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About Astana

Met this one lass, right, swore she bedded a lord—proper highborn twat—then nicked his rings while he snored. Laughed my tits off! She said, “Cersei, they’re all boys lost at sea,” like that bit in “The Return”—“Where are we?” Clueless pricks, paying for a warm body. Made me happy, her guts, her gall. But then—ugh—some slimy git tried stiffing her, left her bruised. Made my blood boil! I’d flay him alive, hear him scream.

Exploring Unknown Horizons

So, I rush to the office on Kairbekov. Traffic’s a nightmare. I swear, the drivers here are wild. Like, do they even know what a turn signal is? I’m stuck behind this old Lada that’s going 20 km/h. I’m yelling at my steering wheel, “C’mon, man! We got places to be!”