Chapter 24: The State of Lys
He could imagine what Uncle Adamm had liked in this city of splendor. Even after the riots, there was a subtle beauty to it all, now made tragic.
"They're calling it the Day of Great Passion," Cici said in Lyseni, as she was wont to do whenever Varys trailed her like a lost puppy. The boy was becoming an increasingly familiar sight to Lelouch on their walks through the city.
"Not even a month and they're already romanticizing it," Lelouch replied in turn. The scorched district they walked through offered a clear view of the Seraglio. Atop the Hill of Lys, the First Magister's official residence was one of the last manses surviving the "Day of Great Passion", though thankfully most of those had been looted thoroughly before they were torn down.
He'd never have found enough tapestries otherwise.
"They can't very well refer to it as a rape or despoilment," Cici said. "After all, it was themselves that did most of the damage."
"Nobody wants to be the villain," Lelouch said.
"That never stopped you," Cici said.
Lelouch's eyes swept through their surroundings. "What I did had to be done. That doesn't mean I enjoyed it."
She smiled.
Lys' impoverishment would take years to recover from, and the visible injuries decades to scar over, but it still wasn't clear to anyone how the political forum would be reshaped. When Old Mother had seized the city, she'd purged the preeminent political and military leaders. The riots had dealt with Old Mother's appointees, the conclave of magisters, all the wealthy patrons, and most of the middle class.
Simply put, anyone who could have afforded to keep their families well fed were, well, fed to the mobs.
The richest citizens that yet lived were the madames of the various pillow houses. The crowds had initially ignored the brothels at first for more deserving targets, like the men who'd owned those establishments. For rather obvious reasons, his men had an interest in seeing these places well protected once they penetrated Lys. Suddenly freed from their masters, the madames found no one left to challenge them if they decided it was they that should inherit the business.
And boy, was business booming.
The movable wealth of Lys was now the movable wealth of Westeros, and there wasn't much else on the island worth buying. There were even places, he'd heard, where a man could spend the night with a pair of great beauties if he brought them a slice of pizza.
It had been a feat of logistics that he and Greyjoy had found enough food in the twice torched hinterlands to keep Lys from rising in anger again, but none of his guards slept easy yet. At least the water levels are holding steady. Hopefully, we'll put an end to the shortages permanently after today.
"The situation with the madames will need to be dealt with soon after," Cici said.
At the mention of them, Varys' features twisted into something dark, savage and monstruous to behold. It was the look of a boy who'd destroy the world for his sister.
"I know," Lelouch said, grimacing. "They will have three days after the food arrives to comply, or die. I care not which."
Cici nodded, then turned to Varys. "How is your sister faring?"
"Those… places, they scare her still," Varys said, "but Serra has stopped screaming in the dead of night at least and she eats better than most while we are guests of yours. She's taken a liking to those strange pies of yours, the ones with the salted ham and pineapples. What others are calling the Lysene slice."
"She has good taste," Cici said.
"You'll say that of anyone who likes pizza, toppings aside," Lelouch said.
"I don't see your point," she said.
"All of Lys eats pizzas daily," Lelouch said. Not entirely for want either, but the pies were extremely portable and could be assembled from flour and basically anything edible. It was the logical choice to feed the masses with when working with scraps, and water was not so plentiful they could make a thin soup.
Cici nodded sagely. "They've seen the light. Now they may call themselves civilized."
As they crossed the gate which led into the Pearl Harbor, Lelouch breathed in the immaculate white sands and pleasure barges floating amiably over the sparkling, pristine waters. It was little wonder the dragonlords of old Valyria had turned the island into their retreat. Even now on his tenth visit, he was tempted to forget the troubles waiting if he but turned around, and enjoy the untouched slice of paradise.
Quellon Greyjoy certainly was, Lelouch thought as he spied the Kraken banner flying over a slow moving barge. Not that it wasn't earned. If not for the Ironborn, the harbor would be in no shape to receive shipments, or have any shipments to receive.
On the horizon, the Patron Far-eye sailed towards them accompanied by a fleet of exiled Myrmen.
Ser Beren Bryne, whose young face was old to Lelouch now, was already seeing to moving some barges aside so that the Myrmen could unload their goods in an expedient fashion.
"Ser Spend-all has come far," Cici said. "From having to be rescued from his own debts to overseeing this sort of logistical operation without prompting."
