Infrastructure Report on the Rhyone

Personal annotation on previous report: Keep wood intact for now. There is nothing in the vicinity that would warrant significant protection from the Old Gods, and there likely will be negotiations with a dryad next month. Fey of all stripes are attracted to rare offerings, and this would certainly be one of them. After a moment, you add a note that no villages are to be specifically encouraged to arise near the grove. No sense in risking competing claims.

***​

News from the still sparsely colonized former Rhoynar lands are mostly encouraging. The new Inquisition base in Chroyane has already acquired something of a reputation as a place one sends agents without much interest in dealing with other humans. 'At least the ones who are not mad enough to request an assignment to Sothoryos, one note reads. The tone of dry humor makes you suspect the author has actually been to the southern shore, unlike so many who know it merely from tales.
Establish Espionage Base in Chroyane (10/1)

In neighboring Ar Noy, there has been significant progress setting up better access to healing, from herbalists to those trained in low magic, and even mages of the Schularum looking for lucrative steady work on the frontier, where people are more likely to see even a minor mage as more of a helping hand against the dangers of the world, as opposed to a cause for suspicion they unfortunately remain in many other places.

Establish Healthcare Services in Ar Noy (10/12)
Investigate Supernatural Activity in Ar Noy

The report from Ny Sar is much the same, if not quite as optimistic that the improvements to healing access will be complete next month. It will be a while yet before there will be a city again around the fountains to whose song Nymerya was born, but you have no doubt it will happen. The shape of the land is unchanged and so trade flows in its channels as surely as water passes between the banks of the Rhoyne itself.

Establish Healthcare Services in Ny Sar (7/13)
Investigate Supernatural Activity in Ny Sar

Oberyn's lands report similar progress, with the discovery of a small cache of treasure buried during the wars against Valyria in expectation of better days. Those had certainly come, though not in the manner those long dead Rhoynar nobles pondered. Although most of what survived was gold, silver, and works of craft and art, rightfully claimed by Prince Oberyn since they were found on his land and through his own efforts, he did send the remains of several books to be reconstituted and added to the library.

Establish Healthcare Services in Golden Fields (6/12)
Investigate Supernatural Activity in Golden Fields -> Knowledge History +1

Alas that not all were so fortunate as the Red Viper. In Ghoyan Drohe, a pair of Scholarum mages eager to prove their mastery of magic and advance their understanding of ancient spellcraft, entered what was later discovered to be a royal necropolis. Wraiths rose from the stagnant waters to curse those who had disturbed their rest, slaying the mages, and attacking all those who 'trespassed' upon the ruins. Spreading knowledge of healing had to take second place to keeping said healers alive, for the dead seem to be able to sense sorcery and strike wherever it is kindled.

Establish Healthcare Services in Ghoyan Drohe (2/5) -> Undead disturbed 1 Mystic (Level 3) and 1 Hedge Mage (Level 5) Killed
Investigate Supernatural Activity in Ghoyan Drohe

How do you deal with the undead?

[] Send a proper party next month

[] Assign other forces in the background
-[] Write in


OOC: I was going to cover Northern Valyria, but then the roll came out 4 on a d100 for how bad the crit fail on the Healthcare services was. Not yet edited.
Here's an edited version of the chapter, DP.
 
Here's what I have for our retroactive psionic item commission. Sorry it took so long, @egoo.

In addition to the stuff egoo wanted, I've added in some re-orders from our last commission. Between equipping the Inquisition and our other agents and allies, I consider a lot of this as stockpiling equipment to eventually use against the Deep Ones.

Anyone else have anything we should add?

