To Tear a Poisoned Veil
Twenty-Sixth Day of the Eighth Month 293 AC
"Varys," you send to the little pseudodragon who had been sunning herself by the window while idly reading Lyseni poetry. Sensing your agitation her head darts up at once, drawing a start from the already tense Ser Erren.
"Find Dany, she should be in the Houses of Healing. Ask her to scry if the devils will panic if I should break their toy, to see if we turn over an anthill."
"So that we might kick it down?" she replies, stretching.
"Yes. Get Lya too, and Ser Richard if you can," you add, not wanting to potentially leave the knight again as you head out into danger.
After you had calmed the Florent knight, explaining that 'the little dragon has a mind of her own,' you speak lightly of Reach gossip, tossing one or two light barbs at the Tyrells, though no more than one would expect to keep him sweet considering the old feud between their houses, all the while you look behind his eyes, picking through the thoughts flashing over the surface of his mind like fish in a swift-moving stream.
'What am I supposed to do?' Fear... distrust.. nagging worry. 'What do they need me to do? I am no spy to steal secrets, no sorcerer to even understand them.' Jealousy... fear... emptiness. 'Why me and not Alekyne?'
Emptiness. It takes you a few moments longer to recapture the feeling, like a dead silence between Erren's thoughts, a void from which something was taken. Remembering Joran, you suspect his memories had been altered, though to what end you cannot guess.
As the knight describes Brightwater Keep, the strength of its walls, the richness of its lands, and other boasts that one might expect to hear, there is no sense of hesitation over describing the history of the sept, blessed by a long dead High Septon, no instinctive surge of guilt that even the most dedicated devil's servant would feel. Erren Florent is not beholden to Hell, likely the victim of a failed recruitment attempt patched over with sorcery.
"All is quiet," Varys whispers in your thoughts as she returns through the open window.
You allow the gravity of the situation to show upon your face, stopping the latest bit of smalltalk in its tracks without a word spoken. Gesturing to the clasp of his cloak, you command the magic broken. Where once there was one piece of worked gold now two fly in different directions as though shot from a sling.
"I... What... What is the meaning of this?!" Erren sputters.
"One moment, Ser," you reply, walking over to recover both clasps from the floor. One is unmarked just as you had seen it moments before, but the second is marked with jagged dark red lines.
Written in blood, you realize, catching the faint coppery smell. The glyphs themselves had been destroyed alongside the magic they held, but even so there is something ominous to them, repulsive to the eye and mind. From the way the knight flinches at being presented with them you suspect he feels it even more strongly.
"Ser Knight, I fear I must be the bearer of dreadful news," you say gravely, keeping back only the flash of pity that would be unwelcome. "I fear your uncle and cousin are consorting with fiends. Think back upon these last few months and you will no doubt see their mark upon your family."
The knight first pales as his mind flies instinctively to those same suspicions you had known were there, then his cheeks flush crimson. "
You would make such accusations of my kin?! When every second septon in Westeros calls you a devil binder?! What right have you to call getting some help from sorcerers devilry?!"
Another time you might have taken offense at the words, but the man is obviously distressed at what you had revealed. "Having fought devils I can assure you they are, sadly, far more than a rhetorical trick for septons seeking to frighten their flocks. They are the slave masters seeking to bind us all in chains, tyrants who seduce with honeyed words while ruling with fists of iron and hearts of stone. You have seen it, have you not? In your uncle, your cousin? They have changed."
In truth the words are more than half a guess, knowing that those who sup with fiends often become infected with their madness. Thankfully it seems your guess struck true for the Reacher knight flinches as though struck. Still though, he doubts, he does not wish to believe, and so he asks a thorny question you would have preferred unspoken. "How do you know?"
Obviously you cannot reveal Bloodraven, but then that part of the tale is hardly essential. Unveiling Varys' part in the plot would, however, be almost as troublesome. After all, as far as most of the world is concerned, the Spider is alive and well in King's Landing. Perhaps you should conjure some other identity for the captured diabolist.
Thinking back to what Bloodraven had said of how the Florents were snared by a supposed Essosi trader you reply: "Those oh-so-helpful mages came from the east, did they not? Behold that you are east of Westeros and my realm stretches even farther. Is it any surprise that I would have pulled that end of the string? I found cabals in many cities, all promising the restitution of old wrongs, the fulfilling of ambitions, all poring poison in their victims' ears..."
At these words the knight collapses into his seat, his eyes lost in horror. "I have to go back. I have to warn them. Fuck, I'll even warn Mace Tyrell..."
"It's not safe," you point out as gently as you think his pride will bear. "They had a scrying focus on you, they will know something is amiss with it now gone."
"Then I have to... I have to fake my death, in a way that would explain its loss." There is fear in his eyes now, but not, you realize a moment later, for himself. "I have to keep Edwyn safe..."
"Edwyn?" you prompt, not recognizing the name from any account of the Florents.
"My son, my natural-born son. My uncle Alester made him a page just before I left. Such a
fucking honor it was," he curses under his breath, as much at himself as at his kin you suspect. "I should have seen it when septon Colym died. I should have known..."
What do you do?
[] Agree to help Erren feign his death
-[] Write in how
[] Try to recover the boy
-[] Write in how
[] Write in
OOC: Even with your stats that was a hard sell, but it worked in the end.