Celestial Hymn 4 (Patreon)

Celestial Hymn
Chapter 4

-VB-

“Your Majesty-” I tried. I really did. My spell were supposed to only make someone friendly towards me!

“I won’t hear any more of it!” King Robert Baratheon harrumphed with a glare. “You’re a good man with a good head on your bloody shoulders.”

“But I am a mere baron, Your Majesty. Would this not cause ire among the great nobles of the realm?” I asked humbly. “Are there not better matches?”

“Ugh, stubborn as Stannis,” he mumbled.

The two of us sat in my solar in private; Robert had one Kingsguard (I wasn’t sure who) and one of my own retinues standing outside, keeping all out.

And then, to my surprise, someone else entered my solar. Or rather, they knocked on the door, and Robert gestured for me to tell them to come in.

“Enter, please.” It never hurt to be polite.

And my eyes widened when I saw someone I never expected to see.

Lord Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King.

“It was actually my idea.”

I quickly rose up and gave him a bow. “Lord Paramount. Welcome to Brownspear.”

“Sit, sit,” the stately yet grandfatherly man sighed and I did, after I offered him a seat. Sure, this was my solar, but I was a baron and he was the lord paramount of the Vale of the Arryn. Etiquette, such as the host having the say in seating, didn’t quite work as stated between unequal ranks. “So you are the one that Renly found so interesting.”

What exactly was going on?

“May I … ask what you are visiting this barony for, milord?”

He hummed. “You are an interesting person, Baron Marris.”

He didn’t answer my question, yet.

“Thank you…?”

“Over the span of a year, you brought this small barony from just another Stormlander fief to one of the five riches towns in the Stormlands.”

Wait, what? But I didn’t do much.

“Oh, it’s nothing compared to the richest of the Reach, the trade ports of the Vale, or even the Crownlands,” he replied with a smirk while the king began to reach for a bottle of wine that had been on my table (I’ve been nursing that bottle last night after the announcement, and the bottle was still half-full).

I winced when the Forge tried to drop something on me again, but nothing came. I did feel heavier, though.

“I am honored by your praise,” I nodded with a polite smile.

“On top of that, there is a demand on your art,” he told me as he leaned forward. “And while Robert refuses to undo this betrothal, I agree on your behalf that a baron could not simply be wed to the royalty… not unless he provides a significant contribution to the royal family.”

Oh. Oh.

Jon was using Robert to monopolize me, huh? Since I accepted Renly’s offer of vassalage, Jon couldn’t snatch me up; he’d been late to the “snatch up Alan” game. Robert didn’t come to some dingy barony for no reason. He came here for me because Jon Arryn wanted me.

Shit.

Uh. Holy shit.

I thought I was being clever when I made Robert become friendlier to me.

“And since the king refuses to undo the betrothal, we must come to an arrangement on how you intend to provide that contribution.”

Fuck… they just wanted to milk me because I got rich quickly, and this was just the excuse.

I knew what the fuck was going on now. Myrcella, being a girl, couldn’t inherit the throne. Sure, she could be used as a bargaining chip to earn loyalty or alliance, but the current dynasty already had plenty of alliances; Renly was close to the Tyrells and controlled Stormlands, the king was a former ward of the Arryns, the king was a friend of the North, the king had a Lannister wife, and Riverrun was an ally of the the king’s allies and friends. Only the Iron Islands and Dorne were not part of this great web of alliances, and they were too weak individually and combined to present any threat.

So what was the only problem that Jon Arryn saw right now?

The debt.

The staggering amount of debt that Baelish accumulated on behalf of the crown under the pretense of “spending as the king commanded.”

And then here I appeared with a huge income that seemed to grow every month, mostly because I was getting better at making art and kept increasing the price on them as the demand, just as Arryn put it, was there.

But why? Wealth could be earned -.

…

It wasn’t -.

I leaned back slowly.

“May I be frank?”

“You may.”

“The realm is hemorrhaging money. It’s obvious to anyone who pays attention.”

Jon raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” he uttered, definitely intrigued by my take. “And what does this have to do with your situation?”

“You want me to contribute, but I don’t have the raw gold reserve of the Lannisters. In fact, I will not be able to gain anything close to a tenth of that if my situation doesn’t change, so why does the Lord Paramount and Hand of the King, come in here asking for contributions…?”

Robert, who just finished off my wine, looked also intrigued. He might not like “counting coins,” but from his perspective, this was certainly an interesting mystery as well.

“Yeah!” he agreed with me. And then turned to me. “Go on.”

“The yearly tourneys. They promise too much for the realm to upkeep.”

This time, Robert was not so keen on listening to that. “You sound like him now…” he grumbled. He shook the wine bottle. “Got anymore?”

I obediently produced another bottle from one of the cupboards.

“Gold Arbor. Now, that’s a good stuff,” he hummed happily as he uncorked it with his finger and thumb alone. Jesus, mate. What’s your finger strength?

I turned back to Lord Arryn. “But you said my products have demand. You want me to contribute.” I paused and then smiled. “You might not be able to replace all of the tourney rewards, but certainly, a certain few might be acceptable and thus reduce the expenditure.”

Jon looked impressed and then annoyed. “That … is the intention, yes. Initially, I merely intended to offer you a position, but then…” he glared at the king.

The said king was all too happy drinking to care.

Lord Arryn sighed.

“Well. What’s been done is done.” He turned to me. “Do you understand your role now?”

There was no negotiating here. The Hand of the King expected me to work for him, if indirectly.

“... As you wish, Lord Hand,” I replied resignedly. I again paused. “What right will I have to acquire the materials necessary for this?”

-VB-

The magic-induced, drunken episode of a betrothal contract, I realized, brought with it another trouble.

Cersei “I’m too rich to be subtle” Lannister.

Yikes.

I better start making people loyal to me, lest they be bribed to poison me.

Fuck…

I should have gone with Lord Tywin.