Chapter Text
When the knocks came at his office door Lyman was just about at his wits’ end. He was looking over the annual taxes from the Reach and, once again, the Redwyne’s seemed somewhat lacking. While they had still delivered several times the coin of their nearest neighbours, with the Arbor under their control Lyman would have expected more. Their wines were the most popular in the realm. By the gods, he had a carafe of Arbor Red sitting on his desk!
However, it was a measly sum of twenty thousand golden dragons in taxes that the crown had received this year. Lyman was sure that the Redwynes were falsifying their ledgers but had never been able to find proof. He had brought the matter to the attention of the king, wishing to press for a full accounting, but found his concerns brushed aside. In previous years this would not have bothered him so much but the crown’s coffers were still suffering from Prince Daemon’s short tenure as Master of Coin.
Therefore it was somewhat of a relief when the three powerful knocks rang out and turned his attention from the vexing figures. “Enter,” Lyman called, placing his quill down upon the desk. When the door swung open he was surprised to see the figure of Ser Harrold Westerling, resplendent in the white armour of the Kingsguard.
“Princess Rhaenyra to see you, my lord,” Ser Harrold announced, stepping aside to allow the princess to stride confidently into the room.
Lyman rose from his seat to greet her. “Princess,” he said as he dropped into a respectful bow. “How fare you this day?”
“Well, Lord Beesbury. How are the realm’s ledgers?”she replied, giving a cursory glance to his desk.
“Ignoring several … discrepancies they are as expected.”
Now that pleasantries were out of the way Lyman wondered at the reason for her visit. “Has the king sent you with a message?”
Princess Rhaenyra was no mere page but Lyman could think of no other reason for her to visit him in his office. Aside from idle conversation prior to Small Council meetings and at feasts, Lyman could not recall ever actually speaking to the young princess.
“No, I have come to you for assistance. You see my father has entrusted me with a task and I find myself rather unsure how to go about it. I believe your ledgers would be a good starting point.”
“A task, princess?” he enquired.
“Yes.” Princess Rhaenyra’s chin lifted and a hint of pride entered her voice. “Septa Marlow has been teaching Alicent and I about the founding of King’s Landing and I was discussing it with my parents at dinner. My father said that if I was so interested in the city, I should present a report to the Small Council on what ails its people.” Her hands came together to fidget with one of the several rings she wore. “I have never been given such a responsibility before but I thought to ask you for information on what works are being funded in the city at present.”
Lyman felt his brow furrow at this. While the princess had served as her father’s cupbearer since she was eight years old, the king had never shown an inclination to involve her further in the politics of the realm. The compilation of such a report seemed too large an issue for her to cut her teeth on. For that matter King Viserys had never expressed much interest in the state of King’s Landing at all.
However, it was not for Lyman to question the will of the king.
“I fear I have little information that will be of use to you, princess,” he said as he walked over to one of the shelves lining the wall and pulled out a ledger. “The only coin being funnelled into King’s Landing at present is going to Prince Daemon and his reforms of the City Watch.”
Gesturing for the princess to take the chair opposite his desk, Lyman returned and sank back into his own seat. Opening the ledger to the relevant pages, he laid it in front of her so she could view the figures.
Glancing at the columns, Princess Rhaenyra’s eyes widened as she took in the exorbitant sums her uncle required and a low curse escaped her lips. Remembering herself, the princess raised her head to meet his gaze once again. “Forgive me, Lord Beesbury. I was unaware that it cost so much to dye cloaks gold.”
“More than one would expect, though thousands were required,” Lyman replied, unable to contain his grimace. The gold cloaks had been a particular point of contention when negotiating the City Watch’s expenses and he still believed them to be wholly superfluous. However, Prince Daemon had deemed them essential and so more coin had been carved out.
Returning to the matter at hand, Lyman continued, “While the crown previously took an interest in the city, I fear such efforts have … lapsed during King Viserys’s reign.”
A frown came over Princess Rhaenyra’s face. “How? Surely it is important that we maintain our capital and its people?”
“During the reign of King Jaehaerys it was Queen Alysanne that was the main advocate for the smallfolk,” he explained. “Her women’s courts allowed women of all births to discuss their fears and needs. The queen attended Small Council meetings alongside the king and was able to bring these issues to attention. This resulted in the abolishment of the right of first night and the passing of the Widow’s Law, among others. The queen also pressed for the construction of fountains throughout King’s Landing to provide the smallfolk with clean drinking water, as well as funding for various other charitable works.”
