Ser Ciaphas of House Cain Ch.4

AMBERLEY I: ROYALTY'S FIRST CONTACT

“I fear not the warrior or persecutor or tyrant. They are simple men at their cores, relying on the pure strength of violence to shore up their inherent and insidious weaknesses. No, more than them, I fear the ones who rise so high on the back of their deceptions and manipulations. No man is more dangerous than one who knows the utility of a few well-placed lies. I should know. I am one of them.”

— Duke Cleander von Castellan, Rogue Trader and Inquisitorial Acolyte, as recorded in one of Inquisitor Covenant’s internal reports.

— ‘Lady’ Amberley Vail —

Ciaphas hissed at her, fierce and quiet in his argument, “Amberley, I haven’t the slightest clue how to joust…!”

Amberley didn’t roll her eyes at him, but it was a near thing, “Ciaphas, I’ve known you to be many things, but hardly ever incapable. So figure it out. You’ve won us a chance, a good start. Now, we capitalize on it further.”

Ciaphas was getting that familiar look in his eyes. He wanted to refuse. He wanted to refuse so badly. As usual, it was Amberley’s duty to keep him on track and to remind him of his duties. But she also knew well how useful a lighter touch could be with Ciaphas Cain.

“You don’t have to win,” She soothed. “Just show up. Make it clear you can ride a horse. That ability seems valued here-…”

“You’re lucky I can do that much…!” Ciaphas snapped.

“Yes,” Amberley simply nodded. “Yes, we are. So just use it to give the illusion of a good showing. That’s all you need to do. And if you can secure a single victory, it will cement your new position and silence any doubters we might already have.”

“I barely know the pointy end of a lance from the handle! Shaft?! See? I couldn’t even say for sure!” Ciaphas bemoaned.

Amberley stepped forward to pat him on the cheek, slightly genuine but mostly sardonic, “Yes, I’m sure it’s the most unprepared for a situation you’ve ever been. Why, you have to ride a horse and not fall off, and even keep a lance on target! All against green men who haven’t seen a fraction of what you have. I’m truly, truly sorry for asking so much of you. But ask, I do. You’ll manage, I’m sure.”

Ciaphas’s expression grew pinched, but despite himself, he laughed. She didn’t hear any further arguments from him. 

“Fine…” He grumbled. “But I won’t be entering another of these farces for a good while, if I can help it!”

“We’ll see. For now, just finish strong. But not so strongly that we risk alienating our new peers,” Amberley cautioned.

Ciaphas snorted, “Once I’m out there galloping like both me and the horse are drunk as a pair of Navy NCOs on planetside leave, you’ll see how little a worry that is.”

Somehow, Amberley doubted that. Oh, she was sure his internal monologue was going on and on. Mourning and lamenting and fretting and so on. But Ciaphas had a noteworthy tendency to undersell himself. He would never be one for undeserved confidence and unseemly arrogance. He was closer to the opposite extreme, really, doing himself little favors by Amberley’s estimation. 

Amberley had always considered Ciaphas a useful man, both to know and stand beside, ever since they’d met on Gravalax. But he was a man of many flaws. Some were obvious — ‘Too self-sacrificing!’, ’Too glorious!’, ’Too utterly unafraid!’, those who didn’t know him would so eagerly (and so wrongly) declare. Some were less so — his true character and inner thoughts, perhaps privy to himself and Amberley alone.

The reality of Ciaphas Cain lay somewhere between those true and perceived flaws in a zone of gray. He was a leader and hero, despite his privately professed best efforts to the contrary. He was an Emperor-blessed fighter, despite struggling to see that prowess for himself. And he was a truly intelligent man. That last one he would claim in full, though only for the worst interpretation of the praise.

It was a delusional and ever-so-slightly deranged image he had of himself. Amberley had used it to her advantage just as often as she’d comforted him for it in private. The latter wasn’t quick to bear fruit, and it’d taken much personal work to get to the point that he’d freely confessed his self-defined heresy and ever-present cowardice to her.

Amberley found herself both honored and exasperated by the closeness they’d developed. How such an intelligent and capable man could delude himself so completely, she’d never know.

The galaxy was a cruel place for all, but even more cruel for Ciaphas in particular. Now more than ever, though, she couldn’t have him faltering. Their newfound situation was delicate and had to be carefully considered and controlled. Many of the possibilities for local success that Amberley was looking to exploit relied on Ciaphas.

She was quickly coming to realize she would’ve been greatly limited in this world on her own. It came down to that age-old (and primitive) question of a woman’s usefulness and place in life. She really shouldn’t have expected anything more from a lost feudal world.

Though she kept the thoughts to herself, Amberley couldn’t have scoffed harder at the local ideas about her sex. These were small-minded people who rarely, if ever, encountered anything bigger than themselves. The Imperium didn’t have that leisure, and they were more enlightened for it.

Still, she couldn’t single-handedly change this society from the outside. So she was rather glad to be stranded with Ciaphas of all people. They’d walk different battlefields here, but only together (Ser and Lady, to borrow the local titles) could they hope to thrive.

