([@MrDidact] and I have been brewing up our own little monster. This isn't even a third of what's coming.)

Aemon, waited for Podrick, Ellion, Rakharo, and his other companions to assemble before leaving, entrusting the ship to the Lash and the Red Lamb. Viserys and Visenya paired together, leading the other half of the company off the ship and into the port town. The hooded man followed Viserys. He was cloaked all in black, and a black cloth mask hid everything save his piercing blue eyes from view. 

Viserys and Visenya were dressed like sellswords, their Valyrian features marking them as Lyseni-blooded cutthroats, a few of many that stalked the town. The town was overwhelmingly crowded, smallfolk from the surrounding countryside seeking shelter and brushing up against the merchants, sailors, craftsmen, thieves, and whores who already lived there. It was a diverse town, and it seemed every tongue known to man could be heard in the din. Squat, hairy Ibbenese shuffled next to Brindlemen and Ghiscari. Many of the inhabitants had weapons, and nearly all of them looked at the newcomers with suspicion or avarice. One had to be wary here, lest they lose their purse or even their life in the press of the crowds. 

The market stalls were full to bursting, traders from all over the known world hawking their goods, though food was at a premium with the ongoing war. The dragons were burning the countryside, and with a royal blockade imminent, shortages were expected. It was pure madness as smallfolk and townsmen alike sought to stock up their larders before it all vanished.

 Inveitably, trade brought gossip as well, and men and women discussed a wide variety of topics in all languages. Merchants hob-knobbed with customers and street toughs traded tales while evaluating the easiest prey for robbery. The docks adjacent to the market were filled with sailors and dockworkers making all manner of grand claims of varying veracity. Nearby the market square, a large whorehouse, which was also the best inn and tavern in the town, enjoyed a brisk business. Doubtless information could be found there as well. 

Visenya and Viserys discreetly addressed their followers, Visenya said, "I'll take people to comb the docks and market. Viserys will go check on the brothel." Viserys sniffed, twirling a ridiculous gold ring he took off a dead pirate, "Why do I have to go to the brothel? You're pigeonholing me cousin." Visenya sighed, "Do you want to talk to fish-scented sailors?" Viserys grimaced, "No, I'll take the brothel. I just resent the implication that I'm only good for talking to whores." Visenya smirked, "You are the expert, you have to admit." Viserys shrugged and the two groups split up. 

William watched one half of the group slowly make their way towards the brothel, the thought of joining them growing more enticing with each step away. Why did he choose to go the other way? As far as he was concerned, there was nothing in a salty fisherman to lie with, unless he somehow encountered some sort of all-womens acting troupe in full salty fishermen costume. Unlikely, given the scorched and blackened environment he found himself in. Already, he had gotten into a near scrape when he fell behind the group and was caught by a couple of locals while he was badmouthing their cuisine, people, and lord. Best not to think about the potential future ones.

"Where are we headed now?" he asked in a low voice, catching up to Visenya and tapping her softly on the shoulder. "Is it the seedy, burned out tavern, or the other seedy, burned out tavern? Wait, it could be - bear with me here - the third seedy, burned out tavern because I don't think I've seen any other type of building since we landed."

Visenya would have grinned, but it would have run counter to her cutthroat aesthethic so she turned the expression into a bloodthirsty smirk that she directed at a nearby panhandler, who backed away in fear. Visenya's chuckle was genuine, but directed to William, unbeknowst to the pauper, "'Tis true, cousin Daemon seems to be turning this island into a desert. Perhaps he wasn't the best choice for campaign commander. Very much a burn-them-all type of leader, our Daemon." 

Visenya looked around, spotting several men all bedecked with the look of Maiden's Men, one of the many sellsword companies now encamped on the isles, both fighting for and against the Crown. Visenya nudged William, "There. Perhaps those mercenaries know something about the Pirate King or his allies at least. Let's ask. You're fluent in scumbag William, I'll let you take the lead here."

William grimaced at the last jab, but he couldn't see the fault in her reasoning. He did know plenty of Trader's Cant, and could curse in more languages than fingers on a healthy hand. So he shrugged and approached the group.

"Whar'sa good foighter s'pos ta foind good work this days?" he asked, once he was within reasonable hearing range, putting on a ridiculous Northman accent. The group turned almost in unison to glare at him. One, the biggest of the bunch, decided to speak first.

"You. You's an odd 'un," he drawled, in a growl sounding more beast than man. "But lucky for you and whatever fightin' band you is speakin' for, the big boss gots a soft spot for odd 'uns."

"Whot c'n ai say, we's moost eat," William responded, gesturing to Visenya and the rest of the remaining group. "An' lemme talls yeh, we's gots our own boss, an' she hoongars fer goold like ya wouldn' believe, mar so t'day. Gives oos a chance, yeh?"

Visenya, who had a red bandana around her hair and more gold and jewelry than she ever wore as a soldier on her person, spit on the ground and gave William a shove, "Shut yer trap Bill. I won' have ye slanderin' me name. Don't mind 'im gents, mum dropped 'im on 'is 'ead. But he does say somethin' clever from time to time. We's fresh from the Basilisk Isles, got tired of all the brindlemen and slavers and we heard 'bout the war goin' on. If you 'ave work for us, we're game." 

