"I am pleased to report that the violent crime waves that swept the city in recent months have all but finished, as far as we can monitor it," Lord Commander Pate said. He stood smartly before the council and was neither too impressive nor unimpressive. Of course, that was why he had been chosen to replace Darke, never abandoned his post, never excelled, known neither for corruption nor reporting it amongst his fellows.
"What of the murders of the whores we reported?" Mace Tyrell said.
"My men have identified those responsible, with assistance from your own," Pate bowed his head in thanks. "Unfortunately, three have left the capital, and another was slain when the Lord Regent retook the Dragonpit."
"Left?"
"Indeed," Varys said sadly. "We know not where, but they left via different gates at different times. Called together for one dark deed it seems, with nothing else to bind them."
Loren drummed his fingers on the desk. "We know their names and faces, I want their heads if they return to King's Landing again." Why the Tyrells had been so insistent on solving this set of murders, Loren didn't know. Perhaps it was simply the gruesomeness of the whole thing.
But with yet another crime solved, the city was returning to order. Loren addressed Pate with the same request he had made every meeting. "And so, Lord Commander, the matter of the knights?"
Pate's earnest sternness seemed to fade a little. "My Lord Regent, Lord Tyrell… while the goldcloaks would feel most assured if we had the continued support of your knights… it is no longer essential for the carrying out of our duties."
Kevan nodded. "We've had a dozen men seek to join the goldcloaks just last week."
"Very well then, let us pull the knights away and let the maintenance of order within the city fall to the goldcloaks once again. You are dismissed commander."
"Should the knights not be helping the goldcloaks anyway?" A voice beside him asked.
Loren smiled. "If only it were so, my king. But tell me, what are the goldcloaks for?"
"Protecting the city and the people of King's Landing," Tommen said dutifully.
"Indeed, and what does it mean if they need knights to help them?"
Tommen pondered for a moment. "That they are not able to do that?"
Loren nodded. "Exactly, and the smallfolk of the city see them as an extension of your authority and power, as they should, the goldcloaks, like all of us, ultimately answer to you." Loren rested his hand on the back of Tommen's chair. "If they need the help of the knights, then so do you, and it is a bad thing if you are seen to rely on others too much."
But now they could. Crime was reduced, the goldcloaks' profession was not seen as too dangerous to join as they walked their old patrols and manned their old outposts. Food was coming back as well as fresh harvests coming in. Messages from Braavos, passed through ports in the Riverlands and Dorne, thanked them for the resumption of debt repayments. They had even been open to discussing how best to clear the 'pirates' cutting off King's Landing. It seemed even the Free Cities, so often used to hiring others to fight their wars for them, were tired of the lack of access they had to King's Landing and the markets of Westeros.
All promising, but still, more time was needed to nurture those particular seeds, so they moved on to the next topic of discussion.
"Tell me what is happening in the war," Tommen said, reading the list of topics in front of him.
"The news is slow, but good, my king," Varys said. "Ser Garlan has taken command of the army in the south and now besieges Lynebrook and Holgate, each castle within a day's ride of the other."
A conservative advance, but understandable, keep the army as close as possible to support each element should one come under attack, while still threatening multiple Baratheon fortresses. No doubt Garlan was remembering his ast experience of the war, when Robb Stark had defeated the strung out Tyrell army several times in a matter of days and was not keen to repeat that experience.
"So long as we can have our heralds announce some victories soon, all will be well," Lord Tyrell said.
"That will come." Loren assured him. "Have we heard of Baratheon resistance to the Marshall's advance?"
"None, Lord Regent, the castles are strongly held, but no one is attacking ser Garlan's force, aside from a few riders attempting to harry his supply lines."
Jaime had thought much the same at Riverrun, and there was still a Baratheon army in the field, they would have to react somehow, but where?
"And he is doing as little damage as possible," Loren added to Littlefinger, he would leave the matter of the Baratheon army to Garlan and the lords on the ground. There was nothing he could do about it from here.