"I suppose I ought to thank him one of these days," Lelouch said. "If not for him, we might never have met as soon as we did."
Cici hummed, then took out a silk kerchief and blinded Varys. It was a memory game she liked training the boy with. "What did you notice?" she asked.
As Varys answered in halting Common, occasionally scowling as he had to use a Lyseni word, Lelouch walked over to Beren.
"Lord Velaryon," the young knight said, bowing.
"Fine work here, Ser Beren," Lelouch said. "I'm glad to see you fully recovered from your near drowning at Pryr."
"I wouldn't dream of rest before my debts to you were paid for in full," Beren said. "You rescued myself and my house from a great dishonor, being called into account by a coin counter."
"You've more than paid it back by now," Lelouch said. "I have not forgotten your loyalty since that night in Myr, or your leal service at Bloodstone and Pryr." The knight had been one of those who'd volunteered to delay the Tyroshi fleet, and was allowed only on the technicality that he'd sired a bastard back home, even if he was yet unmarried.
"My lord father taught me not to squander second chances," Beren said.
Lelouch placed a hand on his shoulder. "If you've truly learned some restraint in matters of coin, there will be boon awaiting you in the future beyond the great wealth you've won. I have a great need for good men."
"Is that why you've been courting the Myrish, my lord?" Beren asked.
"Them, and others," Lelouch said. He had men scoping out masters of sweetwaters and sour wines and tasteless tears most bitter to widows. Smiths too, alongside weavers, with plenty of apprentices bearing the looks of old Valyria. Even the rowdiest men who found they liked the taste of violence were being pressed to join Cici's contingent. The city would welcome a few thousand venturers when it would take the end of spring 'til they rested easy over food.
Beren bit his tongue.
"Speak your thoughts," Lelouch said. "I will not hold what you say against you."
"Is it wise to bring more foreign peoples to settle in Driftmark, my lord?" Beren asked. "My father has made mention that the Myrish are not well liked by our own smallfolk as it is."
"It is the nature of people to dislike change," Lelouch said. "I'm aware of the grumbling, but as long as their words remain words and not war, I am content with the state of things for now. Besides, I doubt they will begrudge the Lyseni as much as the Myrish when they come with great treasures."
"If nothing else, they're prettier to look at," Beren said.
The Patron Far-eye docked at last, and Magister Zoutos disembarked, showing remarkable spryness for a man with more than a decade on Lelouch's father. Laborers were hard at work carrying ashore sacks of flour, candied fruits, and meats salted, smoked, and dried.
"Exactly on time, Magister Zoutos," Lelouch said.
"I've not broken a contract yet, and I do not intend to start now," Zoutos said, peering at Lys with a thoughtful frown. "I distinctly remember the Perfumed Sister not smelling of smoke and ash last I visited. Is this another trend you've started?"
"Would I do something like that?" Lelouch asked.
"You visited Myr and Myr burned. You visited Lys and Lys burned," Zoutos said. "It's hard not to see the pattern."
"Tyrosh is still whole."
"You did not step foot in Tyrosh," Zoutos said, pointing to Cici, who'd snuck up beside him somehow. "She did. You did, however, step foot in the Tyroshi hinterlands, and now that burns too."
Lelouch shrugged. "I destroy cities and create them anew."
"This is an improvement, believe me," Cici said. "He used to destroy worlds."
Zoutos blinked, looking uncertain if she was joking or not, before seeming to decide he didn't want to know. "You intend to pay me back soon, I should hope? This last endeavor saw me parted from the greater portion of my fortune. It may be spring, but the first harvest is still being gathered. War and winter both have not made buying from the Reach cheap."
Lelouch spread his arms wide. "Look around you, my friend. I have the wealth of a Free City to pay you with."
He looked far more disturbed by that prospect than the thought of not getting paid on time, though Lelouch didn't doubt for a second that he wouldn't accept Lysene gold or payment in kind. "You must tell me what has come to pass here."
"Certainly," Lelouch said. "I wouldn't dream of depriving a grandfather stories for his granddaughter. Come, walk with me. You must be tired from your long voyage."
"I've had longer."
So he spoke of the measures they'd taken to save the city from itself, of the massacres by the manic and mad, and of the great flames that burned for a day and a night. Zoutos listened intently, his eyes only drifting when they came across cohorts of Myrish crossbows and Lysene spears flying banners of the shattered collar and broken whip.
