AN :
Next goal for another extra chapter is 600 power stones.
In the Game of Stones, you either win or you wait. The more Power Stones you offer, the faster the chapters come.
...
"May I inquire after the condition of the blessed Child?" Septon Bareth asked earnestly, his expression serene, though he was frankly annoying. Qyburn tried not to roll his eyes at the man. He really did.
"Lord Callum." None of those pretenses of blessings here. The boy had a name. "Is recovering in bed. It was foolish of him to personally oversee the evacuation of Red-Port. Doubly so while he was already ill." Callum had returned with men and supplies, double what they'd need for a short siege, just in case his Uncle was waylaid by bad weather or some other poor fortune. He had gotten the men situated, told the others to arm them and teach them to fight on the walls as best they could, stumbled into his room, and collapsed.
Qyburn had found him there with a blazing fever, clammy skin, and being worried over by far too many useless clergymen.
"I wish to pray over him- if I may." Septon Bareth pressed, and Qyburn frowned, his eye twitching.
"It would be better if you-"
"Let him in Qyburn." The croaky voice of Lord Callum spoke from inside the room.
Qyburn sighed and counted to ten in his mind. He opened the door for the Septon who was now projecting an aura of smugness.
He just didn't understand. Certainly, Lord Callum had done much to earn the Faith's favor with his printing press and his book distribution, but Callum was such an arrogant child, Qyburn simply couldn't imagine giving prattling Septon's the time of day. They weren't even good for fighting to defend the castle.
"Milord." Septon Bareth said as he approached the sickly child, hidden beneath the covers of his bed with a damp rag on his forehead to bleed the heat. "Are you feeling any better?"
'Obviously not, fool.' Qyburn thought bitterly. If Callum hadn't gone personally to save their little town he might well be on his feet today.
"A little, Septon. Seven-willing I will be better by the time my uncle returns." The boy's voice was just above a whisper.
"That is good milord. If you don't mind, I will pray for you."
"I would like that." Callum gave the pompous clergyman a small smile.
Qyburn could only shake his head by the door. This was all a waste of time. It seemed every other minute there was some distraction or other to bother his master, who ought to be resting at all hours until his body recovered properly.
"Merciful Seven who are One, pour out once more your blessings on this holy child, who has carried forth your word to all the masses. Mother, bring him healing and comfort, Father, raise him on your shoulder, Crone, guide him to a bright future, Warrior, return his bodily strength to him, Maid, tend to him at your bosom, Smith, bless the Maester who tends him, Stranger, turn him away from the door of death."
The Septon seemed to finish speaking for a moment, making the sign of the Seven-Pointed-Star over his chest. Qyburn could only snort quietly to himself. As if he had ever needed the Smith's blessing to heal the sick and wounded. Unfortunately, the seeming end of the prayer was only temporary. The Septon promptly lit a stick of incense and continued his words.
"Thus, by the power of all the Seven who are one, I pray that this blessed child may be healed. Chosen of the Smith and Warrior, Maiden and Crone, a blessing to all men and women of Westeros, let the Seven not forsake you in your hour of need, but place their tender arms upon you and heal your every injury." He paused just a moment. "In the name of the Seven, be healed." He held his hands out over Callum as if that would miraculously cure the cold he had exacerbated with his heroics.
"Thank you, Septon," Callum replied quietly. "I do hope that the Seven take care of me, but before you go, I have something else to ask of you."
"Oh?" Septon Bareth asked. "Simply tell me, blessed child, and I shall see it done if it is within my power."
Callum nodded, shivering slightly despite the pile of blankets atop him. "Could you tell the men something for me?" Callum smiled slightly. "Could you tell them… now is the time to do as the Warrior does. That if the Ironborn come, he will guide and help them, to protect their family, their friends, and the very Westerlands themselves?" Callum asked. "Can you tell them Septon, share the word, and raise their spirits?"
Septon Bareth looked ecstatic if anything, rising to his feet with a brilliant smile on his face. "Of course! Of course, I will! I could do no less!" He seemed to almost be in adulation. A state Qyburn could only attribute to the reverence young Callum held in their hearts.
He soon enough rushed out, leaving only Qyburn and Callum behind, along with the incense stick he had left burning beside the boy's bed.
"Would you mind putting that out Qyburn?" The boy yawned. "My thoughts are hazy enough as it is."
Qyburn snorted but walked over and put the incense out anyway. "I have no idea why you make time for superstitious fools."
"Not like I'm using my time for much anyway… If he can raise the spirits of the men, even a little, it'll make it easier to protect the castle from the Ironborn." Callum coughed a bit. "I agree with you for the record. I should have sent someone else to lead the evacuation."
"Vindicating as that is to hear, next time make that decision before you make yourself sicker," Qyburn grumbled as he came over, pressing his hand on Callum's forehead once again to check his temperature. "It's gone down a little. You shouldn't be in any severe danger at this point."
"Other than from the Ironborn," Callum mumbled.
"Yes, other than from the Ironborn. I was told that one of the scouts didn't return today." Qyburn said quietly. "Herwyn, I believe his name was."
"The Ironborn likely have him then," Callum said quietly. "Tell the men to set a double watch tonight. Actually tell them to have a double watch at all hours at least until my Uncle gets here."
"Yes, Milord." Qyburn nodded. "Before I go inform them, are you hungry? I can have some beef soup brought up."
"I'm fine for the moment. Just go relay my orders please Qyburn."
"Of course Milord." Qyburn smiled slightly and nodded, leaving the room and sighing. This really would be better left to military men, but he supposed he was the next best thing Callum had to a second in command, so relay his orders he must.
The night wind was cool and dry, a pleasant change from the recent soggy weather, it was well above freezing and Qyburn could walk around comfortably in his typical black robe. Finding his way over to the gatehouse by torchlight, he found some of Lord Tygett's men. The ones who had real training, not the barebones militia they'd dragged out of Red-Port.
"Ah, Black-Maester, what's brought you out here tonight?" one of the men, Qyburn didn't recall his actual name, greeted him cheerfully, looking up from a dice game of some kind.
"Relaying Lord Callum's orders," Qyburn said dryly. "He requested that the castle maintain a double watch at all hours until his Lord Uncle arrives to relieve us."
"Already done." the man replied cheerfully. "I'm glad Lord Callum thought of it, but we've so many men from Red-Port, we can keep the walls near full at all hours and still give plenty of time for rest." He smiled. "We've gone from a garrison of forty to three hundred. It shant be hard to keep the Watch up."
Qyburn nodded. That made sense. He had no idea how many men had come from Red-Port, but they had certainly filled the castle substantially.
"That being as it may, please ensure the men are well on guard. He believes that the scout who failed to return today is most likely in Ironborn Hands."
The cavalryman nodded grimly. "Aye, I'll be sure to do that, but I doubt there are enough Ironborn in that whole fleet to take this place. Not defended the way it is now."
"Nonetheless be careful," Qyburn said, raising his hand and waving slightly. "I don't want to be butchered by Ironborn and neither should y-"
"ALARM, ALARM!" Qyburn stilled as a shout came from atop the main keep, a man standing at the edge of it shouted down at the crowd. "Intruders in the Castle! Intruders! There's a rope on the wall, and Jeren was killed!"
Qyburn felt his lip stiffen, but the man he'd been talking to, the cavalryman, was already moving, racing past him to rush to the sword stand across the room, already bellowing orders to the militia. "To arms men! To arms! Hold the Gatehouse! Man the Walls! Where there's one Ironborn there's 20!"
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