Ideally, Amberley wanted his fame to reach the same heights here that it reached in the wider Imperium. Their star needed to be unimpeachably on the rise. Ciaphas would win them the prestige and status they needed to ensure that, and Amberley would put it to best use wherever she could manage.

But for that arrangement to work, for them to succeed as strangers in a strange land, she’d have to have confidence, not only in him, but for him, too. Not always the easiest endeavor, but he certainly wouldn’t have it for himself if she didn’t…

Amberley sent him off to the jousting lists with a ‘favor’ around his arm and a playful slap on his unfortunately armored ass.

It wasn’t a butt plate or anything so silly, but the separate and articulated plate sections overlapped very well for such primitive armor. And while necessary, it really was a shame. That was the Imperium’s Ass. Covering it up, even for the sake of protection, just felt wrong in Amberley’s not-at-all biased mind.

She left Jurgen to handle getting the Imperium’s Ass up onto the horse they’d bought with yesterday’s winnings. That poor steed, Amberley thought. Not even animals were immune to Jurgen’s uniquely ‘blankening’ aura.

But for all the aide’s… difficulties, he was a dutiful man. Even stuck in the same situation as her and Ciaphas, Jurgen would’ve followed his commissar off a cliff without a second thought (knowing Ciaphas, he probably had at some point or another…).

As she took her leave (quickly enough to leave Ciaphas unbalanced), she kept an ear open for his reaction. It was well worth the lingering effort.

“Amberley?! Bah, that woman! No matter. Jurgen! I think I have the beginnings of a plan in mind. I need you to leave… your unique mark on the lances I’ll be using… God-Emperor, there’s no good way to say this… Your pits, man! Rub them in your pits!”

She nearly snorted at the plan she heard him concocting. It was quintessentially ‘Ciaphas’. And that gave it good odds on working out for him. Jurgen’s blankness would unsettle his opponent and their steed, while Ciaphas was much more used to the effect. Amberley couldn’t wait to see it play out for him.

In the meantime, however, she went to find her new local friends. She knew well that everywhere she’d gone in pursuit of her Inquisitorial duties, people were people at their core. And a lost feudal world didn’t change that constant fact. So she tried not to look down on the primitive noble ladies too harshly. It was counterproductive and rather rude.

And to be honest with herself, she could recognize that she was already growing ever-so-slightly fond of ‘her’ ladies.

Jonquil Tyrell was gentle and sweet. Sonya Crane was a useful gossip and consummate romantic. Nera Merryweather likely had a small fancy for Amberley, and she didn’t think the poor woman even realized it for herself. Elrie Fossoway was curious and book-smart, and Amberley couldn’t easily forget that she’d brought their backstory together. And even Elaena joined them after their short time ‘slumming it’ together, revealing herself to be the daughter of Lord Mooton of Maidenpool.

Of course, they were useful to Amberley for more than just personal reasons. They were the best footholds she had here, well-connected and well-respected noble women of the realm. They helped Amberley establish and spread the backstory she and Ciaphas were running with. And they were already more than eager to help in any little way they could.

The ladies were naive on the whole, but pleasant, too. They wouldn’t have lasted long in the wider Imperium. But then, they didn’t have to just yet, with their world staying lost for a good while longer.

Amberley was used to greater things, true. Threats to mankind itself and nobles with much more power in their pinky than this whole world could bring to bear. But just as she knew Ciaphas was glad for the (mostly) lowered stakes, Amberley could enjoy them as well. Compared to her usual duties and undercover missions, she’d gladly ‘lower herself’ to merely making friends with some primitive noble ladies and establishing herself on a lost feudal world.

The tourney itself was like a festival, the kind that was thrown everywhere without fail. The kind that was so important to the locals and to no one else. The kind that Amberley rarely, if ever, got the chance to enjoy…

There were stalls and stages for wares and shows, respectively. The grounds themself weren’t yet a muddy mire, for horses except those used for the jousts were banned. But it was only a matter of time with how many people were running around. Amberley thought there was something special in that.

She walked without fear through the tourney grounds. She had no guard. She didn’t need one like most of the local ladies did. It was a restrictive, systemic expectation that came from the local idea that women were useless. The poor women of this world were kept from training and bearing arms and bettering themselves.

Amberley was not. She was an Inquisitor of the Ordo Xenos. She’d killed Orks and Eldar and Genestealers, and even a Necron Cryptek once. Her options for weapons were limited, but she would still destroy any fool knight who tried something untoward with her.

Idle but constant vigilance watched her surroundings. Compared to the wider Imperium, the people of this lost world had little. In some places, they’d still accomplished impressive feats of civilization — the noble architecture and taming of dragons came to her mind. But in others, they were barely above scraping in the dirt.

She watched peasant children run about, barefoot and in rags. She watched the peasant parents of those children, not much better off. She saw the gap between this world’s classes, the Haves with everything they could reasonably ask for, and the Have Nots without. There was little overlap, but at the very least, a middle class of merchants, skilled craftsmen, and business owners did seem to exist, minority though it was.