[] Psionic Item Commissions (Retroactive to the 19th day of the 12th month, 293 AC)
-[] x1 Crystal Rod of Reddopsi (13th Manifester Level, 1/Day) - 6,552 IM + 70% markup = 11,139 IM
-[] x1 Crystal Rod of Null Psionic Field (11th Manifester Level, 1/Day) - 4,752 IM + 70% markup = 8,079 IM
-[] x20 Crystal Mask of Constant Detect Psionics (1st Manifester Level) - 800 IM each (Total: 16,000 IM + 25% markup = 20,000 IM)
-[] x10 Gloves of Object Reading (1st Manifester Level) - 600 IM each (6,000 IM + 25% markup = 7,500 IM)
-[] x10 Single-Use Crystal Fate of One Charms (13th Manifester Level) - 910 IM each (Total: 9,100 IM + 70% markup = 15,470 IM)
-[] x10 Single-Use Crystal Temporal Acceleration Charms (Augmented to 15th Manifester level, 2 round duration) - 1,200 IM each (Total: 20,400 IM + 70% markup = 34,680 IM)
-[] x10 Singe-Use Crystal Reddopsi Charms (13th Manifester Level) - 910 IM each (Total: 9,100 IM + 70% markup = 15,470 IM)
-[] x10 Singe-Use Crystal Null Psionic Field Charms (11th Manifester Level) - 660 IM (Total: 6,600 IM + 70% markup = 11,220 IM)
-[] 3 Slotless Crystal Charm of Zealous Fury (7th Manifester Level, 1/Day) - 4,032 IM (Total: 12,096 + 40% markup = 16,935 IM)
-[] 2 Slotless Crystal Charm of Hustle (5th Manifester Level, 1/Day) - 2,160 IM each (Total: 4,320 IM + 25% markup = Total: 5,400 IM)
-[] 1 Slotless Crystal Charm of Empty Mind (Augmented to 15th Level, +9 bonus to Will saving throws for 1 round, 1/Day) - 17,280 IM + 70% markup = 29,376 IM
-[] 1 Slotless Third Eye: Conceal [equivalent to Mind Blank] (15th Manifester Level) - 48,000 IM + 70% markup = 81,600 IM
-[] 2 Third Eye: Conceal [equivalent to Mind Blank] (15th Manifester Level) - 24,000 IM each (Total: 48,000 IM + 70% markup = 81,600 IM)
-[] 1 Ring of Psionics (II) (14th Manifester Level) - 8,000 IM + 70% markup = 13,600 IM
-[] Total: 352,069 IM
 
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[X] Crake

Argo is a good choice to accompany the group going to handle the Undead in that Necropolis. He got an upgrade on his axe this month and hasn't yet had a chance to put it to the test.

Large Valyrian Steel Greataxe (+4): Damage (3d6+4; x3) w/Dragonskin Grip (+2 to checks vs Disarm attempts)
  • Greater Weapon Crystal of True Death: The dagger inflicts an additional +1d6 damage to Undead, functions as a Ghost Touch weapon, and can be used to deliver Sneak Attack and Critical Hits against Undead as if they were living creatures.
 
