Callrik
The scent of incense hung always in the sacred halls of the Starry Sept. Seven Hundred pillars spiraled up seven walls in the central chamber, the columns were white marble crackled with veins of blue and black stone, they stood in row upon row and held up the great dome that sat above the entire Sept. Towering and mighty, the whole building was a wonder of Andal Architecture from the old days of the Gardener Kings, the once seat of the High Septon had lost much of its power in the years since Baelor had moved the faith to King's Landing, but not an ounce of it's splendor.
On the inside of the massive dome, there was an intricate painting of the night sky, some eight hundred years old, the painters had used powerful far-eyes purchased from Essos to view the Seven Wanderers in the heavens, the great spheres were each painted in glorious detail, sacred to the seven, leading to the light of the sun at the Dome's highest point. It was the only source of natural light within the main chamber of the great sept, a single window at the top of the dome to represent the sun. The other lighting came from braziers at the sides of the pillars and prayer candles in the pews. To step into the Starry Sept was like stepping outside into a night where all the stars of heaven show with silvery light, a sacred place, a holy space. There was no night and day within its walls, only the haze of incense drifting up from the altar and the sound of reverent chanting echoing through the pillars. Here, men came to beseech the Seven for truth. In these halls, more visions were given and prophecies made under the starry sky than in all the other Septs of the world.
Whatever they said in King's Landing, this was the true heart of the faith, as Callrik saw it. It was here that he led sermons every evening, and it was here that he spent his days, meditating before the altar and overseeing the lesser septons and septas as they went about their tasks.
His robe dragged behind him as he crossed the marble floor, his hands in his sleeves as he went to greet their newest guest. Normally, he only wore the full regalia of his office during sermons, along with the seasonal vestments that were expected to honor the seven faces of God. Today though, he was meeting with the son of a major House Lord, a Lannister son, and one who had been proclaimed blessed by the Gold Star Sept. As for whether that was true… Callrik was unsure. On the one hand, many were the times that someone perfectly ordinary would be proclaimed blessed because of some quirk of fate or circumstance, sometimes perhaps they were truly blessed by the seven with some miracle, but not to the extent that it would happen twice. On other occasions, men simply made up fanciful tales and called themselves blessed, or enticed their friends to do so. It was difficult to discern the truth of the Seven's blessings without a thorough investigation of events.
This was not an ordinary case, however. The Gold Star Sept had not proclaimed this Lannister boy blessed based on something that had happened to him, but because of something he had done. The child had crafted a tool, a stamp that could make books, copies of books, and endlessly in but a few moments. He had brought it to the faith with a holy mission, to give a copy of the Seven-Pointed Star freely to every household in the Westerlands. This much was not in contention. The Gold Star Sept had sent no less than ten of the copies they had produced south to Oldtown as proof. Callrik had one in his office.
There was thus no question that Callum Lannister had done a wonderful thing, a great work that all good men smiled upon, doubly so from a boy so young. The question was whether he had truly been blessed by the Smith, whether he had been given the knowledge, mission, and vision to pursue it by the hand of the divine, or whether it had simply occurred to him through mortal means.
That was what Callrik would attempt to determine today. Tricky as it might be. He clasped his hands together and prayed for truth. 'Father, help my judgment.' he prayed as he passed the statue of the solemn patriarch, rod in hand. 'Crone, guide me to the truth of your will.' he nodded as he passed the bringer of prophecy, her lantern low.
As he approached the front of the Sept, Callrik saw the child surrounded by a gaggle of Septons and Septas, who were asking him questions in a hubbub. Talking, yelling, shouting over each other as they surrounded the child, who was standing next to a knight in armor, his bodyguard no doubt, and trying to answer their questions, but hardly getting a word in. Callrik saw this happening but chose to observe the Lannister son for a moment, to take his measure.
