Of Faith and Foes
Thirteenth Day of the Eighth Month 293 AC
As Chataya realizes that the conversation will likely run well into the night to share all that you want to know, she invites all of you on a short and unexpected journey down a long hall paneled in simple oak rather than the ornate carvings of the entrance hall and up another narrow stairway to a lone door which opens to the turret room. Within is a great canopied bed decked in silk, but your host leads you further, opening the wardrobe to reveal a false back, and beyond that a metal ladder that descends well below street level. "I'm afraid this will not be the most comfortable of circumstances, but I felt it would be best to carry on this discussion where we cannot be interrupted. My girls are too good to do that of course, but sometimes the patrons are
not." There is a mountain of unspoken frustration behind that single syllable.
"A sound plan," you say, looking down the stairs. "Though perhaps I can spare everyone the climb down." You offer a hand to Dany and she to your mother and from there on until Chataya hesitates on taking Nuri's hand.
Not so much frightened of unfamiliar sorcery as rightly understanding how much trust she is putting in your hand, you suspect. A moment later she relents and does so, reasoning that she is 'too far down the fox's hole to worry about it' as the saying goes.
The tunnel must be about forty feet below street level, close enough that you can hear the sounds of the night above through the earthen walls. From the looks of things it is also old... or at least most of it is. In about two-hundred yards it widens into a proper chamber with doors on either side, clearly dug with magic from the way the earth had been evenly pushed aside like dough cut with a knife. Inside is a rough wooden table surrounded by twelve seats, and in the center lies a simple mage lantern of the sort your friends took with them on their journey. Still, the chamber certainly had not been made with their aid, much less the tunnel.
"Who built this and for what purpose?" you ask curiously. You can certainly imagine why any prudent business that works closely with the court would wish to have a quick way out, but you suspect the story is more interesting.
"Harwyn Half-hand widened it. He is an alchemist, one of the lucky ones who ended up in Lord Stannis Baratheon's employ after their guild was... destroyed." Here she gives you a measuring look, whether suspecting some measure of the truth or simply wishing to gauge your reaction you cannot say. "As for who built it in the first place..."
"Tywin Lannister, so he could visit the brothel without being seen," your mother interjects. "One would not think it would be possible to be anymore disgusted with the man than I already was, but it seems I had underestimated him. He cheated on his wife and likely the best thing he ever had in his miserable life..." She draws in a steadying breath. You faintly remember your mother being friends with Lady Joanna Lannister years before your birth, though by the time you were out of the nursery few of the servants dared to speak of it lest the reminder of familial closeness irk your father who was growing ever more distant from the Lord of Casterly Rock.
To your surprise the madame looks genuinely upset. "I am sorry for taking you down here again, but it is the safest place to have a discussion as in depth as this one needs to be. "
"He cheated on his wife?" Waymar asked, shocked. "I can't even imagine..." he trails off. "Sorry, it doesn't matter."
"For what it's worth he only availed himself to my services when his wife was indisposed, and he insisted on bedding maidens who would then be kept for him alone," Chataya said, her mouth tightening slightly. "He was resentful of his weaknesses of the flesh." You can guess the rest though Waymar might not be able to. A man who sees his own whoring as demeaning could well take it out on the women he was laying with, and not even one as well placed as Chataya could protest the actions of the Hand of the King.
Maelor speaks up, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "So who has the old goat been tumbling with recently?"
The question earns a giggle from Dany and a handful of smiles.
Chataya simply answers: "I would not know about him, but there are certainly enough other high lords who have been caught in ill-advised situations, especially with the Faith growing teeth..."
"Growing teeth?" Dany asks, intrigued. "I thought you said they didn't have any miracle workers in the city?"
"There is more than one sort of power a priest can use, and they have been getting the usual sort." There is an edge of frustration in her voice, almost of anger. You imagine for one raised in the Summers Islands the dictates of the Faith regarding the ways of love and passion must seem madness.
You thus learn of how the Faith has been slowly gaining influence in King's Landing in part by feeding off fears of magic and monsters, but also riding the surge of dark rumors and slander the Lannisters have been orchestrating against you. Easy enough to jump from 'the sorcerer king is wicked' to 'sorcery itself is wicked', which is the soundest theological position in any case.
Though the High Septon is most notable among the common folk for being the one to disperse mobs that might form against royal writ or Lannister effort, he is also slowly replacing some of the more venal and thus easily swayed members of the Most Devout with men of greater piety. So far no one has suffered any worse than being exiled to a septry, though in the chaos following the 'Judgement of Fire', as the destruction of the Alchemist's Guildhall is called, things came perilously close to killing. Septon Ollidor was confronted with a mob of fanatics at the door of a known herbalist and suspected witch. Chataya suspects his presence there had less to do with sorcery and more with his somewhat infamous issues between the sheets.
"Can't really blame them," Nuri quips. "He was not a very good septon either way, was he?"
To that you have to agree, but it is not the Faith's concern with clearing out its own ranks that troubles you the most. The court has seen almost a dozen lesser lords and ladies quietly leave when their conduct was deemed 'unseemly' for one reason or another. Generally this had to do with supposed use of 'exempted sorcery' though the unfortunate Ser Dontos Hollard, the only survivor of your father's butchery in the wake of the Defiance at Duskendale, was sent away from the court for being found drunk and naked on the training field one morning.
"Poor man, he had a far better reason to be drunk than the fool on the Iron Throne," Dany interjects. "We should find him and offer some small recompense for all he's suffered."
Speaking of the Usurper himself, he may not have been doing much ruling, but he has been using his training field for its intended purpose. The more news of your growing power in the east had emerged the longer the hunts and spars and the shorter the feasts. Where before the Greyjoy Rebellion some had begun to quietly comment on Robert Baratheon's expanding girth, now he is almost as fit as the rebel lord who had gained his blood-stained crown with a hammer. Supposedly the spells he most appreciates are the ones that let him get drunk without suffering a hangover and the healing spells that let him train with his hammer as if he were going to war.
"There's nothing he would like more than fighting you, Your Grace, that much I've heard from so many quarters it's impossible to doubt," Chataya continues. "I have it from my daughter, who has it from him when he was... in the mood to be boasting let's say, that he's waiting for the Lannisters to come up with some sort of dragon-killing weapon, or at least something that can drag a dragon to the ground so he can fight you with a hammer. There was also a story of the alchemists cooking something else up for him, but they are dead and broken."
"Would the Lannisters be looking to make this weapon or buy it?" you ask. While you are confident Lannister artificers are unlikely to make such a thing, you are not so arrogant as to think there is nothing in the vastness of the Spheres that could wound or cripple you.
Alas, to that Chataya cannot answer. Even Robert Baratheon will only spill so many secrets between the sheets.
Do you have any further questions on this topic?
[] Yes
-[] Write in
[] No move on to the next topic (Arrangement of the High Council and reactions to unrest)
OOC: If you guys were to make a big list of questions like with Bloodraven you can just put it all in there.