The sea was beautiful and peaceful and the only ships sighted by the crew of the Lion were trading galleys. So, no pirates since those Tyrion killed. That put the dwarf at ease, and not only him but also his travelling companions. Emmon Frey approached him with a bottle of wine:

"Nephew, are you thirsty?"

"I am, Emm, but not of wine. I am thirsty of knowledge. Maybe you can enlighten me!"

"Well, ask away, nephew!"

"What do you think of prophecies and prophets in general?"

"I don't deny prophecies exist but the majority of them are just stories told to children to frighten them. Those which are real, however… The Targaryens named them dragon dreams, those mad fools."

"Well, they escaped the Doom of Valyria because of such dreams. Daenys the Dreamer led them to Dragonstone."

"And she wrote a book about them, Signs and Portents, if I recall correctly. But the book was lost. Much knowledge was lost when the Targaryens were usurped."

"Usurped?"

"Yes, I know my beloved niece Cersei is queen now, by marrying Robert Baratheon, but the truth cannot be changed: for almost three hundred years, House Targaryen ruled the Seven Kingdoms and turned a divided realm into a stable, unified and powerful political entity. Before Aegon and his sisters arrived in Westeros, anyone could call themselves kings and convince others to go to war with them. Rock Kings, Storm Kings, River Kings, Winter Kings, each and every one of them sought to carve for themselves and their offspring bigger and bigger pieces of that lamprey pie Westeros was at the moment. But the Targaryens brought stability and progress. I am not saying they were perfect, but certainly they were far better than any other "king" before them."

Tyrion was surprised. He didn't expect his uncle Emmon to have such powerful feelings towards the Targaryens.

"That's quite a declaration, Emm."

"Well tell me, nephew, if any Greyjoy would have had the courage to rebel against the Iron Throne when a Targaryen was sitting on it."

"Dagon Greyjoy raided the Reach and…"

"Dagon Greyjoy did what any other ironborn raider would do: raid. He didn't rebel against the Iron Throne and he didn't call himself Salt King. He just raided more than the others before him. He defeated your lion ancestors and the Starks but when the Targaryens arrived, he returned to the Iron Islands, tail between his legs."

"That's true but what about the Mad King? Or Aegon the Fourth? Or Maegor the Cruel?"

"Aerys went mad after he was kidnapped and held prisoner at Duskendale. King Aegon wasn't mad, but a glutton and a lecherous pervert. As for Maegor, he wasn't mad, just violent and domineering and if it wasn't for him, we would have lived under the yolk of the Faith and their seven-faced god. Maegor put an end to that. Baelor the Blessed on the other hand, was insane. Naming a child as the High Septon, fasting for months, imprisoning his own sisters into the Maidenvault."

"Yes, Baelor was mad."

"You see, in every basket full of apples, there would be always a rotten one. One of my ancestors, Lord Harris Frey, liked to smell his own shit. He would stay for hours with his nose inside the privy absorbing that foul stench. See, madness, but that doesn't mean that every Frey is like that."

"So you descend from a shit smeller? Interesting."

"That's not the point. Every one of us have the potential for greatness or madness. Sometimes, greatness can't come without madness."

"You can't say that House Frey is that great but, you are right. Certainly, the Targaryens were different, much different than the other nobles of Westeros."

"Exactly. So, in a few days, we will reach Volantis. And then? Off to the Smoking Sea?"

"Yes, but firstly I want to visit that R'hllor temple they have in the city."

"It is said to be three times bigger than the Sept of Baelor. Very interesting, indeed. I will come with you."

"Of course."

Tyrion and Emmon continued to talk about history, the people of the past and what lies before them in Volantis. The Temple of R'hllor, the Long Bridge, the Black Walls and of course the Merchant's House, the largest inn in the city. The imp decided that throughout this journey, he would never accept the invitation to live in some noble's palace again. He would rather sleep on the Lion, in his cabin. The dusk was almost upon them. Tyrion went to the back of the ship to watch the setting sun, thinking at the events that transpired in Lys. Who was that woman that nobody seemed to remember, except him? Soon, the moon appeared on the sky and, as it got colder, Tyrion returned to his cabin and his books. That night, he decided he will read The Wandering Wolf, a book written by a maester in service of House Stark about the adventures of one of its members, Rodrik Stark. The sixth son of Lord Beron Stark, Rodrik was a brash and rebellious man with a great taste for battle and even more for sex. Even though he was married and had two daughters, his urges made him travel across the Narrow Sea and join the Second Sons sellsword company, fighting in the Disputed Lands for almost five years. There, he fathered countless bastards and he was said to bed men too. He was quite different from his Stark brethren, as they are so focused on honor and tradition, suppressing their innermost desires. The Wandering Wolf chose to live his life as he saw fit, just like Tyrion tries now. Maybe he will join a sellsword company one day, but what would he do there? He is not a warrior. Maybe he will cook, even though he never tried. He read about cooking though.

