.

"Lady Shireen," a familiar old man's voice came from the door, "it's class time.

- Oh, well, Maester Cressen, - the girl was a little upset, - Lord Renly, will you come in again?

- Of course, baby, - the girl's cheeks blushed, - will you show me the castle after class?

- Of course! Shireen jumped up joyfully.

"Then don't keep the venerable Maester waiting, I'll leave you to it.

 Having agreed with the girl about the meeting place and nodded to the good-natured old man, he left the wonderful company.

 *** 

After leaving the girl's room, he decided to return to his chambers. But, as it turned out, it's not that easy. Translation: "I got a little lost, and there were no servants nearby, as if to spite me." After wandering for about ten minutes, I went out to a large corridor and breathed a sigh of relief when I heard muffled conversations and strange jingling in the distance.

 Ten meters later, the sound of bells, which could not have been anything else, began to intensify, and a fool jumped out from around the corner. A man in his thirties with a blissfully decorated face and a cap with bells on his head, moving purely skipping and laughing strangely, even laughing. Having caught up with me and ignored me, the fool rode on.

- A motley man? – the fool stopped and with a strange expression on his face began to examine me, but at the same time, it seemed that he was looking through, - do you remember me?

 It's interesting. Motley, this is the buffoon my father bought in Volantis, and the only one who survived the disaster. He lived in Storm's End for a long time, until Stannis took him with him to Dragonstone. Renly's childhood memories often brought up this crazy buffoon.

- Youngest son, youngest son, ho-ho-ho, - the fool began to jump and dance, - at the bottom of the sea, at the bottom of the sea, flowers and fruits will have to be trampled day and night, back and forth, back and forth, I know, I know. Ha ha ha.

- Hmm, what? – I could only squeeze out of myself, but the fool, as if he had already forgotten about me, joyfully rode on.

 ***

What can you say about the Dragonstone after looking at it from the inside? A work of gloomy Valyrian art. Just think about it! Buildings and towers in the form of dragons, thousands of statues of gargoyles, manticores, demons, minotaurs and, of course, dragons, in a state as if they were carved only yesterday. Even the fucking kitchen is built in the form of a dragon, from whose nostrils comes the smoke of working stoves. And all this is intertwined, thought out, and finally created as a single and integral architectural work. Some bas-reliefs and compositions gently flow into others, creating a continuous stream, the sight of which gave me a headache.

 Shireen, with whom Motley also joined, dragged me around the castle in the afternoon, showing and telling me about every nook, bas-relief or statue. At the same time, Motley continuously carried some nonsense, giggled and muttered to himself, which terribly infuriated me, but steadily made Shireen smile. I must admit that not only the crazy fool bothered me, but also the very atmosphere in the castle.

 During my short break at lunch, my people who came with me began to approach me, and whose tasks included not only carrying my things, but also communicating with the locals. I didn't really like what they told me. The fact that the red priestess had taken deep roots was not a revelation to me. But I underestimated the scope. Stannis is a lord. That says it all, and here everything will be as he says, and no one will dare to resist his word. But in his absence, the castle is officially run by the tandem of Selisa and Axell. In fact, Melisandre rules the first and the second – they look into her mouth with obedience, waiting for new soul-saving revelations. But the influence of the red woman was not limited to the master bedrooms. She preached a lot and often among the servants and common soldiers. Gradually, slowly, but steadily, a full-fledged cell of the cult of the Lord of Light began to form. In the context of the fact that Stannis visits Dragonstone once a year, there are still people loyal to the Seven in the castle who are in conflict with the local sect and remain in their positions only because Stannis so ordered. But there is no method against scrap, and Melisandre does not yet have the influence over her brother that she will have in a couple of years. By the way, it was such caring and devoted people exclusively to Stannis who told my followers the whole story.

 Hence, it is not at all surprising that I did not leave the feeling that I was constantly being watched. I didn't want to eat or drink anything cooked by the locals. One of the maids even tried to preach this "Zoroastrianism" to my people, for which she immediately grabbed the kind cunts. An oppressive, dark atmosphere that prompted them to grab Cressen and Shireen in their arms and escape. Damn sectarians.

