AN :
Even though we didn't hit the goal, this chapter is thanks to all of you for the amazing support. I also to cover up for some slightly not-so-great news: my exams are coming up.
Because of that, I won't be releasing chapters as frequently for a long time. I'll be switching to an updated schedule one chapter every 3 days just like with my older fic. This way, I can work on the story more freely without rushing and keep the quality up.
Really appreciate all the support, and sorry for always asking for Power Stones like a slightly desperate NPC. I just really want to see this story make it into the Top 25. It'd be a huge boost and kind of a personal win for me as a writer.
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( Grand Maester Pycelle POV )
His chains sat heavy on his neck, all wrapping into each other and interlocking across his torso, they ran down from about his neck to the base of his breast, sitting over his blue velvet robe in a cast necklace that displayed his academic status. He felt its weight more every day as he got older.
Not that he was ancient yet! He was only 60 and in good condition, but it wasn't as if he lived an especially active lifestyle either. Aside from his eh, carnal pursuits, there wasn't much opportunity for the Grand Master to stay fit.
"Are you paying attention, Grand Maester?"
Pycelle looked up tiredly. His eyes finding the rather ornery and paranoid Lord Symond Staunton, the Master of Laws, and perhaps the most aggravating man on the small council.
"Yes… yes.. what were we discussing again?" He asked, not having to make a show of his utter boredom. He simply did not care what this man thought of him. "Something to do with tariffs I believe."
He could almost see steam rising from Lord Symond's ears as the man grit his teeth. "Yes. Grand Maester, I was discussing the need to raise tariffs at the docks here in King's Landing to secure the funding for this Tourney."
"Ah, yes… well why not just do it then?" Pycelle asked, keeping his expression placid while the man in front of him grew ever more red in the face.
"I… Grand Maester I came here to ask you to support it! I cannot simply change it unless the small council-"
"Ah. Yes, I see…" Pycelle strokes his beard, cutting the man off. "Yes, I see, I see…" he said, blinking in elaborate fashion. "So you want to raise tariffs…"
The brief moment of relief almost saw the Grand Maester burst out laughing, Especially when the implications of his words finally caught up to the man and his face turned even madder than before.
"I shan't waste any more of your time." The man said, angrily standing up, his hands pressed to Pycelle's desk and a glare in his eyes. He sneered at the old man, before turning and marching out of his study, slamming the door angrily behind him.
Pycelle smiled at his back as he left, the facade of the doddering old fool melting away as soon as the door was shut. Oh, how he did enjoy that. Lord Symond was perhaps the least competent master of laws that Pycelle had ever had the displeasure of working with. Aerys was his third king, albeit his tenures under Aegon the Unlikely and Jaeherys II were both quite short, but even still Symond was the fifth master of laws he'd had the displeasure of working with.
It was not that the position itself was useless. The King's laws left much up to his vassals' discretion and the Master of Laws was a good institution to handle the many discrepancies in that discretion. No, the issue was that the Master of Laws was, and for a long time had been, a position used mostly to reward friends, suckups, and toadies for the Kings of Westeros. It was simple to understand why.
The position required no true background in any form or sort of dealings. A Master of Ships needed to be a navy man, typically, a Master of Coin ought to be a treasurer. The King's Hand was his most trusted supporter, but the Master of Laws, he only needed to be a man of "Sound judgment" and of course who had more sound judgment than a man who frequently complimented the king?
It wasn't as if the master of laws even made any laws himself. That sort of thing fell to the King and the Hand. No, the master of laws merely "advised" and therein lay the problem with Lord Symond. The man was a paranoid, irredeemable viper of the court.
The type of man who spent all his time at the Red Keep looking for royal approval because his own lands were worthless. He could only hope to rise in status by playing on the King's own paranoid follies and raising his own standing as a 'trusted advisor'. Trusted by Aerys perhaps, but only because he was so evidently non-threatening compared to anyone competent. No, Lord Symond delighted in getting in the way of the actual business of the small council on a regular basis.
Whatever Lord Tywin would suggest, typically a well-thought-out and practical proposal (in Pycelle's opinion at the very least), Symond would argue against it in the small council, and because King Aerys feared Lord Tywin, he would often choose Lord Symond's less enlightened approach. This had resulted in multiple disputes with Crownsland lords, as well as a short-lived spat with Lord Steffon Baratheon that nearly ruined the King's otherwise good relationship with the man. It had been far too much effort paving over that mess.
Fortunately, King Aerys' relationship with Lord Tywin seemed to be thawing recently, what with Prince Viserys' birth and the-
Pycelle was broken from his thoughts by a knocking at the door, and he blinked, slipping back into his doddering old man persona without a second thought. "Erm, that is, yes come in!" he shouted. "Wait, no, ah, Who is it first?"
The door swung open, and Pycelle smiled, his facade dropping away in a moment as he greeted the only man worth working for in this ugly city. "Lord Tywin." He smiled genuinely. "To what do I owe the pleasure this afternoon?"
