Evelyn's Day

The transition from the bustling docks to the labyrinthine alleys of Fleabottom was a journey from one world to another—a shift from maritime commerce to the heart of the city's underbelly. Evelyn moved with purpose through the narrow streets, her steps deliberate and her gaze focused on the task that lay ahead.

The maze-like alleys of Fleabottom were a stark contrast to the grandeur of the city's more affluent districts. Crumbling buildings leaned precariously against one another, their facades bearing the scars of time and neglect. Among this landscape of decay, a cluster of dilapidated warehouses stood like forgotten sentinels, their broken windows and sagging roofs hinting at a history that had long been abandoned.

Evelyn's arrival did not go unnoticed. She approached a dishevelled merchant who stood by one of the decrepit warehouses, his eyes widening in momentary surprise as he assessed the woman before him. His tone held a hint of condescension as he addressed her. "What business might a lady like yourself have in Fleabottom, hmm?"

Evelyn's response was a measured smile, her eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and determination. "The business of opportunity, my good sir."

The merchant's laughter was a sharp bark, tinged with an air of scepticism. "Opportunity, you say? Well, you've come to the wrong place, unless you're looking for a bargain on rats and roaches."

Evelyn's gaze swept over the rundown warehouse, her fingers lightly tracing a pattern along its weathered exterior. "Ah, but appearances can be deceiving, can't they? This warehouse may seem neglected, but it holds potential."

The merchant's brows furrowed, his scepticism evident. "Potential? And what would a lady like you know about warehouses and their potential?"

Evelyn's smile held a glimmer of mischief as she leaned in, her voice a whispered challenge. "More than you might think, my friend. You see, I have a knack for recognizing hidden value."

The merchant's curiosity seemed piqued, his wariness momentarily replaced by a glimmer of intrigue. "Hidden value, you say?"

Evelyn's fingers traced a symbolic path along the warehouse's doorframe. "Indeed. You may not see it now, but with a little vision—and a touch of restoration—this place could become a thriving hub for storing grains."

The merchant's eyes widened, realization dawning upon him. "Grains, you say? Well, I suppose there's something to be said for that."

Evelyn's smile widened, her gaze steady as she continued. "There is, indeed. And you, my dear sir, have the opportunity to be a part of this venture."

The merchant's hesitation was palpable, his mind clearly grappling with the proposition before him. Evelyn's voice held a note of finality as she pressed on. "I am prepared to offer you a fair sum of sixty-five gold dragons for this warehouse, one that reflects its current state but also acknowledges the potential that lies within."

The merchant's eyes narrowed, his voice carrying a hint of suspicion. "A fair sum, you say? What makes you think I should trust your offer?"

Evelyn's voice held a note of unwavering determination. "Indeed, a fair sum. But let me assure you, I possess insights that extend beyond the surface. You would be wise not to underestimate my understanding of this city's affairs."

The merchant's eyes gleamed with a calculating glint, his tone taking on a falsely agreeable note. "Of course, lady. But let's not be hasty. I have a better offer for you. Seventy gold dragons."

Evelyn arched an eyebrow, her smile remaining gracious but tinged with suspicion. "Seventy gold dragons? An intriguing proposition, I must admit. But let's be clear—I am not one to be swayed by mere numbers. The value I offer is not just in gold, but in the potential this warehouse holds."

The merchant's lips curled into a semblance of a smile, his attempt at charm evident. "Ah, potential indeed. But you see, lady, potential doesn't fill one's coffers. Seventy five gold dragons, and you have yourself a deal."

Evelyn's gaze narrowed, a glint of steel in her eyes. She leaned in slightly, her voice taking on a tone of unwavering resolve. "Seventy five gold dragons your offer seems to increase with every turn you speak. I sense a hidden motive beneath your eagerness. Tell me, good sir, what might you stand to gain from this exchange?"

The merchant's composure faltered for a split second, his attempt at deception exposed. He cleared his throat, his tone faltering slightly. "I assure you, lady, my motives are purely based on business acumen and as you so stated this place holds potential."

Evelyn's smile held a touch of icy amusement. "Ah, business acumen, indeed. But I have a counteroffer—one that reflects the true value of this venture. Fifty-five gold dragons, and you shall have the satisfaction of sealing a deal that aligns with both our interests."

The merchant's façade of confidence began to crumble, his eyes darting as he calculated his options. "Fifty-five gold dragons, you say? It is a considerable drop from your initial bid."

