Chapter 18.1- The Seadragon's Roar

XXXXX- THE GRANDMAESTER

Another emergency meeting of the Small Council would probably be called in light of this revelation, he thought to himself with a sigh. Sometimes he regretted accepting his Uncle Allar’s invitation to the capital. Being in the Capital when the former Grandmaster died, adding his blood relation to the man and the pedigree of his original family before he had forsworn them to forge his chains with the Citadel had probably combined to make him the best choice for the position. It wasn’t like they would send anyone truly important for this position. Kings were more stubborn than Lords, everyone knew this so his advice went ignored more often than not, and here had to share the position as the King’s adviser with others.

A Maester sworn to a castle was often that Lord’s hand, Master of Coin, Master of Ships, Master of Laws, and everything else. Here he was just the man who was in charge of the ravens and the person’s whose voice could be ignored without fear of causing offence to a powerful Lord. Still he had to do his duty and so he rang the bell to summon one of his many attendants.

“Take this to the Lord Hand. Tell him it is extremely urgent” he said, and the boy was off running with a nod. Good. At least the number of aides and servants he had at his beck and call was a silver lining in this whole situation. He turned his mind to the contents of the message then. Corlys Velaryon had been heavily injured in battle. Driftmark’s Maester was only barely able to pen the message to him before he had been taken to the man. At least that was what the haste in the missive told him. If Corlys Velaryon died then that would be the end of Velaryon power, he knew. For all that Laenor Velaryon was a dragon rider and a talented fighter if the messages from Storm’s End’s Maester was any indication, he was no Seasnake. Runciter was a historian by passion and he knew that men like Corlys Velaryon were never followed by their likes.

After Aegon had been Aenys. After Brandon the Builder had been Brandon the Unremarkable. Harren Hoare produced dozens of his get but not a single one could match his cruelty. It was just the way of the world. So House Velaryon would wane in the Game of Thrones, and another house would rise to fill their void. Power abhors a vacuum. He could already see the most likely suspect. He served the House through its second son already.

He sighed and returned to his texts. What did all this matter to him? The Houses would wax and wane as they always did. What was his business with making predictions. Men like him? Men like him were destined to watch and keep the records of what happened. That was what he was. A watcher. That was another thing this cursed position was good for at least. There was few seats better for watching the realm from than this one.