Total numbers:
487 Black Knights, (490 IM each) -- 238,630 IM.
722 Black Knights (mobility upgrade), (560 IM each) -- 404,320 IM.
106 Black Champions, (5,360 IM each) -- 568,160 IM.
2 Greater Bloodclot Mold - Black Champion controlling units (28,800 IM each) -- 57,600 IM.
16 Black Brutes, (4,700 IM each) -- 75,200 IM.
16 Necrotic Molds - Black Brute controlling units, (450 IM each) -- 7,200 IM total.
955 Spitter Swarms, (60 IM each) -- 57,300 IM.
232 Plant-Imbued Shadow Creature Cats, (1,200 IM each) -- 278,400 IM.
289 Verdant Wolves, (1,200 IM each) -- 346,800 IM.
102 Advanced Druid Lotus Leshy, (2,400 IM each) -- 244,800 IM.
55 Druid Creature Treants, (4,800 IM each) -- 264,000 IM.
690 Verdant Kingfishers, (300 IM each) -- 207,000 IM.
69 Verdant Ravens [Advanced Plant-Imbued Giant Raven (w/+4 Racial HD)] CR 6, 6 HD, (1,200 IM each) -- 82,800 IM
153 Advanced Sorcerer Creature Snapdragon Leshy, (4,800 IM each) -- 734,400 IM.
10 Necro-Krakens, (4,880 IM each) -- 48,800 IM.
50 Spitter Swarms (Aquatic) - (60 IM each) -- 3,000 IM.
75 Advanced Druid Creature Seaweed Leshy, CR 6, 4 HD (1,200 IM each) -- 90,000 IM.
10 Advanced Plant-Imbued Sea Drake, CR 10, 7 HD (4,800 IM each) -- 24,000 IM.
20 Amphibious Quickling Vinespawn (CR 10, 12 HD) - 4,800 IM each (96,000 IM total).
10 Kelp Golems (Reskinned Aquatic Pumpkin Golem), CR 8, 8 HD (2,400 IM each) -- 48,000 IM.
10 Very Old Myrkdreki Dragons, CR 15 (28,800 IM each) -- 288,000 IM.
22 Wyrmling Myrkdreki Dragons, CR 3 (450 IM each) - 9,900 IM.
284 Tuogou, CR 4 (600 IM each) -- 170,400 IM.
7 Greater Blood Clot Molds (28,800 IM each) -- 201,600 IM.
40 Blood Clot Molds (4,800 IM each) -- 192,000 IM.
181 Necrotic Molds (450 IM each) -- 81,450 IM.
1,000 Necro-Cases, CR 1 (10 IM each) -- 10,000 IM.
50 Black Wardens, CR 8 (630 IM each) -- 31,500 IM.
10 Black Wardens, mobility Upgrade, CR 8 (700 IM each) -- 7,000 IM.
1 Half-Dragon Shipwrecker Crab -- 28,800 IM.
162 Hunter Jellyfish, CR 7 (1,800 IM each) -- 291,600 IM.
18 Advanced Dire Hunter Jellyfish, CR 10 (4,800 IM each) -- 86,400 IM.

Total Price: 5,247,290 IM.
Order updated with the illithid-hunting battlegroups to stay near SD and Gogossos.
Fixed the pricing on the Giant Enemy Shiprwecker Crab.
 
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To continue the effort of equipping Jeyne with op stuff are Ring of Psionics ok @Goldfish @DragonParadox ?
That's a pretty snazzy ring for a psionic character.

I think Jeyne is all right for now, though, at least when it comes to psionic paraphernalia. Between her Torc of Power Preservation, +1 Manifester dagger, and four Cognizance Crystals, she has a very large pool of Power Points available, especially for her level. 69 PP goes even further when the cost of every power you use is reduced by 1 PP.
 
That's a pretty snazzy ring for a psionic character.

I think Jeyne is all right for now, though, at least when it comes to psionic paraphernalia. Between her Torc of Power Preservation, +1 Manifester dagger, and four Cognizance Crystals, she has a very large pool of Power Points available, especially for her level. 69 PP goes even further when the cost of every power you use is reduced by 1 PP.
@Goldfish That ring is a must have.
 
Also correct me if I'm wrong but isnt Jeyne's sheet missing the +2 psicraft bonus since she has more than 5 ranks in knowledge (psionics)?
 
Also correct me if I'm wrong but isnt Jeyne's sheet missing the +2 psicraft bonus since she has more than 5 ranks in knowledge (psionics)?
Oversight on my part.
@Goldfish That ring is a must have.
Agreed. @Goldfish, it doesn't matter how well equipped Jeyne already is, she's definitely getting this ring.
Okay, due to popular demand, I'll include one of the rings for her on the order.
 
Canon Omake: Fear of Failure
Fear of Failure
Twenty-Ninth Day of the Twelfth Month 293 AC

Red Keep, King's Landing

Joffrey slumped forward, arms crossed upon his chest moodily. "You swore," he said accusingly at the stuttering graybeard lecturing him. He smirked inwardly, Pycelle thought he was so clever, playing the feeble old man, but he had been caught in his act months ago and began giving the Prince real lessons on things that actually mattered, wars and the Rebellion most of all. Hearing about why Daemon Blackfyre rebelled against his legitimate brother wasn't worth the bother, nor the other four times his descendants made a play for the Throne.

