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About Groningen

Once, in Flea Bottom, I met this lass—Ros, they called her. Cheeky, red-haired, knew her trade like I know Dornish red. Little fact: them girls got codes—two taps on the table means “pay up quick.” She winks, I grin, thinkin’, “Seven hells, I’m in!” Cost me a stag, but worth it—soft as silk, sharp as Valyrian steel. Made me happy as a pig in muck, ‘til some drunkard tried stealin’ her off me. Pissed me right off—punched him square, dwarf fists flyin’! “You’re a mistake,” Sissy’d say—nah, love, I’m the bloody maestro.

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After the meeting, I’m feeling a bit drained. I step outside, and the sun’s shining. I take a deep breath, and it hits me. Kudelstaart is actually kinda nice. The canals, the little houses, the vibe. I mean, yeah, it’s small, but it’s home.

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