Post by The Smith on Oct 28, 2008 21:40:28 GMT -5
Having no personal commitment to the man Sallador Orseolo who currently called himself the Prince of Lys, Daario Naharis and his eldest son Aegon simply tacked themselves on the procession which started nearest to their own manse. It had the makings of being an auspicious day. Dawn had not yet quite broken, but the sky was clear and the night had been warm. Despite the early morning the streets were already thronged with people from all walks of life making their way to their favorite vantage point from which to view the pomp of the election of a new Prince of Lys.
From those vantage points it could be seen clearly that the long crocodile procession had wended its way from the manse of the outgoing Prince of Lys into the great square that served as the main meeting place of the government and people of Lys. First of all now close to the entrance of the great square, led by the Polemarch came the captains of the forces of Lys resplendent in their red and gold finery, where the priests and slaughtermen waited with two flawless white bulls on spangled halters, their horns gilded and their dewlaps garlanded. At the rear of the captain strode the personal guard of the Prince of Lys. After the bodyguard came the Prince himself, being carried on a gilded chair high above the crowd. Following him the members of the Lyseni Senate followed him, including Daario and his son. Last of all came those who did not by rights belong there - sightseers and a host of the Prince of Lys’ clients and other hangers-on.
In the end perhaps a thousand men walked slowly up to the square in front of temple of the Great Goddess of Lys, rearing its impressive bulk in the highest place of Lys. The Westerosi built their Septs on the ground, but the Lyseni built their temples on loft platforms with many steps and the steps which led up to the great Goddess were indeed many. The processions were now merging into one great procession led by the sacrificial animals until at last they clustered as best they could in the restricted space before the great temple on high.
Somewhere amongst them was Daario Naharis and his eldest son. Daario was one of the foremost citizens of Lys, one of its richest and most influential. Yet on this day he was, for the moment, merely one of many that moved towards the temple.
There was a sudden reflective stir and murmur amongst the crowd of senators; the outgoing Prince of Lys Sallador Orseolo was about to offer his white bull to the Great Goddess. Only it wasn’t behaving itself, perhaps having the presience to avoid its last manger of drugged fodder. Typical of the misfortune of the Orseolo’s tenure as Prince, the mutterings began. Lys had lurched one from one misfortune to the next in the last five years, the largest disaster being the loss of the Stepstones, which the city had controlled for the thirty years previous to the current reign.
The first of the two victims was now snorting and plunging with half a dozen priestly underlings hanging on to his horns and ears. Daario watched appalled – the silly fools should have put a ring through his nose he thought. Stripped to the waist like the other attendants, the acolyte carrying the stunning hammer didn’t wait for the raising of the bull’s head to the Great Temple and therefore the Great Goddess. He stepped in and swung his iron weapon up and down so quickly it was a blur. The dull crack of the blow was followed immediately by another, the noise of the bull’s knees hitting the stone paving as it came down all sixteen hundred pounds of it. Then the half naked axeman brought his double-bladed instrument down into the neck and the blood was pouring everywhere, some of it caught in the sacrificial cups, most of it a steaming sticky river coursing off to nowhere, melting and thinning as it ran across the ground.
You could tell much about a man how he reacted to the shedding of blood, thought Daario, clinically remote a half smile curling the corners of his full mouth, as he saw this one step hastily aside, that one indifferent to the fact his left shoe was filling up, another trying to pretend he wasn’t on the verge of puking.
Ahhhh. There was the man to watch. He was moving off now but not before Daario Naharis has seen his indigo eyes glisten, flare, drink up the sight of the blood redly, greedily. Positive, even with his eyesight not what it had once been, Daario wondered who he was; certainly not a nobody certainly. He glanced down at his son Aegon – only 10 – but noticed with disquiet that he too had not looked away. Daario felt distinctly uncomfortable that a boy of such youth and raised in his house should also be gazing at the running blood in much the same way as the stranger Daario had observed earlier.
