Chapter 31
MATARYS TARGARYEN
His stay in the Red Keep was rather short because of the King's rage. There was no official declaration, but his father had told him about the King's desire, and Matarys could only bow his head and leave the castle.
He had expected a harsher sentence, but the punishment was rather tame. Daeron II was a good King, and a good father. Despite their faults, the man loved all his children, and so his pain over the loss of his youngest son was no pretense.
Even though Matarys had broken none of the King's laws, he had caused him pain as a father, and he was being punished for that very thing. But with time, the pain would lessen, and the anger would simmer down.
His mother did not like the King's decision, but in the end, she was helpless to change it. She had wanted to come with him, but her responsibilities in the Red Keep made that rather difficult, even though she promised to visit him as much as possible.
"This is wrong," Duncan added, and he was not riding alone, though.
Duncan had followed him here from Ashford so Matarys could finish his training and make him a knight worthy of having a Royal Prince as his squire.
"You did nothing wrong," and the tall man was surprised by his conviction, even when Matarys was not.
"You are right. I did not break any of the King's laws. I did not sin against the King, but I did sin against a father, and now I must pay the price for that," and Duncan frowned, and the bruise on his face had lightened up, and Matarys had no doubt that the blow to cause it had come from the Baratheon lord.
But he would simply have to deal with it another time.
"But you are the King's grandson as well," and he was, but he was one amongst a dozen there.
"That is why I am only being sent away rather than being hanged," Matarys answered, as he turned towards the taller knight.
"Truth is that I do not mind it," and Duncan frowned at that.
"I have little interest in the affairs of the Red Keep," and the politics of it had always bored him. Moreover, given his age and position, there was little autonomy for him in that place.
But out here. In his own settlement, he had all the authority and the power to do as he wished.
"Of course I will miss my family, but I had always intended to come and live here at my own settlement," and they were not much farther away from it now, and they would catch a glimpse of it just over the hill.
"Settlement?" Duncan asked, and Duncan had not been to the capital in quite some time, and so he was unaware of his work.
"Years ago, I had my father lease me some land. Then, using some of my own money, I enticed people from the Flea Bottom to come and farm the lands for me, and within a few years, a town sprang up," and it was more complicated than that, but he couldn't quite explain it all.
"Where is it?" and they reached the top of the hill, and Duncan became quiet, and Matarys's eyes lit up as well, as he looked ahead at acres upon acres of fields, and large tall granaries.
Of course, it was nothing in comparison to Grand Cities of the Kingdom, but unlike most other settlements in the kingdoms, this one had been deliberately designed. Matarys was no architect, so he had hired a man from Braavos to help him design the place and now as he looked at it the result, he thought the money was rather well spent.
One could see the smoke rising from one part of the city where the smitheries and breweries were located, and the City was divided into two by the small river that came in from the Blackwater Bay.
Much like Duncan, he had not been to the place in a year and a half himself, and so he was also rather surprised by the progress of it all, and though he would like to take the credit for most of it, the person who had made it all possible was Aemon.
And his lips thinned as he was reminded once more of his cousin's departure, and that was another consequence of his decision.
"What is it called?" Duncan asked, and they had quite a few names for it.
"Honestly, everyone has their own name for it," Matarys answered.
"But I prefer the name 'Newlands'," he answered, and Duncan nodded.
"Newlands," Duncan repeated.
"It seems appropriate...."
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BAELOR TARGARYEN
In the end, Matarys left the capital a few days after his return, much to his wife's dismay. But a King's patience was thin, and Matarys himself had little desire to stay in the castle himself.
The mourning lasted three days, and the entire city mourned the loss of a Prince. All of Maekar's children had been summoned to the capital, and as the eldest son he was now responsible for them all.
He had taken Daeron into his retinue. Aegon had wanted to leave with Matarys, but the boy was too young and some motherly affection would serve him well.
But Baelor's responsibilities went beyond just his family. No. He was the King's Hand as well, and with the King now old and frail, it was up to him to see to the realm as the heir to the Iron Throne.
The Small Council gathered in its chambers, and only two seats remained empty as they waited for their King. Brynden was absent as well, but only because he had been summoned by his father.
After his ascension, the King had been quick to rid the Small Council of his father's influence. King Daeron had ruled over the Seven Kingdoms with sagacity and wisdom, and his Council had helped him much in that regard.
