Settling Accounts
Thirty-First Day of the Seventh Month 293 AC
Mareo Reyan, Keyholder of an ancient and wealthy House was not a man used to nervousness. The wariness and suspicion of a life lived on the stage of Braavosi politics and business yes, for that was to the mind what a whetstone was to fine steel, but he had not been nervous since he was a stripling, wearing a bravo's garish colors rather than sensible doublet and clock that were the marks of a man of means and substance. Yet here he was waiting outside the Sealord's audience chamber, as his palms sweated and his collar felt as though it was about to strange him.
For all I know Drekelis could do that... The thought had an edge of gallows' humor to it, but it added little to his concerns. If he was to die to make an end of the feud than so be it. He had lived a long life, if not the most exciting, and his children and grandchildren would carry the family into the future. It was for that legacy that he feared the most. He feared that he would lose more of his future just as he had Arretio who should have been the one to lead the House's fortunes after him.
Why couldn't you have just whored or drank, boy? The pain was less sharp than it had been on that terrible day when news of his son's fate reached him, but it still ached and now here he was, moments away from having to swallow his pride and 'forgive' his son's killer.
"The Serenity and his guests will see you now, milord Keyholder," the guard said, his face as hard as granite, his tone unreadable.
At least the chamber was empty of the usual bustle of clerks and hangers-on that swarmed around the seats of power like flies on meat. There was only the Sealord ensconced in a heavy oak chair that was not quite a throne and... those he had come to meet.
As much to keep his attention off Drekelis as long as possible, Mareo fixed his gaze on the woman beside him, likely his wife. Her loose dark green dress did little to hide the curves of pregnancy, and she certainly seemed to be doing well with it, a glow in her cheeks and an easy motion to rise to her feet to greet him. Her husband had risen also from the faint click of boots on marble.
At least they don't want me to crawl too deeply, or so it can be hoped, he thought.
Slightly to his surprise it was the woman who spoke first...
Selyse, that was her name. Rumor had it she had been a courtesan, but if so then she must have settled quite comfortably into her new role, for her manner was a dignified as could be expected of a Keyholder's wife. "Lord Mareo, it is often said that a family feud is to a war what a fight with swords is to one using stilettos, no doubt the playwright wished to inspire some manner of elegance to the whole thing, an ode to subtlety. However, to my mind there is another way to see a knife fight, short, vicious, and as likely to leave the punitive victor bleeding out as not."
"I can agree that it is so my lady," he nodded, cautious of any verbal trap before the Sealord, but not wising to appear intransigent when he held such a poor hand.
"As it happens, there are worse things out there for us all to be stabbing than each other," Drekelis spoke for the first time.
Something about the way he sat motionless like a cat about to pounce sent a shiver of unease up Mareo's spine, fear tipping him over into speaking without thought. "Then why could you not be content with killing that monster? What purpose did killing my son serve?"
"Two years ago I would have said justice, for his carelessness in melding with magic, for his refusal to admit fault leading to six deaths, five of them children," the words were hard as iron but not sharp with accusation. "Now, looking back, I think it is fairer to say that is was vengeance, deserved though it may have been."
"Vengeance?" the elder Keyholder asked incredulously. "For the deaths of street urchins that could have fallen into the sea, gotten run over by a cart, or a thousand other misfortunes?"
Lady Selyse sighed. "My lord, when my babe is born I will freely admit that he or she will be as red and screaming as any other brought into the world, different from any of those urchins only by how fine a swaddling he or she will be set into. Their kin grieved for them no less truly then you do for your son or than we would for our child were he taken from us."
"Did you ask these nameless parents then if Arretio's blood washed the stain of their loss away?" It was not that Mareo did not know he was making a spectacle of himself before the Sealord, he simply did not in that moment care. In his own way recklessness ran as deep in him as ever it had done in his eldest son, he realized.
"I do not know, I never asked them," Drekelis answered softly. "I could not bear to face them in person after witnessing what had become of their children. Tell me, my lord, do you know what manner of monster your son and his comrades brought forth in their ill-crafted studies?"
It took Mareo a moment to recall the answer. He had been too busy remonstrating his son and calling favors to ensure that his deeds would not come to trial to pay much attention to the bizarre details. "Some sort of living puddle," he replied at last.
"Indeed... having no mouth, this 'puddle' hunted by engulfing its victims from ambush and then digesting them within over the course of weeks. I was briefly swallowed myself before cutting my way out..." The words were spoken without anger, with a sort of distant horror.
The patriarch of House Reyan was far from a stupid man, he realized the implications a few moments later, and neither was he stone-hearted for all the callouses the years had worn into his heart. "Arretio swore to me that he would put aside all sorcery..." he said quietly. He hated that he sounded defeated.
"And how was I to know what he told you in private?" Drekelis asked tightly. "How was I to know he would take the censure any more seriously than when he was rebuked for 'wild spirits'?"
Before Mareo could answer he sighed, "No, I am not here to cast blame to you or to him. The past is dead, and should we dig it up it will only haunt us all. Why did you vote for the Iron Bank's contract with King Viserys, my lord?"
"Because it is the only reasonable act for the city and for the Bank," Mareo replied, momentarily bemused by the change of subject. "If gold and silver are to lose half their worth, then all of Essos will be set alight around us. Mighty though Braavos may be, it would not survive that storm save by subjecting itself to your Dragon King under worse terms."
"Reason is all I ask of you, Mareo Reyan," Drekelis said. "Not friendship, merely a lack of enmity over the past." So saying he extended an arm.
For a long moment the elder lord stood as though rooted to the spot. A part of him was almost unable to believe his good fortune, but another, the grieving father could not bare to accept such an offer from his son's killer. However, the Braavosi are skilled indeed with numbers, and this one fact was clear in his mind. He had more than one child to worry about.
Slowly, he shook the offered arm at the elbow in a formal salute.
"Excellent," Ferrego Antaryon proclaimed. "It is not often I can rest my voice in an audience."
OOC: Garin gets 4000 XP for this and Selyse levels up. They both did really well in social combat.