An old, old emergency scenario from her Inquisitorial training was brought to mind. Some Inquisitors were, in fact, prepared for situations like this. Mostly in the Ordo Xenos, for they were the ones who might reasonably venture far from the Astronomicon’s light, while the Ordos Hereticus and Malleus operated more firmly within the Imperium’s known spaces.

Her Inquisitorial sire — Gallius, Emperor bless his paranoia — had always been rather ‘concerned’ about the Tau. Fascinated by and wary of their rapid technological progress in equal measure. Amberley believed it was that obsession that led to him putting her through his ‘Uplift’ scenario more than once.

‘With a proper guiding hand, Humanity can always rise from mere ashes,’ He claimed.

Now, Amberley had a very real chance to put that philosophy to the test. Certain ideas had been on her mind since she and Ciaphas comprehended the true state of this lost world. Boons, advancements, even just simple tweaks that she’d once given as answers to Gallius’s scenario. All to prepare the world to be brought into the Imperium’s fold and make their remaining time there not so horrible.

Improved medical methods, personal hygiene, and public sanitation. Plumbing. Water filtration. Germ Theory.

The most basic of technological advancements, like the printing press and the paper and ink that went into it, or the pedal-powered spinning wheel and sewing machine, or the always useful blast furnace and glass crucible.

The beginnings of industry and methodical science. Applied chemistry and physics. Sustainable metalworking to make the tools to make better tools to make everything else easier, and ideas for engineering to match their proven architectural prowess.

Societal changes from widespread literacy to pushing the local faiths in the objectively correct direction.

There was much to do.

Amberley was no cogboy. But honestly, this world didn’t need one in the current state of things. They didn’t need assembly lines or Forge World manufactories. They just needed the stage to be set and progress to be given a little kick from those who knew there was a better way.

Whatever this world once was, before the Age of Strife, before millennia of isolation, it’d clearly lost much. Amberley would see them rise back to the heights the Emperor pioneered for Humanity.

But to do that, she needed a base of power to build from. That required playing the local game, for now. Winning at it. Only after could she begin implementing everything she knew was needed and preparing the lost world to be found once more.

“My apologies for making you wait, ladies,” Amberley smiled as she reunited with her new friends behind the stands around the jousting field. “I decided Ciaphas needed a bit more encouragement before I sent him off to make mock war in my name again.”

“Your favor and a kiss, then~?” Sonya teased.

“A slap on the ass, more like,” Amberley’s smile turned into a smirk. “As one might stir a stallion. I find it stirs Ciaphas just as much.”

“O-Oh my~…” Jonquil tittered and blushed.

Elaena cocked her head slightly to one side, “Should I remember that? I feel like I should try and remember that. For… later use…”

Sonya wiggled her eyebrows and pretended to leer in an over-the-top fashion, “I certainly will.”

“Would that not wound a man’s pride? Ser Ciaphas’s pride, as a newly made knight?” Elrie asked, more curious than reproachful.

Amberley barely contained an unladylike snort. The ladies wouldn’t get why she found the local title of ‘Knight’ so humorous, compared to the Imperial Knights she knew. Nor would they understand why everything about that question, as it related to Ciaphas Cain, was so funny to her. 

“Trust me, I couldn’t wound Ciaphas’s ‘pride’ if I tried. I left it just as intact as ever.”

Nera nodded what she thought was understanding, “He does seem the good, humble, and self-assured sort.”

The urge to break into peals of laughter at that was straining even Amberley’s self-control.

“He’s a man like no other, Lady Amberley,” Jonquil praised, earnest and genuine as can be.

Amberley kept a placid and contented smile on her face, but inside, she was just about howling. Ciaphas. They were talking about Ciaphas.

“It’s good that he finally has the knighthood and title that he so clearly deserves,” Sonya grinned.

… Yes. Ser Ciaphas Cain, Knight and Champion. Clearly deserved for a man of such courage and honor. As if Amberley and Jurgen hadn’t had to all but corral him into first the melee and now the joust with a damned lasso like the Mechanicus and their Dunestriders. Still, Amberley’s smiling face didn’t give a single hint as to her uproarious inner turmoil.

“You and he are the talk of the tourney after his melee victory!” Elaena excitedly exclaimed. “The realm knows nothing about you, but they would certainly like to!”

“They’re always welcome to come up to me and simply ask,” Amberley said.

“But then, there goes half the fun of wondering and speculating, doesn’t it~?” Sonya smirked.

“I suppose you’re right. Whatever outlandish stories they come up with will likely be more interesting than the truth,” Amberley laughed.

“I think your truth is plenty interesting already, my lady,” Jonquil said. “It’s tragedy and remembering and longing and now, triumph as well!”

“Ciaphas’s triumph,” She pointed out.

“Ser Ciaphas’s triumph for you, his lady, as he very clearly stated after his victory,” Sonya shot back.

Amberley playfully rolled her eyes. “Ciaphas says many things. But you do make a fair point. He declared his victory for me, and I should honor that dedication. Reward him, even.”