Lord Ronnel Penrose was the Master of Coin, but the man was only a figurehead for the entire realm knew that the person in control of the Crown's purse strings was his Aunt, the Lady Elaena Targaryen.
She was old now, but her mind remained as sharp as a blade. She was the Daughter of another Aegon, but this was Aegon the Younger. The Dragonsbane. Her father was the last Targaryen King to set his sights on a dragon.
Lord Ronnel Penrose was her husband. He was a good man, but he was not nearly as good with numbers as his lady wife. Besides him sat the Grandmaester, and then the Lord Commander of the City Watch, Lord Michael Manwoody.
He was Dornish and one of the King's most trusted men, and the seat beside him was empty still.
"Will your grace come to the Council Meeting?" questioned Lord Penrose, and Baelor had no answer for him.
"I am afraid he has not shared his intentions with me," he answered, and the aged man nodded.
"I would not be surprised if he chooses to rest," Michael Manwoody added, as the rest of the men all nodded.
"The death of Prince Maekar came as a great blow for him," and Baelor's lips thinned at that, and they must have noticed his expression as they all became silent.
Thankfully, the doors swung open, and they turned towards the entrance in hopes of welcoming the King, but it was only his half-brother who walked into the Hall with pacing strides.
"I am afraid King Daeron will not be joining us today," Ser Brynden Rivers began, and it was not the first time such a thing had happened.
"He has chosen to leave the realm and its affairs in the Hands of this Council," he added as he reached his chair, and put down his marble, rounding up all of the Small Council.
"We should begin now," Brynden said.
"There is much to discuss here," and Baelor nodded, and so began the life as usual. His father's absence was no longer a rarity now, while the King did still make most of the important decisions, much of the day-to-day running of the realm had been handed off to him for years now.
They spoke of taxes and of the harvest. They spoke of the City, and its worsening state. They spoke of Braavos and Pentosh, and it was in that moment that Brynden chose to speak up once more.
"I am afraid I must interject here," and everyone in the room turned towards him.
"I have been hearing some rather disturbing whispers from Braavos and Pentos," and he had heard none such whispers.
"What whispers?" questioned Lord Michael.
"Whispers of a Plague?" and everyone sat a bit straighter now.
"Are you certain, my lord?" questioned Lord Penrose, and Brynden nodded.
"Aye, I am. They are yet calling it the Plague, but there are rumors that hundreds have already succumbed to it in Braavos, and I fear that if we do not act now, our cities could be affected soon enough," and both Bravos and Pentos were allies, and if such a tragedy had come to their shores, it was their responsibility to inform the Crown of such an affair.
"Why haven't they written to us about this then?" questioned Lord Penrose once more, and Brynden shrugged.
"Denial. Subterfuge. Selfishness. Or plain old incompetence. Take your pick, but the reason does not matter. Not truly," and he leaned forward now.
"Braavos and Pentos are our allies," the Grandmaester began.
"If the matter was truly as severe as you say, then they would have reached out to us," and the man then turned towards the Master of Whispers.
"Are you certain about these whispers of yours Lord Bloodraven?" and despite his sacrifice, Brynden Rivers was neither well liked nor well trusted.
He was a man of mystery, and was said to dabble into the magics of the Freehold. He was despised by the Lords for his uncanny ways, and many had sought to have him replaced but he had the King's trust, and despite being one of the Great Bastards, Daeron the Second refused to remove him from his Council.
"I am," Brynden refused to back down.
"We must act now, before this tragedy reaches our shores," and the eyes then turned towards Lord Penrose, who was now rubbing his chin.
"We do a lot of trade with Braavos and Pentos. Closing our ports to ships from these two places would be a great blow to our reputation and our coffers," and that much was obvious.
"But a plague would be much worse," Baelor added, and they did not have enough information as of right now.
"We must gather the information and act with haste before this tragedy reaches our shores," if it hadn't already.
"I will write to Braavos and Pentos for answers. Until then, we must make plans to deal with a plague," and while it was nearly impossible to fully stop a plague, they could do their part to save as many lives as possible.
"We should warn the other cities as well," Lord Michael Manwoody added, and that would be wise.
"Indeed, I will write to the Lords myself and ask them to make their own preparations as well..."
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