Princess Naerys, well enough today to venture out to the sept, is surrounded by her flock of veiled ladies. Some of them break away, as they are not also her ladies in waiting, and some stay by here; nearest is Reyna Saltcliffe, to whom the Princess speaks something. Reyna nods, then approaches the Hand to make a low curtsy and await his notice.
Flanked by two goldcloaks, Anton arrives just as the service to the Seven is ending. He waits outside the Royal Sept, and when everyone begins to leave, he scans the crowd, as if looking for someone. When his eyes catch the presence of the Hand, he quickly looks away, and attempts to make himself look smaller, so Prince Viserys does not notice him. His eyes, however, continue to scan the crowd, looking for someone.
The man nods, murmuring acknowledgment, and sweeps a bow that leaves the long, trailing sleeve of his tunic brushing the ground. Viserys turns then, the lean, homely Ser Aleyn a pale shadow behind him. “My lady of Saltcliffe. I see my daughter looks well. Has she need of me?”
“She is very well, your grace. She only wishes to know if you would consent to dine with her tonight. Forgive me,” Reyna adds to the funtionary to whom the Hand is speaking, bending her head to him politely and looking not at all put out to have been kept waiting. “She asks me to say that she would be very well indeed if she could have an hour of your company.”
She pauses, then looks again at the official. “There is want in Pentos?” she inquires, her mind working behind her brown eyes. The goldcloaks with Anton catch her eye, and she notes as well the kneeling Lannister, but there are many people about.
Finally catching sight of Ser Richard, Anton makes to approach the Commander of the City Watch before noticing he’s in conversation with a number of other nobles. Sighing, Anton stands back to wait, knowing that Ser Richard may be quite awhile. He looks curious when a Lannister knight walks by into the Sept, carrying a handful of candles, never having met this knight before. Though he appears to be trying not to look in the direction of Prince Viserys, Anton’s eyes are drawn to the King’s Hand and Lady Reyna Saltcliffe, though he is too far away to hear their conversation.
With his array of candles lit, Mathin Lannister rises from his knees. At first, he appears to be heading out, but then he joins the retinue of courtiers surrounding the hand. A small but solemn bow of his head is given in the direction of Viserys. “Good day, your grace,” he softly says, keeping a respectful distance.
His smooth face appears, at first, to show the signs of youth and innocence. But one look at his eyes and it becomes obvious this is a veteran of the Dorne Conquests. Furthermore, his eyes emit a sense of coldness, like frozen steel, and cause some to take an involuntary step back. He wears the gold cloak of the King’s Landing City Watch and walks with a steady, purposeful stride.
His gaze moves, taking note of the gold cloak officer, and then there’s the Lannister knight before him. “Young Mathin!” he says, and now there is a little warmth in his voice for the young man who had been his son’s squire. “You must join me for dinner with the Princess Naerys, who has graciously asked my company. I am sure your presence would hearten her.”
Ser Aleyn leans forward, whispers something in his ear just then, and he looks to the gold cloak then, then back to Aleyn. He nods to Kingsguard knight, who bows faintly and moves in Anton’s diretion.
Reyna speaks to the lady with her, who conveys the Hand’s response to the Princess. “I hope for good news as well,” she agrees, after assuring herself of the Princess’s contentment with the septa. “It seems a harmless enough thing to supply them with what they need.”
Amidst the bustle of aristocracy, a young city watchman arrives behind Anton and quietly whispers a few words into his ear. An obvious look of annoyance comes and goes on Anton’s face and he shakes his head in a manner akin to a father telling his child for the hundredth time not to poke the bear. A few quick words and the young watchman hurries away in the direction of the bronze gates. One of the two goldcloaks flanking Anton draws his attention to the approaching kingsguard knight. Anton quickly bows his head in the direction of Ser Aleyn and speaks in a stiff voice as the knight comes closer, “My lord, how may I be of service?”
Mathin nods a bit, a smile coming to his lips. He acknowledges the father of his mentor almost reverently, “I would be pleased to take supper with Your Grace and the princess, if it pleases you. My father sent with me several bottles of Tyroshi brandy. I will be sure to bring some just for the occasion.” He gives a nod to the Piper in gold, “Ser Anton, I have been meaning to speak with you,” he notes as an aside.
Viserys gives Mathin a nod at that, dark gaze inscrutable. “Lord Loren has always had fine taste,” he says, before he turns to Reyna and remarks, “Perhaps so. This banker seems much less warlike than the Lion of Braavos, and given our past… I think there will be more to gain. I do not imagine Prestayn will object at this stage.”
