A Different Song (ASOIAF- OC/Reincarnation)

Chapter 11: The Burdens of Love
Small Council
The Spring Prince
 Baelon was waiting outside the chambers for Aemon to come and enter with him, as he didn't have an official seat on the Small Council. His position as Master of Whisperers was only known to the King. Aemon had included him in the meetings a couple of years ago, and he was there to advise and assist both him and the King if needed. He smiled and nodded at Aemon when he entered the corridor leading to the chambers. Aemon had gone to settle the Baratheons, as he was related to them through marriage and couldn't be handed over to servants like the rest of the nobles who deserved a room in the Red Keep.
 Aemon's face was calm, but Baelon could see small embers of rage in his eyes, reminding him of the two years he had overworked to ensure Aemon's anger didn't cause too much damage to House Targaryen or Aemon himself. He prayed that it would not turn into dragonfire in this meeting and that his plan would actually work.
 As Baelon entered the chamber after his brother, the King, who was already seated, looked at him sharply, glanced quickly at Aemon, and returned his gaze to Baelon in inquiry. Baelon understood the question, nodded slightly, and saw a small relief appear on the King's face.
 Baelon looked at the King in deep thought. It seemed that he had underestimated the King's need for a calm North, or perhaps even the King was finally fed up with the constant complaints from the northern lords. Baelon cursed whoever had suggested to the Northern Lords that complaining was an option. As the protector of the realm, the King couldn't simply dismiss their endless complaints. There had been no ravens from the North to the Crown until six years ago. Now, the combined ravens and messengers received from the North were more than what the Crown had received from all the other lords combined since the Conquest.
 Moreover, such constant complaints without a solution questioned the King's competence to rule. Even now, King Jaehaerys was considered the wisest and most able ruler the Seven Kingdoms had ever seen. Every complaint was an arrow aimed at that image created by the King and House Targaryen. Baelon knew that it was a weakness the King was eager to compensate for, and he was sure that the King would have reversed the Queen's order within a year, citing any vague reason, just to save his image as the Good King.
Baelon bowed to the King and Queen and took his assigned seat. His place was on the right-hand side of his brother, who sat on the right-hand side of the King. The table was rectangular in shape, with the King seated at the head on a raised platform and all members along the longer sides. The opposite side of the King was always kept free, as there was no one equal to sit there. The Queen sat on the left-hand side, opposite the heir. The Hand of the King, Septon Barth, sat after the Queen.
 The meeting began as usual, and Baelon observed the Grand Maester and the Septon. Both were tense, but there was a hidden pleasure in their posture and faces. At his side, Aemon moved around in his cushioned seat with uneasiness. His posture became more tense as the meeting progressed, and only the family could identify a tense dragon.
Finally, before the King could call the meeting to a close, the Grand Maester Elysar started speaking, "Your Grace, there is a grave matter of importance that has come to the attention of the Citadel and, through them, to me."
 Baelon saw the King scrutinize the Maester and then nod for him to continue.
 The Maester bowed his head and continued, "It's treason, Your Graces. House Stark has violated the Queen's edicts and effectively taken back both the Lands of New Gift and Brandon's Gift. They have strong-armed the Night's Watch into a contract of lease that is not worth the piece of paper it is written on."
 "What?" the Queen snapped. She looked pale and thin, with dark circles under her eyes that added to her haunting beauty. It was clear she had not fully recovered from the death of her brother Gaemon. Baelon swallowed a scowl, realizing that the Maester and Septon had specifically requested the Queen for this meeting. It seemed that Septon Barth was using the personal relationship he shared with the Queen for his own selfish purposes. A small rage erupted at the blatant manipulation and disregard for the Queen's health by her supposed friends. As the Maester explained the contract of lease, the rest of the members were silent, although they were very much surprised to hear about the cunning trickery done by the so-called honourable Starks.
