Chapter 24
BAELON TARGARUEN
With the King confined to his bed, and the Queen sent to Dragonstone for safety and protection, the burdens of the realm all fell onto Baelon's shoulders. The legacy of Jaehaerys Targaryen was brutal to carry in times of peace and prosperity, and Baelon had been thrust into leading the realm during a plague.
He could not have been put to the test at a worse time. Her father's support for the Hospital and Galen had soured his relationship with the Citadel, and now the Maesters were dragging their feet in helping Galen who had been left with no choice except to bring up his grievances with him.
"I cannot put my own acolytes at risk," Mellos countered as the next Grand Maester looked down on Galen, who had bags under his eyes, and his once pristine robe was now dishevelled and dirtied.
"I need someone to go and interview the sick, to find out where they have been? Who they have sat with? What they have eaten? I need to know it all so that I can find the source of this damned plague," Galen countered, but the bald man was not convinced.
"You are the one who has been warning us all about the deadliness of this plague, yet you want me to put maesters and acolytes at risk," and Galen groaned.
"They will have gowns and masks to keep them safe. My healers are busy treating the sick every day. I have no men to spare. All I am asking of you and your men is to interview the patients, visit their homes, and look for anything that is common amidst all of the sick," and the Maester was not convinced.
"We are not your servants, my lord. If this is so important and safe, why don't you do it yourself?" and Galen was on his feet because of his rage.
"I am doing it. But I do not have the time, or I would never have asked this of you and your self-centered order," he barked angrily, finally losing his patience.
"We have existed for centuries, and will continue to do so, Healer Galen," and the boy's lips thinned, and he took a deep breath.
"I must tend to the King, and oversee the care for more than a thousand sick that lie dying in my hospital," he whispered more calmly.
"I need learned men to do this, and the maesters and the acolytes are the only ones who know what to look for and what to ask these people," and Mellos scoffed and turned towards him.
"If tending to the King is such a burden, we will be happy to take it over from you," he countered, still defiant.
"People are dying! Hundreds I buried today with my own hands, and hundreds more will die, because you people refuse to see beyond your own ambitions," and Baelon knew that he had to step in.
"Enough," he spoke to Galen, whose youth showed as he began to pace, as Mellos answered regally.
"We are lending him all the aid that we can," and that was a lie, and they both knew it.
"We have given him all that he has asked for. Potions. Ingredients. Anything," he whispered before adding.
"But I cannot in good conscience risk the lives of young acolytes and maesters, because of one man's whims," and Galen rolled his eyes and spoke without his prompting.
"It's a damned plague. Not my whims," he was pleading, but Mellos was still not convinced.
"If it is a plague, then what good will such questions and investigations do you? The only way to get through a plague is to isolate all those afflicted by it, and then wait until they either heal or die off," and that was why plagues were so feared.
The last plague had halved the city's population, and the number of dead had been so high that they had run out of land to bury them.
"Seven Hells!" Galen cursed as he turned towards him, seeking his support.
"Why do you need these men, Healer Galen?" he asked, much more kindly than Mellos as he answered.
"Because to deal with this plague, I need to know of its spread. Until now, I have been unable to reason out how it spreads from one person to another, but if I can figure that out, I can interfere in that, or prevent it, and hence stop the plague before it kills thousands more," and that seemed reasonable enough.
"And you are against this, why?" he turned towards Mellos.
"Because the method is unproven and untested," Mellos countered.
"We have tried doing this before, but have achieved no results. There is simply no way to reason out the actual mechanism of the spread of plague in such a short time. If this is indeed a plague, then he would be better served in locating and isolating all the afflicted individuals," Mellos countered, as Baelon began to rub his head, thinking of how his father had to deal with all this.
"I asked the Maesters to aid the Healers in dealing with this," Baelon reminded Mellos, but the man was unrestrained.
"And we are, but this puts the lives of my men in danger for no reason and benefit at all," and Galen rolled his eyes at that.
"We would be amenable to taking over the Hospital...."
"NO!" Galen was firm in that.
"Just do what little I am asking of you," but they wouldn't.
"You and your men will assist Galen in all that he demands he declared, but knew that Maesters were not going to do so, and he realised that perhaps they had burdened Galen with too much.
"You will also be taking over the care of father from him, along with that of any and all nobles that face this affliction," that should lighten his burdens, and give the Maesters some decorum of interest.
"Is that understood?" he asked.
"Yes, my prince," and with that, he dismissed Mellos, yet Galen stayed behind.
"How is father?" he asked, the weight of his words hitting him, as his face morphed from one of fury to one filled with worry.