Watching the boy he couldn't help but be taken back a bit by how pretty he was, small and fair, the boy's skin was pale save for the red freckles on his face, and he could easily have been mistaken for a girl, especially from the clarity of his emerald eyes as he looked from Septon to Septon and tried to get his answers out fast enough. He looked perhaps a tad flustered, but not so much that he was willing to shout back at the Septons. Slender and short, he clutched a copy of the Seven-Pointed Star to his chest with his left hand, it looked like one of the ones that came off of his presses. A personal copy perhaps. Callrik's eyes were drawn from it to the boy's clothes.
Callum Lannister had arrived at the Starry Sept dressed in a plain red jerkin with no embellishments, a pair of simple leggings, and small boots. The clothes were humble, very humble indeed for a Lannister, Callrik knew that the boy likely had far finer things in his wardrobe, or even his traveling trunk. He was stopped from pondering whether that was an intentional choice as the knight beside the boy looked about ready to punch one of the aggressively probing Septons.
Callrik raised his hands, stepping forward as the silver cloth about his neck glimmered in the firelight. With the practice of a lifetime preacher, he breathed in deep and projected from his belly.
"ENOUGH." The sound of his voice and the recognition of it stilled his subordinate's tongues, their eyes turning back to him, and nearly all suddenly bore sheepish expressions. They had gotten away from themselves, curious to see if this boy truly was as blessed as was claimed. "Step back from the boy, can't you see you are pressing him too far?" Callrik's voice was chiding, a deep baritone that spoke with command. Sometimes, he wondered if it was the only reason he'd been elevated to head the Starry Sept.
At once the multitude of faithful men and women drew back, leaving the boy and the knight the only ones remaining. The child looked frazzled, his cheeks red as he glanced back and forth, seeing the clergy drawback, his emerald eyes gazing back and forth through the hazy air. Then, as silence reigned at Callrik's command, the boy turned to him and met his gaze.
Those green eyes blazed against Callrik's blue, reflecting the dim light of the candles behind him, and Callrik could swear that he heard the ringing of bells in the distance, the sounds of thunder, and a strange smell in his nostrils. Then, as if on some hidden cue, the moment was over, and the boy bowed, deeply at the waist, his golden hair falling down over his face to hang from his head like a veil.
Callrik felt his heart quiver, but he shook it off in a moment, his voice lower now, not shouting, though it still echoed through the great space under the Sept's artificial night. "Come to me child, let me see your face." The queerness of the moment, set Callrik's hand to trembling, were the seven truly working before him? Or was it a trick of his mind, he couldn't be sure. He needed to meet those eyes once again. He needed to be sure.
The boy rose, looking nervous, his hand rubbed against his arm. "As you say, holiness." Callrik saw that he was frightened, and felt pity rise in his heart, he was still so small, just a child, but that did not change Callrik's purpose. As part of the Most Devout, as a follower of the Seven, he could not stop until he was sure.
The child walked to him and stood before him, looking forward, his back straight as an arrow. Callrik reached down and took the boy's chin in his hand, and as he raised the boy's head, the Lannister child gasping in surprise, he saw those eyes once again, and the fire reflected in them.
Callrik breathed deep of the sweet smoky air, and he held that gaze, not with his eyes, but with his soul, praying to the seven for clarity of vision.
And all at once, his prayer was answered, the sound of bells, a rhythmic drumbeat, not bells at all, but hammers shaping steal, the thunder came from the metal spitting fire, the smell acrid white smoke. He saw the green of the boy's eyes and the orange of the fire waver, and in it, he saw an ocean of fire, a wheel cracking, and breaking, only to be bound in iron and reforged, a seven-pointed star of steel raised on a banner above a city of gold, a crown of light and a sound of glass shattering.
"Erm… are you alright, holiness?" the boy's lips spoke, but Callrik barely heard the words, stepping back, his hand recoiled from the boy's face as if burned, and he could not bear to look into those eyes a moment longer. Instead, his eyes rose, his mind turning to the statue of the Crone resting beyond the pillars, on a plinth above the boy's head. The world seemed to turn around him, and he could swear the stone moved, that the Crone raised her lantern, but the next moment it was gone, back to being held at her hip.
