Strange Reflections
Twelfth Day of the Seventh Month 293 AC
"I must admit to knowing less than I would like of your order. Your goals are clear enough and laudable at that, so I'm not disinclined to offer some substantial aid, though..." Here you pause glancing meaningful at the trembling wreck of a maester, now no longer kept to at least a passable semblance of presentability. "There are some doubts about the company you keep."
Tobyn grunts in wordless agreement. It's clear the man does not feel at ease here and he distrusts you still, but just as clear that he is no longer of mind to strike the first blow after hearing the full tale of the Warrek's deeds. The Lantern Bearer does not seem the sort of man to care overmuch for formal contracts of honor, but he does have a sort of hardscrabble respect for keeping one's word born of a life where a broken promise can too easily be the difference between life and death. "So you need to know whose salt we eat before you can decide whether to help or spit on us, eh?"
You nod in agreement, carefully keeping back an amused smile he might misinterpret for mockery. Truth be told you find the bluntness charming after days of having to mentally peel back layers of Essosi formality to get to the kernel of truth within.
"The first thing you aught to know about us Lantern Bearers is that there ain't one of us that rules the others. There's some more senior and some more newcome to the fight, and the latter listen to the former, but our oaths are to young Lord Brightsmile and he don't meddle with how we keep the dark back... so long as we don't get the fat merchant's hackles up too often at least."
"Such
fun memories..." Dany hisses. "Remember when we had to explain to the Sealord why a bit of fire and light in the sky was better than demons running loose?"
The Reacher looks at first startled, then disbelieving, though as the tale unfolds, bar the politically awkward details, he comes to accept it. Perhaps unconsciously some of the tenseness goes out of his shoulders. "We usually work in pairs, master and apprentice, or those that used to be that. More than that catches the eye, so we only come together at need, which usually means someone else's fucked up..."
"And likely suffered worse than death for it," you nod along grimly, familiar enough with the ways of the Deep Ones.
"Aye," Tobyn spits in the general direction of the sea. He hesitates a moment. "You ain't much like I thought you'd be..."
"I should
hope not, considering the sorts of rumors going round alehouses and winesinks," you reply dryly.
The man looks you up and down, visibly considering his answer and just as obviously changing his mind, at least to your eyes. "We work with the Citadel of course, hard not to when they are the ones to read old moldering words and pick apart at monsters' guts to figure out how best to stab 'em. I favor archmaester Ebrose of the silver rod and mask most, for a fighting man always needs a healer, but I have taken help and done favors for the others, too."
"So who sent you here?" you prompt. "Who sent you here into the teeth of a dangerous fight to free a
damn poisoner?"
Tobyn sighs, hands on his knees. "It was archmaester Prestan. Copper are his rod and mask..."
"So a historian, then?" you half-ask. It had been a long time since you learned what metals went with what subjects, and you trust lore drawn from vague childhood memories less than most. "How did he contact you?"
At this question the Lantern Bearer scowls ferociously, all but confirming your guess that some sort of magic must have been involved, a means he obviously wants to keep secret.
Rather than press the matter Dany tries a different path: "What did he tell you, precisely? What were the foes you were to fight?"
"The message... said the old lord was enthralled by the Deep Ones and I should be careful that the maester hadn't been too. He said to watch out for the Westerlander sorcerers too fer some reason, but that I shouldn't get into a fight unless 'it couldn't be helped'. He made special note that Warrek here wasn't worth a fight with the Lannisters for his own sweet self, but added that he wouldn't weep if I gutted one of the shields without them knowing who did it."
The young maester's face grows even paler at the off-handed announcement of how little his fellow conspirators cared about his fate. Perhaps you should make a special note to the Lord Commander to watch out for him, lest he let foes through the Wall by sheer credulity.
"What of Lord Brune?" you ask, turning your attention back to the grizzled Lantern Bearer.
"If he really had belonged to the godsdamned squids it would have been a mercy to kill him, no need to ask it of me." The sound of a small stone being scrunched under the iron-soled boot briefly fills the air. "The son of a bitch just lied to me and hoped I'd do his killing on my own so I couldn't swear he'd put me up to it later."
"Thus gaining himself another agent if you had gone along with it," Dany points out darkly.
"The Hells I would!" the warrior bursts out.
"She means the archmaester would have blackmailed you," you explain in a carefully neutral tone. "Once someone has that sort of hook it's hard to pull free and only gets harder in doing the bidding of whoever holds the leash."
"Yeah... yeah, I can see that," Tobyn agrees unwillingly. "I'd like to think I wouldn't have gone along, but there's no real ways to know which way you will turn at a crossroad until it's in front of you, is there?"
A rather philosophical point... Then again, perhaps not. It would take more than a strong sword arm to fight Deep Ones for years and come out sane.
What do you do next?
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[] Offer covert help to the Lantern Bearers
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OOC: Some very good rolls for social combat this turn so you got quite a lot out of him.