Reyna listens to the talk of brandy, clearly making mental notes before she tunes in to the Hand addressing her again. “It will be interesting to see how it all plays out,” she notes about the situation across the Narrow Sea. Then she is looking at Mathin. “Hallo, Ser Mathin,” she says amiably.
“Of course, Ser Aleyn.” Anton replies in a quiet voice, before motioning for his two goldcloaks to stay where they are. Anton wordlessly follows the kingsguard towards Prince Viserys and the other nobles standing with him. As he arrives and Mathin offers up a greeting, Anton replies, “Greetings Ser knight. I must apologize, for you have the better of me. Though it is a pleasure to meet you regardless of who you are,” he then extends an arm in greeting. Looking at Prince Viserys, Anton bows deeply, as befitting a member of the royal family and the King’s Hand. “My prince, I am at your service.”
“When my brother’s wife, our cousin, joined the Seven,” Viserys interrupts, sounding ... sad? “I remember it, ser.” He pauses, and eyes Ser Anton up and down. “You’ve caused a stir, ser, chasing after these thieves. What luck of late?” he starts to ask him, when Waynwood comes forward, seeking Ser Anton’s attention. He frowns at the man, trying to place him, and again Ser Aleyn leans over to whisper in his ear.
“Ser Dagur is very well,” Reyna says with a smile. “He enjoys his new duties at Crackclaw Point enormously, I think, though he’ll not admit it. You are keeping well? Princess Naerys mentions you now and then and hopes you are not missing Prince Aemon too much.”
The Lannister extends his arm to Anton, “Ser Mathin Lannister, Lord Loren’s youngest boy. I apologize for being such a stranger to catch you off guard, but my cousin Melissa told me that perhaps you would be of some help to me. I’ve been meaning to make myself somewhat useful here at court. I would follow my mentor and master, The Dragonknight, into the service of the Kingsguard, but I am afraid that one Lannister is already enough for them.” Mathin chuckles. He notices Hanlon and he nods with pursed lips, “Perhaps we could discuss this vocation at another time. Maybe over a round of ale. On me.”
Mathin turns to Reyna, “I am glad to hear of these things. I am keeping well in my idleness. And I do miss the company of old friends. I hope that my advent here to court will cure me of those two ailments.”
Still smiling, Reyna nods. “I hope so as well, Ser Mathin,” she says, but whatever she might say next is cut off by a word from one other Princess’s other ladies. “Pray excuse me,” she says to all of the, and steps away to answer Naerys’s summons.
In a respectful tone, Anton replies to the Prince’s inquiry, “my prince, at present, there is not much more to report. My initial belief that this was a small band with little influence is fast becoming a joke. They are well connected amongst the baseborn. I understand the questioning and detaining of many have caused some havoc within the tradespeople. I have already been called by Ser Richard into his office a number of times after their complaints. The good news is we are making headway, and I believe the questioning will soon become unnecessary.”
Nodding to Mathin, Anton answers, “Ah yes, Lady Melissa, I remember her well. It would be an honour and pleasure to converse further with you, Ser Mathin, and I would be glad to help out in any way that I can.” As Hanlon raises his voice in greeting, Anton catches sight that Ser Richard, having finished his conversations, is leaving in the direction of the courtyard. Sighing briefly, Anton returns the custom sergeant’s greeting, “good day Sergeant. I would be happy to discuss the details of my investigation. Though again, you have the better of me. I am Ser Anton Piper.” Anton holds an arm out in greeting.
And then, dismissing the pair from his thoughts, he turns to Ser Mathin, and tells the young knight, “This evening then, ser. A good day to you, until then.” And so the prince takes his leave, the crowd moving out of the way for the Hand of the King and his amused Kingsguard knight.
The seven-walled Royal Sept serves as the centre of worship for the King and his kin, along with the denizens of the Red Keep. It is, like all septs devoted to the Faith, a solemn place of beauty; leaded glass windows admit light which plays about the sept, scattering through the prisms of the sacred crystals and casting dazzling rainbow patterns upon the smooth vaulted ceiling. Each of the seven aspects of the divine are here revered: the smiling Mother, the bearded Father, the valiant Warrior, the beautiful Maid, the enigmatic Stranger, the masterful Smith, and the wizened Crone each have their own ornate statues and altars, all inlaid richly with mother-of-pearl, onyx, and lapis lazuli. The low sound of sing-song voices raised in worship can often be heard, and the air is heavy with the smell of incense from holy censers.
Long benches of polished dark wood bear soft cushions of black velvet, upon which attendees may sit while at worship. At the head of the sept is a raised dais, the station of the septon; before each of the seven altars are candelabras and gilded lanterns. A small and nondescript door at the rear of the sept grants access to the vault and living quarters for the brothers and sisters of the Faith; the large golden doors of the main entrance lead out to the castle yard.