Callrik felt his heart thunder in his chest. The Lannister boy stared up at him in concern. He pulled himself back to his composure and wiped his forehead with his sleeve. "I'm… well, I'm well my boy." his deep voice nearly cracked, but slowly the Most Devout regained himself, his mind still reeling, but more in control. "Yes, quite well." the boy seemed to know nothing of what had happened, of the vision that had filled Callrik's mind. Callrick did not know if the boy was blessed in the way the Gold Sept claimed. Visions could be fickle things, but he could say for certain that there was something more than natural behind the eyes of the child in front of him, innocent and frail as he might seem. "I apologize if I discomforted you, I merely… felt a strange presence in your eyes." Yes, best to buy himself time, take an evening or two to think about the vision, and consider its meaning. "Come, follow me, I shall be your guide to this holy place child."
"Will there be questions?" the boy asked, glancing back and forth nervously. "I… don't know how many I'll be able to answer, I haven't studied theology as much as I'd like to."
Callrik felt his heart ease a little bit. That was an altogether more natural response, not some vision of great import, though said vision still rang in his ears. Callrik nonetheless knew well how to comfort a scared child. "I'll avoid theology then." Callrik smiled, "Come, and do not worry." Callrik gave the boy a gentle smile. "In this place of comfort, there is no need for fear."
Somehow it seemed like the boy didn't believe him.
Perhaps because Callrik's heart was still roiling with fear himself.Callrik
The distant chirping of birds was drowned beneath the thundering of the Starry Sept's seven belltowers as the sun rose over the City of Oldtown, creating the tops of the Red Mountains far to the east to send brilliant shafts of light raining down through the spotty cloud cover. With each toll of the great bells, the air shook, calling each and every child of the oldest city in Westeros to rise for the new day.
Callrik was no different, though in truth he had found little respite these past two nights. Locked in his thoughts, his dreams had turned to the vision he had seen. Fires orange and green blazed in his dreams with lights and sounds unseen and unheard. Callrik had never had such vivid dreams before, nor had he seen such a vision as he'd found in the eyes of Callum Lannister.
Alas, he was not entirely sure what it meant. That was the difficulty with things like this. He believed the boy was blessed now. How could he not when so many things lined up for it to be so? But was the Gold Star Sept's interpretation of his blessing correct?
Ah, there was the rub. Just because there was something blessed, something supernatural about the child, that did not mean that one should leap to conclusions about exactly what that meant. His vision had, after all, been more than a little confusing. It was a puzzle, something to chip away at until he had a better understanding of what was truly going on.
In terms of the child's blessing, the smith was surely involved, but the boy looked more like the maiden, and it had been the Crone that had blessed him with the vision in the child's eyes. Questioning the boy had revealed little else to go on, besides that he confirmed he could not explain where or how he received the knowledge of how to build his presses, and that he did consider it a holy mission to spread the Seven Pointed Star. It gave no special insight into his character or the character of the blessing he had received.
All he could say of the nervous boy was that he surely wasn't similarly blessed by the Warrior or the Father. He lacked that aura of confidence that great warriors or elder statesmen gave off. In fact he had spent the entire questioning looking increasingly uncomfortable. Not that he was to be blamed for that, blessed or not he was still a child.
Callrik had spent all day yesterday pondering what the vision he had seen meant for the matter. He had shared his vision with a few of his close confidants and discussed it with them, but they had all come to different conclusions regarding what the vision meant. The only parts they had agreed upon were that metalworking was clearly part of it. The sounds of hammers on anvils, the fire and smoke, the wheel being reforged in iron, perhaps the boy was destined to perform some great feat of smithing, like rediscovering the secrets of Valyrian Steel, or making a new blade like Dawn, the sword of House Dayne. Borman and Septa Annette thought so, but that was where the agreements ended.