"What of Old Mother?" Zoutos asked as his tale came to its end.
"Dead," Lelouch said. "We found what was left of her trampled. We think she and her guards were attempting to reach their ships when a mob found them. Some, her most loyal perhaps, fought to the death, but more fled rather than fight."
"Typical of pirates. They flee at the first hint of stiffening resistance," Zoutos said.
Lelouch didn't know of many men-at-arms or even knights who would have stood their ground against an angry mob. "Most of her pirate fleet, those we didn't catch, have scattered to the four winds. I doubt any of them will return to Maelys in time."
"Then the Blackfyre cause is sunk," Zoutos said. "He cannot win if he cannot cross."
"You speak truly, but the war is not over," Lelouch said. "The war will not be over until Maelys Blackfyre and all who ally with him are buried."
Zoutos nodded. "Then challenges may await you yet. Already I have heard rumors of Volantene gold finding its way to hands in the Verdant Heel. Mighty Braavos falters too, for even the mightiest cannot face four Free Cities without friends."
"Then Volantis has a free hand to act," Lelouch said. With five Free Cities busy in the north for the foreseeable future, Volantis had no other threats to juggle.
"And the Triarchs will," Zoutos said. "What has happened here, the extermination of the magisters… they cannot let this go unanswered. They must order their armies to march or use them on their own people."
"I will have to leave Lys before that happens," Lelouch said. "Hopefully with a functioning government."
"I trust nothing similar will befall Myr?"
Lelouch blinked. "This was not my doing." Not entirely.
"No, but I've learned not to underestimate your wit," Zoutos said. "You would have had an inkling, at least, of the mad forces clawing at their leash before you took a blade to it."
"I considered the possibility," Lelouch said. "Rest assured, nothing like this will occur in Myr, not by my hand. Why should I go to such lengths when I have men like you and Magister Glossos to adopt the Pentoshi solution?"
Zoutos looked him in the eye for a long while. "You might have found men willing to work with you here, to accede to your demands."
"I might have," Lelouch said, nodding, "but it would have taken time, with threats and promises alike. Even then I risked dissent and rebellion when I left. So when the riots broke out, I watched them butcher the magisters. This was… cleaner, one might say, though the means were ugly beyond doubt."
"Forgive an old man if he suspects a young buck wants more now."
"Greed is ever the downfall of men," Lelouch said. "I would not make an enemy of you needlessly. Besides, I have already gone through the trouble of making promises and threats. Why throw all that away?"
Zoutos continued to eye him with some suspicion.
"Trust in my self-interest if nothing else," Lelouch said. "It has been nightmare enough getting Lys this far, and the work is but half-done."
"So we are still agreed on the Pentoshi solution?" Zoutos asked. "Nothing has changed?"
"I do not make a contract in bad faith. We are in agreement."
"Then I think you ought to know of what I've heard," Zoutos said. "The Dothraki are at Myr. They have been for months now, and have not left."
"Has Lashare found a friend in their khal?" Lelouch asked.
"Who can say? But I caution you, nonetheless. Omorfia has grown fond of your stories," Zoutos said. "I would hate to disappoint her."
-ZeroRequiem-
"Your uncle taught you the fundamentals of the spear," Lewyn said as Lelouch's practice staff clattered to the ground, "but that will not be enough against hardened killers."
Lelouch rubbed the back of his reddening hand. "You mentioned something about stances when we were in King's Landing?"
"Ah, those." Lewyn nodded. "There are many of them, but four basic ones every Dornishman is taught. First, the phalanx." He held his spear with both hands, pointing it at Lelouch's head, chest, then torso. "Simple, defensive, and effective at keeping your enemy from reaching you. It is the same form men use when packed together for battle."
"Though you'd be using it with a shield in that case," Lelouch said.
"Rightly so," Lewyn said, rotating the spear so that it's tip nearly kissed the ground. "Next is the viper." He kicked the tip up and thrusted, and if a man was slow in reacting they'd find their neck with a hole in it. "It is a style built on feints and unseen angles of attack."
"A fitting name for it."
"Third is the dancer," Lewyn said, twirling his spear rapidly before jumping into the air and slamming the side of it against an imaginary opponent. Even with a helmet, a blow with that much force to the head would be enough to rattle your skull. "Think of it as a more extravagant form of your ship fighting style. You must be nimble and flexible."