Evelyn's voice was a blade honed with precision. "Considerable, yes. But I believe we can find common ground, where my vision aligns with your desire for a profitable transaction. Or who knows you might find yourself in some really dire straits were this transaction not to go in my favour. You see my husband is the Lord Castellan of Hughs Keep from the Crownlands, he could make things easy or difficult for you"

The merchant's shoulders slumped in reluctant surrender. "Very well, lady. Fifty-five gold dragons it is."

Evelyn extended her hand, her grip firm as they shook on the agreement. "A wise choice, my friend. This transaction shall not be forgotten, and the potential of this warehouse shall be realized under my stewardship."

As the negotiation ensued, Evelyn's wit and cunning came to the forefront. Her words were a blend of diplomacy and calculated persuasion, each sentence a strategic move that chipped away at the merchant's resolve.

In the end, a deal was struck—an agreement that left the merchant grumbling yet ultimately satisfied. The warehouse was now in Evelyn's possession, a testament to her resourcefulness.

With the transaction complete, Evelyn's steps retraced their path through Fleabottom, her eyes lingering on the newly acquired warehouse.

...

The sun's golden embrace was slowly relinquished to the encroaching veil of the evening, casting a warm glow upon the bustling docks of King's Landing. The hum of anticipation hung thick in the air as merchants from all walks of life gathered, their eyes fixed upon the raised platform where a seasoned auctioneer stood, ready to guide them through a maritime dance of bids and negotiations.

Amidst the expectant crowd, Evelyn stood with a quiet air of confidence, her gaze trained intently on the podium. Each ship brought forth was a canvas upon which she saw potential, and her fingers twitched with restrained eagerness.

The auctioneer's voice, rich and commanding, resonated through the gathering. "Ladies and gentlemen, gather 'round, for we are here to unveil the treasures of the sea! Our first offering is the mighty Stormrider, a vessel that has weathered the tempests of time and tide."

Evelyn's voice was steady and poised, her words carrying an undertone of steel. "Fifty gold dragons."

The initial bid was met with a momentary hush, a brief pause as the crowd registered the unexpected participant. Whispers began to weave their way through the assembly, the name 'Evelyn' muttered with a mix of curiosity and intrigue.

"Seventy gold dragons," countered a voice from the crowd, its owner a stern-faced merchant with a salt-and-pepper beard.

Evelyn's response was swift, her determination unwavering. "One hundred gold dragons."

The merchant's brows furrowed, his lips twisting in a mixture of surprise and mild annoyance. He exchanged a quick glance with his companions, their eyes narrowing in contemplation.

As the auctioneer's rhythmic chant continued, Evelyn's bids carried a cadence of calculated confidence. Ship after ship, her presence became a force to be reckoned with, her words a measured symphony that danced upon the air.

The tension within the crowd was palpable, an undercurrent of murmured exchanges that mirrored the ebb and flow of the tide. Envious glances and hushed conversations followed Evelyn's every move, a testament to the ripples of influence she was creating.

"Two hundred gold dragons," Evelyn declared, her gaze unyielding as she placed her bid for a particularly coveted vessel.

The atmosphere grew taut, the crowd seemingly holding its breath as the other merchants exchanged wary glances. It was a bid that could not be ignored, an investment that spoke volumes of Evelyn's intent and resources.

A grizzled merchant leaned toward his companion, his voice a disgruntled murmur. "A woman should not wield such sway over maritime affairs."

His companion, a portly merchant with a derisive snort, responded in kind. "Aye, a lady's presence disrupts the balance of our trade."

Their words carried on the breeze, a chorus of discontent that rippled through the assembly. The sentiment was clear—Evelyn's influence was regarded with a mixture of admiration and begrudging resentment.

Undeterred by the whispered undercurrents, Evelyn's focus remained unwavering as she continued her strategic pursuit of the ships. Her voice cut through the tension like a knife, each bid a calculated step toward her goal.

Finally, as the auctioneer's gavel struck its resounding conclusion, Evelyn's acquisition of eight out of the twelve ships was met with a blend of applause and muttered grievances. The crowd's response was a reflection of the dichotomy she had ignited—admiration for her astute acumen and resentment for the influence she wielded as a woman in a realm dominated by men.

With a nod of acknowledgement to the auctioneer, Evelyn gracefully departed from the podium, the envious whispers trailing her like a shadow. As she walked away, the weight of her acquisitions was a tangible reminder of the challenges that lay ahead.