"Hello, Pycelle," Tywin said curtly, shutting the door behind him. "I saw Lord Symond storming down the hall, I assume that was your doing."
"He's attempting to circumvent you to raise tariffs on King's landing again." Pycelle nodded, not wasting any time conveying the essential information. "He was attempting to rally my support on the small council. I suspect he will speak to Lord Qarlton and Lord Lucerys as well."
"Let him. Qarlton is not a fool about such matters." Tywin spoke derisively, "And I doubt that the Velaryon cares about such things. There will be no increase for frivolous reasons." he paused. "I have something else I wish to speak to you about today, Grand Maester."
"I am at your service," Pycelle bobbed his head.
Tywin, being the man he was, wasted no time, pulling a heavy book from his satchel, he dropped it onto the desk. "You've five brass chains and eight copper ones." the King's hand said shortly. "You have a good understanding of history and a sharp mind for laws, I want you to review this text and tell me what you think."
"A book?" Pycelle picked it up, glancing at the cover in curiosity. It was not often that Lord Tywin came to him with books. Much more frequently it was ledgers, and charts, and intelligence reports. "Authority and Law in the Seven Kingdoms… by Callum Lannister. Your son wrote this?" 'your eight-year-old son?' Pycelle left the last part unsaid and instead flipped open the cover.
"Callum is a very intelligent boy," Tywin said, and Pycelle could hear the pride in his voice. Lord Tywin did not speak of his second son often, more frequently he mentioned young Jaime. Pycelle recalled that the boy had been able to speak and learned his letters early, but that was about the last thing he'd heard of Callum Lannister.
As he read through the introduction, he had to admit he wished he'd heard more. "This is not the writing style of a child," he said carefully. "I find myself intrigued Lord Tywin. You are sure that your son wrote this? He does credit one Maester Eomund, who I believe has a few brass chains himself."
"I've confirmed it with Eomund personally. Callum was the primary author, he only consulted with Eomund on various historical facts." Tywin said, cooly. "Knowing the boy, he's likely using Eomund's name for the sake of earning credibility."
Pycelle raised an eyebrow, looking up from the book and meeting Lord Tywin's intense green gaze, before glancing back down at the contents. "I see… well I will certainly review it if you believe this is worth my time," Pycelle said, not entirely convinced that a child of that age could feasibly write such a political treatise, but also knowing better than to argue with the Lion.
"The Lord Tempor system I've implemented in the Westerlands. It was Callum's suggestion." Tywin said, obviously seeing through Pycelle's disbelief. "It needed some small refinements, but it has already made great steps towards centralizing my authority in the Westerlands.
My incomes have expanded to now exceed that of all my vassals combined." Tywin leaned forward. "He made that suggestion when he was six. Forgive me for taking his work seriously."
"Yes, of course, my lord." Pycelle bowed his head, chastised, though still not entirely confident that the boy wasn't just acting as a mouthpiece for someone else. "I will review it thoroughly."
"Good," Tywin said. "I've read it. I want you to read it, and tell me what you think, which aspects are feasible and which are not. I've already formed my opinions, but I would hear your academic understanding of the sources he draws upon and their history of success or failure. I do not have time to dig through Essosi tomes and records myself."
Pycelle nodded, ah, that suited him well. A few days of reading and a few weeks of research would soothe his old academic heart. "I will do as you ask and provide you with my report," he said calmly.
"See that you do. Callum has spent a great deal of time and effort crafting his ideas, but he is also too clever to trust at times." Tywin spoke with a small smile. "I did not realize until six months ago that he created the entire Lord Tempor concept to ensure himself a position of authority after he comes of age. A boy of six already maneuvering to secure a future holding." Tywin frowned.
"Not that his other reasons weren't true I'm sure, but he never spoke to me of that one. Find whatever truths he's distorting to make his arguments more sound, and if he has any similar motivations. I would weigh them in my own thoughts."
Pycelle nodded. "It will be as you say, Lord Tywin."
"Good." Tywin nodded, standing up and leaving. "I'll expect your report in a fortnight."
Pycelle watched the man leave, off to whatever the next task for him was, and he couldn't help but feel a small pang of jealousy. Some men were born with intelligence, and some were born with power, but rarely were both matched as cleanly as with Lord Tywin. Now if his son was indeed intelligent as he said, then Tywin was triply blessed.
'Then again, he is a second son…' Pycelle reconsidered as he flipped open the book once again, to a section at the beginning detailing the coining of a new phrase 'Feudalism', a term the author, child or not, used to define the system of governance in Westeros.
As Pycelle continued to read, his estimation of the author only grew higher. No, rather than Tywin being lucky, perhaps it was Pycelle who was unlucky, simply because there was no way that Lord Tywin would let Pycelle recruit his second son to the Citadel.
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