They had all failed, and failure ended in death. That was what happened to Rhaegar when he dared to oppose the fury of House Baratheon, Father had slain him and then taken the Throne from the Targaryens... at least that's what he'd always been taught, whenever Father bothered with him and gave him the war stories he asked for. He looked forward to sword practice that afternoon, Mother had stopped keeping him from the yard when Father and the Kingsguard were at work preparing for war, he would have to be the greatest warrior ever for his Father to finally recognize him.

"Yes, well," the graybeard coughed, no longer stuttering out every other word as he usually did when he thought him well and truly fooled, before sighing. "Very well, what would you like to hear?"

"The Rogue Prince!" Joffrey demanded, "He conquered the Stepstones and at least he was successful for a time, more than Maelys Blackfyre could say. He needed help from nine upjumped brigands to take one." The Prince scoffed, as if he could ever imagine Viserys Targaryen begging for help from a bunch of pirates and bandits to conquer a kingdom. Father at least had him matched with Seven, seeing as they both took help from their comrades...

Listen and get it through that daft head, boy, Father had grumbled, you can't hold one Kingdom let alone seven without friends on your side, he spoke, a wistful note in his voice. The Dragonspawn knew that from the start, made friends early. If you've any hope of surviving in this viper's pit of a city, you'll know your friends from your enemies and you'll hold them tight before they slip away from you.

Joffrey was confused though, he was no longer trapped in Maegor's Holdfast all the time and stuck behind Mother's skirts, but who was he expected to befriend? Lancel? He didn't see why he needed to have so many friends at his side anyway, all the other boys in the Keep stayed well and clear of him even though he was the Prince and Father's heir. Mother had said it was because they were simply jealous, but Joffrey was starting to doubt... what did they have to be jealous about? Joffrey had no power and he only just started to learn how to swing a sword, he was mostly polishing Ser Barristan's armor to be honest.

No, Joffrey only needed one true friend, just like Father, it had to be a Stark. Father had won the war with Ned Stark at his side and Joffrey thought if he had to fight a war maybe he could win the next one with Robb Stark, the lord's son and heir. Father had always wanted the Stark to be his Hand, he knew it when the Eagle lord had died in the silliest way, tripping on a twig or a snake or some-such while riding through the countryside, but they hadn't gone North so Joffrey never had the chance. Maybe when he was King he would have the chance... again that niggling doubt ate away at the back of his mind, when, not if.

"Very well," Pycelle began, thumbing through the pages on one of his musty old books before pushing it aside wearily. "It is just as well we cover that part of history, seeing as how it was King Viserys the First of his name, who had tried to keep him occupied in this very city, first on the Small Council and then on the City Watch, as its Lord Commander. It was he who had given them their golden cloaks, thereafter they were known as the Goldcloaks..."

Pycelle didn't work hard to sap joy out of learning history anymore, but it was little consolation, seeing as now he always sounded like he was in on some joke that Joffrey didn't know about. He had half a mind to have his Mother teach him a lesson of his own, but Father had told him that it was a man's duty to fight his own battles, only it was obviously hard since he was also told to learn at his lessons with the Grand Maester so he wouldn't have to surround himself with 'smug snakes who think they always know better than you' if he actually knew what they were always 'harping on about'. Joffrey swore that the only joy of 'being a man' was learning how to fight, like the knights out of songs, even though he thought all of the stuff about protecting the weak and innocent was stupid. Who ever protected either?

Surely no knights had stood to protect the Prince and Princess who had lived in the Red Keep before he and his siblings... Joffrey shivered, memories of wandering into dusty chambers still torn over and forgotten, a chill went up his spine when he thought he'd seen a ghost. He didn't dare tell Mother he'd been up there.