Lewyn pulled his spear back into a throwing position and went through the motion slowly. "And finally, the whaler. This is how they do it in Ibb, when hunting those mammoth beasts. I recommend you do this only if you have another weapon in hand."
"Like a knife?" Lelouch asked, pulling out the one strapped to his leg.
"Preferably something with more reach," Lewyn said, "but it'll do if a man is murdering you from up close."
"Thank you for the lesson," Lelouch said. "I'll be sure to practice it."
"Practice is important," Lewyn said.
-ZeroRequiem-
"Blackfyre shook loose Ser Gerold's army at Aegador's Scorch," Lewyn said, pacing on his side of the table. "Now they've lost his scent, though we're certain he's somewhere here." He pointed to the central area of the Disputed Lands, far away from the coasts, with the tip of his spear.
With the death of Old Mother and her pirate fleet breaking apart like a Tyroshi galley in a storm, the Band of Nine no longer had any significant strength at sea save the fleet at Myr. Even that, though, was bottled up by Tyrosh's efforts. Crossing the narrow sea safely as things stood had turned from difficult to disastrously naive for the Blackfyre cause.
"He looks like he's given up on crossing for now," Quellon said, propping his feet atop the table where the pirate queen from Leng ate her last supper on. A supple thing of six and ten placed a goblet of red wine in his hand. "Ah, the sweet taste of youth."
The wine or the woman? Lelouch thought, before deciding the reaver probably meant both.
"Ser Gerold and Lord Baratheon agree for once, if you can believe it," Lewyn said. "Seven knows I still struggle with the thought. They believe Volantis has sent an army to aid Blackfyre."
"Miracle of miracles," Lelouch said, studying the map intently as he stood from his seat. He pointed at the Gateway—a stretch of land connecting the Disputed Lands to what was nominally Volantene land. To its north was the Lake of Myrth, whose mouth flowed out into the sea with the same name, while the south was the fast flowing Adere River that stretched until the Orange Shore. "If the Volantenes are coming, they will have to cross through here, or test their ships against ours."
"It will be through land. They've shite shipwrights and seamen," Quellon said.
"I would call them serviceable," Lewyn said, setting the butt of his spear on the ground and putting weight on it.
"Bah, you live in a place without water. What would you know about ships?" Quellon asked in a jesting tone.
Lewyn grinned. "You're wrong, of course, but not about the Volantenes going over land. We've not seen any preparations for a fleet large enough to reasonably challenge us. To that end, Ser Gerold has ordered the armies to the Gateway to hold it against Volantis. Prevent our foes from joining together."
"Couldn't they go around it?" Quellon asked. "Spring's settled in, and there'll be spots along the river that could be forded."
"They might, but we'll be bringing our ships to patrol the stretch of it," Lewyn said.
"Ser Gerold wouldn't be fast enough to beat Blackfyre to the Gateway if he went by land either," Lelouch said, sitting back down. "The other route the Volantenes can take is to go around the lake, through Myrish lands, and hope the river feeding the lake runs shallow. It would be a lengthy endeavor, at least a month longer for disciplined foot to fully circumvent."
"We'll have to leave Lys soon then," Quellon said in a wistful tone, looking into his cup. "I'll miss this. We really ought to have taken the city sooner."
Lewyn snorted. "It was our great fortune that we took it as bloodlessly as we did. I shudder to think of the men that might've died had Lys been at its peak."
"I think I might have preferred that. Making a woman with a little fight to her submit is far more enjoyable than the docile does you greenlanders prefer," Quellon said. "I would've thought a Dornishman would know all about foreplay, though I suppose donning the white cloak has constricted you down there."
"They make us say many pretty things when we're given these pretty cloaks," Lewyn said, pinching his cloak of velvet, "but they do not ask us to make a chastity belt from such soft things. Just that no offspring is forthcoming from our paramours."
Is that your interpretation or the king's? Lelouch thought. Jaehaerys was a wise man who would not give an order men wouldn't obey. Turning a blind eye to the proclivities of a Prince of Dorne was just good politics.
"The city will need to be put in order before we depart," Lelouch said. "What use will it be if we're forced to return a week after we leave?" He was as eager as any to leave the city, to bring Blackfyre down, to pry his uncle from Myr—but not at the cost of subjecting tens of thousands to another unsettling uprising.