Though the second bull was better drugged, it fought too, even harder. This time the hammerman didn’t manage to strike true the first time, and the maddened creature turned in blind rage to charge. Then some thinking fellow grabbed the swaying bag of its’ scrotum, and in the single frozen action afforded the slaughtermen, the hammerman and the axeman swung together. Down went the bull spraying everyone within two dozen paces with blood including Prince Sallador, who had descended from his golden chair to witness the sacrifice that marked the end of his reign. Daario nodded to himself in some satisfaction. It was fitting that such a disastrous reign should be concluded by a disastrous sacrifice to the Great Goddess.
The Pontifis, the chief priest of the Goddess of Love and guardian of her temple as well as overseer of all the other lesser temples in Lys, was now rattling off the concluding prayers and soon the Archon - the chief magistrate of Lys - would have the herald call the Lyseni Senate to meet inside the Temple of the Great Goddess. In Lys the Archon’s main function was that of a magistrate or judge, although in other cities such as Tyrosh, the Archon was the ruler of the city. In Lys the Archon would preside over trials involving criminal acts as well as grant court orders or validate "illegal" acts as acts of administering justice. But his other important duty was to officiate in the absence of a Prince of Lys, especially when they met to choose a new Prince.
As soon as the herald began to bray his summons, Daario began to move towards the Great Temple. Aegon could go no further with him – as he was not one of the three hundred who made up the Lyseni Senate. As previously arranged Daario duly delivered Aegon into the hands of one his servants to escort him back to the Naharis manse.
Once Aegon had been safely spirited away, Daario moved towards the earthly dwelling place of the Great Goddess and together with the other Senators entered the vast central room of the temple. The visibility was reduced to semi-darkness, but the brick red face of the Great Goddess glowed as if illuminated from within. She was very old, made centuries before the Doom of Valyria, though gradually she had been gifted with an ivory robe, gold hair, golden shoes, even silver skin on her arms and legs and ivory nails on her fingers and toes. Only her face remained the colour of that richly ruddy clay of her creator – not exactly the type of image Daario conjured when thinking about the goddess of love.
As Daario took his seat on one of the front benches, he glanced around at the assembled throng. Three hundred men were taking their seats. The Senate was dominated by the members of the seven foremost clans of Lys. Sallador Orseolo the former Prince of Lys was head of possibly the wealthiest of the clans. The Orseolo dealt in slaves, sailing their slaver galleys as far as Slavers Bay to the south-east and dealing with the rulers of those cities that ringed the bay such as Astapor, Yunkai and Meereen.
Daario studied Illyrio Volentin, the head of the Volentin clan, a dark man with a forked beard who was throwing back his head and laughing at some joke told by the man beside him – a brother or cousin by the look of him. Volentin showed long gleaming white teeth that reminded Daario of one of the savage Hraakar that inhabited the Dothraki Sea. A dangerous man, not one to cross and very likely a candidate to be the new Prince of Lys. The Volentins were traders in spices such as saffron and pepper, although such trade had become more difficult since the free city of Pentos had become little more than a vassal of Braavos. The Volentins had suffered accordingly and were far less influential these days than they had been – perhaps consisting of about a sixth of the entire Senate. Each man in the Senate was amongst the three hundred richest men in Lys, as ascertained by a yearly census undertaken by the Archon. Daario’s Naharis clan was on the rise in the last few years, with the Naharii consisting of nearly a quarter of the Senate. Daario traded in both red and white wine and owned a few grape presses himself. The Orseleo clan was richer but the wealth was distributed amongst fewer men – numbering by Daario’s estimate about a fifth of the total Lyseni Senators.
The clans Terys, Otherys, Querini and Prestayn made up the other main clans and while not as numerous as the other three individually, they did make up the remaining third of the Senate. They could and often did vote in a bloc and as such one of their number had often been elected as Prince. Gythero Terys was, Daario knew, likely to put his candidacy forward as Prince of Lys, but the tall blond trader of carpets was considered by many to be too young and inexperienced to be Prince just yet. Many thought that the older more experienced Illyrio Volentin would make a better Prince, but just as many, Daario thought with amusement, even a few in his own clan, heartily disliked him.