There was little more from the war that required the council's attention. Garlan had the power in the field to make whatever decisions were to be made. So they turned their attention to the other matter.
"What of the Faith?" He asked Varys.
"It seems neither side actually knows what to do in this situation," Varys giggled. "It is quite unprecedented.
The news had come from the Reach only a week before. The Most Devout had completed their pilgrimage, at a speed that impressed Loren, and declared the election of the High Septon invalid, made under threat of axes and violence. They had raised another, former Septon Luceon, to the same title, and the Hightowers back his claim. And since then, nothing. In the days before Maegor's Laws, the Faith Militant might have split, and warfare rent the realm, with lords pledging to one side or another in exchange for whatever promises the Faith was willing to give. But now the Faith was toothless, and two men claiming the same title sat on opposite sides of the continent, one in the oldest city, one in the largest, staring each other High Septon had demanded knights ride to Oldtown and unseat the false High Septon, or Starry Septon, as one fool had put it. They had delayed, waiting for the endorsement of the Starry Septon or the news that he was marching. None came. And so the reply from the council had been unified and modest, no arms were to be raised, and they endorsed a peaceful meeting of both branches of the faith to resolve the matter.
But already that seemed like to fail. Three Septons who spoke in favour of the Starry Septon were found strung from their belltowers the next day, and new Septons put in place. The High Septon had called for a parade of the Faithful to defend the faith from the corrupt and a worrying number had answered the call. Mere pilgrims, he assured them, but Varys knew at least two septs were being used to house weapons. Holy knights were being drawn to both sides numbering in the hundreds. As yet, no armed groups were marching the Roseroad. Willas had closed it at Highgarden with a tight cordon, managing who was marching up it from Oldtown, and the goldcloaks were searching those leaving the city.
"Was the plan not for the Starry Septon to march on King's Landing an unseat the troublesome one?" Mace Tyrell asked.
Kevan nodded. "But clearly he was hoping for a greater immediate display of support than he has received before he marches. The last thing he wants is to be murdered on the road for a lack of swords to support him."
"That is a problem for tomorrow," Loren said. "For now let us eat the fruits that have fallen into our lap here before they spoil." Since the Starry Septon had no sent the message himself, it had been a simple matter to disguise trusted men as messengers of the new Starry Septon, declaring that he endorsed the wedding of the 'true and righteous King Tommen to the holy and fair Margaery for the good of the realm.' And with that, the High Septon had agreed to the same, unwilling to risk the army outside King's Landing turning on him if he failed to support the wedding, which was taking place that very day.
With nothing else to discuss, the council separated to get ready for the next royal wedding. Loren packed away the documents, waiting for the rest of the masters to leave before sitting back with a sigh. "You did well, my king," he said, smiling at Tommen who already looked exhausted.
"Thank you, uncle," Tommen replied. The boy was still trying to sit up straight and proper. Loren frowned. Perhaps he should not have insisted Tommen attend this council meeting. Perhaps just this once, he should have allowed him to take the morning off so he could prepare for the coming wedding. But no. Two years. That was all Loren had as the undisputed master of King's Landing, he had to ensure that Tommen was raised right in that time. Once Mace Tyrell became Hand of the King, no doubt he would start demanding greater influence on Tommen's education, and Margaery would think much the same as his wife. Loren had to use the years he had to ensure Tommen was exposed to the correct way of ruling, before the Tyrells inevitably started trying to cow him and turn him into a puppet ruler for them. The realm, it was all for the realm. Despite his thanks, he could tell a… resentment, was building within Tommen. He had gone from having no attention to Loren giving him far too much. But the accusing glare of green eyes flecked with gold, watching, accusing and hating had not stopped Loren before. If he left the regency with a capable Tommen who disliked Loren and sought no further war, then he would have done his part.
"Come, your grace," Loren stood and offered Tommen his hand. "We need to get you ready for your wedding."
"She's nearly ready," Alysanne said, closing the door behind her as she entered their rooms. "Although she asks again if ser Addam might accompany her."