“I have been taught of my great-grandmother’s works, Lord Beesbury,” Princess Rhaenyra replied primly. “What I do not understand is why such projects seem to have entirely ceased.”
Lyman thought carefully on his next words so as not to cause offence to the princess. The simple truth was that Queen Aemma had never been well enough to don the mantle Queen Alysanne had left behind. It had been asked during one of King Viserys’s early Small Council meetings whether the queen would be joining them. The king had dismissed the notion as the queen had recently experienced a stillbirth and was recovering. It was decided to revisit the queen’s attendance when a healthy prince had been born. Which had never come to pass.
With each successive babe lost the queen had been participating less and less in court life. For her last few pregnancies Queen Aemma had been mostly confined to her chambers by order of the Grand Maester. It was hoped that bed rest and a lack of stress would lead to a successful pregnancy.
“Following the example set by Queen Alysanne, it was expected that the next queen would represent the interests of the smallfolk,” Lyman finally said. “However, Queen Aemma’s wellbeing was considered to be of the utmost importance and it was thought that such responsibilities would unduly burden her.”
“I see,” the princess scoffed. “Was my mother even consulted over this decision?”
Lyman hesitated, unsure how to respond as Queen Aemma had not been, to the best of his knowledge.
“I suppose it makes no difference now,” she continued, a definite bite in her tone. “And no member of the Small Council has given any thought to King’s Landing since?”
He shook his head. “To be frank, aside from the City Watch and matters of crime, the city has been given little attention.”
“Very well.” The disappointment was clear as Princess Rhaenyra slumped in her chair. “I had been hoping for rather more information than that. Might any of your fellow councillors have anything more?”
“I doubt it, princess,” Lyman replied. Lord Velaryon cared for nothing more inland than the city’s harbour, Lord Lyonel only its judiciary and neither Ser Otto nor the Grand Maester had any interest that he was aware of.
Princess Rhaenyra thought for a few moments. “In that case I suppose I shall just have to question the people directly. There must be some servants around with opinions on the state of the city. Although most of them live in the Red Keep.” She stared into the distance before her gaze focused again. “Ser Harrold could accompany me into King’s Landing and I could speak to people there.”
Lyman felt his face blanch at the thought of the princess wandering around the city talking to random smallfolk. “Or there is another organisation that you could turn to for information.”
She looked at him blankly.
“The Faith, princess. They are involved in many charitable works throughout King’s Landing and would be better able to discuss the needs of the people.”
At this she could not stop a low groan from escaping her lips. “Does it need to be the Faith?”
“I believe they may be the ones best able to advise you on this.”
“I do not get on well with members of the Faith, Lord Beesbury,” the princess said. “Nor do they get on well with me.”
Lyman recalled that she had gone through several septas in as many years. Most of them had found her to be too unruly and wilful from what he had heard. It was true that Princess Rhaenyra was hardly the most pious maiden in the realm. Indeed, Lyman only remembered seeing her at a service in the sept once. It had been the previous year in the aftermath of the death of Ser Otto’s wife, Lady Melara. The princess had accompanied her bereaved lady-in-waiting, Lady Alicent, who had clung to her arm for the whole service.
“Oh.” Princess Rhaenyra brightened. “I can ask Alicent to help me. She is much better with such matters than I am. The septons and septas will love talking to her.”
That was not a bad idea. House Hightower of Oldtown, home of the Starry Sept and the High Septon, had always been a house known for its piety. Many of their number served as septons and septas throughout the realm. From her regular attendance at the sept, Lady Alicent seemed to be no exception to her family’s devotion to the Faith.
“I thank you for your assistance, Lord Beesbury,” the princess continued, her expression resolute. “Alicent will speak with the Faith and I can question the servants and the smallfolk.” She stood to leave.
Lyman stood as well, feeling that he had not actually been of much help. “Once you have gathered information on what the people of King’s Landing need I would be happy to look over your findings. I can show you how to compile a report if you wish.”
Princess Rhaenyra looked surprised but grateful for the offer. “That would be most kind. I have never been trusted with such a responsibility before and do not want to let my father down. Thank you.”
It struck Lyman then how young the princess still was. While three-and-ten and a woman flowered – as had been reported during an awkward Small Council meeting – youthful fat still clung to her cheeks and she remained several inches shorter than his own insubstantial height. However, Princess Rhaenyra seemed earnestly enthusiastic about completing the task that the king had assigned her.