The city of Gold and the banner with the seven Pointed star was probably Lannisport, in Callrik's opinion, but Annette thought he might found a new city, and Borman thought it might be metaphorical and actually symbolize him hoisting the banner to the seven heavens. There was a similar debate regarding the crown of light and the ocean ablaze with fire. Whatever they meant, the boy was clearly special and had a destiny given to him by the seven.
On that, they could all agree, but nothing more, so now it was left to Callrik to figure out what to make of all this, what reply to send the Gold Star Sect, and whether to make a public announcement.
He rather hated that he didn't have more time to make such a weighty decision, but the blond boy would be leaving Old Town today once his convertees were confirmed in the light of the seven. While he could wait and make the announcement after the boy was gone, it would lessen its impact, so in a way that too would be a choice.
As he walked into the artificial evening of the central chamber, he made his decision.
The eight convertees were a motley bunch of foreigners. Six men and two women, two fat and one ugly, a brown-skinned summer Islander and a Lyseni woman that he had no doubt had once been a whore. Only two of them looked proper at all, the man in Braavosi garb and the plain woman with dark makeup around her eyes. The rest, he thought, looked like scoundrels.
He had to wonder where the Lannister boy had found them. Truly you could meet strange people in Dorne. The blond stood behind them, glancing up at the dome of stars above.
Still, while the eight before him were a mismatched bunch, the Lannister child had nonetheless persuaded each and every one of them to convert to the faith of the seven, to be confirmed in the saving light of Callrik's God. So he would treat them with respect, and not denigrate them despite their poor appearance. Callrik patted his chest and cleared his throat.
"Supplicants." his voice boomed through the hall, catching the attention of a few passing Septons and Septas, who paused to watch the ceremony. "You have come humbly into this sacred place to join the great fraternity of the holy. With Truth and love, I greet your coming, and with open arms, I welcome you, for all sons and daughters of men are saved when the seven hold them in their arms." Conversions were fairly uncommon, mostly being associated with marriages between Andals and First Men families, but still frequent enough that Callrik could remember the words by heart. He gestured with his hand, "Come forth, each of you in turn, state your name and place your bread and salt upon the altar."
Callrik gestured first to the summer islander, who stood on the left side of the line, the dark-skinned man rose to his feet and approached the altar. In his left hand, a bowl of salt, in his right a loaf of bread. "My name is Xantri Molo," he spoke, bowing slightly to Callrik before moving to the altar. "With these gifts, I welcome the seven into my heart." his accent was thick and hard to parse, but they were the right words, and he placed his salt and bread on the altar before stepping back and returning to the line.
Next, the plain woman came forth "My name is Pella Biccadde, and with these gifts, I welcome the seven into my heart." in turn, she placed the bread and salt upon the offer and went back to the line, and the next one stepped up, and then the next after that.
"My name is Burrik Roth-
Lo'am Ducarys
Maela Losganu
Malek Bizmention
Nolo
Hashal Mo'Androsi, and with these gifts I welcome the seven into my heart." The strange skinny man with the olive skin murmured as he placed his gifts on the altar, before returning once more to the line. There were eight pairs of eyes turning to Callrik as he surveyed the lot of them.
"It is a wondrous day that you, humble supplicants have entered into this holy place and allowed the Seven-Faced God to enter your hearts, to raise your spirits and place them by his side in the heights of the heavens. May the Father's virtue flow upon your brows like wine and may the Mother watch over your path. May the Crone's light shine where you walk even in dark places. May the Maiden's virtue settle around your shoulders like a cloak, and may the warrior's arm give you strength in times of hardship. May the smith guide your hand to make great works, and may the stranger guide you gently when you die." Callrik finished the proclamation his voice filling the hall thundering now. "The Light of the Seven who are one shall shine from your hearts and from your minds, holy words shall be on your tongues and righteousness shall guide your hands. Go forth now, and do no wrong." Callrik took a moment to catch his breath, having finished the Confirmation, as it stood officially, the ceremony was over.