"And I will say again, no." Loren replied quietly, lacing up his boots. Lelia had not objected openly to the arrangement of her marriage to Willas Tyrell, but it was clear she was disappointed. The heir to Highgarden would be a far greater match than ser Addam Marbrand, but Lelia had become quite enamoured with the heir to Ashemark since the first royal wedding. Loren had commanded Addam to not encourage any more affection for the sake of Lelia and the realm and Addam had obeyed. Loren could not tell whether Addam held the same affection for Lelia, but it was best to nip this in the bud now.
"She won't be happy."
"I know. But my command stands." He finished lacing his boots and sat back up, stretched his shoulders, then let himself flop back onto the bed. "How much time do we have?"
He felt Alysanne sit down beside him. "A little while," she said. He felt the warmth of her hand take his and squeeze. He tried to squeeze back. "Is there anything I can do?"
"I don't know." He stared up at the canopy of folded silks. "I don't like this room."
Alysanne squeezed his hand again. "It's your father, isn't it?"
Loren nodded. As Hand of the King, he had moved into the so-named tower. Sebastian, during his brief but notable tenure, had not made many changes to the tower, and much of it remained how Lord Tywin had adorned it. "You did the right thing," Alysanne assured him. "He took Joanna from us," her tone was acid.
"Was it?" He turned his head to look at her. "Look what's happened since then, regicide, murder, a schism within the faith, bloodshed on the streets of the capital. Maybe I set this all in motion when I killed him."
"Nonsense, of all the deaths that have brought everything low, your father's was the least."
Loren nodded slowly. "I suppose." And he couldn't have been the only one who noticed that the murders had stopped when Cersei was taken under lock and key. He didn't want to think Cersei capable of murdering her own child, but…He looked over at the chair where his father had often sat.
"Have you sent for the gold from Casterly Rock?" Alysanne asked.
He smiled, appreciating her attempt to distract him. "Not yet. I'm still uncertain if it is wise." He had considered putting the crown on less precarious financial footing by paying off their debts, at least those within Westeros, and consolidating it within House Lannister. For now the Iron Bank was assuaged, but other hounds were circling.
"Why so?"
"The Tyrells. Me controlling the majority of the crown's debt gives me leverage, but the Tyrells want to be for Tommen as we were for Robert. And who is to say that many years from now, when I call for what I am owed, Margaery and her father will not whisper in his ear that he need not repay me, that their army will defend him from any attempt to force him. Then we get nothing back." Gods, he sounded like his father, house before realm, realm for the house. But houses waxed and waned, could he sacrifice the wealth of his house now if they were to lose it all later. Would Tion forgive him, would Tion's sons, would their sons?
"Then let's not think on it now." She pulled him up with great effort, then cupped his cheeks with both hands. "Instead, let's see Tommen married, and the crown secured."
And so they did.
Tommen's wedding was a small affair in contrast to Joffrey's. Instead of travelling across the city to the Great Sept, it was held in the smaller sept in the Red Keep itself. Loren was pleased that they had made the High Septon come to them for the affair. Instead of a thousand guests and hundreds of dignitaries, barely a hundred guests were present. They were all dressed in finery, but none had gone to purchase new jewels or silks for the occasion. Loren and Cersei said nothing as they passed each other, with Cersei escorted by Loras Tyrell. Loren had spoken on Cersei's behalf, that she at least be allowed to attend the wedding of her only surviving son. Lord Mace had acquiesed only on the condition that Loras Tyrell be her shield and shadow, and her silence be maintained. It had taken what felt like hours of shouting for Cersei to agree to either condition, but the threat of immediate removal to Casterly Rock had forced her to agree.
Margaery and Tommen wore the same clothes they had to the last wedding, the only difference being that Tommen was crowned. He cloaked Margaery in a cloth of gold cloak, stitched with the black stag. Margaery knelt to allow him to cloak her and it was only then, when he draped the Baratheon cloak around Margaery's shoulder and fixed it at her collar, with the High Septon speaking blessings over them, that Loren allowed himself, finally, to breathe.