Tribulations of the Mind
Sixth Day of the Ninth Month 293 AC
"Ah, but the Father has already decreed such, for Brother Lucan truly is his mouthpiece upon the earth, blessed as his Champion and empowered with his Divine Writ," you reply simply, truthfully.
As the Braavosi say, one could have heard a shadow falling in the silence that followed. You had not hidden behind doubt, the same doubt your mother had admitted to feeling yesterday. It would have been a simple step, a lie Lord Hightower would have wished with all his heart to hear, but you are not Corlys Waters now, nor is he some fool you plan to fleece, but a lord whose oath you would have. Thus before he can open his mouth to speak, to deny your words or call you a fool you continue: "It is in that folly the potential for schism is born. I cannot claim to know the minds of the Seven, save what I and my allies have gleaned of the workings of all gods, the Seven among them, through dogged investigation and arcane divination."
"You can't just..." the words trail off.
"
Just is not the word, my lord," Dany interjects, almost gently. "The path is long, full of perils and false turnings, perhaps more so than any other study... but then you know something of that, do you not?" She motions to the chamber. "This tower bears the light by which ships find safe harbor, but there is more light within than that which burns upon its summit—the light of knowledge, of understanding, the reason why you are standing here as your own man and not the puppet of horrors lurking in the depths."
"I have learned many things I would have never expected to, things I perhaps was not meant to by the Light of the Seven. Ours is a fallen world, but..." Baelor shakes his head as though to dispel words he does not wish to hear, thoughts he does not wish to think. Alas for him that neither is so easily banished.
"But the gods are above that, transcendent as they pass judgement upon mortal souls?" Your sister sighs. "That would not be the world I would choose, but I can imagine why many might wish to live in it. Answer me this one thing, my lord, what are the Deep Ones you so struggle against here? Are they 'demons' by virtue of being malevolent and otherworldly? Are they divine retribution to be called and halt at the will of the Seven-Who-Are-One?"
"I believe that is two questions," Baelor corrects, his smile a wan thing, though there might be an edge of gallows' humor to it. "Your point is well made, though if you will pardon my saying so there is a difference between acknowledging the Seven are not omnipotent and believing that they are actors to be anticipated and countered."
"Agreed," you nod. "However, for me this is not a point of philosophy, but simple observation. The Seven no longer move as one. No longer are they united in such purpose that claims could be made they are in fact a single deity with seven aspects. For example, the Father's Chosen would impose rule by the Gods, or more practically the Godsworn and crush magic from Westeros, save his pet mages, yet the Maiden's Chosen embraces freedom and gladly consorts with inhuman creatures and heathen mages. The Warrior invests his attention in a child, all but ignoring the perils facing Westeros and the rest of the world, while the Chosen of the Smith wastes time forging trinkets any competent mage-smith could reproduce."
"I have met Danelle. She does not wish to be called 'septa' having never studied for the title you know." The lord abruptly stops himself. His hands are trembling ever so slightly upon the cup in his hands, tea utterly forgotten save for something, anything to hold on to. "How do you know of the others? Who are they?"
"There I am going to have to avail myself to silence, at least for now," you reply. You pause a moment as much to let the lord catch his breath as waiting for an answer. He merely nods in understanding, and so you continue: "The unity of the Seven is fraying at the edges in this era, and will continue to do so as time passes and their individual agendas become ever more divorced from one another. Schism is all but inevitable. I merely wish to hurry it along, to lessen the impact on Westeros and to prevent another costly internecine war, one in which the only true winner will be the monsters laughing at our self-imposed misfortune as they sup on our blood and misery."
For a long moment the Lord of the Hightower is silent, looking over his domain, not at the sept but at the almost four-hundred-thousand souls milling about in the streets, most of them faithful to the Seven, but also more than that—mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, craftsmen, sailors, and scholars. Something hardens behind his eyes. "Can you prove this, my lord? Show me those divinations you spoke of, the texts from whence the lore was drawn?"
Somehow you doubt he would enjoy meeting Yss in this state of mind. Fortunately you have an alternative. You quickly pen a note and hand it to Varys, bidding her to deliver it to the Lord of Mantarys while explaining the matter to Baelor. Part of you had been inclined to showmanship, but you do not wish to present him with any shocks besides those that are inevitable.
In less than two minutes you hear the familiar hiss of displaced air as Yrael manifests unseen outside the tower window as you had asked. You slide the window open to allow him passage. Only when it is closed again and the curtains drawn tight does he remove the borrowed glamour without fanfare or ceremony.
"As I am called so here I am, my lord," he says with a solemn bow to you before greeting Lord Hightower with all the courtesy due a guest.
"Whatever counsel you may need I will give freely."
In the conversation that follows Lord Hightower proves once more to be a man with no small knowledge of magic, to the point where you begin to wonder if he has not dabbled in it himself, but far more importantly one trained in logic at the Citadel and applying that training to his beliefs with a ruthlessness that is at once admirable and almost painful to watch. Finally he nods wearily to Yrael. "Thank you for indulging my questions. A great deal is clear to me that had been veiled before."
Then he turns to you, his voice clear and resolute despite the turmoil he had passed through: "I will aid in your plans however I am able while staying true to duties to the people of Oldtown and my House so long as you pledge to do everything in your power to ensure that the conflict will not come to blood here, particularly that you will not fight Lucan or any of his...
entourage in the city. I fear that would spark such unrest as the city has not seen in an age."
What do you reply?
[] Agree
-[] Write in questions/requests
[] Counter proposal
-[] Write in
OOC: I was tempted to just go with yes and continue with the questions you guys put in the previous vote, but in the end I feel that any solemn oath Viserys makes has to be up to you guys.
