The Sevenfold Dream
Tenth Day of the Ninth Month 293 AC
"Do they not deserve one who will speak for them and be heard in southern courts? Do they not deserve one to counsel them against senseless bloodshed and revenge?" you ask, feeling at once relieved to hear the question of your alliance with the Old Gods asked in full rather than whispered, and...
saddened. It takes you a moment to recognize why. It is one thing to find yourself explaining the realities of this new world to lords and princes, but quite another to have to lay out such simple truths to the very servants of the Seven. How could they have allowed themselves to lapse so?
Why? Not a question you will get an answer to from Brother Lucan's lips, alas.
Perhaps one of the other Chosen may shed some light on the matter. For now you must concern yourself with the one before you, to give an accounting of your reasoning. "True, I have spilled much blood at the roots of their Heart Trees, yet it is the blood of Winterborn and monsters, Fiends and those that sold their souls to them. How many have you slain in Lucan's service?"
"None, for I do not serve Brother Lucan. I serve the Father above, and it is in his name that I have ended the lives of those who would prey upon the Faithful, whether they be mortal or of a darker kindred." The angel's voice grows harsher. Perhaps you should not have implied he is sworn, though from where you stand it makes little difference.
"And what of those who merely chose to make use of their powers, harming none, but refusing to give their oaths?" Yrael interjects, unwilling to let the other's words slide by unchecked.
"In time they would have reached too far, greed, ambition, and fear driving them to dark pacts to the ruin of all." The answer is not as steady as those which had come before, like a stone tower build on sandy ground.
"Such certainty..." you shake your head. "Through all the magic I possess I have found no way to know for certain how the heart will be moved for good or evil, certainly not any means that I would trust to hand out sentences of death." Seeing that Roland was about to reply you raise a hand to forestall him a moment more.
"It will not end with them, you must know that. Think of what Brother Lucan would he do if he came to hold sway in the Vale and have the power to act in the North? I have little love for R'hllor the Red, yet I have not closed a single of his temples, instead raising one in the Deep greater then all others for the sake of those who follow him. Neither can I claim much love for the Seven, yet a great sept is being wrought in my name as we speak. Will Lucan do the same? Or will he do as in the old days and make kindling of Weirwood trees and build septs on the bones of those who do not kneel before his gods?"
A shadow passes over the face of the moon, or perhaps only over the face of the angel, the luster of his armor fading, wings furled instinctively close.
"It is not for Brother Lucan to rule the Kingdoms of Men, but instead to lead the Hand of the Gods to protect the realms against otherworldly threats," he finally says, far from a direct answer to your question.
For a moment you are silent, walking forward to sit upon one of the larger stones in some faint echo of a throne. "My line have reigned over the Seven Kingdoms for some three-hundred years, and one of their first acts was to abolish the Faith Militant. It was ultimately not because we were strangers to the Seven or of Valyrian blood, but simply because
no king can afford in his realm a gathering of so many swords that are not sworn to him that could plunge the realm intp war at any moment. Yet besides what you propose even the Faith Militant of old would seem almost inconsequential, all the mages of the realm to swear to the Seven that they may fight threats which are by your own admission beyond what the lords can face." With a thought you allow the glamour upon your crown to fade. "How then could any lord, any
king, say that he is master of his domain and not just a steward for the true power of the Faith?"
"Brother Lucan is faithful to the Father and through him to the Seven Who Are One," the bright spirit replies stiffly.
"He would impose no laws and neither would he command the lords in peace or in war."
"And yet the power would still be
there. What king would not covet it and seek to rule it or destroy it seeing the peril it holds?" Once you would not have known to make this argument, but over the last year you have learned the lessons of kingship and of power. "Do you imagine Robert Baratheon would be agreeable to such a thing? That Tywin Lannister would meekly allow his mages to abandon him?"
"It is not to such as them that I place my hopes. A new age is upon us that calls for greater and more honorable folk..."
"And where will you
find these new lords?" you interject, unpleasantly reminded of Varys' madness, his twisted hopes for Aegon. This is nothing so perverse certainly, but in its essence it can be just as crippling. "You seek to change the guard of a fortress with an enemy at the gates. It is too late for that. I suspect it has been so since the day magic began to seep back into the world."
Though you still cannot see beyond the helm, you can read the unease in Roland's posture, ironically due to having spent so much time in the company of the Furies.
"I must meditate on this and ask for the Crone's wisdom..." Roland finally says, obviously meaning to leave.
What do you do?
[] Press on for a more solid commitment
-[] Write in
[] Suggest that he look instead to the Maiden, for did he not call this a New Age?
-[] Write in
[] Let him leave for now
[] Write in
OOC: Just to be clear he is not brushing you off. Viserys words did land, though you did not get enough successes to flip him.