However, Callrik had a bit more to do, before any of them could stand, or the Septons and Septa's watching had a moment to return to their chores, Callrik raised his finger and fixed it squarely on the child that had brought these eight to be converted. "Hold, one more soul will I speak of today." Callrik gestured with his hand. "Come here, boy."
Callum Lannister looked taken aback by the proclamation, glancing back and forth before his shoulders slumped slightly, and he proceeded forward to stand by Callrik. The boy needn't have worried, this was to be a joyous occasion.
The Most Devout turned to the eight new convertees and raised his right hand, placing his left upon the Lannister child's head, a smile finding its way to his old lips. "You who have been brought to the seven's light this day, no that you were brought here for this most holy confirmation by this child Callum of House Lannister's reverent heart," Callrik said, finding the words as he went along. He hadn't had time to plan out a speech since making his decision, but he could feel the Seven Guiding him as he spoke. "And rejoice also for I tell you this day that two days past, when I first beheld the shining emerald eyes of this boy, this child of The Seven Faced God, the Crone saw fit to grant me a vision, and to confirm for me that this child was blessed, and blessed greatly." Callrik felt the boy's head still beneath his palm, and he chuckled, glancing across the Starry Sept. In the lights of the Braziers, shrouded by the incense smoke that drifted through the chamber, he could see many Septons and Septas watching now, even simple devotees from Old Town, men and women who had come here to pray with their families, all eyes now upon Callrik and the child who the Seven had seen fit to bless. He cleared his voice once more and spoke out across the room. His mind rolled as the words came one after the other, each louder than the one before.
"Here me now, oh witnesses, oh holy servants of the Seven-Faced God, for by the vision given to me I have found this boy to be thrice blessed." Callrik raised his arm high, the aches in his bones vanquished by the fervor in his heart. He pointed one finger towards the ceiling "The first blessing is the Smith's, which has filled his mind with dreams of wondrous tools, tools he even now uses to glorify the seven in a holy mission for which he has been chosen." The Most devout let the statement hang in the air while he raised a second finger. "The Second Blessing is the Maiden's, for she has crafted this child in her image to inspire our hearts with his purity and beauty, and his innocence and empathy have brought even these strange convertees to the Seven's light." Under his hand, the boy made a choking noise, bending over slightly. Callrik thought he could hear the quiet whispers of a prayer from the boy, calling on the Seven-Faced God over and over again. It truly was a holy moment, now, his third finger raised. "And lastly, the Third Blessing of this child was given by the Crone, for it was her touch that turned his eyes to portals of prophecy, and her lantern that shines with light from his head. She has placed in him a great destiny, though none but the Seven-Faced God knows its ending."
Callrik at once at a spontaneous impulse he felt rush through him, reached down and pulled Callum Lannister, who was still murmuring prayers, from the ground, raising him up into the air with both hands to present before all the eyes of the Starry Sept, straight above the altar where the sunlight shown down through the one window in the top of the dome, illuminated for all to see. Callrik's voice spoke at a fever pitch now, the madness of his zealotry taking him.
"Look upon this child and hear me, for I proclaim that he bears the blessings of the Seven who are one, and in their name he shall change the world!"