 On the other hand, the answer to one of the questions about the universe became obvious to me. Why was Thoros from Myrrh sent to King's Landing to join the Rglorianism, and not the same Melisandre, who has many arguments to attract attention to herself? The answer is simple: she would have been stabbed there right away. Thoros of Myrrh, whom everyone in the capital knows about, is harmless, he is not a preacher by nature, he is a devout believer with a few memorized prayers, but... that's all. But Melisandre is a professional missionary and propagandist, trained and knowledgeable, who by her actions would cause an instant reaction from the metropolitan public. Maybe she could have gotten into Robert's bed, but that would have been all (and also ended), but on Dragonstone, a castle located on an isolated island, the owner of which is subject to religious psychosis, you can achieve a lot away from everyone. For now, Selisa, and especially Axell, may be afraid to show their religious preferences, but it will take a little time and everything will change. But the increasingly frequent visits of the red priests to Westeros cannot but cause alarm and apprehension. I need to check if the red priests are roaming my lands, and if so, then kill them to hell.

 At the end of the impromptu tour, where I paid more attention to our spies, who were constantly present somewhere nearby, we found ourselves in the castle garden, aka the "garden of Aegon". Although, I would call it "Aegon Park". A decent-sized territory occupied by tall coniferous trees that have been exchanged for more than one hundred years, between which small wild rose bushes grow, and cranberries grow in an artificially swampy area. At the same time, it is clear that the garden is not very well monitored, leaving it with some pleasant "wildness". I inhaled the coniferous air with pleasure, clearing the suffocating bouts of my paranoia for a while.

- Lady Shireen, - from the soft and enveloping voice of the red woman, the girl, who was enthusiastically telling how many interesting things she found in the garden, shuddered (and not only she, you can't sneak up on people like that!) - It's already late, Mother has been looking for you everywhere for evening prayer together.

 Indeed, the sky has already darkened noticeably, and in an hour the dark sunset rays will illuminate the earth.

- Dori will show you out.

 Melisandre was in the company of a maid, who immediately tried to grab Shireen by the hand and drag her to her mother, but when she saw my look, she hesitated. I can be scary too. The girl, who was very depressed, clearly did not want to part.

- Don't worry, - he got down on one knee and put his arm around her shoulders, - tomorrow we'll go for a walk together.

- Really? – they looked at me with eyes full of hope.

- Really, really, - I couldn't help smiling, - good night.

"Good night, Uncle," Shireen turned to Melisandre and made a quick curtsy, "good night, Lady Melisandre."

 What a well-mannered girl.

- Motley, say goodbye! Shireen turned to the jester in an admonitory manner, imitating the adults.

- The sun goes down and the shadows go out for a walk, but at the bottom of the sea, at the bottom of the sea, the kraken collect spicy pearls for the lord, who lives above them, above the waves, in a spiked castle, I know, I know!

 After handing the girl over to the maid, I watched them go for a long time, silently cursing the clown with the most selected multi-storey structures.

"An extremely annoying clown, don't you think, my lady?"

"The Lord of Light took his mind, my lord," the priestess looked at me mockingly, as if she were a child again.

"I was there at that moment, Lady Melisandre, and I can say for sure that your god had nothing to do with it," and before she could object to me, I turned the conversation around, "since you're here, and I don't believe in chance, why don't we take a walk in the garden?" It's worth catching the moment before the darkness of the night hides it.

 He held out his hand invitingly, but the woman in red ignored him and slowly moved along the path, silently inviting him to follow her. The silence dragged on. I don't know what Melisandre was counting on. Perhaps on my initiative, but I stubbornly pretended that I was just walking in the park and nothing more. After all, she planned our meeting, so let her take on the most difficult part – the beginning of the conversation.

"You need not be afraid of me, my lord," the visitor from the east finally broke the silence, "I do not pose a threat to you.

 Melisandre's voice. Incredibly stringy and pervasive, with a faint pleasant accent. Surely her list of skills includes "bringing to orgasm through whispering." I remember there is a category of men who like how half-naked girls whisper and bang into an ultra-sensitive microphone. Melisandre would have been a success with this audience.

The last thought made me laugh a lot, which made me unable to hold back my laughter, receiving as a reward an attentive and, in the depths of my eyes, a confused look from the interlocutor.

- Fear? – having somehow stopped laughing, I deigned to participate in the dialogue, - what makes you think that I'm afraid of you?

- I've known a lot of men like you.…

- I don't think I'm the only one in the whole wide world, - come on, pull yourself together, Renly, and stop, because the lady is trying to make a good first impression.

"Young, rich, strong and beautiful," Melisandre ignored my barb, smiling at something of her own, "born with a golden spoon in their mouth, who have needed nothing since childhood and take all the benefits for granted. Oblivious to the suffering of those beneath them. And when faced with difficulties, you get lost and lose everything, including your life. With frozen surprise in his youthful eyes. Like copper... bright and shiny, but worthless.

