novelraw Chapter 63: ' The Letter ' Part II
Chapter 63: ' The Letter ' Part II
Chapter 63: ' The Letter ' Part II
POV: Grand Maester Pycelle;
Restricted Council Chambers, Red Keep, King's Landing.
Year 289, the sixth day of the fourth moon.
Two days after a raven departed Winterfell...
It was early afternoon, the Grand Maester had called an emergency council an hour before. An important message had arrived shortly before from Winterfell.
Two scrolls had been received, one of them written by Lord Eddard Stark himself for the eyes of the Hand of the King, Jon Arryn, and King Robert himself.
Pycelle had arrived first at the doors of the hall, but before him awaiting him was the Queen herself, Cersei of House Lannister.
"Good afternoon, Grand Maester." The woman, three months pregnant, said in a cordial tone.
"My Queen, what a pleasure and honor it is to meet you on this bright day," Pycelle replied, bowing slowly.
The man had just turned seventy-three, physically he was in better condition than any sixty-year-old, but the maester, for many years, had played his part of [Old decrepit weak and frail] to perfection. He walked more slowly than an eighty-year-old man and had learned to simulate small aches and pains here and there to perfection.
Probably not even an actor could simulate Pycelle's farce better.
The Knights and Lords had their armor of steel, the Ladies their courtesy, and Pycelle had his.
"It is Great Maester...
A fortune for me to meet you, Maester Pycelle...I have been looking for you." Cercei began to approach while maintaining a friendly smile.
"I am at your service, Your Grace.
Are some physiological problems bothering you, my Queen?
The third month of pregnancy can bring numerous episodes of nausea and..." Pycelle was interrupted.
"No, Grand Maester, thank you for your thoughtful concern..." For some reason obscure to Pycelle, Queen Cercei hardly ever allowed him to visit her.
It was Robert who forced Cersei to call on the Grand Maester during Prince Joffrey's delivery.
"I am here, Grand Maester, for I hear that news has come from the North...
As you well know, Robert does not allow me to attend council meetings... and you must know that my Uncle Gerion took part in a dangerous battle on Isle Mormont.
So, Grand Maester. I have come here as a concerned niece for her loving Uncle...
I would ask if there is any news from the Isle." Cersei.
"Your Grace, it would be my duty to warn the council first.
I fear... "The lioness's eyes narrowed and became less kind.
Pycelle's allegiance had a definite hierarchy:
1) Himself.
2) The Citadel.
3) House Lannister, or more precisely Tywin Lannister.
4) The King and the realm.
Pycelle would, in cases of necessity, change the order of that hierarchy, but never the first.
The instincts of the man who had managed to live to a venerable age by spending decades of that life in ease and security shrieked a warning of danger.
"Yes, my Queen... I understand that concern for your family may be too heavy a burden for your condition... As Grand Master and protector of the health of the royal family, it is my duty to try to help... " Pycelle's slow speech was interrupted again.
" Maester, we don't have much time. Soon the other members of the council will arrive.
Let us cut through the unnecessary formalities and get straight to the heart of the conversation." Cersei.
"Yes... my Queen.
I am pleased to inform you that your Uncle, Lord Gerion is well and appears to have sustained no injuries during the battle." Pycelle.
"Good... I am relieved, Grand Maester... but tell me more.
How did the Iron Fleet expedition go?
Our loyal subjects of House Mormont and Tallhart?" Cersei.
"... Well, my Queen... It seems...
It seems the North has managed to prevail against the forces of House Drumm, my Queen...
The Iron Fleet has suffered a grievous defeat at the hands of the forces of the North, Your Grace." Pycelle.
"... I believe you meant, that 'The forces of the Kingdom' of my husband, King Robert, prevailed against the rebel forces, Grand Maester...
Tell me more... Any news of the fate of Lord Helman's legendary barbarian heir... Bloody Snow, if I am not mistaken?" Cersei.
"Well, Your Grace, I have not yet come to know the details...
I believe the information you seek is written in this second scroll which I fear is for Jon Arryn and King Robert's eyes only...
Lord Stark himself, wrote and sealed that information, your grace... " Pycelle said in the most humble and contrite tone she could muster at the time.
Cersei looked quite annoyed.
Pycelle knew why the queen had come to him first.
King Robert, for the third time in five years, would personally attend this meeting, and Cersei's spies had informed her of this ''incredible'' event...
"... I understand, Grand Maester...
In any case, I'm sure you'll represent the incredible and heroic deeds of my Uncle Gerion very well...
After all, he was in command of King Robert's Fleet, and the credit for this great success belongs to House Lannister.
I would like you to 'highlight' the fact that Lord Gerion even disobeyed the direct orders of my father, Lord Tywin Lannister, to help the loyal subjects of his majesty King Robert...
I hope he can entrust this task to you, Maester Pycelle." Cersei said in a much more authoritative tone than before.
"... I... Your Grace.