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Chronicle of the Targaryen Dynasty in the Seven Kingdoms
Maester Willem
277 AC - Sixteenth Day of First Moon
News Reaches the Great Sept of Baelor that the Head Septon of the Starry Sept, Septon Callrik of the Most Devout, proclaimed that Callum Lannister, the Son of Lord Tywin Lannister, Hand of the King, was blessed by the Smith, the Maiden, and the Crone above the altar of the Starry Sept in Oldtown. Lord Tywin Lannister is said to have immediately visited the Great Sept of Baelor to question the High Septon about his son's blessing. The High Septon, after three days of meditation and fasting, proclaimed that Septon Callrik was certainly right, but that the boy surely must be blessed by the Father too, as well as the Warrior. King Aerys, apparently amused by the situation, made several jokes about the High Septon wanting a larger throne of gold to sit onIlyn
Ser Ilyn Payne reclined in his chair, kicking his feet up on the stool in front of him and letting the sun beat down on his skin. The hot summer air set sweat to his brow, but it could hardly compare to the heat of the furnaces he'd been overseeing for the past six months. His right hand reached out, grasping for the goblet of wine he'd brought up to the balcony with him. The taste was meaningless to him since he'd lost his tongue, but he could still well feel the burn in his throat as he poured it into his mouth.
Things had finally calmed down a little bit over the past few weeks. Not that they weren't still moving, but that the process had been pretty well hammered out. The presses, all two hundred of them, were done and working twelve hours a day, the new paper mills that had been hastily raised in the narrow coastline between the wall of Lannisport proper and Casterly Rock were churning out enough of the material to feed the presses, and the ink was mostly sorted. After months and months on end of one long grind, the pages were now flowing off of the presses by the hundreds of thousands into the vaults of Casterly Rock. Several of the large chambers nearest to the Lion's Mouth, normally used to marshall the Lannister's household knights in times of war, had now been converted into assembly shops.
Leather covers (cut and branded with the symbol of the seven elsewhere), glue, cotton string, and the actual pages of the seven-pointed star were all brought into the rooms, and, in a process that Callum had called an assembly line, were slowly assembled together into completed books as they moved across a series of long wooden benches. About ten men worked each table. As they went along the pages were bound with the strong cotton string, and then glued into the covers. This process resulted in thick, stout books with a dark brown color from the stiffening treatment that was applied to their covers. There was some discussion of dyeing the leather red, but that had ultimately been discarded in favor of other changes under Lord Tywin's direction.
The Lion of the Rock had put several contingencies in place when he had agreed to take over funding from the faith, committing no less than One Hundred Thousand Gold Dragons to the continuation of his son's vision, as well as allowing the use of the lower sections of the Rock near the Lion' Mouth. The first of these contingencies required that the presses themselves be afforded to House Lannister upon the completion of the Millionth copy of the Seven-Pointed Star, The second was that the Faith of the Seven would handle all distribution of the copies across the Westerlands since they had more capability to do so through the Septons. The third requirement was that a stamped picture of Lord Tywin, and of his son Callum, would adorn the title page of each book, along with an acknowledgment that the book was made and given away by the goodwill of House Lannister.
The last requirement was the most trouble in Ilyn's opinion. While a woodcarver named Liwus had managed to make quite a good stamp of Lord Tywin, he had never actually seen Callum's face, and artistic imaginings of the boy made poor images that the Lion refused to accept. Lord Tywin indicated that Callum could decide on a suitable image when he returned from Dorne. This was all well and good as an idea, but Ilyn couldn't actually have any of the now nearly one hundred thousand copies of the Seven-Pointed Star distributed until that image was added. They all stood in large and carefully arranged stacks in one of the vaults that Lord Tywin had provided for the project, waiting to be stamped.
Ilyn just knew that it would be hectic when that last piece of the puzzle finally became available, so he was taking his time now to relax a bit and regain his strength for the inevitable effort to come. He felt the alcohol just starting to buzz when he was disturbed from his basking by a voice from the stairs.
"Ser Ilyn, Ser Ilyn, are you up here?" It was Lukas, one of the merchant's sons he'd hired to help run this little gathering post of his. The lad sounded frantic, so Ilyn sighed and waved his hand up above him, signaling to the young man. "Ah, there you are."