 Baelon saw Aemon tensing further, gripping the hilt of Aegon's knife, his fist tightening. Baelon slowly moved to the edge of his chair and tensed his legs, ready to move at a moment's notice to stop Lord Commander Ser Gyles Morrigen, who stood behind the King. The Lord Commander participated in the meeting by guarding the King, and Baelon knew that if Aemon bared steel in the King's presence, the Lord Commander would pre-emptively even strike the Crown Prince.
 "What? How dare they violate my order. Lord Benjen even violated his own ancestor's order. He was very disrespectful when I visited last, and I forgave him at the time because of the lustful bastard girl's death. He should be punished, my King," the Queen finished, looking directly at the King.
 Baelon was shocked by his mother's tactlessness and wondered if she had fully recovered mentally after the loss of her child. He saw Aemon freeze in his seat, his hands trembling around the knife, and even the King looked at the Queen in surprise.
 Septon Barth, who was not looking at Aemon and missed the lurking danger, started talking. "Your Graces, there is more distressing news regarding this. The Maester informed me, as he was afraid to inform you directly, my King, my Queen. The Maester at Winterfell reported that the idea and the major terms were suggested by the bastard son of Prince Aemon. The Maester even reported that when the northern lords questioned the boy's loyalty, the bastard boy said he was very happy to get one over on his supposed kind and loving 'Old Lady' who didn't even once pick her own firstborn grandchild. This entire situation is treason, Your Graces."
 "Yes, I agree," the Queen supported, saying, "Now, my King, what should be the punishment for the bastard boy and the Starks?"
 The King was silent, merely observing the council. His eyes slowly shifted to Aemon and Baelon.
 "Your Grace," Maester Elysar said before anyone could reply, "if I may say so, such trickery and treason should be punished severely. Let Lord Benjen join the Night's Watch, and let the heir be summoned to the court to learn loyalty to oaths, receive knighthood, and do penance. As for the bastard boy, he is only ten and already so full of trickery. There is no telling what horrors and trickery he would accomplish once he is fully grown. He is a threat to the true-born royal family. It would be better that he is gelded and sent to the Night's Watch, or he should join the Faith."
Baelon looked at the Grand Maester as if he were a fool. With such an open move, he understood why the King used the situation to identify who was working against his goals and who was responsible for advising his mother about giving more lands to the Night's Watch. It seemed that millennia of failure to influence the North had led the Citadel and the Faith to use his family's authority and power to enforce their will on the First Men. Baelon didn't even need to look at his King and brother to know that they were both furious, though for different reasons. Aemon was still silent, his pose and mood very similar to Caraxes before he hunted his prey. Queen Alysanne nodded when the suggestion for the Starks' punishment was mentioned, but she looked hesitant about her grandson's punishment.
 "Yes, Your Graces, I agree with the Maester," Septon Barth said. "Even after the Conquest, the North behaves as if they are still not part of the realm. Teaching the heir southern ways of chivalry should be beneficial for the realm. I couldn't agree more with the bastard's punishment. He must not be allowed to grow into power. He is the firstborn son of the Crown Prince, even if he is a bastard, and the Starks are already looking for dragon eggs by cavorting with Braavosi. With a dragon, even the firstborn bastard son will have a claim to the throne. Bastards are known to be greedy and cunning little beasts. The bastard is already showing his trickery and hatred. The Seven teach us that bastards are born in sin and lust, Your Graces, and they have greed and lust themselves. The boy must be punished to learn the righteous path of the Seven so he can control his lust and desire for power, unlike his bastard mother who whored herself to sedu—"
Smash!
