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50.98% GOT : All Left Behind / Chapter 26: Chapter 26: A Completely Apolitical Sermon

Chương 26: Chapter 26: A Completely Apolitical Sermon

It was nice to be back in a sept. Many boys my age might not have shared that opinion, but I found it pleasant. Perhaps not terribly exciting in and of itself, but the stories that made up the sermons were a good exercise in finding alternate meanings and deeper themes.

Perhaps more importantly for any future politician, however, was the practice of learning how to listen rather than to hear.

The way the septon's gaze might roll across his listeners as he recited a particular section, how his eyes might linger on one particular member of the congregation, or how he might avoid one area altogether were all hints about the kind of man who stood at the pulpit.

While I was by no means an expert, I still enjoyed the exercise. At least when the old septon stopped reading. I gave my full attention to the stories.

"At night, when Met and Kel were fast asleep, The Mother descended from the heavens." The septon only rarely glanced at the great tome on the lectern in front of him, the story no doubt having been drilled into his head by decades of experience. 

"She approached their hearth, where the fire burned all night, and placed their son in the fire. The action was not hers alone, however. 

She is of the Seven and the Seven is of her. When the Mother acts, the Father, the Warrior, the Maiden, the Crone, the Smith, and the Stranger act also. Protected from the flame by the craft of the Smith, the fire did not hurt the baby. Instead, the fire worked a great wonder in the child, and he grew beyond his age, and his face looked like the face of one of the gods. And his parents named him Hugor."

His eyes flickered to his book before they sought out a few members of the congregation, seated somewhere behind me. Not me, however, not any that were seated near the front. Was it spite, I wondered, or was it fear? The Septon was too far away, and I was too inexperienced, to be able to tell, but I had my theories. I had yet to move the Cannibal, after all.

"Less godly men would have interceded when they saw their son being lowered into the fire," the septon intoned, deviating from the story. I knew this part was most certainly not directly from the text. "Met and Kel, however, were true children of the Seven, godly in their conduct, and pious in their hearts. They knew the work of the Seven when they saw it and did not wish to interfere with it. Thus, they raised little Hugor into a man worthy of his gifts, into a man who would go on to unite the Andals."

He closed tome gently and swept his eyes around the sept once more. Those watery orbs tracked across the rows smoothly, never stopping.

"The Seven have a plan for all of us, for all of our children," he said, and his eyes settled on the front row. Where I sat with Maegelle. "Live piously, and do not doubt the Seven above, and our children will live to create a better world than the one we have now. May the Seven guide you all."

He picked up his great tome and stepped away from the lectern, heralding an end to the sermon. Once he had retired to the rear of the sept, leaving the congregation on their own in the cavernous hall, that the listeners began to rise. But not leave. The rows closest to the front left first, as status demanded.

In exchange for this convenience, Maegelle and I dispensed a few copper stars to each row we passed. Even the most valuable copper coin was a pittance to us, but each was the difference between stale bread and fresh meat for many in King's Landing.

That was a fact of life I could not change. I could not revolutionize agriculture to lower food prices any more than I could remember the chemical formula for gunpowder. Father could, perhaps, have institutionalized charity for the masses, but he never would.

No more than I would. I was preparing to give the best and brightest of the smallfolk the chance to rise above their erstwhile peers, but that did not mean I was going to uplift them all.

Besides, the symbolism of a charitable prince was far more sustainable than fixing the problem. Every generation could repeatedly wield that image to their advantage. And the common folk would appreciate the exceptions so long as the norm was not brutally oppressive.

Maegelle and I left the sept at the head of the congregation, little bothered by the brightness of the midday sun. The large windows of the sept had allowed it in to illuminate the otherwise sparsely decorated building.

The common folk gave us enough space to move to the palanquin that had borne us to the sept, where we waited for them to finish departing down the hill. Their voices filled the air with chaotic chatter which melded together until it was impossible to distinguish even a single voice.

Unfortunately, they were walking quite slowly, and the road down was quite long and narrow, leaving us stranded atop the hill for what was likely to be several long minutes. Fortunately, I had something that needed doing.

And a sister who needed to be informed.

"The sermon was certainly interesting," I mentioned to Maegelle as I guided her around the sept, searching for the place the Cannibal had chosen as a basking spot. "Though I doubt we should use it as material for our lessons any time soon."