Lukas rushed over beside him, and Ilyn glanced up at him trying to make it clear how much he appreciated being disturbed through facial expression alone. Alas, there was too much clay between Lukas ears for such a signal to prove effective. Not that he wasn't glad about that fact once he started talking.
"Ser Ilyn, I've heard news from the Rock Ser. Lord Callum's boat just arrived at the Castle's Port." Ilyn felt his eyelid twitch, as he very, very carefully did not spill the wine he was currently holding on his chest. A sigh, and he set the goblet down to the side, gesturing to it with a finger. Lukas could have it for all he cared, it wouldn't do to drink and then march up that damnable mountain.
He made no further gesture as he walked back into the merchant house, finding his way to a basin of water and wiping the sweat off of his face. He pulled his hair into a more presentable state, then fixed the shoulders of his vest, and headed to the bakery, since it was morning. Mattieu, the older of the two bakers on staff, greeted him as he came down the stairs.
"Ah, Ser Ilyn, glad to see you Ser-" he started, only for Ilyn to hold up a note he'd been scribbling on the walk down. 'Lord Callum returned to The Rock, need to go see him.'
The Baker's polite smile grew into an honest one, "Ah, The Blessed Lannister is back in the Rock?" he said "That's a wonderful thing ser, tell me, do you think he will visit us here in Lannisport?" the man asked eagerly, "Oh, or perhaps at the presses near the Lion's Mouth? Shall we go there to see him?"
Ilyn blinked, processing the man's words for a moment, but before he could even hope to put pen to page, the patrons of the bakery exploded into gossip and questions and Ilyn felt a headache start to grow as they all pressed him at once.
"Ser Ilyn you know him yes? Do you think he might invest in a-"
"Oh my daughter would love to meet him-blessed by the maiden they say he is-"
"Do you think he would be willing to visit the Southill Sept and say a blessing-"
"Oh Septa Margot- I've got to go tell her that he's back"
"Are the rumors true that he's actually a girl pretending to be a man?"
Ilyn rubbed his forehead with one hand, and with the other wrote out a note on the back of the one he'd shown Mattieu.
'We'll see.'
With those two words raised ahead of him, he pushed straight through the crowd of gossipping Merchants, their wives, Septons and Septas, and made his way out the door onto the street, where he quickly marched to the stables and took his horse, Bleakwind, by the reigns. Already, he could feel that the next few weeks at least would see him with little if any time to relax.
Some three miles of riding later he was entering the Lion's Mouth back into Casterly Rock, and perhaps three-thousand stairs after that, exhausted by the climb, he staggered up into the actual living area of Casterly Rock, way up on the ocean-facing side of the mountain.
"Ah, Ser Ilyn." one of the servant women- he honestly couldn't remember her name- greeted him with a kind smile. "You'll be looking for young Callum then?" she asked, smirking at his current state of exhaustion from the stupid mountain he'd just had to hike right up to near the top of.
Ilyn, still panting for air, fumbled for his notepad, and hastily scrawled out 'water first.' raising it for the woman to see. From the recognition in her eyes, she could actually read it, which was rather lucky as otherwise, he would have had to pantomime like a mummer to convey his meaning.
The servant woman laughed. "I'll have that for you right away, Ser." she smiled at him, heading down a hallway towards the kitchens and soon returning with a cup of water, which he gulped down greedily after the long climb up. He gave her a smile of his own and handed her a note with 'thank you' scrawled across it, before heading down the hall on his own, having a pretty good guess of where Callum was likely to be.
He turned out to be right on the money, finding the boy in his father's study conversing with his Uncle, Lord Kevan. The older blond was busy hearing the story of Callum's trip to Dorne and Oldtown, and he barely gave Ilyn more than a glance as he entered. It was honestly amusing, just how similar Lord Kevan's mannerisms were to Lord Tywin's. For a man who had always been his brother's right hand, he was more similar to Lord Tywin than he was different.