Baelon jumped to defend Aemon from the Lord Commander's sword, but it was unnecessary. Even with his concentration on his brother, Aemon was almost a blur. The chair behind him moved meters back as Aemon stood up, hitting the table with one hand and throwing the Valyrian steel knife at the Hand of the King. The knife embedded itself halfway in the table between the index and middle finger of the Septon, who had kept his hands on the table while spouting his beliefs. The knife hilt trembled from the force of the throw. The Septon withdrew his hand in sheer fright, his hands shaking with fear. The Grand Maester looked at the Crown Prince as if seeing him for the first time. The Queen, who had seemed uneasy as the Septon kept blaming the bastard and suggesting punishments, looked at Aemon as if seeing a Ghost from the past. The only calm person was the King. He observed the Crown Prince and the Septon as if they were the most interesting things he had seen recently.
 "Shut the fuck up!!" Aemon's cold voice whispered, though it echoed loudly in the silence. The sound of the still-trembling Valyrian steel knife sent a chill down even Baelon's spine. "I will only say this once. The next person who insults My Lyarra will lose their tongue. The one after that will lose their tongue and be made to eat it. The one after that will be fed to Caraxes in front of their families after making them eat their own tongue. And even then, if anyone is foolish enough to insult My Lyarra and my son in front of me again, I will only feed him to Caraxes after ensuring he watches his castle, house, or wherever the fuck he is from, become another Harrenhal. Do I make myself clear, Maester, Septon?"
Even though the threat was not directed at him personally, Baelon was momentarily afraid. He glanced around. The Septon looked as if he had seen the Stranger himself. The Maester seemed on the brink of a heart attack from fright. The Queen was speechless, gazing at her elder son as if seeing him truly for the first time. The most intriguing reaction was the King's. For the first time outside of his personal teachings of magic, Baelon saw the King's mask crack. The facade of the King shattered, and Baelon glimpsed the same gleam of excitement and pride in his magical skill that the King had shown when teaching Valyrian magics to him shown towards Aemon now. It was fleeting, but Baelon finally saw the madness that had led the King to declare rebellion against the rider of Balerion the Black Dread with only decades-old dragons at his side. Then, the King's mask returned, and he regarded Aemon with a cold, unreadable face, his thoughts a mystery.
 "Yes, My Prince," both the Maester and Septon bowed their heads lower, whispering fearfully.
 Aemon's fury remained unabated as he commanded, "Spread the words I have spoken around the court. They apply to everyone." The Maester and Septon nodded in agreement. Aemon, still searching for any dissent to quash, continued, "And there shall be no punishment for my son or House Stark. As the Master of Laws of the Realm and the Crown Prince, I declare it so. I have not bestowed anything upon my bloodline thus far, nor upon my family. This shall be his reward, a gift earned through his own wit. In fact, it would be fitting for my son to be appointed as the Overlord of the Gifts."
 Baelon closed his eyes and cursed Aemon for issuing a judgment without the King's consent. The moment Aemon encroached upon the King's authority, Baelon knew the situation would spiral out of control. The King would never tolerate even his own heir appropriating the Crown's authority and power. Even the Maester and Septon looked to the King with hope, knowing that he despised being pressured like this more than anything, and the only ones who could pressure him like this were his own sisters, and no one else.
 "Enough, Aemon," the King's voice reverberated through the chamber. "You have not ascended to the throne yet to issue such judgments. I am the King on the Iron Throne, not you, Aemon. Do not presume to use my authority again."
 Aemon snarled in rage, ready to retort, but the calm, burning gaze of the King forced him to rein in his emotions and adopt a facade of forced calmness.
 "I apologize, Your Grace," Aemon said through gritted teeth, "My emotions got better of me, My King," bowing deeply and remaining bowed as the King continued to stare at his heir in silence.
Baelon could see Aemon's hand beginning to tremble in suppressed rage, and he quickly placed his own hand over Aemon's fist, hidden beneath the table, to calm him.
 "Apology accepted. You may rise and take your seat, and let us continue this discussion like the civilized individuals we are," the King declared. Aemon straightened, nodded, and took his place.
 "But before we proceed," the King continued, a glint in his eyes, "just now you issued a threat to the realm. Are you truly willing to carry out that punishment if someone insults Lady Lyarra? What if it's the Baratheons? Even then, are you still willing to uphold your threat, Aemon? And what if it's the Faith of the Seven? Answer me."