Part of what made him want to learn how to fight was the thought of some knights deciding to pay him and his Mother a visit of their very own.

***​

"That's it!" Father roared, pumping a fist as Joffrey struggled to lift the huge hammer on the dare he'd charged headfirst into. He had badgered Father over and over to teach him how to fight instead of just beating on pages who wouldn't even raise their blades to him in the training yard. A part of him thought maybe his Mother had threatened them or their parents, and he resented it, how was he supposed to learn how to be a warrior if no one took him seriously? That's why he had to get Father to give him a chance.

"I... I can't," Joffrey sniffled, causing Father to growl under his breath.

He half-roared, "Damn it, boy! Just say it if you bloody can't, no need to be dramatic. That's the most balanced hammer you'll ever get your stubby little hands around. If you can't lift it yet, there's no point in training you at arms, you'll just hurt yourself." Despite the anger in Father's voice there was a tinge of concern as Joffrey huffed and puffed, red-faced as he tried to get the hammer off the ground. He suddenly fell backwards when it jerked up, nearly dropping it on himself a moment later. "Blast! Watch it, boy!"

Robert yanked him up roughly, dusting him off a moment later, hammer back in his giant paw of a hand. Father always seemed like a giant when he was nearly in rage, Ours Is the Fury Joffrey thought dimly. "Stop crying now," he said, a serious edge in his voice, and Joffrey shrank under the rebuke, "You think the Dragonspawn will care a whit for your sniffling? You can only strike down your problems, not wash them away with a flood of tears!"

Just then Uncle Jaime stepped forward, Father tensing as the Kingslayer hovered nearby, a hand resting easily on his sword, helmet tucked underarm. "He's hardly going to be striking down any dragons at age seven," his Uncle said dryly.

"Bah! Then go on, Kingslayer. I had thought I had been rid of that harpy's whinging, and could finally begin to teach the boy how to hold his head up high like a true Baratheon, but it seems I've traded one golden nag for another." He spat to the side, "Ser Barristan! Trade partners with me again, Moore can go pummel someone else."

Joffrey wiped his face with his arm, humiliated, when he heard his uncle clamber down next to him, holding up a wooden training sword in offering. "I'm no Demon of the Trident," he said softly, "But I think you'll like the sword better to start with. I know a thing or two about swinging one of those," he said with a conspiratorial smile.

Joffrey wanted to run away and spit the offer back in his Uncle's face but then he realized it would just make Father angrier since he'd started managing his schedule more after he begged and pleaded with him, and he didn't want to be barred from the yard again. Even if he knew all of the pages and squires were probably snickering at him behind his back. "Fine," he said, sullenly.

Uncle Jaime taught him how to hold the sword and properly stand, how not to get hit and didn't mind when he didn't understand anything about stances and ripostes and so on. He just explained it differently until Joffrey started to understand. "Why doesn't Father do that...?" Joffrey wondered aloud, before shooting a glance their way, worried they might be overheard. He was so focused on Ser Barristan that it was like Joffrey didn't exist any longer.

Jaime glanced around himself, hesitating, before gesturing for Joffrey to follow them to the water barrels. "Let's go freshen up and get a drink, and I'll tell you a little secret."

They wandered over and after cooling down Uncle Jaime knelt to look Joffrey in the eye, "You have trouble learning like everyone else, right?" Joffrey scowled at the accusation, it wasn't like it was a lie, but that didn't make Joffrey wrong, did it? Maybe everyone else was going about it all wrong. He wasn't stupid!

His uncle gave him that look, the smirk coming back, "Would you believe me if I told you I never quite got reading and writing on my own, either?"

"You didn't?" Joffrey blurted, before clamping up.

Uncle Jaime chuckled, shaking his head, "Your Grandfather locked me up in his solar and forced me to learn my letters, hour after hour, didn't even let me think about going back into the yard to train with swords, not until I showed progress." He offered Joffrey the practice sword again. "Yet even though he forced me to do something I misliked, I learned them because I had to, and I did it in my own way. Because I had other things that I wanted to do."

