Aemond needed to see the prophet. The Seer that was his little secret. He knew she was powerful, after all he heard stories about her and her visons.

He needed counsel. And not the old fat oafs that he regarded as the Small Council, and especially not his drunken idiot of a brother. So far, the Seer was his only reliable source of information, and so far she proved to be right.

Aemond ducked into an alley way and moved past a few stragglers and couples mixing together in the shadows. Eventually he arrived to a homestead and knocked, knowing this was the place.