Fears Noble and Base
Twenty-Seventh Day of the Second Month 293 AC
Looking upon the dragon so long in the hatching and the girl giving her new companion a proud if still slightly shaky smile, you cannot help but feel pity for the poor soul-mangled thing. Twisted and wicked as its forebearers may have been, they were bequeathed of a fearful majesty of which only a shadow's shadow remains to the thing.
"What are you going to call it?" Dany asks after she had cleaned the blood upon the floor by sorcery, stepping closer for a look at the fruit of perhaps the mightiest sorcery your ancestors had wrought.
"I'm not sure..." Valaena replies, tearing her eyes from her 'dragon', strange as it may be to name it thus.
"Take your time," you counsel with a smile. "Odd things may come of naming creatures in haste. Consider Varys..."
"What is
odd about me?" your companion huffs in mock indignation as she takes to the air, staying well clear of the hatchling just the same, lest it take her presence for a challenge.
"Nothing at all. I for one think it is a lovely name," Dany staunchly defends her own long ago decision.
Valaena looks between you not quite catching the full jest, her mind clearly on other matters already. "I will no long stay hidden behind a simple glamour with a growing dragon at my side. Many will seek to know whence I come and what is my purpose, and by wit or sorcery I fear one of them will succeed."
"You have given this some thought I see," you say approvingly. Truth be told with all the other duties calling on your attention you had not considered the matter in any depth, though perhaps you should have.
"Yes, Your Grace," she replies. "I think the simplest way to keep prying eyes away is to stay away from the Deep, be it exploring with the Hunter's Moon or some other ship or in some other distant place where any spies will have to content themselves with naught but garbled rumor and hearsay."
"You would not have Vee's advice in handling the beast, nor Malarys to question as to their habits," Dany reminds her.
"It seems tame enough now..." Valaena begins.
"It is also the size of a cat," you interrupt. "Lessened though it be it is cunning enough to be at its most tractable when it knows itself weak. That will change sooner rather than later, given the other changes wrought upon its flesh." The Valyrians had no use for war beasts that would take centuries to reach its full potential. If memory serves creature would have to consume vast amounts of meat and grow at an equally prodigious rate.
She sighs, but nods just the same. "I know you speak wisely, Your Grace, but I fear for my family just the same. Should it become known that I serve you, that the egg recovered by the Lannisters and meant for a Baratheon's bride was hatched to be used against both... well neither the Usurper not the Butcher of Casterly Rock are patient or reasonable men when so slighted."
What do you do?
[] Try to strengthen Valaena's cover
-[] Write in how
[] Send her and her dragon away from the Deep and its many spies
-[] Write in where
[] Write in
***
The matter settled as best it could be for the moment, you return to the concerns of conquest, specifically the perfumed magisters currently filling the audience chamber like a flock of brightly colored birds. If nothing else their presence gives you a better understanding of why the audience chamber is so glaringly ornate, to overshadow such as them, from hair to silken robes to rings glittering upon their fingers all that they are is meant to proclaim their wealth and importance.
Yet pale faces look up at you from that riot of color, golden chains clink as their owners cannot quite hold back a shiver, beneath fine scents is the acrid stink of sweat. They are all of them afraid, though you must grant still more bold than those still behind the barred gates of their manses, or perhaps merely more ambitious.
Their purpose is clear enough behind the veil of ritual and courtesy. They had come forward to offer their services in place of the 'calamitous Taelreon rule' while also seeing assurance that their ships will no longer be hunted by your raiders, and of course asking your intentions on the matter of freeing slaves. To hear them worry about the fate of 'the poor beleaguered slaves, ill-suited for the challenges of freedom', is almost enough to turn your stomach.
How do you address the magisters?
[] Write in
OOC: I went for two votes in one update to keep things moving at a good clip. Hope the transition does not feel too jarring.