"Most certainly not," Maegelle agreed. "The sermon was all too focused on blind obedience. Although there are some who may wish to take note."

"I am the very image of obedience," I said easily, not even having to lie. "Did I not follow our parents' instructions for leaving the keep?"

"Did you not lie to our beloved brother to leave the keep less than a week ago?" Maegelle asked in turn.

"And disobeyed nobody in the process!" I proclaimed proudly. "I even won a joust thanks to your favor."

And the machinations of the Cannibal, but she knew that. Not that it stopped a pleased smile from growing on her face.

"And you scared away a tamed dragon," Maegelle reminded me. "How brave."

"Brave indeed. The Cannibal is many things, but tame is not one of them," I said, refusing to let my annoyance with the great beast show in my voice. Honestly, calling him tame was like calling him a lizard: incorrect in almost every possible way. "And I need to move him out of the city."

"Why not the Dragonpit?" She asked as we rounded the halfway point around the sept. Still no dragon. I was starting to regret not going around the other way. "Surely there are chains strong enough to keep him from attacking the other dragons?"

I did not respond for several seconds.

"Can you keep a secret?" I asked. The Cannibal's cowardice was a crippling flaw for a dragon to have. Were it to be publicly known, it would cause no end of trouble. If the great beasts are susceptible to such base flaws, after all, how can their riders be expected to be any better?

"I thought you were going to share those with me regardless," Maegelle answered, a sly smile on her face. "How unexpected."

"I know, it's quite the turn of events," I sighed as the great black dragon came into view, curled up next to the sept. The ground looked dangerously charred in more than a few places, no doubt the result of a few successful feedings. Thankfully, much of the hill's peak was left undeveloped out of respect for the temple to the Seven, allowing the Cannibal to roll up next to it without being in danger of disturbing anyone. "CANNIBAL!"

The dragon in question raised his head to gaze at me, his pale green eyes filled with annoyance and anger at having his nap interrupted. Tiny pupils that looked like they belonged on a human instead of a lizard whose head alone was taller than I was bored into my skull for half a second until he noticed Maegelle standing next to me.

Instead of a roar of anger, which I was starting to believe was his default greeting, the craven gave a pitiful hiss.

"Easy… easy…" I said slowly, reaching out to grab the dragon's horn on his snout. Almost immediately, those venomous green eyes flitted over to me before changing his mind and gazing at Maegelle. And then promptly back to me as the beast struggled to prioritize his targets. "This is my sister Maegelle. She is the rider of Dreamfyre."

A deep growl filled the air, reverberating deep within my chest.

"She means you no harm," I said even more slowly. Unfortunately, the Cannibal chose that moment to whip his head to the side, nearly wrenching my shoulder as I lost my grip on his horn.

The dragon drew himself up to his full height, stretching his neck to look down at us with the sun at his back. At last, the Cannibal let out a deafening roar and shot a pillar of green fire into the sky.

His point made, he lowered his massive head back down to eye level.

"Good news, Cannibal," I said amiably while the dragon's eyes resumed their indecisive dance. "Construction has started on a shelter for you beyond the walls. Look for a stone circle."

I would have given slightly more precise instructions, but the dragon chose that moment to take to the skies with yet another roar. There was little doubt in my mind that he would be able to find the location. For all his many faults, the Cannibal was still a clever creature.

"So… the secret?" Maegelle asked as the dragon's silhouette shrank in the sky.

"He is a coward. A craven of the highest order, where other dragons are concerned," I said softly. There was no pity in my words; It was a character defect, like Daella's shyness or Saera's need for attention, just more severe. And like with my sisters, there was only so much I could do to help him overcome it. "And their riders."

"A touch more severe of a problem," she conceded. "Is that why you refused to put him in the Dragonpit? For his well-being?"

"I could not put him in it if I tried," I said, turning around to return to the palanquin that had brought us to the sept. But not to return to the keep, no. I had a bit more business in the city. "He outright refuses to approach it. He refused to even land anywhere close to Duskendale when he so much as heard Vermithor and Dreamfyre."

"His state seems worse and worse the more you tell me," she said, her eyes still following the rapidly shrinking dragon in the sky. "Are you certain claiming him was a good idea?"