“Ohoho~? Do tell, my lady~!” Sonya immediately seized on that last line for teasing.

“I shan’t!” Amberley shot back just as quickly.

They quickly fell into giggles and laughter and general good cheer at her faux declaration. That was how the messenger found them. Just a boy, really, and visibly nervous to approach a gaggle of noble ladies. Still, he sucked it up and spoke with only a little waver and crack in his voice.

“M-My la~A~adies!” Instantly, he was left blushing bright red, yet he forged on. “I-I come bearing a royal invitation! The Lady Amberley of House Vail is formally invited to sit with the King, his kin, and council for the duration of today’s jousts. I’ve been instructed to extend the invitation to her companions as well, so long as they be other noble ladies of good standing… W-Which you certainly are, my ladies-!”

Amberley smiled gently at the now-frantic boy, “Peace, child. You’ve given no offense. Thank you for doing your duties. You may tell the King that we’ll be along shortly.”

When the page boy left, Elrie immediately let out a sound of awe and wonder, “Seven be good… The royal box…?”

“Royal recognition!” Nera gasped.

“Vindication, even!” Elaena chimed.

“As I said, Lady Amberley,” Jonquil nodded proudly on her behalf. “Your truth is plenty interesting already. The royal family is obviously intrigued. You simply must attend! It’s the greatest of honors!”

Amberley had her own thoughts on the topic. She was both wary and slightly thrilled. Possibilities were certainly opening up before her eyes. As far as local boons went, she couldn’t ask for much better than royal favor. But with that opportunity came danger: certain jealousy, the possibility of giving offense, and the potential to get caught up in the games played at the top of the realm.

“The invitation was extended to you all as well, my friends,” Amberley noted. “I hate to ask, but would you accompany me? I believe I would take courage in your presence, all of you.”

“Oh, gladly!” Jonquil exclaimed. “We wouldn’t abandon you to the Dragons without your Ser by your side! Isn’t that right, my ladies?”

To some relief (though Amberley wouldn’t easily admit it), a round of general agreement passed through her new friends. Sonya smirked. Nera and Elrie nodded seriously. Elaena was just about vibrating in her dress. And Jonquil beamed a smile back at Amberley.

For all of Amberley’s experience in noble spheres, none of it was local. If such an invitation occurred in the Imperium, she would’ve been more confident, due to both her Inquisitorial status and her knowledge of the games being played. Here, however, she and Ciaphas (and Jurgen) were alone, with absolutely nothing to fall back on. It was a… tenuous position.

She would happily take all of the relatively insignificant back-up she could get. The royals were easily the most dangerous people in this lost world, what with the dragons and all…

Only they and the numbers that could be brought to bear if she and Ciaphas erred kept Amberley up at night so far. Nightmares of uncontested air superiority and warpfire… But she steeled herself easily. Dragons were still nothing compared to the true enemies of the Imperium she’d faced.

So nothing ventured, nothing gained. Amberley accepted the King’s invitation and brought her new friends along for the ride. But despite the grateful smile on her face, she kept her thoughts to herself.

As fond as she was growing of them, the ladies unfortunately wouldn’t understand the considerations and chances running through her mind. They couldn’t comprehend the truth and scale of the Imperium, or the glory of being brought into its fold. Whatever happened, even if Amberley and Ciaphas were dead when the rescue came, that future was already set.

A single lost world had no hope of standing against the Emperor’s full, enlightened might. But of course, Amberley hoped for the best (read: not being too dead to enjoy the eventual rescue) and that this world would benefit the Imperium more than as just another insignificant source of manpower for the tithe. Much of that benefit, by Amberley’s reckoning, would come down to the royal dragons. Getting them onside early — or even just getting their favor — would be better for everyone involved when that fateful day arrived.

They ascended the arena’s stands to the royal box, front and center. Below, the jousts had already begun. A pair of unnamed mounted knights rode at full tilt against each other. But Amberley paid them little mind. It was only the first round of the lists. Until Ciaphas’s turn, she couldn’t bring herself to care at all.

A herald at the back of the royal box announced them, “Now entering, on royal invitation! Lady Jonquil Tyrell and her ladies-in-waiting, Sonya Crane, Nera Merryweather, and Elrie Fossoway! Lady Elaena Mooton! And Lady Amberley Vail!”

Everyone in the royal box turned to look at them for at least a moment. Amberley noted the eyes and everything within them. Genuine interest and politely appreciative attraction were the most prevalent, but she’d be an incompetent fool to not notice everything else. A few eyes were skeptical, more were calculating, and one pair of eyes on a young, crippled man was so utterly inoffensive that Amberley naturally took extra notice of them.

Something about that last man set Amberley’s well-honed nerves on edge. It was a tingle up her spine that sat on the tip of her tongue that she couldn’t quite put into words or place… Mental ozone on intangible winds…

He was sitting in the back corner of the box, almost forgotten by everyone else. Two girls who could only be his sisters sat with him, but the contrast with their excited and youthfully curious looks just made the young man’s inoffensiveness stand out all the more in Amberley’s eyes. Not quite a player — not yet — but certainly a careful observer.