 Wow, what a syllable! What a challenge! If the real Renly had been here, he might really have been confused and, failing to find a suitable answer, would have made a scandal or simply run away. But, unfortunately for Melisandre, I will have to deal with it here.

"Ah, Lady Melisandre," I looked at the woman walking next to me with the paternal kindness of an older relative, "it's immediately obvious that she's a foreigner. If someone else had dared to say something like that to my face, at least he would have been flogged in the stable. Of course, I am not a malicious person, but as an ancient philosopher once said: "if you pretend, match it."

 The priestess listened attentively, not hurrying to insert her five kopecks. Now I can't read anything from her, even from her eyes, so I gave up trying.

"You, I mean foreigners," he waved his hand in the air, as if drawing a circle, "have a very high opinion of yourself. You are under the illusion of your own imaginary superiority. Your libraries store an incalculable number of ancient manuscripts made of human skin, covered with dead languages. You live in cities built thousands of years ago. The peoples of the East saw empires being born and dying. You study and practice the arts that are contrary to the universe on the banks of the Ash River.

 I didn't even notice how we stopped and were already looking into each other's eyes, listening to the singing of birds and the chirping of a lone cricket. The darkness began to thicken, the sunset was as close as ever and the last rays finally illuminated us. A little more and darkness will engulf Aegon's garden.

- But even with ancient knowledge, you have lost wisdom, replacing it with ordinary pride. Otherwise, you personally, and your brothers and sisters in faith, would have matured the truth. As it is, you are all walking a well-trodden and well-known road leading to another decline…

 I didn't notice how carried away I was, as if I had plunged into a trance. I was carried and carried along the waves of momentary inspiration and insight. I towered over Melisandre by half a head, but it seemed that I was looking at her from the top of the mountains. Such a small, such a stupid and naive red girl who thinks she is the Messiah, versed in all the secrets of the world. The priestess did not take her eyes off me. The old neglect is gone, and wariness has come in its place.

- Have you ever wondered, at least sometimes, why the Giskard rulers, the dragon lords, owning half of the known world at one time, preferred to spend huge amounts of money and resources in search of new lands on Sotorios, but bypassed the western continent? Not a single attempt to establish colonies, not a single expedition. Even the Valyrians, having established their outpost here, did not make any attempt to move further. Have you ever wondered what the ancients might have known about Westeros that you didn't know about?

God, what am I talking about? What am I talking about?! Is this nonsense... or not? But Melisandre was silent and silent. Well, well, it's time to end with pseudo-historical reflection and add a little mysticism and old fairy tales.

- Fear. The priestess's gaze became sharper and more penetrating. – They were afraid. They were afraid to even think of setting foot on this land, which has always been in the twilight. To a land where old magic was still remembered and ancient alliances were honored. A land where the rulers, no matter who they spit at, ascended to the fighters against monsters or were themselves descendants of monsters, giving birth to new ones. The kings of winter, intermarried with Others. Storm kings, descendants of the sea king and the wind goddess. Ironborn, descended from the Grey King. The houses of the Pincers, who have waged countless wars with mermaids. Cannibals, werewolves, giants, mermaids, children of the forest and the family ascending to them. You can go on and on. You came to earth with faith in light and fire, where light dies at sunset and fire fades. Sunset kingdoms. The land of the inevitable night. The land of darkness. I am not afraid of darkness, Lady Melisandre, because darkness is the friend and patroness of lovers. But I advise you to be careful in the Seven Kingdoms, because it's worth remembering that there will always be a bigger fish.

 My throat was dry from the long monologue, and my head ached. It's strange, very strange. Drowsiness and lethargy descended on me, as if after prolonged physical exercise. And Melisandre... and what about Melisandre? I stood and watched. Closing her eyes, she seemed to listen to something and, after taking one last look at me, silently moved away.

- Lady Melisandre!

In a couple of long strides, I caught up with the priestess, gently taking her by the elbow. Melisandre stopped abruptly, turning half around, and looked at me with surprise and a certain expectation.

- Despite the fact that the blood of the sea god and the goddess of the wind flows in my veins, if you leave me now, I'm afraid I'll get lost, - eyes pop-pop and an apologetic smile, - and so, it's safer and warmer with you.

Was it my imagination, or did Melisandre barely hold back a nervous laugh? It seemed.