"Not well..."
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OTTO HIGHTOWER
Otto Hightower was in a dilemma. To this day, Otto had lived a relatively simple life, his loyalties and his purpose ever clear in his mind. He was the second son of House Hightower, and his goal in life was to further his standing in any way he could to protect and endorse the interests of his House.
This purpose was not so different than that of any other second son all over the realm, but never before had his heart been mired with doubt over his loyalties.
The plague had hit the city hard, with hundreds dying each day as the Red Keep was closed off to petitioners, and the gates and ports out of the city were all closed to contain the plague.
These were difficult times, and for a city of this size, it was impossible to care for so many people, yet despite it all, one man refused to give in. Barely a man, Galen, the Healer, refused to give up on life and, despite the hardships and the challenges, continued to do what he could.
He had been the one to identify the plague before it had even left the capital. Many still doubted his words, but Otto knew that despite their differences, he was not one to make such a mistake.
But the people began to doubt him. Whispers began to spread. Whispers of all kinds. Some claimed that there was no plague, while others blamed him for the disease, naming it a punishment from the Seven for his denial of their powers.
Galen openly spoke contrary to the teachings of the Seven, who believed disease was caused by miasma, yet Galen spoke of animals so small that they could not be seen with the naked eye.
The whispers turned into murmurs, and now the streets spoke openly about such things. This all may seem natural to many, yet Otto was not blind enough to see that an invisible hand was guiding it all.
And now the letter in his hand proved it.
Months ago, he would not have hesitated to do as he was told, but now doubt filled his heart. Not because of disloyalty, but because of sympathy for he knew that his actions could lead to the death of thousands, if not even more.
That if he were to go through with this, he would be killing thousands and harming the man who had saved his wife.
"What happened?" Alarie's sweet voice interrupted his thoughts, and he watched her move slowly as she sat down beside him.
Her face had gained much color in the last few moons, and their youngest child slept soundly behind him as Otto sat there peering down at the missive from Old Town.
"Nothing," he lied, but she had lived with him long enough to see through his lies.
"You are troubled," she picked up on his thoughts as she reached for his hand.
"Tell me why?" he asked, not wanting to entangle her in his affairs. However, Alerie did not wait, and she slid the letter into her hands. For some reason, Otto couldn't bring himself to stop her.
"This came from my brother earlier today," and he saw her lips thin, as those eyes stilled as she skimmed over his brother's writings. Had she been an outsider, she would have thought him evil for this, but as a Hightower, she knew better than most what carrying that name meant.
"He wishes for you to blame Cregan for the plague," and he desired much more, but that was not written in the letter.
"Yes," but she did not need to know that, for he could not bear to have her eyes see him as some sort of monster.
"The people are already angry," for they were hungry. With the gates and the ports shut, trade had been ground to a halt, and what little food the Crown managed to bring into the city was hardly enough to feed half a million people.
"They just want me to direct this anger towards him," and while the discontentment was natural, it was spreading too quickly and too rapidly, which meant that there was already a Hand guiding it all, and Otto would need to just add upon this already great work.
With the Maesters working closely with his healers, it would not be difficult to do that.
"Will you do so?" Aleries probed, for the first time in her life, and Otto could not answer easily.
"Do I have a choice?" he asked, and Alerie's eyes were a reflection of his own thoughts, as his lady wife turned towards their bed where two children lay asleep.
Their daughter had her arms wrapped around the young babe as she hugged him to sleep.
"Gwayne has been having trouble sleeping, and Alicent's much sadder as well with Rhaenyra gone," and the Princess had departed for Dragonstone along with much of the Targaryen family. Now, only the Rogue Prince and his father remained in the city, with Prince Viserys joining his own family on his ancestral seat of power.
"I had to sing her to sleep," she continued, her voice trembling as she spoke those words.
"And the mere thought that I might not have been here to do all tha..." and words failed her as Otto watched a tear trickle down her face, as he bit his lip.
"They will find someone else," he argued, for they did not lack for allies or supporters, as Alerie's fists balled up.
"Galen is an existential threat to Old Town and all that it stands for," for he was the only person who could break both the faith and the Citadel. If somehow, he was able to prove his words about the cause of disease, and all the other heretic things he whispered, he would deal the Faith a blow much worse than Maegor.
Swords and shields were useless against the devout. Doubt, though, had the power to destroy it all. And Galen could turn that doubt into a reality, and that explained why even the Septons whispered against him.
"My defiance will change little," and Aleria looked him in the eye as he whispered.
"Then make your choice, my dear..." she said, holding his hands.
"...just as he did on that day."
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