 "I am your son, Father," Aemon replied with steely resolve. "You have taught me well. I will not make a threat that I am not prepared to carry out. If the Baratheons are foolish enough to defy my warning in my presence, I will burn down Storm's End. And if it is the Faith, then perhaps I will finish what my Great Uncle King Maegor the Cruel started, so that the message may sink in."
 The Septon and the Queen gasped audibly, while Baelon himself barely restrained himself from striking Aemon behind the head at the foolishness of provoking the King by mentioning King Maegor.
Baelon looked at the King in panic. Aemon knew how much it enraged him when Maegor was mentioned, and anyone who did so would face dire consequences. Aemon was well aware of this, and Baelon understood just how resolute his brother was.
 A furious expression briefly flashed across the King's face, but he swiftly regained his composure.
"I see that you are prepared to follow through with your threat. Good. Never make a threat unless you are prepared to carry it out, and never issue an order that you do not expect to be obeyed," the King remarked calmly. The Maester gasped audibly at the blanket permission granted by the conciliatory King to destroy anyone who defied the Prince's orders.
 Ignoring the reactions, the King continued with a smirk, "Now, you have passed judgment without my approval, utilizing my authority. What will you do if I were to order the boy to be gelded, as suggested by the Maester? Tell me, my heir."
 Aemon fixed a sharp gaze on the King and smirked while replying in High Valyrian, "Then I suppose you will have to attempt it yourself, Father, as anyone else will be fed to Caraxes. Perhaps you'll even have a chance to carry out your order with Vermithor, but I wouldn't bet on it. You've grown older and only ride the dragon every other month now, whereas I train and fly against Vhagar almost daily."
Baelon looked at his brother and saw the smirk, a smug, prideful smile that only a dragonrider could have about their dragon. Everyone in the room, except the Queen, looked shocked at the implicit threat issued against their King. The Lord Commander even half-sheathed his sword, but the King snorted and began laughing.
 
After a few moments, the King's laughter subsided, and he smirked at his son. "Well, then it's fortunate that I don't intend to issue such an order. You won't have to discover that you're still the foolish boy who once tried to tame the fiercest young dragon as his mount rather than claiming the older and already ridden dragons. My dear son, even though I don't ride as often as I'd like, I remain the skilled dragonrider who decided to face Balerion The Black Dread and King Maegor in his prime. That skill will not diminish until the day I die."
 Baelon grinned at the response, and even Aemon smiled and nodded his acceptance.
 The King's demeanor shifted from merriment to seriousness. "Now, moving on. Maester, My Queen, Barth, my friend," he addressed each in turn, "you all recommended punishments for House Stark and for my grandson. Maester, you are a learned man, yet all I heard were punishments and your poetic descriptions of their treason. Similarly, Barth, earlier you sounded more like a Septon preaching for the smallfolkes than the Hand of the King. We are not here for a sermon on bastardy or lust. Even now, all I hear are complaints and punishments only. Over the past years, none of you have provided a solution to the problem you yourselves created."
"Problem, Your Grace?" the Maester cautiously inquired.
 "Yes, the problem of the New Gift, Maester," the King responded sternly. "A problem created by you and the Septon when you proposed it to the Queen without even consulting the lord of the family that has ruled that land for 8,000 years. A foolish suggestion indeed, or have you forgotten the endless letters and complaints we received?" The room grimaced collectively, recalling the mountain of paperwork and grievances.