"It was not," I admitted, coming to a stop still a significant distance from even coming into view of the litter. And our escort. Really, it was quite surprising they were willing to let us out of their sight. "But I can hardly complain about the hand I was dealt when I chose to play."

"Really? A metaphor about playing cards?" She chuckled softly as she shook her head. "Ser Velaryon really is turning you into a rogue."

"Corlys is a valued friend who made that adventure possible," I said in mock offense, hand clutching at my heart as though I had been grievously wounded.

"You told Ser Velaryon before you told me?" Now it was her turn to act affronted. "I don't have to worry about you fleeing for Driftmark, do I?"

"And leave behind my family when they need me most?" I asked in turn, acting as though I were seriously considering it. "Tempting as it is, my sisters have need of me."

"And you of us. Though I suspect Alyssa may be the exception," She said, and I suppressed a grimace. Alyssa was the last person to need help. If it ever got back to her I even implied such a thing, I could look forward to meeting her in the training yard. And she was the only one in my family who liked to fight as aggressively as I did.

"Except for Alyssa," I rapidly agreed. "Ready for the next of my little ventures?"

There were musicians to put to work, after all.

"Certainly," Maegelle said, the smile growing on her face. "Is it the one where you ask for my help in fixing the Cannibal?"

Oh.

I knew I had forgotten something.

...

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Chương 27: Chapter 27: Singers and Whisperers

"My good men, I am so glad you could make it," I said, every ounce of the amicable man of business I had been a lifetime ago. When I had sent my intermediaries to purchase the struggling inns, I had also dispatched some messengers to ask the singers of the city to meet with me at the Sea Drake, the finest of my many establishments.

That I was joined by my sister in the large meeting room on the second floor was probably not a point in my favor. Neither were the seven knights who had chosen to follow me inside, but likely for different reasons.

But they were here. Nothing I could do about that.

"It is our privilege," a man just barely past his prime said, his hair marked with a handsome amount of grey. "Though while I appreciate being able to meet with a son of His Grace King Jaehaerys, I am hardly alone in wondering why your Grace invested so much time and effort into arranging such a meeting."

The 'meeting', if you could call it that, involved most of the most successful singers in the city. And the most ambitious singers. At least, those who chose to attend. These men would become the foundation of my personal intelligence network, whether they knew it or not.

They were a motley sort, ranging from the aging and finely dressed man to the preening young fools who had barely completed their apprenticeship. Some might have scoffed at relying on their kind, but I was not a man to be restrained by prejudice and preconception. Opportunity waited wherever man dared to look.

"I have a business proposition," I said, still keeping an even smile plastered on my face. This was not the smile of a man about to screw another out of all of his savings, no. This was the smile of a man who had every intention of helping the ones across from him, if only because it helped him, too. "One which I believe you may find interesting."

"What kind of proposition?" one of the annoyingly comely younger singers asked. I made a note to keep him away from my sisters. No doubt he would shower Saera with the attention she so loved. "It's not a feast, is it? No feast needs three score singers. Perhaps a wedding, then? They are always such lively events."

"His Grace did not come alone," another singer remarked, pointing out the eight who had accompanied me. "He's here on official business, more like than not."

"I am indeed," I confirmed, nodding gratefully towards the clever singer. "Though the business is mine. I have a proposition for all men of your trade."

"Your business?" The comely singer asked, confusion clouding his looks.

"Yes, my business," I repeated, keeping my tone level but fixing my eyes on the singer in question. Ordinarily, I would have swept my gaze across the crowd before me, but this called for a diplomatic rebuke. "I may be young, but that does not mean I lack for wits."

Somebody in the crowd snickered, quickly joined by a few more, while the foolish singer sunk into his seat. All the while, my gaze remained leveled at the idiot who did not understand how protocol worked.

Luckily, the work I was willing to entrust to people like him was hardly delicate.

"Singers frequently traverse the Seven Kingdoms, do they not?" I asked, looking away from the fool in favor of his colleagues. "Travel from village to village, from town to town?"

A chorus of assent greeted me, some merely nodding, but a few gave voice to their opinions.

"You know we do," the aging singer said, folding his arms across his chest. Clearly, he was the one who needed persuading. "Just make your point, your Grace."