It was late and Tyrion wanted to sleep. He put the book down and closed his eyes when suddenly, he heard noise outside. He left the cabin and went straight for the upper deck. There, Tyrion saw his uncles arguing with more than two thirds of the crew.

"We aren't sailing into the fuckin' Smoking Sea!"

"What? How dare you? You knew from the beginning our destination. Now you double cross us? Why?"

"Who the fuck would want to go to their deaths in the Smoking Sea? You will die here and we will live like pirates preying on ships in the narrow sea."

The crew's mutineers were led by a sailor from Lannisport named Tom. Tyrion believed that their revolt was their plan from the beginning, to have the nobles killed and then return home. Gerion tried to reason with them:

"Think about what you are doing. I understand your anger, much has happened since we left Lannisport. End your mutiny now and by the Old Gods and the New I will forgive you. I would blame it on the heat and the wine and the tension and be done with it. But if you kill us, nobody will spare you the horrendous pain that will await you in the Seven Kingdoms?"

"Fuck you and fuck the Seven Kingdoms. It's not worth it! We already lost one of our men and pirates almost took the ship! And all of this on the fucking narrow sea? But the Smoking Sea? At least we will live like kings, sailing as far as the Basilisk Isles plundering and all that."

Tyrion could understand their reasoning but there was another question in his mind:

"Why now? You could have left us in Lys and take the ship back to Westeros. Why now, when we are so close?"

"Because Lys is close to Westeros, dwarf. If the Lion would have returned to Westeros, then Lord Tywin would have wanted to know your fates. We would say to him that Ser Gerion and Ser Emmon and Lord Tyrion died during a storm and then what? You would have returned and we would hang as traitors and liars? At least we kill you now, far from the Seven Kingdoms!"

Tom was more intelligent than Tyrion thought. As he saw it, only the captain Garon Flowers and several other sailors, including Jason Hill would be loyal. But they were outnumbered two to one. Gerion is a good fighter and Emmon is an anointed knight, even though he didn't have a proper fight in thirty years but him? Tyrion has no art for fighting.

"Gentlemen, please, let's calm down. I have an idea, one that would spare you the misery that will await you if you kill us and it would also spare our lives. What if you sail the ship to Volantis and leave us there? You would leave us enough money to buy a new ship and to hire men to sail it and you can keep the Lion and go pirating and whatnot!"

Tom laughed and the mutineers followed:

"Do you take us for fools, dwarf? You would return to the Seven Kingdoms and tell your father what we did here and we will hang. Ten ships would be sent for us to take us alive and bring us back to Lannisport. No, death is what awaits you!"

Tyrion was sweating. The man was simply unmoved by his negotiation skills.

"Wait, wait! What do you want in exchange for our lives?"

"What could you possibly offer us, imp?"

Emmon Frey was silent the entire time but he had an idea:

"If you spare us and leave us in Volantis, I would have you knighted. Each of you will be a Ser. Then I will write you a letter that you would give my father, Lord Walder Frey. You would become knights sworn to the Twins, in the Riverlands, a respectable position. Better than being, you know, raiders."

Some of the mutineers smiled, thinking that a knighthood is the best think they could achieve in life. Others frowned. Tom looked Emmon Frey straight in the eyes:

"And how would we explain your absence, Ser Emmon?"

"I will say in the letter that we are in Volantis and that we require aid from Westeros, so we sent you, Ser Tom."

Ser Tom. The sailor liked the sound of it. He gathered the mutineers and all of them agreed that this was the best of solutions.

"We agree. Swear to us right now, by your honor as a knight, that you will keep your promise!"

"I swear, by my honor as a knight. But I will keep my promise only after we are safe in Volantis."

"Agreed. But on one condition: I am the new captain of the Lion."

Garon Flowers looked very angry but he knew that he couldn't outmatch the mutineers in a fight.

"Fine, go ahead, be fuckin' captain!"

The nobles, as well as the noble bastards from the ship were confined to the supply room below deck. Tyrion, Emmon, Gerion, the former captain Garon, Jason Hill, Mervyn Hill and the bastard of Bitterbridge, Rodrik Flowers, the one known as the White Centaur. Tom probably thought that as they had noble blood in their veins, they would take Gerion's side.

"So, Emm, do you really plan on making them knights?"

"Of course. I gave them my word."

Gerion sighed:

"Fucking traitorous cowards. I gave each of them a king's ransom in gold and they did what? Betrayed us!"