"But I want to learn how to fight," Joffrey said, defeated.

His uncle shook his head, "You want to impress your Father," he replied, "Maybe you don't hate fighting like I did writing, but you hate the idea of failure. But failure helps you learn, the risk of it centers your mind, gives you a goal and something to overcome. And you have to do it in the way that works for you, not the way that works for everyone else."

Joffrey stared down at the sword for a few long moments, before looking back up at his uncle who barely gave him the time of day before he started coming down to the yard. Everyone was shaking with fear of dragons, of traitors and heathens coming to kill them all, but Uncle Jaime just stood in the sun smiling and enjoying himself, not a care in the world.

"Can you teach me how, then?" Maybe Joffrey wouldn't ever like fighting but he definitely didn't like the idea of doing things the way everyone else thought things should be done, that hadn't turned out so well for them, so maybe his uncle was onto something?

Jaime smiled softly, taken aback by the question. He nodded a moment later. "Alright."
 
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Fear of Failure
Twenty-Ninth Day of the Twelfth Month 293 AC

Red Keep, King's Landing

Joffrey slumped forward, arms crossed upon his chest moodily. "You swore," he said accusingly at the stuttering graybeard lecturing him. He smirked inwardly, Pycelle thought he was so clever, playing the feeble old man, but he had been caught in his act months ago and began giving the Prince real lessons on things that actually mattered, wars and the Rebellion most of all. Hearing about why Daemon Blackfyre rebelled against his legitimate brother wasn't worth the bother, nor the other four times his descendants made a play for the Throne.

They had all failed, and failure ended in death. That was what happened to Rhaegar when he dared to oppose the fury of House Baratheon, Father had slain him and then taken the Throne from the Targaryens... at least that's what he'd always been taught, whenever Father bothered with him and gave him the war stories he asked for. He looked forward to sword practice that afternoon, Mother had stopped keeping him from the yard when Father and the Kingsguard were at work preparing for war, he would have to be the greatest warrior ever for his Father to ever recognize him.

"Yes, well," the graybeard coughed, no longer stuttering out every other word as he usually did when he thought him well and truly fooled, before sighing. "Very well, what would you like to hear?"

"The Rogue Prince!" Joffrey demanded, "He conquered the Stepstones and at least he was successful for a time, more than Maelys Blackfyre could say. He needed help from nine upjumped brigands to take one." The Prince scoffed, as if he could ever imagine Viserys Targaryen begging for help from a bunch of pirates and bandits to conquer a kingdom. Father at least had him matched with Seven, seeing as they both took help from their comrades...

Listen and get it through that daft head, boy, Father had grumbled, you can't hold one Kingdom let alone seven without friends on your side, he spoke, a wistful note in his voice. The Dragonspawn knew that from the start, made friends early. If you've any hope of surviving in this viper's pit of a city, you'll know your friends from your enemies and you'll hold them tight before they slip away from you.

Joffrey was confused though, he was no longer stuck in Maegor's Holdfast all the time and stuck behind Mother's skirts, but who was he expected to befriend? Lancel? He didn't see why he needed to have so many friends at his side anyway, all the other boys in the Keep stayed well and clear of him even though he was the Prince and Father's heir. Mother had said it was because they were simply jealous, but Joffrey was starting to doubt... what did they have to be jealous about? Joffrey had no power and he only just started to learn how to swing a sword, he was mostly stuck polishing Ser Barristan's armor to be honest.

No, Joffrey only needed one true friend, just like Father, it had to be a Stark. Father had won the war with Ned Stark at his side and Joffrey thought if he had to fight a war maybe he could win the next one with Robb Stark, the lord's son and heir. Father had always wanted the Stark to be his Hand, he knew it when the Eagle lord had died in the silliest way, tripping on a twig or a snake or some-such while riding through the countryside, but they hadn't gone North so Joffrey never had the chance. Maybe when he was King he would have the chance... again that niggling doubt ate away at the back of his mind, when, not if.