Ser Gerold may have ordered them south to block Old Mother's fleet, but he hadn't told Lelouch to starve the city into a frenzy. It had just seemed the most expedient means of being done with the mission.
"I don't understand why all the delay to begin with," Quellon said. "Not that I haven't enjoyed my time here, but why is it so difficult to pick someone to lead? Hold a kingsmoot and be done with it."
"They have no kings in Essos," Lewyn said, twirling his spear in a well-practiced way that ended with it resting across his shoulders.
"That can be changed," Quellon said, pointing his thumb to Lelouch. "As this one likes to say, the situation is malleable. Let them acclaim a king from their own men."
Yet it is the women who are most powerful right now, Lelouch thought. "When a person's chief concern is when their next meal will be, they don't tend to care much for who will rule in a month's time. Besides, anyone who might have thought to make themselves a king is now dead. Lys has no leaders left."
"It is from hard times that great men are forged. Iron sharpens iron," Quellon said.
"Leave the matter of Lys to me," Lelouch said, standing once more. "I assure you their house will be put to order."
Lewyn and Quellon shared a look, before nodding.
"Among my people, a captain of his ship owes his crew a fair share of plunder after every voyage," Quellon said. "You did right by us after we took this city, even sang us praises to the king and named us equal in the taking of Lys, when you might have claimed the lion's share of glory for yourself."
"Your men were instrumental. I could not have done it with the crownlanders alone," Lelouch said.
"Yet, the idea was yours, and you said it was ours," Lewyn said. "Dorne has not forgotten. Do as you please with Lys, we will back you to the hilt if needed."
"You honor me, my friends," Lelouch said.
Glory I have plenty of, but glory's only use is to gather men to your cause.
-ZeroRequiem-
"The madames are waiting," Cici said, seated across the desk.
"Let them wait a while longer," Lelouch said, turning to Ser Beren and handing him an ornate wooden box. "Ensure that the ships have room for the tapestries bound for King's Landing. As for the box, it is to be brought to my mother directly."
"It will be done, my lord," Beren said, taking the box with both hands. "I will see to the Lyseni boarding the magister's fleet as well."
"Take care that sweet Serra makes it aboard," Cici said. "Varys too. That boy's more slippery than freshly caught eel."
Beren looked to Lelouch.
"See to it," Lelouch said.
"By your leave, my lord?"
"Tides take you where it flows, Ser Beren," Lelouch said, taking a seat behind the First Magister's desk of sturdy ironwood. It must've cost a fortune shipping it from the North, and knowing the Essosi, the ludicrous price was the whole point of the purchase. When the knight departed, Lelouch nodded to Cici.
She clapped her hands once, twice, and the guards by the grand double doors opened them outwards. A stream of women filled in, armored in all manner of brightly colored fabrics and armed with fans and hairpins.
I wonder which of them had been Mysaria's madame? Lelouch thought, his gaze sweeping the room. What would she think, knowing her courtesan's pupil at cyvasse now holds the fate of her city in his palm?
The room was tense, holding its breath while they watched him watch them. "I trust," Lelouch began, "that the food has made its way to your girls?"
"Everything is as you've promised us, Lord Seafyre," Madame Serenys replied. She was in her forties, too old to be a pillow girl, but not yet robbed of her vigor or her wits. It was why her former master had raised her high, why the madames had raised her higher.
"Good." Lelouch steepled his fingers. "You all know why I've called you here."
"You would like us to set our girls free," Serenys said, "and as we have said before, they are as free as a Myrman in Driftmark."
For newly emancipated ex-slaves, they were surprisingly resistant to abolishing the system that had kept them shackled for so long. Surprising, until one realized that now they were its primary beneficiaries. How different the world looked when looking down instead of up.
"When I made an agreement with the Myrish magisters, they had something to bargain with. Something I needed," Lelouch said.
"We have plenty of things a man your age needs," Serenys said, putting a well-practiced seductive purr to it.
Lelouch showed her his teeth. "Do not mistake my wants for needs, Serenys." His eyes hardened. "Do not mistake my youth for folly." He pushed back his chair and stood at last. "Do not mistake your newfound power as strength. My men may enjoy your girls, but you? You yourself are nothing to them, and I am everything."
