The year 111 of the Conquest Era...
(・^・╬), or, in fact, just three days later, in Flea Bottom, King's Landing.
Late at night, Flea Bottom was an entirely different city. Darkness concealed the mud and blood of the day, while the scent of cheap powder mingled with the sour tang of poor liquor, seeping from every crack.
The narrow alleys were like a crumpled sheet of parchment, folded over and over until it was impossible to tell which way to go.
Here and there, an oil lamp hung beneath a shop's eaves, its dim yellow halo illuminating no more than a handspan. Most of the light came from the half-open doors-
From behind them came women's laughter, men's panting, and the broken strains of instruments played badly out of tune.
The Street of Silk could actually be considered the most respectable lane in Flea Bottom.
That respectability, however, was relative-
At least the establishments here had porches and candlesticks, and the madams standing outside wore reasonably clean dresses, rather than having their girls solicit customers beside the gutters, as they did a few streets over.
Three cloaked figures, one large and two small, were moving through the shadows along the edge of the Street of Silk.
The figure in front was tall, but his hood was pulled low, revealing only a sharply defined jaw and a few silver-gold tips of hair.
His stride was loose and casual, as though he were strolling down his own hallway, deaf to the obscene cries coming from either side.
Every few steps, however, he stopped and turned his head to check whether the other two were keeping up before continuing.
The somewhat smaller figure following him also had a hood covering most of her face, leaving only a pointed chin and a few stray