 Continuing, the King stated firmly, "Therefore, I will not annul this agreement, which technically I cannot do since it was signed by the Night's Watch, not under my authority. The contract can only be terminated by mutual consent, and I cannot dictate terms to the Night's Watch. It is their land, and they have the right to lease it as they see fit. Moreover, it is preferable for the realm that they lease it to the Starks rather than to some Essosi slaver for resources or any other dubious purposes. House Stark has not violated any laws nor breached the King's peace in securing this land or disregarded any of my orders. They have acted within their rights to contract, and I will not penalize them for it. Henceforth, the Starks shall be responsible for the New Gift and will handle any complaints from the Lords of North concerning wildlings, food shortages, or Night's Watch activities."
 With that, the King concluded calmly. Everyone in the room nodded in agreement, acknowledging the King's judgment and the clear resolution to the problem.
"Your Grace, that is a splendid idea about the lands and the contract. What is to be done to the boy? After all, he insulted Her Grace, the Good Queen, and your own wife. Such disrespect at least needs some whipping, Your Grace," the Maester said with a sly smile.
 Baelon looked at the king and saw he was annoyed that the matter had not been dropped. Aemon was again enraged and said, "Maester, my father has already issued the order, there shall be no punishment. I have also ordered it, there shall be no punishment. Why are you still bringing it up now?"
 "My Prince, that judgment was clearly for the trickery with the contract. This is an insult to the Queen, your own mother," Baelon observed the king, noting his growing annoyance and irritation whenever the queen was mentioned.
 "If my son has actually insulted her, then she deserves it for being tactless and insulting his dead mother, my love, before her body had even cooled under her castle, her birthplace, and then not even picking up her first grandchild at least once," Aemon snapped back.
 The queen winced at the admonishment from her son. Baelon continued observing the king, knowing he would be enraged if his sister was disparaged even by their own son.
 "Aemon," the King snapped, "Beware of your words. This is your mother, and moreover, my own sister you are talking about."
 "I am minding my words, father, because she is my mother. I will defend my love as you are defending your own and there will be no whipping for her son." Aemon replied firmly.
The King looked closely at Prince Aemon and said, "I understand your defense of your love and your son. I, too, love just as you do. Don't worry, my son, there will be no punishment since we do not know the actual truth beyond hearsay. You do not have to defend your son from me; after all, he is your son, which means he is my grandson. More than that, I have kept an eye on him more closely than you have ever done before, so don't be the sudden caring father now, for your own selfish desire to please a dead woman. I love you, my son. You are my own blood, and I love all my children and grandchildren, even Daemon Snow, even if he may not bear my name, he still has my Bloodddd….
Baelon suddenly looked at the King, who had stopped advising or chastising his heir. The King halted speaking when he uttered the word "blood," and his slow whispering caught everyone's attention with worry and slight fear. His face remained calm, but his eyes gleamed as thoughts turned in the King's mind. Baelon sensed something deeper, a truth rarely seen up close. Whatever thought gripped the King when he mentioned "blood" seemed to enrage him. Baelon could see even the legendary mask of calmness of King Jaehaerys begin to falter. The role of Dragonlord of House Targaryen was emerging, and Baelon could see that the epithet of the King's dragon, The Bronze Fury, matched his demeanor.
After several tense moments of silence,
The King's voice carried tension and fury as he called out, "Prince Aemon Targaryen, you shall remain silent until I call upon you. This is an order from your father, the head and Dragonlord of House Targaryen. Do you understand?"
 Surprised, Aemon replied, "Yes, Your Grace," and bowed.
 Nodding in acceptance and with a bewildering demeanor, the rest of the council looked at the King.
 The King turned to the Maester, whose seat shook with the intensity of the King's gaze.
 
"Maester, you have served us loyally for 20 years. You have saved many lives dear to me. Your counsel is valuable. Tell me again, what punishment did you recommend for Daemon Snow, my grandson, for his treason and insult to his queen?" The King asked in a charming tone that Baelon recognized as false.
 The Maester, surprised by the King's change of heart, replied gleefully, "My King, I recommended gelding, joining the Night's Watch, and whipping. Both are suitable punishments."
The King scrutinized the Maester for a moment, and Baelon almost felt pity for him.