Amberley shot him a small smile that purposefully didn’t reach her eyes. He raised an eyebrow in return, curiosity stirring beneath his inoffensive mask.

While she carefully kept him in the back of her mind, the rest of the royal box demanded her attention. Royals… The Crown’s council, too… Quite a few of the latter seemed like intelligent, if naturally small-minded, men. But then, they ruled a continent, not an Imperial Sector or even System. Still, the King’s Hand seemed like a dangerous opponent on the limited stage he was used to…

The royals were of more immediate interest to Amberley. Up close, the King seemed to be exactly as he presented himself. A jovial, good-natured, but still prideful man with ultimate power as far as he and the rest of the world were concerned. A fool, in many regards. But Amberley could work with a fool.

The Princess by his side was… young. That was Amberley’s first and just about only impression of her. Not in age, really. She’d certainly reached her majority and blossomed into a royal beauty. But more than her physical age, the air about her spoke of a youthful, more-than-slightly spoiled nature to her character, without a care for consequences of any kind. She seemed a beautiful brat. But again, Amberley could work with that…

“Your Grace,” Amberley bowed exactly as low as she deemed necessary to assuage royal pride. It seemed to satisfy. “Thank you for your invitation to this lowly lady and her companions.”

Viserys chuckled, “As lowly as you seem to think yourself, surely you can’t have missed that you’re suddenly the talk of the court, my lady! I’ll admit, you and your Ser have caught my attention as well! By the sound of things yesterday, you have a story to share. I think I’d like to hear it.”

“And I’ll share it freely, Your Grace,” Amberley easily fell into the act required of her, with the practice of many undercover missions as an Inquisitor. “But first, may I introduce my companions? These ladies have been exceedingly kind and good to me since my arrival in King’s Landing. I wouldn’t easily forget them.”

“Ah, where are my manners~?” Viserys was pleasantly self-deprecating in a kingly fashion. “The good ladies of the realm are always welcome at my court! I recognize Lady Tyrell, but not her flowers-in-waiting or Lady Mooton, I’m afraid. Your grandfather served as my grandfather’s Master of Coin, I believe, Lady Jonquil. It’s always good to have a Rose back in the court.”

“If I may be so bold, Your Grace,” Jonquil tittered. “It was Grandmother Florence who served King Jaehaerys more than Grandfather Martyn, in truth. They were a wonderfully cooperative couple.”

It was quick, but Amberley saw the King glance at his Hand for confirmation. The Hand gave a minute nod. Only then did the King laugh.

“Oh, how droll! I wasn’t expecting such a family secret to be revealed so freely! But if true, both your grandfather and grandmother do you credit, my lady.”

“Indeed, Your Grace,” Jonquil smiled. “And they were loving grandparents who doted on me and my brothers as well.”

“Isn’t that always the way with grandparents, when we’re lucky enough to have them and them, us?” That got a mix of laughter, both polite and genuine. Viserys seemed like a very easy king to get along with. “I hope my grandchildren can claim the same about me, one day soon enough.”

Behind the King, the Princess nudged her friend and ‘discreetly’ rolled her eyes, getting a head-shaking tut in return. It said good things about him that his daughter felt free enough to do so, Amberley noted.

After that, introductions went both ways — Amberley’s companions were introduced to the royal box, and the royal box was formally introduced to them.

Amberley got names to put to the sharp-looking Hand — “Lord Otto Hightower and his daughter, Alicent” —, to the dangerously inoffensive young man in the corner — “My Master of Laws, Lord Lyonel Strong, his second son, Larys, and his daughters, Myranda and Isabel” —, and to the royal cousin and her Rogue-Trader-lite husband — “My cousin, Princess Rhaenys, her Sea Snake of a husband, Lord Corlys Velaryon, and their children, Laenor and Laena”.

The last of which caught most of Amberley’s attention. He really did have the look of a Rogue Trader down naturally. And she was another dragonrider. So were both of her children. It was interesting to note that of the four dragonriders in the royal box, the cousin’s branch of the family had three.

All of the dragonriders had a unique aura about them. The Targaryens were naturally ethereal, but those who rode dragons were more so. It was an intangible thing that tasted of warpstuff to Amberley’s well-traveled knowledge. Not active psykers, but perhaps unconscious warp connections that would slip beneath the notice of the Imperium’s Black Ships (Lambda? Kappa?).

And for it to be so clearly inheritable from parent to child brought beneficial mutations like the Navigator Gene to her mind. The local royal bloodline was likely even more valuable than Amberley had anticipated…

“Now!” The King clapped once everyone was acquainted and seated, with Amberley joining the King and Hand in the best row while her ladies sat directly behind her. “I believe there’s a story to hear. A mystery to unravel, given to us by you and your new Ser, Lady Amberley. Please, please, you mustn’t keep us in suspense.”