"Very well," Pycelle began, thumbing through the pages on one of his musty old books before pushing it aside wearily. "It is just as well we cover that part of history, seeing as how it was King Viserys the First of his name, who had tried to keep him occupied in this very city, first on the Small Council and then on the City Watch, as its Lord Commander. It was he who had given them their golden cloaks, thereafter they were known as the Goldcloaks..."

Pycelle didn't work hard to sap joy out of learning history anymore, but it was little consolation, seeing as now he always sounded like he was in on some joke that Joffrey didn't know about. He had half a mind to have his Mother teach him a lesson of his own, but Father had told him that it was a man's duty to fight his own battles, only it was obviously hard since he was also told to learn at his lessons with the Grand Maester so he wouldn't have to surround himself with 'smug snakes who think they always know better than you' if he actually knew what they were always 'harping on about'. Joffrey swore that the only joy of 'being a man' was learning how to fight, like the knights out of songs, even though he thought all of the stuff about protecting the weak and innocent was stupid. Who ever protected either?

Surely no knights had stood to protect the Prince and Princess who had lived in the Red Keep before he and his siblings... Joffrey shivered, memories of wandering into dusty chambers still torn over and forgotten, a chill went up his spine when he thought he'd seen a ghost. He didn't dare tell Mother he'd been up there.

Part of what made him want to learn how to fight was the thought of some knights deciding to pay him and his Mother a visit of their very own.

***​

"That's it!" Father roared, pumping a fist as Joffrey struggled to lift the huge hammer on the dare he'd charged headfirst into. He had badgered Father over and over to teach him how to fight instead of just beating on pages who wouldn't even raise their blades to him in the training yard. A part of him thought maybe his Mother had threatened them or their parents, and he resented it, how was he supposed to learn how to be a warrior if no one took him seriously? That's why he had to get Father to give him a chance.

"I... I can't," Joffrey sniffled, causing Father to growl under his breath.

He half-roared, "Damn it, boy! Just say it if you bloody can't, no need to be dramatic. That's the most balanced hammer you'll ever get your stubby little hands around. If you can't lift it yet, there's no point in training you at arms, you'll just hurt yourself." Despite the anger in Father's voice there was a tinge of concern as Joffrey huffed and puffed, red-faced as he tried to get the hammer off the ground. He suddenly fell backwards when it jerked up, nearly dropping it on himself a moment later. "Blast! Watch it, boy!"

Robert yanked him up roughly, dusting him off a moment later, hammer back in his giant paw of a hand. Father always seemed like a giant when he was nearly in rage, Ours Is the Fury Joffrey thought dimly. "Stop crying now," he said, a serious edge in his voice, and Joffrey shrank under the rebuke, "You think the Dragonspawn will care a whit for your sniffling? You can only strike down your problems, not wash them away with a flood of tears!"

Just then Uncle Jaime stepped forward, Father tensing as the Kingslayer hovered nearby, a hand resting easily on his sword, helmet tucked underarm. "He's hardly going to be striking down any dragons at age seven," his Uncle said dryly.

"Bah! Then go on, Kingslayer. I had thought I had been rid of that harpy's whinging, and could finally begin to teach the boy how to hold his head up high like a true Baratheon, but it seems I've traded one golden nag for another." He spat to the side, "Ser Barristan! Trade partners with me again, Moore can go pummel someone else."

Joffrey wiped his face with his arm, humiliated, when he heard his uncle clamber down next to him, holding up a wooden training sword in offering. "I'm no Demon of the Trident," he said softly, "But I think you'll like the sword better to start with. I know a thing or two about swinging one of those," he said with a conspiratorial smile.

Joffrey wanted to run away and spit the offer back in his Uncle's face but then he realized it would just make Father angrier since he'd started managing his schedule more after he begged and pleaded with him, and he didn't want to be barred from the yard again. Even if he knew all of the pages and squires were probably snickering at him behind his back. "Fine," he said, sullenly.