The courage of Lord Gerion's heroic deeds, will not be set aside in this meeting." Pycelle.
"Well, Grand Maester.
Your queen, Lord Tywin, and all of House Lannister thank you for your gracious gesture...
Barristan, come along! Looks like soon there'll be someone worthy of your sword! Ahahahahah!!!" Robert thundered, handing the piece of paper to his most trusted man.
"Yes, your grace." Barristan rose from his chair preparing to reach the side of the King's Hand.
In the meantime, Robert rose from his chair walking alone to the refreshment table. The king had decided to sip something more fortified than ordinary wine.
Pycelle froze at the sound of those words...
He was witty enough to guess the meaning of his king's praise and ramblings.
Three minutes later...
"Lord Jon... So, Lord Jorah Mormont scored a great victory against Lord Drumm?" Pycelle tried to ask, hoping his hunches were unfounded.
All the members excluded from reading that letter were eager to know what had happened on Bear Island.
"Great Victory is too reductive, Grand Maester...
The Northern victory was overwhelming.
Only 700 men of the more than 5,000 ironborn who took part in that expedition will return to Old Wik...
Fifteen ironborn dead or captured for every Northern soldier fallen in battle, my Lords.
Lord Stark and Lord Mormont write that the credit for this success belongs to House Tallhart. Lord Duncan Tallhart, aka 'Bloody Snow' to be precise.
The boy led the resistance with less than a thousand men until reinforcements arrived, and challenged Lord Denys Drumm to a duel and won...
He even won the ancestral sword of House Drumm, 'Red Rain'.
The Crown owes a lot to that boy." Announced Jon getting three surprised faces and one shocked one in response.
"Ahahahaha!
Did you hear that Barristan?
What did I tell you?!" Robert blurted out.
"... I admit my defeat, your grace," Barristan replied with a slight, amused smile. The Knight of over fifty years took a gold coin from his purse and placed it on the table in front of the King's chair.
''Ahahahah! You'll see they'll write another ballad.
Keep your gold, Knight!
You know what, on second thought...
Give it to Lord Gyles! That way he'll be less worried about the 'expenses of the military campaign'!
Ahahahahahaha!!!"
End POV.
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POV: Tycho Nestoris;
Iron Bank, Free City of Braavos.
Approximately three days after a Grand Maester had to endure the complaints of an 'enraged Lioness'...
The Director-General of the prestigious and powerful Iron Bank of Braavos was finishing up reviewing the document to be delivered in the future for Master of Coin Gyles Rosby...
The Iron Bank had recently accepted King Robert Baratheon's request for a loan worth one million gold dragons...
A huge loan, even by Bank standards.
Rarely did the Iron Bank grant loans worth 500,000 gold coins or more.
Any loan above that amount required the approval of the Bank's high council.
This council consisted of three senior managers of the Bank and the ten leading members of the families with the highest shares in the Bank. The top ten shareholders...
Only the president of the Iron Bank knew the identity of these members.
At each meeting, each of those ten members sat at the table in a special robe and mask.
Rare garments and artifacts provided by the House of Black and White since the dawn of that institution's foundation.
Those magical objects prevented facial, physical, and even vocal recognition of each member...
It was impossible to notice any differences or peculiarities that characterized each person in the world.
Each time a new president of the Bank, the only figure in the world who knew the secret, was elected and chosen by the second council of Bank officials, a council of which Tycho was a member, that person had to take part in a special and secret ritual always at the House of Black and White...
If the President ever broke that secret and failed in his oath, his name and that of any member of his family or loved one would become a top priority of the 'Faceless Men'...
Tycho, who had recently been elected as the Bank's General Manager, the third-highest position in the Bank, was also attending those meetings along with the Vice-President.
"Director Nestoris!... Two letters from the North, Sir..." Said Tycho's assistant as he hurriedly entered his office.
Tycho hoped until the last that he could have Ronan, 'The Iron Trainee', as his assistant. Although Jorakhet was also a good assistant, he wasn't even half as good as that numbers prodigy.
"Jorakhet... even if the entire world was on fire and on the verge of collapse, you'd still have to knock before entering...
A drop of ink has just stained this document.
You will now be in charge of copying and drafting it." I scolded with a kind look but a serious tone Tycho.
"Ye... Yes, Director! I implore you to forgive me, Sir.
I assure you it will not happen again!" Said Jorakhet bowing at ninety degrees.
"... Never mind, boy.
... then these letters?" Tycho.
"Right away, Director!" Jorakhet placed two sealed documents on the table.
One with the seal of House Dustin... from the composition of the letter it looked like an invitation to some event.
Another was more familiar... It was a report from his informants in the North.
About five minutes later...
"Director, is everything alright?" The boy asked, seeing his boss's face gloomy and confused.
"Not really, Jora...
I don't have the desire to attend this wedding between Lady Barbrey Dustin and Lord Jorah Mormont...
But the most annoying thing is that Bank just badly invested 100,000 golden dragons."