" . . . Aye," said the big pirate. He turned to the group, and they all began muttering something in a completely unknown form of cant, possibly invented within the past month or even week. He turned back and spit on the ground. "I could takes ya to me little boss. He's goin' to tha big boss. You's gets ya contract quicks 'nuff," he said. "Lucky's tha day for you's, tha little boss ain' busy, I takes ya to him." He then began ambling down the street, motioning for both his lackeys and the group to follow down one of the many tiny side streets littering the town.

"You're very welcome," muttered William in his normal voice, motioning with a flourish and doing a mock bow. 

Visenya smiled minutely and whispered, "Good work, I was utterly convinced that you were a drunken, thieving, dishonest killer. But be on your toes William. I don't like how they spoke in that queer tongue back there. They could be leading us all into a trap. Be ready for anything."

Down winding roads, false turns, and long circuitous paths the group went. The leading pirates stopped every few steps to peer backwards, searching for anything out of place. This had the side effect of making the journey even longer. William did his best to keep his tongue, but he could feel his vigilance slipping. Just when he was about to start shouting, the party walked up to a door nearly completely identical to the many before it, and knocked in a strange pattern. Slowly, it opened, to admit the newcomers. The pirates stayed outside.

"In you's go," he said, pointing inwards and giving William a hard nudge.

They were escorted inside and were greeted with the sight of a wiry, blone haired and blue-eyed woman sitting on a chair carved with all manner of lurid scenes, flanked by several bruisers of varying extraction. She had a long scar running down her cheek and her hair was braided with a wide array of jewels and precious stones, several rings adorning her fingers. She was doubtless the titular maiden of the Maiden's Men, Big Cap, judging from her ridiculously large hat. 

The captain leaned forward, eyeing the newcomers critically, "I heard you were all looking for work." 

Visenya nodded, "Aye, we're killers by trade and we need gainful employment." 

The Captain smirked, "Gainful employment? My my, fancy words for a hired sword. Well, I might have some work for you. There's no end of demand for killers. But I need to know I can trust you first. I'll offer you a little preliminary job, small coin. But do it well, earn my trust, and I'll sign you onto the company." 

Visenya cocked her head, "And what job would that be?" 

The other woman laid her head on her fist, "Draxos came into port, but he hasn't made contact with us. Went straight to the local lord. Kurzon doesn't play for either side, and the fuckers are probably plotting to sell us out right now. Draxos has a tough crew but he's away from his ship. I want you to go down there to the dock, rough up some of the guards and bring us one back. That should make the message clear, and mayhaps we'll find out something. What do you think of that?" 

"Eh, boss?" said William, gesturing to the door. The look on his face, he hoped, indicated his worry well enough.

Visenya nodded, "We'll take care of your errand but we need to scope things out and come up with a plan. We'll come back with a prisoner for you." With that Visenya turned on her heels and led the others out, maintaining calm as they exited. 

They waited until they were a far distance from the house when Visenya sighed, "Gods, just our luck. We need to put on a show and bring someone to her if we want in. Or we could always just burst in there and start cutting throats. Thoughts?" 

"Hmmm," William muttered, stroking the little hairs on his chin. "We aren't here for small fry like her. A massacre would do nothing for us, except convince the Pirate King of the values of better security. Tell you what, we take this job, then the moment we're in the pay, quickly accuse someone of embezzling. These are pirates, they've all stolen a coin or two. This grants us favor with whoever this 'Big Boss' fellow is. Then we can slash as many throats as we want. Deal?"

Visenya nodded, "It's an idea. Hmm. We'll need to find a volunteer to get roughed up a little and delivered to the Cap. And we need to actually have a brawl, and make it look good. Damn, let's regroup with Viserys at the brothel, we can talk it over there. We can wait for Aemon to come back too. Let's hurry." 

The royalists made their way to the brothel, the deception underfoot. 

Arak was lost. He was following behind Viserys when they had disembarked from the ship, but when he found out where they were going, changed his mind. He could not tolerate brothels. It looked to him like a sea of lost opportunity, each girl at one time an innocent child who simply took the wrong path one day and couldn't come back. He excused himself, which Viserys was kind enough to reluctantly approve, and retraced his steps to follow another way. However, this somehow got him swept up in the twisting streets and claustrophobic planning, as if the town had a malevolent mind of its own and enjoyed tormenting the virtuous. The paths turned in on themselves, building a labyrinth that messed with the heads of non-natives. There, a door! There was the sound of conversation, perhaps a bit of music as well. Surely they would know the path. He opened the door with a creak and stepped in, to find a small band of hairy men sprawled across the tables, one humming a small tune.

"Pardon me, sirs, would you happen to have seen a group, say ten strong, pass through the area?" he asked. The group exchanged glances, then burst into laughter.

"'Pardon me'!? Looks at this, lads. Thinks he a knight, this 'un," one yelled, standing up. "Ain't that a joy?" The others chuckled, and stood up with him.

"Mebbe he is. Tha crown ain't content to let us islanders be no more. We's gots to tell them we can handles usselfs." They slowly advanced on Arak, cracking their fists and necks.

"You cannot do this! I am in the service of the king! To harm me is trea-" shouted Arak, before a blow came from behind him, knocking him down. He cried out, and looked up, only to see a boot travel quickly towards his skull. With a large crack, he was out, but not before he could hear a small snatch of speech.

"We's get this one ta Big Cap. She's always payin' fer good heads fer spikes."