“You are most welcome, princess,” Lyman responded with a short bow.
Returning this with a nod of acknowledgement, she turned and left his office.
Lyman stood for several heartbeats, mulling over what had just taken place. Well, that was a change. With a shake of his head, he retook his seat and returned his focus to House Redwyne’s taxes.
It was several weeks before Princess Rhaenyra returned to his office. During that time Lyman had come across her several times in the corridors of the keep, quill in hand, taking notes as a bewildered servant talked to her.
When the princess arrived it was with several sheaves of parchment in hand. Barely giving Ser Harrold time to announce her, she burst into his office and threw herself down into the chair opposite him. Spreading the papers on his desk, Princess Rhaenyra looked up at him expectantly. “I think I have gathered enough information about what ails the people of King’s Landing. How do I write a report?”
Lyman took a moment to try and calm his heart and regain his composure after her abrupt entry before responding. “The king prefers for reports to contain a brief summary followed by explanations in more detail,” he said, although he privately wondered how often the king read beyond the brief summaries. “Might I have a look over what you have compiled, princess?”
The pile of parchment Princess Rhaenyra had brought was handed over with a faint look of pride. Flicking through the papers, it did not appear that this was the most orderly collection of information Lyman had ever received. Indeed, much of it consisted of disjointed statements like ‘price of bread too high’ and ‘Hobb on Street of Flour using false weights’. Several of the pages also appeared to be written in High Valyrian. He raised an eyebrow questioningly at her.
“The Dragonkeepers live in the city,” she replied to his unanswered question. “And I see them most days when I visit Syrax. It made sense to ask them.”
As far as Lyman was aware, the Dragonkeepers lived in special barracks attached to the Dragonpit. He was unsure what knowledge they would possess on the general needs of the people. “Might I ask, how are these pages currently organised?”
“Information from the servants is at the top, then the smallfolk, the Dragonkeepers, Mysaria and what Alicent found out from the Faith is at the bottom.”
“Mysaria?” Lyman questioned. He thought he recognised the name but could not recall where from. One of the courtiers that resided within the keep?
“Oh, well, given how often my uncle spends time in the city, I asked him if he knew anyone I could speak with.” The princess gestured in the general direction of King’s Landing proper. “He brought Mysaria to meet with me when she was visiting him several days later. I believe she is his current paramour.”
Gods be good! Lyman recalled where he had heard the name now. Ser Otto often brought up Prince Daemon’s depravities and had recently made special mention of the Lysene brothel owner he flaunted. The thought of a princess of the blood speaking with a … a … denizen of the Street of Silk! Lyman could not imagine the scandal if such information became known around court.
“Mysaria was actually very informative,” Princess Rhaenyra continued, seemingly taking no notice of his reaction. “According to her it is far too expensive to see a learned healer in the city. Many of her girls struggle to pay if they catch any diseases.” Her nose scrunched up. “Although Mysaria would not give me any details of what the diseases they suffer from are.”
Deciding it was best to move on from this topic as hastily as possible, Lyman interjected, “You said you were able to gather information from the smallfolk?”
“Yes,” the princess replied. “Ser Harrold prevented me from venturing off the main streets but I have been able to speak to people when going to-and-fro the Dragonpit.”
“And Lady Alicent was able to find information from the Faith?”
Princess Rhaenyra pulled out the bottom-most papers and handed them over to him. “Alicent said the septons and septas of King’s Landing were most eager to speak to a Hightower, especially one who is the daughter of the lord Hand and has the ear of the princess.”
This section was more organised and in a far neater hand than the princess’s cramped writing. Indeed, looking over the meticulous presentation of the information, Lyman wondered if Ser Otto had been passing some of his own work onto his daughter.
The contents were at first disappointing although unsurprising: the septons that Lady Alicent had consulted believed that many in King’s Landing had turned away from the light of the Seven. They believed that the most pressing needs of the smallfolk were spiritual and that a new sept should be built for the lowborn. However, there were reports from some septas with a more pragmatic view. They had commented on the grim fate that met the destitute, the lack of trained midwives and the crime that plagued King’s Landing. While the last of those was now under the purview of Prince Daemon, Lady Alicent had gathered plenty of useful material.
“Very well then.” Lyman took a deep breath and began explaining to Princess Rhaenyra how to organise all her information into something resembling a coherent report.