"I see. Maester, if I were to order this, who would carry out the order? He is thousands of miles away in the North. Do you think Lord Stark would obey an order to geld him? From all reports, Lord Stark loves Daemon like a son. Daemon has helped The North improve and you think Lord Stark will just carry out my order? What will happen when they hide him in the vastness of the North and force my hand. What will happen when my own son join their resistance as he has just said that he will defend him with dragonfire. What solution do you propose for this?" The King inquired.
 The Maester looked at the King as if he were an idiot. "Your Grace, the Starks are oath-bound to follow your orders. If they do not, it is rebellion, and you have loyal lords and a dragon to enforce your will. Prince Aemon may have said he will defend his son, but we all know he harbors disdain for the bastard. He will not defy his own King and father."
 Aemon snarled and began to rise from his seat, but Baelon quickly pulled him down and tightened his grip. When Aemon looked at him, Baelon shook his head and nodded towards the King. Aemon glanced at the King and realization dawned upon him.
"So, you recommend spilling my grandson's blood? You recommend harming my blood? The blood of House Targaryen, your sworn royal family. How dare you sit in my castle and my council and recommend gelding my grandson? How did you even have the audacity to think of harming my blood? The Blood of the Dragon shall not be judged by lesser men or even gods. Only the Blood of the Dragon can judge another of the Blood. You are either incompetent or an enemy to the Seven Kingdoms to suggest such a solution that will foment rebellion from my own son and heir. What madness and foolishness possessed you to think you could manipulate my queen so that I would punish my own blood? How dare you try to use my queen for your selfish desires," the King finished in a deadly whisper. Baelon had never seen his king so enraged.
 "Your Grace, it's not like that," the Maester immediately protested against the harsh accusations.
 "Silence!" the King snapped. "Do you take me for a fool, thinking you could use me to influence the realm for your agendas? Do you believe you can make your selfish desires for the realm a reality by using my throne, my authority, and power? I see through your deep hatred against the North, evident in your original suggestion for harsher laws and your crown jewel suggestion for spreading your influence and weakening them, taking their fertile lands."
"Your Grace, we are innocent. This was a mistake, and we have no hatred against the North. We are all one realm under your crown," Septon Barth tried to defend against the accusation.
 The King scoffed and said, "No, I can clearly see now that the Citadel and the Faith have clear influence over you. Their animosity towards the North has colored your decisions. The Faith couldn't conquer the North and failed to convert them; they hold no sway there. It was only by my father's order that the North began accepting Southern maesters appointed by the Citadel for tax collection purposes. After that, the North gradually stopped sending eligible candidates to be trained, finding it increasingly costly. Your use of our authority to fulfill your selfish desires disgusts and enrages me. It seems that your years-long proximity to us has led you to believe you are as close to the blood of the dragon as the Royalty themselves. This mistaken belief must be corrected immediately, so that no one again will be foolish enough to think themselves equal to royalty."
The King took a long breath to calm his rage, and after a moment continued, "Septon Barth, you are dismissed from the position of Hand of the King. You have become biased against the First Men, and the man I appointed 20 years ago would never advise such foolish suggestions. Whether due to incompetence or deliberate weakening of the crown, both are dangerous. Therefore, you are removed from the council. You may return to the Starry Sept and deliver your sermons there, not in this council."
"Brother, no. Septon Barth has served us for many years, and he is our friend. You shall not dismiss him from the court. He is also my personal septon," the Queen interrupted.
 The King looked at the Queen and nodded. "Aye, Septon Barth, you may stay in the court. However, you will not be my Hand any longer. Now, Maester, you are found guilty of incompetence and willful intention to harm my blood. You are also found guilty of deliberately trying to incite one of my loyal Lord Paramounts to rebel against the crown. You are dismissed from the position of Grand Maester. You will not be appointed as a maester in any other holdfasts. Instead, you will remain in the Citadel, performing the duties of an acolyte for the rest of your life and die in that post."