Glancing across the Hand to meet the King’s expectant eyes, Amberley put on a slightly sad smile that fit her assumed backstory, “It’s a story both simple and complicated at once, Your Grace. In essence, though, mine is a house in exile. The names Vail and Cain have no place in Westeros these days.”

“Truly?” Viserys blinked. “I think that a shame. A disgrace! Your Ser Cain is a warrior that any kingdom would be proud of! And now a knight to boot! And you, Lady Vail, you’ve been nothing but pleasant and fascinating!”

“Yet, we cannot change our pasts, Your Grace,” Amberley shook her head. “We were both born far, far away. I with only vague and fading stories of a noble house to my name, and Ciaphas with even less. He’s an orphan, you know? Despite his wishes to the contrary, he is nothing without his service.”

“Oh, how tragic…” Viserys seemed genuinely mournful on their behalf.

It seemed to be the general reception, but none to the same level of sympathy as the King. Some of the councilors were clearly putting on a show of it to Amberley’s eyes. And for others, the story just made her and Ciaphas easier to potentially use…

“May I inquire what drove your line from Westerosi shores? I wouldn’t dare imply some dastardly reason…” The unspoken ‘but’ in Otto Hightower’s words was clear for any to hear.

Instead of taking offense (it was a fake story, after all), Amberley cracked a small smile. “If you had asked me on the journey to King’s Landing, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you, Lord Hand, the original reasons lost to the sands of time. But here, in the land of my ancestors, I encountered clever and learned minds that shed light on what was once lost.

“Lady Elrie believes that House Vail was driven from the Riverlands during the tyrannical reign of House Hoare. I’m inclined to agree with her. It lines up with what little remains of my father’s stories.”

With a perfect mask and a slow nod, Otto said, “Truly, a disgraceful tragedy led to your forefathers’ exile, then.”

“Aye, much was lost to those damned reavers. The Hoares and Ironborn were a terrible scourge on all of my countrymen,” Lyonel Strong nodded strongly. “I hope I truly can count you among them, Lady Vail, returned to your proper homeland at last.”

“Thank you, Lord Strong,” Amberley bowed her head slightly, purposefully keeping her eyes off his offensively inoffensive second son. “I would hope to call a man like you my peer as well. But I am not so presumptuous as to demand lands that have undoubtedly forgotten my line in turn.”

“Nonsense!” Viserys declared, letting his generosity shine. “Surely, something can be done! Such a situation should be rectified! The damnable Hoares are no more, and I’m sure there’s some small holding here or there that your house can be restored to!”

“Perhaps patience would be prudent, Your Grace. There is no telling if such land can truly be found…” Otto advised.

“No, the King is correct,” Lyonel said firmly. “Lady Amberley and House Vail’s situation is a disgrace. An atrocity. A scar on the very Riverlands themself left by the cruel builders of my own seat. It will not stand. If necessary, I would give up a portion of my own holdings to see her line restored.”

“Very noble of you, Lord Lyonel.” Otto gave a shallow nod to concede the point. “But let us not set anything in stone from a single meeting over a tourney.”

“Your abstaining caution does little to sustain this poor lady, Lord Otto,” Princess Rhaenys noted with an unassuming sip of her wine.

“’Tis true, Princess Rhaenys, ’tis very true, but confirmation is still needed,” Otto deflected.

Corlys raised a questioning eyebrow, “And what would you call the quality of the lady’s clothes, the support of other noble ladies, and the glory her new knight has won in her name, then?”

“Evidence, to be sure,” Otto allowed. “But not full confirmation.”

Amberley’s first impression of the man was justified. He was sharp. Very, very sharp. Fortunately, she already had the beginnings of a plan to ensure that the inevitable confirmation was found. She just needed access to a few supplies she’d already discreetly picked up in the city, and a way into the royal library… It’d be good to flex her forgery skills once more.

“Conversations to explore further at a better time,” Viserys nodded and put off the issue. “Your advice is certainly noted, my Lord Hand. But so is Lord Lyonel’s determination to see justice done, even at the expense of his own house. Lady Amberley, I hope you don’t mind waiting a little while longer…?”

“Of course not, Your Grace,” Amberley said, demure and agreeable as they would expect of her. “Understand that I have no expectations, no demands. I am happy enough to simply be in this land my ancestors once roamed.”

That humility seemed to earn her a bit of respect from the players in the royal box. Even the King’s Hand looked at her assessingly. She didn’t think he was playing daemon’s advocate for anything other than the principle of it all. He couldn’t have any grudge against her or Ciaphas. But neither could he simply roll over for any ‘noble’ who came out of the woodwork.

Behind Amberley, however, her new friends were practically vibrating with quiet excitement on her behalf. They wanted to see her and Ciaphas properly landed, perhaps even more than she did.

Elaena leaned forward to whisper excitedly in her ear, “If Lord Strong is true to his word, we may very well end up as neighbors, my lady…!”

“Truly, this is a boon,” Jonquil quietly but earnestly added. “Lord Strong is a good and true nobleman. He seeks justice for your line, Lady Amberley, even if it comes at his own loss. It seems to me that you won’t find a better ally in the King’s court.”