Uncle Jaime taught him how to hold the sword and properly stand, how not to get hit and didn't mind when he didn't understand anything about stances and ripostes and so on. He just explained it differently until Joffrey started to understand. "Why doesn't Father do that...?" Joffrey wondered allowed, before shooting a glance their way, worried they might be overheard. He was so focused on Ser Barristan that it was like Joffrey didn't exist any longer.

Jaime glanced around himself, hesitating, before gesturing for Joffrey to follow them to the water barrels. "Let's go freshen up and get a drink, and I'll tell you a little secret."

They wandered over and after cooling down Uncle Jaime knelt to look Joffrey in the eye, "You have trouble learning like everyone else, right?" Joffrey scowled at the accusation, but it wasn't like it was a lie, but that didn't make Joffrey wrong, did it? Maybe everyone else was going about it all wrong. He wasn't stupid!

His uncle gave him that look, the smirk coming back, "Would you believe me if I told you I never quite got reading and writing on my own, either?"

"You didn't?" Joffrey blurted, before clamping up.

Uncle Jaime chuckled, shaking his head, "Your Grandfather locked me up in his solar and forced me to learn my letters, hour after hour, didn't even let me think about going back into the yard to train with swords, not until I showed progress." He offered Joffrey the practice sword again. "Yet even though he forced me to do something I misliked, I learned them because I had to, and I did it in my own way. Because I had other things that I wanted to do."

"But I want to learn how to fight," Joffrey said, defeated.

His uncle shook his head, "You want to impress your Father," he replied, "Maybe you don't hate fighting like I did writing, but you hate the idea of failure. But failure helps you learn, the risk of it centers your mind, gives you a goal and something to overcome. And you have to do it in the way that works for you, not the way that works for everyone else."

Joffrey stared down at the sword for a few long moments, before looking back up at his uncle who barely gave him the time of day before he started coming down to the yard. Everyone was shaking with fear of dragons, of traitors and heathens coming to kill them all, but Uncle Jaime just stood in the sun smiling and enjoying himself, not a care in the world.

"Can you teach me how, then?" Maybe Joffrey wouldn't ever like fighting but he definitely didn't like the idea of doing things the way everyone else thought things should be done, that hadn't turned out so well for them, so maybe his uncle was onto something?

Jaime smiled softly, taken aback by the question. He nodded a moment later. "Alright."
I was just about to go to bed, but did one more refresh. 😴

Very nice omake, dude. Joffrey isn't a little monster yet, perhaps he never will be. And all it took was a dragon on the other side of the world flapping its wings.
 
It is seven year old Joffrey, not quite the one we're used to thinking of. He seems pretty perceptive for his age too, more than I'd have expected.
Pycelle didn't work hard to sap joy out of learning history anymore, but it was little consolation, seeing as now he always sounded like he was in on some joke that Joffrey didn't know about.
Smug Pycelle just sounds so punchable, can't blame him at all.
Everyone was shaking with fear of dragons, of traitors and heathens coming to kill them all, but Uncle Jaime just stood in the sun smiling and enjoying himself, not a care in the world.
There was a field, somewhere in the Westerlands, where Jaime Lannister grew his fucks. It is barren now.
 
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Jaime: "Row after row, field after field. When the famine came, there was none left for the people of the land, for they had been all used up. Not a fuck to be had, not a single one to give."
 
...you know it's that bad when you start to like Joffrey and Jaime more than the literal Holy Messengers of their Gods.

Still, kid's got a good head around his shoulder. Kinda like me when I'm his age. Thankfully he has a good mentor to hone that senses even more.

And lo and behold, is that kid secretly fanboying over us? Couldn't be, right?
 
There are times when I wish DP would show us what's going on in Roberts court. Then I remember what kind of a king Robert is and I realize there's probably not much. Any real move that would be made against us would probably come from Tywin. Robert does the minimal amount of ruling, Cersi is a shrew, and the kids are kids.
 
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