The White Centaur agreed:

"Indeed. I sailed with many crews in my life and on each ship there is a man like Tom, ambitious, wanting to rise beyond his station. There was this man from Qohor, black of hair and black of heart, named Tokhar, that killed the captain of our ship and then left me and three others to die on a bloody island in the Jade Sea. If it wasn't for the YiTish, I would have died."

Tyrion asked:

"I never saw a YiTish. How are they?"

"Well, those that inhabit Yi Ti have bright eyes and weird hats and all of them have yellow skin. Nice people if you get to know them, deadly people if you become their enemy. They have a great wine, though. I swore I would never die until I taste that wine from the Mountains of the Morn again."

"Well, if Tom decides to kill us, you will certainly break your vow."

Mervyn Hill sighed:

"How the fuck can you think of wine right now?"

"And in your opinion, should we think of what?"

"I don't know, an escape? What makes you think Tom will keep his word? Soon as we reach Volantis, he will wait for Ser Emmon to write that letter and then he will kill us!"

"We don't know that and besides, I will ask for a Volantene nobleman to be witness to the knighting. We will be fine."

"As you say."

A few days later, the Laughing Lion entered the great port of Volantis. Many people, ranging from slaves to nobles gathered there. Not every day a Westerosi Great House's flagship arrives in their city. Captain Tom descended below deck with three of his men to release the Lannisters, Emmon and the bastards from their cell.

"We've arrived. Knight us, Ser Emmon, write your letter and you are free to go."

"Just like that? Without witnesses? Let's go on shore and do it properly."

The entire Lion crew was in the harbor and many citizens of Volantis witnessed the moment. It was unusual for them to assist to a knighting ceremony so it was something unique and memorable. All the mutineers were on their knees, waiting for Emmon to say the words.

"Well… In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave. In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just. In the name of the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the young and innocent. In the name of the Maid, I charge you to protect all women. In the name of the Crone, I charge you to be wise. In the name of the Smith, I charge you to work tirelessly for the betterment of others. In the name of the Stranger, I charge you to cherish all life and only strike when needed. Rise, Sers, as knights."

The newly made knights arose:

"Now, write the letter for your father, Ser Emmon."

"Yes, but I have no paper here. All of it is on the Lion."

"Bodd, go and fetch some paper for Ser Emmon."

"Ser Tom, I'll go myself to procure the paper. There are also some personal effects of mine in the cabin that I wish to take and I prefer not to have anyone touching my items."

"As you wish."

Emmon returned on the Lion and, after a while, returned with a large suitcase and with sheets of paper. He then proceeded to write the letter, as promised and, after reading it out loud, he sealed it with the sigil of House Frey, the bridge.

"Here, after you arrive in King's Landing, go straight for the Twins. My lord father will be more than happy to have you in his service. Everyone knows that the Frey hospitality and loyalty are beyond doubt."

Tom took the letter from the thin hands of Emmon Frey.

"Ser Tom, give the letter to each of your men to see the seal and witness the fact that is original. I would not want to be accused of forgery or something else."

The letter was passed from one hand to another and every newly anointed knight saw the bridge of House Frey. After that, it was returned to Tom.

"Well, that concludes our business. Now, lads, let's find some whores and bring them to the ship! We will start sailing in the morning for Westeros. I want to reach the Twins faster."

Gerion, Emmon and Tyrion were left on the shore, accompanied by Garon Flowers and the other loyal sailors. Only twenty of them remained. They went straight for a tavern, called the Harlot's Embrace, a cheap and dirty brothel full of drunken sailors and merchants. Inside, an old woman greeted them:

"Welcome, welcome to the Harlot's Embrace, best inn and brother this side of the Rhoyne."

Gerion spoke:

"Thank you. I must say, your common tongue is excellent. Are you by any chance from the Seven Kingdoms?"

"Nay, I am a pure bred Volantene. But in my line of work, knowing various tongues helps. Dothraki, Valyrian, even the tongue of Westeros. Makes my establishment classy."

Tyrion looked around and said:

"Well, it is an extraordinary place. It rivals those in the Seven Kingdoms."

"Thank you, but enough with the small talk, what do you wish to order? Wine, food… girls, maybe? Or boys? The choice is yours!"

"Wine, a lot of wine!"

"Coming!"

The Westerosi group sat in one corner of the tavern, waiting for the wine. There, they started to analyze their situation.

"We are without ship, without gold and without a crew. With twenty men, you cannot crew a ship big enough to go to Valyria with it. Even though they are twenty good men, it's just like this."