“It is a pleasant surprise,” Amberley whispered back. “I was not expecting to find any men this high who cared for my plight.”

“Of course, they care, my lady,” Sonya stressed the confirmation and almost rolled her eyes. “A story like yours comes once in a lifetime. It has intrigued and spoken to both the King and his advisors. Ignoring it and you would bring only shame.”

Amberley nodded. She wasn’t above letting the pride and potential shame of men do all the work for her. Lord Strong seemed like a just and (heh…) strong man. Perhaps in a different, better life, he would’ve made a good Arbites to enforce the Emperor’s laws. In this life, Amberley decided she could certainly have worse countrymen than him; her story had appealed to the Riverman most of all.

After further discussion of the issue was put off for later, some of the focus in the royal box turned away from Amberley. They’d heard her story and accepted it as readily as she could hope. Ensuring it stayed that way was a matter for her. But there was still a tourney going on below.

The jousts didn’t cease, not even for royal conversation. Knights of every stripe and color (meaningless heraldry to Amberley for now, but she was noting each one in her mind) rode each other down at full tilt. The crowds cheered for every strike of lance against shield, for every defeat, and for every victory.

Amberley had to admit that there was some entertainment to be found here. The impacts were visceral and real. Lances shattered as shields and armor held strong. The riders endured the hits with impressive vitality. Half eventually crashed to the ground, thrown from their steeds. The other half eventually stood in their stirrups, victorious and reveling in glory before the crowd.

The nobles of the royal box reacted with the crowd. In Amberley’s eyes, it showed how human they were. Even the Targaryens, for all their likely mutation. The King still clapped and cheered, winced at injurious hits, and laughed with the rest of the realm.

Now, Amberley was mostly waiting to see Ciaphas (not) make a fool of himself. He was certain he would. She wasn’t, for she knew never to underestimate Ciaphas Cain, no matter how he underestimated himself.

As the lists progressed, the seating in the royal box was rearranged. Amberley and her ladies were invited to the very front row to sit with the younger generation: the Hand’s daughter, the Princess, and her royal cousins. Elaena, Jonquil, and the others were so excited by the honor that Amberley couldn’t bring herself to refuse. And so, she found herself conversing with dragonriders as she waited for Ciaphas’s turn on the field.

“My condolences for your tragedy, Lady Amberley,” Otto’s daughter, Alicent, said. “I pray that the King and my father do right by your fallen house.”

“Thank you, Lady Alicent,” Amberley smiled softly. “I do as well. But I suppose that much should be expected.”

Princess Rhaenyra let out a tiny titter. “It would seem like the most prudent thing to keep in your prayers.”

“I wish you luck in that area, my lady,” Laenor Velaryon said politely.

His sister, Laena, let out a lively laugh, “With how Mother and Father were listening closely, and even briefly spoke up in her defense, I wonder if she’ll need ‘luck’, Brother!”

“Enough politics,” Rhaenyra said imperiously. “I’d like to hope we’re among friends here, young ladies of the realm-…”

“Ahem,” Laenor cleared his throat.

Rhaenyra rolled her eyes. “Yes, and Laenor. But there’s no need to run ourselves in circles around tragedy when there is glory to be won down on the field.”

Young… Amberley briefly pondered the word. She and Ciaphas still looked it, she supposed, even if they likely had 150 years under their combined belts. Ciaphas was the type of man to visibly age slowly to begin with, and she knew his fame had earned him his first Rejuvenat treatment relatively recently. And she’d been kept at the peak of her health since she became an Inquisitor. To this world, they looked like a young man and woman in their mid-twenties. She’d have to keep that in mind and act accordingly…

“Tell me about your knight, Lady Amberley,” Rhaenyra royally requested. “He seems like a man straight from song and story.”

“I think he does have a song or two written about him…” Amberley considered aloud.

The Princess’s lilac eyes (‘almost Cadian Purple,’ Amberley thought) lit up at that, seeming to quite literally glow with keenly sparked interest, “Truly~? Oh, these I must hear~!”

“Forgive me, Your Grace,” Amberley chuckled. “Ciaphas would throw himself onto his coming opponent’s lance if he knew I remembered them, much less repeated them to a princess.”

The Princess seemed half torn between an adorable royal pout (with her striking looks and expressive features, it could’ve killed) and giggling along with her. Meanwhile, Laenor put on an overly dramatic sigh.

“Ah, such a shame, the pride of men~…”

“We should know, considering the man we call Father,” Laena joked.

Amberley smirked at the punchline of a joke only she knew, “Yes, pride. Ciaphas’s poor, poor pride.”

Below, the fool in question was called onto the jousting field. “The newly dubbed Knight of the Singing Duel, Ser Ciaphas Cain!” The herald called.

Amberley knew he had to hate the title, just one more he didn’t think he’d earned for himself. He received attention from the royal box to the penny stands, though. By Amberley’s reckoning, he was the surprise star of the tourney. She almost laughed out loud at the thought. Something else he had to hate…

“How do you deem his chances, my lady?” Rhaenyra asked, perhaps a touch too eagerly…

“I’ve learned never to count Ciaphas out of a fight,” Amberley answered honestly. “But this is his first tourney. Considering that disadvantage, I wouldn’t bet on him to win it all.”