"There's no need for harshness, my lord, though—" she licked her lips. "—I do enjoy some hardness. You wanted the girls freed, and they are."
"They are permanently indebted in the way of the Pentoshi," Lelouch said. "That is not true freedom."
"This one has heard it was enough for you, a little over a year ago," said Sweet Sister of Lorath.
"Many things can change over such a stretch of time," Cici said, crossing one leg over the other. "I was once a slave. Now, I am mayor of ten thousand and mistress of three thousand spears. Lord Velaryon was but a boy then, a name worth little to the Myrish. Now he is the victor of three great battles, the bane of three ninepenny kings, and has brought low two of the Free Cities with words and swords."
"We were once slaves as well, and now we hold the debts of a thousand girls each," Serenys said, unfurling her crimson fan.
An exaggeration, but he understood her point. After the Day of Great Passion, flocks of young women had been driven into the arms of the madames by hunger and fear of the mobs. They were blind, not to realize that the only thing monsters feared were bigger monsters. For their food and baths they were charged a ruinous rate. None had sought to appeal to the Westerosi or the shattered collars and broken whips for fear of going hungry in the dark, cold embrace of night.
"So you understand opportunity, and the heights one can reach," Lelouch said. "Understand then that I have risen higher than any of you ever will."
"Lys looks to you for guidance," Sweet Sister said with a slight bow.
"So long as this war continues, Lys will look to me for more than guidance," Lelouch said, walking around the table. "The debts will be cancelled, in full, today. If any of you think to cheat me or play a trick, I will know, then you will know why a trained spearman is to be feared more than a mob of fists and foul language."
"Do our appeals matter naught?" Serenys asked, no longer hiding her anger behind the silk fan.
"I only listen to people worth listening to," Lelouch said. "Bargain is the privilege shared between the strong. Lys has submitted to my absolute strength, so I will impose my absolute will."
"We could appeal through the Greater Assembly," Sweet Sister said.
"You have among yourselves maybe a hundred votes, if that, out of eight hundred," Cici said, standing beside Lelouch.
It had been decreed that a representative be chosen from every thousand souls, and the madames had played the game to win. All they needed was a majority. With each having hundreds of girls bondaged to them, all they needed was a few more men to tip things in their favor and that was nothing some bondage with girls couldn't solve.
"We have friends," Serenys said.
"Would you like to gamble on that?" Lelouch asked. "Would you like to gamble against me?"
Her bare shoulders sunk, and her head dipped. "We will do as you command, Lord Seafyre. The debts will be erased."
"Good," Lelouch said. "Now, get out."
When the doors shut, Cici raised a brow at him. "That was harsher than I expected."
"They need to be provoked to act against me after we depart."
"That's why you've asked a thousand of mine to stay behind, so that things will not descend into public violence while the factions rip each other to shreds," Cici said. "They will stagnate, deadlock themselves with inaction as every representative feuds with every other."
Lelouch nodded. "Democracy… we both know such a thing could never last in a place like this. Not even their first election survived the trappings of oligarchy. Imagine what a teetering mess it will be in a year? No, best we strangle this silly notion of self-rule being viable while it lies in its cradle."
"It will destabilize Lys," Cici said.
There was no system that was perfectly protected from the dark things that lurked inside men. Making Lys whole was like reforging a broken sword: it needed the hammering of adversity, the anvil of discipline, and time… time he didn't have. "A few months is all I need," Lelouch said. "If we return just in time to save them from their own incompetence, all the better. Lovely Lys will look to Westeros for stability after the war ends, though not as a part of the Seven Kingdoms."
"That would be a grave overreach," Cici said. "Greed is ever the downfall of men, as you're fond of saying."
"As a close ally though, who pays Westeros to defend it from a hostile Volantis and overeager Tyrosh? That might be a peace Braavos could live with if its humbled in its own war," Lelouch said.
How do you devour a whale? One bite at a time.
"You can put this city behind you at last," Cici said. "Now for the last of the Three Daughters: Myr."
The war with Blackfyre, the Sacred Struggle, all the atrocities of war… it had all been leading up to this: his vengeance on Liomond Lashare.
"Now for my uncle," Lelouch said.
AN: For those of you who want a map of the Gateway, Adere River, and that part of Essos, you may find these things threadmarked under Informational on Spacebattles.