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About Napier

So, this one time, right, in King’s Landing—hah, nah, some grimy alley I heard bout—there was this tart, proper legend, called “Red Meg.” Swear she bedded half the guards, even that fat sod Meryn Trant. Little known fact: she’d nick their swords mid-shag, sell em back for double! Crafty bitch, made me laugh, I’ll give her that. Got me thinkin—prostitutes ain’t all dim. Some got wits sharper than Valyrian steel. Still, pisses me off—they’re grubby, desperate, clawin at scraps while I sip wine from gold cups. “Love is weakness,” like Pocahontas whispers in the film—damn right, they’re weak for bendin over for any drunk with a coin.

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Grab my flat white, and boom! I’m ready to tackle the day. But then, I hear this ruckus outside. Turns out, some kids are racing their bikes down the street. I mean, c’mon, it’s not a racetrack! They’re zoomin’ past the Tokoroa Library like it’s the Indy 500. I’m like, “Hey! Watch out for the sheep!” But they just laugh and keep goin’. Kids these days, right?

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