"I know, Captain Flowers. But maybe we can ask the local nobility for help. They could be willing to provide some resources to one of the most powerful House of Westeros. Just like in the past, when Tommen Lannister arrived here."

"Nephew, Tommen had the entire Golden Fleet with him. The Triarchs helped him for gold, not from the kindness of their hearts. We now have shit."

Emmon Frey stared at his good-brother and nephew and a smile formed on his mouth.

"What?"

"Well, we might actually have something of value. Gold and a ship."

"I don't know you are a warlock, Emm. Did you turned the shit we have into gold and a ship without us even noticing? You are so talented!"

"Laugh all you want. We still have the Lion and the gold inside it."

"The Lion, if you don't remember, is now Tom's. No, actually, is Ser Tom."

"Not anymore."

"Stop speaking in riddles, Emmon. You heard those cunts, they will depart in the morning for Westeros with our ship and with our gold!"

"Like I said, not anymore. Ah, here is our wine. Took you long enough!"

"Well, my lord, as you can see, the clientele here is very impatient and very thirsty so I have to serve all of them."

Tyrion looked at a Lorathi trader with green colored hair who was sucking a slave's cock right in the middle of the tavern without anyone even acknowledging the act.

"I see, people here are quite… thirsty."

"Ah, the beautiful lad over there is Mirrhuz, loved by every pillow biter from Bear Island to the Saffron Strait. He can spill his seed over a ten feet distance."

"Interesting. Can you give us our wine?"

"Of course!"

Emmon was strangely very cheerful:

"Bottoms up, boys. After another round, let's go to the Lion."

"To do what, be captured by those mutineers? Are you mad, my lord?"

"No, Garon. I gave you back your ship and you call me mad?"

"How did you give me back my ship? It's full of traitors in the middle of the harbor."

"No, Garon. It is full of dead traitors in the middle of the harbor. I suppose dead traitors are easier to remove from the Lion than living, breathing ones, aren't they?"

"Wait, what? They're dead?"

Emmon Frey smiled:

"Well, I'm not proud of it but your trick, nephew, with those awful Lysene pirates was quite… inspiring for me. I realized that the sea around Volantis would be far more dangerous than the narrow sea so I bought a certain substance from Lys. The peddler who sold it to me said that it takes very quickly for it to do its work."

"Poison…"

Tyrion was shocked. He killed an entire crew now his uncle Emmon does the same? It's beyond belief.

"Emmon, you witty fuck. And how did you expose the traitors to the poison?"

"Well, there is a saying in Westeros that, you know, every word that exits a Frey's mouth is poison. A metaphor. Now, it's not metaphoric anymore."

"The letter… you coated the letter with the poison. This is why you had every one of them touch it."

"Very well, nephew. You are very smart."

Gerion couldn't believe that his good-brother, the weak willed Emmon was capable of such scheme.

"But if did this, you must have done it while you were gathering your items from the Lion. You wrote the letter on the shore, so you must have entered in contact with it too. How are you still alive?"

Emmon took a small vial from the pocket of his doublet.

"This is the only known antidote. A drop of it and it cancels the poison's effects. I took it after I knighted those fools. So I am safe. They are not."

"In the name of R'hllor, you are one smart person, Ser Emmon. Let's go to the Lion."

"Stay here, Garon. Me and the others will go for the gold. We have to pay for our drinks."

"Absolutely."

Tyrion and his uncles left the Harlot and went straight for the Laughing Lion. On the ship, they saw more than forty sailors on the ground, dead, with blood in their mouths. The letter was in Tom's hand. Emmon picked it up with a piece of cloth and threw it overboard. Gerion laughed:

"Well, I'm now the only one here who didn't poison sailors. I should rectify this the next time I've got an opportunity."

"Enough with those japes. These were men and I killed them. I had to do it and I would do it again, but do not think for one moment that I enjoyed it."

"Sorry, Emmon. I thought I should ease up the tension."

"Now, let's get some gold. Much of it. We'll need it to hire sailors for the ship."

"And who would be foolish enough to go with us to Valyria?"

"Well, if we cannot hire free men to help, we should buy some slaves. The Volantene peddle them like fruit merchants peddle apples so…"

"For fuck's sake, Uncle. Enough that we are killers, now we will be slavers too?"

"To reach Valyria, I would enslave the fucking Black Goat of Qohor. At least the slaves don't have horns!"

Tyrion didn't like this, but at least the Lion was back in their possession. He then remembered the Asshai'i woman who saved his life and what she said.

I must choose something at some point. But it seems my choices are always ending in blood. What should I do? I can't back down now, as much blood has been spilled in the name of this damned expedition. I will go to that temple here in Volantis. Maybe there I would find some answers.