“His first? Truly?” Alicent gasped. “But he did so well in the melee!”

“His first tourney,” Amberley repeated. “But far from his first fight. He’s conquered odds that any man in these lists would balk at.”

She closely watched the reaction that statement garnered. Her ladies were almost swooning, but swooning for her. If it wasn’t slightly touching that they were already so firmly in her corner, Amberley would’ve rolled her eyes.

Laenor and Laena seemed genuinely curious about both her and Ciaphas, likely their still-mysterious past as well. Amberley was sure their parents would hear that fact about Ciaphas soon enough.

Alicent worried and picked at her cuticles in what seemed to be a nervous tic. The poor girl didn’t seem readily made for violence.

And the Princess… Rhaenyra stared down at Ciaphas with an eager hunger in her eyes. She looked like a kitten that’d found the first hunt of its life, stalking newfound prey that she wouldn’t know what to do with if she caught it. Amberley was decently sure that her pupils had even dilated.

Ciaphas had already won himself a noteworthy fan, it seemed. Amberley could use that. She certainly wasn’t above using a princess’s infatuation. And that tingle in her stomach certainly wasn’t a hint of thrilling jealousy creeping in. No, it was just the worry of how potentially wrong the situation could go if not managed very, very carefully…

Ciaphas (Ser Ciaphas…) rode well onto the field. His opponent was some knight with a lamb on his shield. Amberley honestly didn’t care who or what house. She just needed Ciaphas to win once, or at least, give a good enough showing that they would stay on the realm’s minds.

Something minor, almost unnoticeable, twinged in the back of her head when she looked at Ciaphas’s lance held high. She nodded to herself. It seemed his plan to have Jurgen ‘bless’ the weapons had worked to some degree. Idly, she wondered if the dragonriders noticed anything amiss. They didn’t say anything, but Amberley imagined they were more focused on Ciaphas himself than his lance.

A horn sounded. Both sides of the joust spurred their steeds into action. Galloping at full tilt, they bore down on each other. Ciaphas rode well, but his inexperience with the weapon and technique was likely clear to those watching. Still, by some ‘miracle’, both rider and horse against him flinched just as lingering ‘blankness’ came near.

Ciaphas’s lance struck true, right in the center of his opponent’s breastplate. The other knight missed entirely and was sent flying. The horse beneath him kept running at full gallop as if trying to get away from Ciaphas.

Even if his victory was miraculous and anti-climactic, the crowd cheered for Ciaphas. So did the royal box. As soon as he reached the end of his tilt, he dismounted and went to help his fallen opponent stand. He raised their hands together to the crowd. Amberley was sure he’d just made yet another friend, because that was just how Ciaphas operated, even without realizing it.

“Your Grace! A request from a humble knight!” Ciaphas yelled over the crowd.

No response came from the King. Amberley glanced back to find him suddenly absent from the royal box. Gone without a word. Curious… While she wondered at the reason, she gave Rhaenyra a little nudge to act in her father’s place.

The Princess stepped up to the railing of the royal box, “Kingly duties have called my father away, Ser Ciaphas. I hope having a princess hear your request in his place will satisfy you?”

There was only one right answer to that question, and Ciaphas gave it with that winning smile of his, “Of course, my Princess. I am already satisfied. And honored. And delighted to be heard by such royal ears.”

Rhaenyra smiled but didn’t blush, “You flatter as well as you fight, Ser. Gone on, then. Speak your request.”

“Unfortunately, Your Grace, I would ask to take my leave from the rest of the lists. To bow out, if you would,” Ciaphas joked, bowing as he did.

“May I ask why?” Rhaenyra raised a curious brow.

“I’m afraid I’m much more comfortable with my sword than any lance,” Ciaphas explained. “Only embarrassment and injury will await me if I continue. Two things I’d rather avoid! I’ve won enough glory already. So, give my next opponent a win on my honor, and I will retire the day here and now.”

“Hmm…” Rhaenyra hummed in consideration before an idea seemed to come to her, spreading into a mischievous grin on her pouty lips. “Very well. It’s hard to refuse such a humble request from someone who’s already a champion. But since you’re now free for the rest of the day’s celebrations, I would invite you to join your lady in the royal box!”

The crowd cheered for Ciaphas, not sounding very put out by his sudden forfeit. Only Amberley was able to tell that his smile grew slightly strained in the wake of the public royal invitation. She knew that look. He’d be screaming inside his head right about now.

“It… would be an honor, Princess…”

IIIII

[AN: There’s a Dead End chapter coming after this. I think I have a good idea for it, but it still requires a bit of work on my end. A Dead End ‘TTRPG Game Night’ is my first choice, but I also have a bar story in mind if I can’t quite make that work. Either way, I think it’ll be a good time.]

Bonus Pics (sauce below)