"I would like to buy your records of which songs are most popular in which town and village," I said without further preamble, enjoying the complete look of shock that crossed their faces. "Everyone who agrees will have access to the collected records."

Dead silence greeted my words.

Truth be told, I had expected as much. Tell a man you wanted to buy his trade secrets to share with his rivals, and you were likely to earn a similar reaction. If I were just another man, the singers would laugh in my face and leave. End of story.

But a prince? Oh, they would listen to what a prince had to say, if only because it was a prince. And because a prince usually had access to plenty of coin.

"You want us to give up our secrets to our competitors?" Another singer asked, this one a bland-looking young man whose clothes were a mottled green. No doubt part of his act, of his stage persona, but that was exactly important at the time.

"You are not giving up your secrets," I corrected. "You will pay for the information others have gathered with your information."

"And what do you get out of this?" The bland singer asked again, still ignoring all proper rules of etiquette. On one hand, it was promising for getting honest information. On the other, how could one trust a man who did not even offer the barest courtesies?

Luckily for the singer, I had enough self-control to not rise to the bait.

"Information," I said simply. "How much can you learn from the preferences of a string of villages in the Reach?" The assembled singers said nothing, likely unaware that the question was not, in fact, rhetorical. "How much from the preferences of all the villages in the Reach? Over several years? The information would be worth quite a lot of coin to the right people."

Slouches straightened out and relaxed backs leaned forwards to listen more closely as I earned their attention. The idea that the kind of information so many of them learned and internalized as they performed their trade could line their pockets further had to be tempting.

"What's to stop us from going to someone else who wants this information?" asked the older singer. He seemed to know his courtesies if nothing else.

"Aside from the fact that you would all need to stand together? The fact that each individual's information is nearly worthless without everyone else's?" I asked in turn. "Even if you all decided to reject my offer, and you have yet to hear the rest of it, you would not even know whom to approach to sell your information."

"I would hear the rest of his offer," one singer in the crowd stated, but I could not tell who. A younger man, that much I knew, but little else. Perhaps I should have started with a smaller sample instead of every significant singer in the city.

"As would I," another agreed.

"And I!" Shouted yet another. More and more sounds of assent came quickly, blending like wine and water, each speaker's words drowned out by his neighbors.

Oh, how disjointed and chaotic these singers were. Not that it was truly surprising, each was in competition with every other singer in the room, but it still took an effort to keep a grin from growing on my face.

"My offer is simple," I said truthfully. "You will provide me with a detailed ledger of which songs are popular in which towns and villages you visit. In exchange, you will have access to the collected ledgers of all who choose to accept this deal. In addition, you will be eligible to stay at any of my inns in the city for half of the cost. Three months' work for a week's stay."

It was a damned good deal if I said so myself. Access to information that could drastically improve their incomes from singing. A way to reduce their cost of living by simply keeping a record of their work. Improved living conditions when they took a break.

And I got a crude system of informants that tracked public perception. One I could share with the Small Council, once it proved useful. For a price, preferably.

"Which inns are these?" The older singer asked after a moment of thought.

"The Drakes," I answered, referencing the nickname they had picked up. A welcome side-effect of having a consistent naming scheme. "Along with the Singing Thrush, the Red Cabaret, and Old Wes'." At their confused looks, I elaborated. "Newer acquisitions."

"And the records you want us to keep?" Another asked. "Will you be providing the paper, ink, and quills you want us to use?"

"Of course," I said, acting as though I were offended at the very notion that I would not provide my potential workers with the tools they needed to uphold their end of the bargain. "They will be distributed seven days after acceptance of my offer."

I let a pleased smile grow on my face. This was what I did best. I might have been a damned good fighter, but the world of business was my true area of expertise. Even as negotiations stretched on for hours, even as I could sense my escort start to fidget behind me, I was calm.

This was what I did best, after all. I had a lifetime of experience in the field, after all.

And in a way, establishing my own personal intelligence network was more important than wealth. My family was only growing, after all. And I would rather charge the Black Dread on foot than let them fall to preventable crises.

...

Hey guys I really need you to throw some power stones to elevate the ranking Since this is a new story :)

...

If you want to read ahead of the public release, or just want to support me.

you can join my p atreon :

p@treon.com/Nolima


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