With an Open Hand
Twenty-Third Day of the Eighth Month 293 AC
"The Crown holds that a child is deserving of the aid and protection of its parents, be it trueborn or not, for the child is not responsible for how it was conceived. While the Crown upholds that a bastard is by default excluded from inheritance, barring recognition by the head of house as a member of his line, both father and mother are responsible for the well-being of the life they brought into this world."
At these words the various courtiers grimace at the thought of bastards arising hands outstretched, but there is at least no
fear there. Such fear can kill all too easily. Hopefully the newfound cost of bastards will go a long way towards ensuring that the various young and not-so-young scions of nobility take care with their trysts.
"Therefore, it is recognized by the Crown that the child, represented by his legal guardian, is entitled to aid of absent parents, to be rendered in financial or other ways. The exact nature of this support is to be agreed between the guardian and the absent parent, or to be determined by ruling of a legal court in accordance to the parents means if no agreement can be reached. In case of the parent being deceased, this obligation defaults to the head of house or the legal successor." Your tone softens as you look to Elaesys and the child in her arms. "In this case that would be the Crown."
Just as your ruling the offer is generous without being frightful to those attending. Seven-hundred marks are set in trust, enough to offer a basis for an excellent education and live up to the means of a middling merchant or clerk if spent wisely. The woman curtsies and thanks you quietly as the infant waves his chubby arms in the air as though to add his own salute.
Lost 700 IM
***
Onto the red priests you offer yet more gold, just as much as you had offered for the Great Sept, with the golden altar taken from the treasury of Tyrosh besides. The temple will be of a traditional make worked of black marble crowned in fire, though this flame will not be fed with wood or oil, but unwavering magic, shining all the brighter for being ringed in hardened glass, a beacon to the faithful. One of the priests suggests that it also be a beacon to lost ships at sea, but you politely refuse the notion. The symbolism is not one you wish to encourage. All who come in peace are welcome in Sorcerer's Deep, not only those who follow the Lord of Light.
Quick on his feet another priest suggests frescoes of dragons worked into the temple's facade depicting both you and Dany as models, not explicitly of course, simply to convey 'the greatness of the dragon who carries fire in his heart'. Careful to keep back a smile at the naked flattery, you nod in agreement, though you make a mental note to simply have Lya make the statues with a spell rather than needing to pose for a sculptor's chisel. There are far too many more urgent calls on your attention, even with all the help you have gained in recent months.
Lost 30,000 IM
Lost Gilded Altar of R'hllor (Worth 2,000 IM)
***
Perhaps more of that help had found itself to your door, you think, looking into the earnest expression of Denys Trainer and the knight standing behind him with startlingly familiar gruff protectiveness. Still, best not to get ahead of one's self. "And gladly would I accept your service. No man or woman of skill and good character shall ever be turned from my court, especially not if they've shown such prodigious skill in the Circle of Battle. Though, I am curious about your other two companions."
As you had expected the easterner speaks first, his voice calm as a still pond and his manner unruffled under your gaze: "I am Chun Ting Lo, a Traveler upon the Middle Way and Adept of the Moon-Blessed Silver Steps. My journey has been long in arriving here and even longer it stretches before me, but not all steps must be walked merely in flesh." A smile crosses his features making him seem startlingly young and carefree for a moment. "As my honorable companion Ser Criston says, 'bruises teach
much'."
The knight snorts, but refrains to comment on the advisability of fighting giants with one's bare first as you suspect he would like to.
Though the dark-haired woman was garbed such as to best fit the court, in silks that mingled Dornish and Essosi fashions deftly, she is the most ill-at-ease under your roof, only the iron will of a mage tested in battle keeping her fidgeting or her gaze slipping away into the corners. "Ceria Strom," she introduces herself with a curtsy that sends the folds of her dark blue dress pooling like a wave of silk over the marble. "I am a student of ancient history in whom ancient history at times seems to take an uncomfortable interest."
"A common concern for those of us touched by power," you reply, sharing the jest. The closer you look at her the more it seems that the word 'Storm' might carry more than the usual weight. Mayhap that is at least part of her worries. A pity you cannot simply summon Mya to set her mind at ease, but the girl herself stays as far from the court as she can, much preferring the company of Vee and her charges.
What do you do?
[] Try to set Ceria further at ease
-[] Write in how
[] Formalize their service with oaths and offers
-[] Write in
[] Write in
OOC: Ceria's prickly enough that I feel it warrants an opportunity for a write in to help things along. This is not like with Mel, though. Odds are very good that you will manage it if you demonstrate your usual generosity.