Callum however, gave a much sunnier greeting. "Ah, Ilyn." The boy smiled, getting up from his chair to greet him. He looked Ilyn up and down, before giving him a smile. "You look well, though also like you've just climbed the whole rock to get here." Ilyn made a show of rolling his eyes in response to the boy's teasing and shrugged. He had gotten well enough used to Callum's odd sense of humor during his time learning to write from the genius of a boy.
'You've cut your hair' Ilyn wrote, and that got a snort out of Callum, who was now wearing his hair cut back to end above his neck. It was now shorter than all of his siblings except little Tyrion.
Callum colored a bit red at the comment but shook it off quickly. "I thought a change was in order after Septon Callrik declared me to be the living visage of the Maiden." the boy frowned. "I liked my hair too, but some things just aren't worth it."
"For what it's worth Callum-" Lord Kevan said from across the room, chuckling. "With your hair cut you're only a bit more girly than Jaime was at your age."
"Jaime is practically identical to Cersei," Callum grumbled, before turning to his uncle. "Anyway, apparently the Most Devout Septon also managed to see visions in my eyes, which is where the talk about me being blessed by the Crone comes from. He never told me what those visions were about though." the boy tapped his foot. "I heard Father had the High Septon declare me blessed too. Do you know if Father has some intention of sending me into the faith at this point? He hasn't written me about that at all."
Kevan Lannister shook his head. "While it wouldn't be a terrible idea, given all the hubbub around you now, I still don't think that Tywin would send you to be a Septon. Tyrion perhaps, but you're still his second son, the backup if anything happens to Jaime, which it well might, given your brother's love of fighting."
Callum shook his head. "I would be surprised if Jaime ever loses another fight in his life. If he dies it'll be poison or something that gets him." Callum smiled. "Though I take your point uncle, Father probably likes the prizes I bring back too much to send me into the church." he paused. "Still, much as I dislike the nature of- well really just the one blessing I've been given, I think it might be worth it for me to start making tours of Lannisport, visiting the Septs in the city, saying blessings over people at their weddings, things like that," Callum said slowly. "It will only build my reputation, and I want to search out a place to build my new 'Academy'."
"I suppose that's reasonable enough." Kevan said, though after a moment he frowned, "But there's one issue, Ser Clegane tells me that you've hardly touched a sword since you left King's Landing."
Callum blinked, then paled. "That- well it wasn't intentional, I had a lot of work to do, the presses in Dorne to oversee-"
"Irrelevant, what it means is that you've slipped behind in your martial training," Kevan said, cooly. "Catch back up to where a boy your age ought to be, and I'll consider letting you manage your affairs personally. Otherwise, Ser Ilyn here has been doing a fine enough job of it without you."
Ilyn perked up at that, beaming with pride, even as Callum deflated.
"Yes, Uncle…" the boy sighed, before straightening out, as he slipped into the mask Ilyn always expected to see him wearing in most situations. The look of a dutiful son. "In that case Uncle, I will go to the yard and resume my martial practice at once." he paused. "Unless there's something else to discuss?"
Lord Kevan weighed him up for a moment, then shrugged. "No, I don't think there is. Go have at it, and don't let me hear you've been shirking again."
"Yes, Ser." Callum saluted strangely with his hand, before marching right out the door. "Come along Ser Ilyn."
Ilyn blinked, glancing over at Kevan, who nodded, inclining his head toward the direction the boy had gone. Seeing it, Ilyn hurried after his juvenile superior, wondering what impressive scheme he'd be responsible for executing next.
It didn't take long at all before he was being ordered to lead the servants and miners in constructing a number of new workshops and living quarters in the Rock and to start work on finding a suitable location for a second Citadel to be built in Lannisport. By an hour after that, he was also organizing the purchase of copper jewelry wire, and then the hiring of a number of blacksmiths, and a pair of carpenters. All of it urgent, and all of it to favor some dozen schemes Ilyn barely understood.
Such was the work of the Blessed Boy's chief henchman.