 Everyone blanched at the harsh punishment. Baelon saw the maester's face go from shock to anger in seconds.
"No, Your Grace, you can't do this!" the maester yelled in anger and fear. "The Citadel and the council of Arch-Maesters decide on the Grand Maester and the appointment of maesters to different holdfasts. This has been the tradition for centuries. The king has no right to change this tradition. I will not be disgraced and dismissed by the Ki…" The maester suddenly stopped, remembering he was sitting in front of a decisive King who hated weakness and disobedience.
 The King looked at the maester as though he were dragon dung under his boots."I see you remember where you are sitting. It seems that the kingdoms need a reminder that I am not my weak father, who supported his friends' whims. I am Jaehaerys Targaryen, the rider of Bronze Fury. You will follow the above orders as they stand. But before that, you shall be punished."
 "The Citadel is ordered to send a new Grand Maester within one moon. You will send the raven yourself, stating your disgrace and new position as the lowest acolyte. From this moment on, your senior assistant will perform your duties. If the maester is not present before the court within one moon to take up the position of Grand Maester, you will send the raven again. If he is not present within 15 days after that, there shall be no more ravens. The next message will be carried by Vhagar."
 "From today, the Iron Throne shall not pay for any maester appointed to castles for recording business, calculating taxes, or for tax collection purposes if the maester is used by the lord of the castle for any other matter. Even if a small advice is asked, the lord of the castle shall be liable for the upkeep and salary of the maester. The rule implemented by my father saying that every keep must have a maester to do the taxes is hereby rescinded. The Iron Throne shall only pay for the days when tax calculations are actually done. If the lord has paid additional sum for their service, he may ask for any other replacement as he sees fit. Lords may punish maesters for disloyalty or incompetence if they can prove the charge. The maester sent by House Targaryen to the North is only to be used for tax collection purpose and all other expense of stay will be by citadel itself or the lords as mentioned above. If lords need a maester, they are to follow the methods used before Aegon's Conquest."
The Maesters face paled in absolute fear hearing the harsh sentencing. 
"Now for your personal punishment: you shall be gelded and whipped, the same punishment you gleefully suggested for a 10-year-old boy, before the court for your crimes. You shall be my message to those in my realm who want to use my authority and power."
 As the King finished, Baelon saw the maester become numb with fear and disbelief.
 "Your Grace," Aemon asked, "the maester's intention was against my son. Let me personally whip the man. There is a saying among the Starks, their way is the old way, and those who sentence people should also swing the sword to carry out the deed. If you cannot do that, then the man does not deserve to die. Let me be your representative and stay true to that saying."
 The King looked at Aemon carefully and nodded. "Prince Aemon, you shall be my Hand from today onwards, and Baelon, you will be the new Master of Laws. Let this council meeting be adjourned, and let us call the court for the maester's punishment."
 Baelon bowed in deference and accepted the honor after his brother. The Small Council dispersed, and Baelon went with the King to his Solar.
 "Your Grace, thank you for the honor, but what about my role as Spymaster?" Baelon asked.
 The King sighed tiredly and said, "Appoint and train your second for the duties of Master of Laws. Delegate as much as you can. The Spymaster is your first priority."
 Baelon nodded and then asked something that had been on his mind. "Your Grace, why did you dismiss your friend Septon Barth too? It was the maester who suggested such harsh punishment."
 The King looked disappointed at Baelon. "I am the King, Baelon, and I have no friends—only people who will help me achieve my goals. Septon Barth was an important piece a decade ago, but he had long overstayed his welcome. His influence over my sister and younger children is becoming overbearing."
Baelon nodded understandingly and went back to his room for resting before the public whipping and prepare to handle the fallout on Aemon's behalf.
Looking forward to the reactions, comments and discussions!!! 
To read ahead chp 12, 13, 14,15 : My Patr eon : Search for Black Wolf 
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