Trials of the Spirit
Eleventh Day of the Second Month 293 AC
By the time the first rays of the sun shine through the library windows you and Velen had come to an understanding on the shape of the agreement to come, and the lore held by the Three Orders on one hand and the Scholarum on the other. In some ways you have all walked the same path, as both the fundamental building blocks of magic and the nature of the human mind directing one to certain methods. However, where you have been fortunate to find yourself surrounded with enormously talented friends, ever aspiring to new heights of power and understanding, Velen worked with the sheer numbers that even the least populous of the Seven Kingdoms could provide, gathering those touched by some deeper power or legacy.
That is not to say that all of your friend's attempts have proven a resounding success. Many of the first hedge knights gathered under the aegis of the Order of the Spear found themselves stunted in their understanding of sorcery while the rigors of martial and arcane training were set at odds. It was in music, Velen tells you, that he finally happened upon a more harmonious joining of such talents, leading prince Oberyn to quip before leaving on his expedition that the spear-head of their heraldry should be tied with a golden lute string, a jape the mages themselves took to heart as the older graduates struggle to re-train... with decidedly mixed results.
"... Lya will find this quite interesting," you muse as you look over the hypothetical works into what truly grants the power of sorcery to music, the storyteller's passion and the rapture of the audience. "I think this may be a distinct third branch of sorcerous potential, not one entirely unknown to us, but the one who demonstrated it most strongly among my vassals would make... a poor teacher." Merely the thought of making Moonsong do nothing but sit still and teach brings an odd mixture of amusement and dread to mind.
Pity the poor students.
The other area where the Dornish efforts have outgrown your own has been ironically the cultivation and awakening of talents like Tyene's or Vee's, ones which had at first sight so confused Velen. While he admits to still being ignorant of the ultimate cause of these affinities, as they do not seem to be connected to heritage or blood as far as he has been able to tell, he has come up with a rough regime that might awaken them with reasonable odds of success. The common theme is hardship, not the immediate peril of battle or some other misfortune but
want: a desert dweller lost among the dunes with little hope of rescue, the farmer looking upon the ruin of a blighted harvest and knowing he cannot feed his family, the craftsman looking upon his work of endless toil, seeing mastery slipping ever father... but not quite beyond reach. The admixture of longing and distant hope is the key.
Gained ability to train Mystics
What had Tyene been reaching towards, you wonder. A conversation from years ago replays before your mind's eye:
Freedom she had asked of you when you had fist met upon the shores of Braavos. Had she seen her father's exile as forever consigning her to a lesser part in the world, loved, but never respected as much as one true born might be?
You shake off the question, for it is one you will never receive a definitive answer to regardless. It matters little with what thoughts and passions one starts upon the road of power and far more how the power shapes you. Another reason to be happy at Velen's decision to come to the Deep, for there are few whose judgement you count more sound.
***
When next you meet Doran Martell it is in the privacy of his solar with the morning light clear upon his face. Are there fewer lines upon it that you had seen before? For certain there is a new glimmer of purpose in his eyes. "Good morning, Your Grace. I had not expected you quite so soon."
"Ah..." So he had been watching you, not that you suspect anything malicious of it. It would after all be rather unfortunate for him if any loose-lipped servant should happen upon you by chance. "That is one of the magics I bear. As many others before me have surely discovered there are scarce enough hours in the day for the tasks that need doing, so by sorcery I borrowed some of the hours of the night, while keeping my mind as sharp as it needs to be."
"A useful enchantment to be sure," he replies with a commiserating smile. "I would pay a great deal for such a thing, which brings us nicely to the matter that has been on my mind since I have seen the gifts you brought for Rhaenys."
"I hope the griffin was not too...
startling," you interject. Even you must admit placing such a thing in the sole command of a three year old might be problematic.
"Elia was a trifle worried when your sister offered to take Rhaenys flying on it, but Tyene assured me that it was safe and..." he hesitates a moment. "Perhaps these sorts of small worries might do her some good in the long run by stopping her dwelling on the past."
"The censer should keep her dreams from dark paths as much as Rhaenys' if she should need it," you offer a little awkwardly. It feels disrespectful to speak of what your goodsister as been through even in euphemism, yet to be blunt about it would darken the light of day.
Prince Doran nods in thanks before returning to his point. "So, having seen those wondrous works bought with only wine, albeit the best wine in all of Dorne, I was wondering if you might be willing to share the path to this mystical bazaar?"
What do you reply?
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OOC: Rhaella has also negotiated some concessions with Dorne, but those fit better after this part. Don't worry, though. She has been doing good work. Also this would be the time to discuss concerns about teleportation circles.