Daario, despite the fact his own clan was the most numerous in the Senate, did not consider himself a candidate. Perhaps in five-ten years he would put his name forward, when his clan was in a position to dominate the Senate and he would not lose face, if he was rejected by the Senate. To be elected as prince required two thirds of the vote meaning that three or four clans usually had to vote as a bloc for their candidate to succeed. For now, Daario was content for both candidates to lobby him for his and his clan’s support.
In the end there were just three candidates, two of them expected Gythero Terys, Illyrio Volentin and one who nominated from the floor from one of the more minor clans - Tyrio Querini a man of about twenty five years of age – somewhat young to be the Prince Daario thought – although he said nothing.
The candidates all having declared themselves, the Archon called for the Senate to divide into their clans, where the vote would take place. There was no obligation for one of the Senate to vote upon clan lines, although this was very common – with the head of the house Daario had no strong opinion on any of the candidates, so as head of the clan he had issued no instructions to his kinsmen to vote in a particular way. Voting took place simultaneously. Each man had to file past a basket containing a blank wax tablet. Each voter having received his wax tablet from one of the scrutineers appointed by the Archon paused to inscribe it with a provided stylus, then moved across the floor to drop it into a large basket.
As the baskets held only about a hundred tablets, three baskets were needed with the first removed for counting as soon as it was full. The counting was kept in the central vision of the Archon who sat on a raised dais the whole time; it went on at a large table just below him with three assistants busy counting the votes. When finished. the Archon would announce the result of the vote and if a candidate had the required two thirds of the vote, a new Prince would be acclaimed.
None of the three candidates had achieved the required two-thirds of the total vote, which meant the whole voting process began for the second time. Two votes later and there had been very little movement. Illyrio Volentin had made a slight improvement upwards at the expense of both his competitors, but was still about a fifty votes short of the two thirds majority he needed.
It was at the end of the third inconclusive vote that a deputation approached the benches where Daario and his close kinsmen were huddled in conversation. At their head was Sallador Orseolo, the ex-Prince and Ternesio Otherys the aged Pontifis of Lys.
“My lord Daario” quavered old Ternesio. “You must help end this impasse.”
Daario surveyed both men and spread his hands in apparent helplessness.
"My lords, what can I do?"
Orseolo was more direct. “You control the votes of your clan and you can direct them to help elect any of the three candidates. With your clan’s numbers in this gathering, your bloc of votes will secure victory for the candidate you support.”
“But,” said Daario smoothly. “unfortunately none of this year’s candidates as Prince fill me with confidence. Therefore I am not in a position to help.” He nodded towards Gythero Terys, a tall blond Lyseni, who kept running his hand through his long blonde hair and tossing it back like a woman, as he spoke to first one Senator and then the other. Without a doubt Terys trying to shore up support for the next vote. A preening peacock – not a fighter or warrior – nor even a statesman., was Daario’s assessment.
He once again glanced at Volentin. No man would ever call Illyrio Volentin handsome, although the body under his tunic was lean and hard and wiry strong. His eyes were small and close-set, his nose broken and his dark forked beard and white teeth gave him somewhat of a savage look. He was a fighter no doubt, but headstrong, careless of the rights of others and liable to run roughshod over the other clans and the Senate. Certainly not the stuff of Princes, Daario thought and said as much to his kinsmen around him to murmurs of approval and agreeance.
“You have two choices my lords.” he said to the deputation. “You either get one or more of the candidates to withdraw their nomination, or you find a compromise candidate acceptable to the majority of this company.”
The Pontifis shook his head despairingly.
“Both have been suggested, but none of our prospective princes are willing to entertain the first. And none can suggest a compromise candidate that they all would accept.”
“Then I cannot help you.” replied Daario.
Two more votes followed, both of which were inconclusive. Illyrio Volentin was making slight headway, but clearly as the night settled and the lamps were lit, a result was a long way off.
It was the third and youngest candidate Tyrio Querini that finally came to see him. Daario’s eyesight was not what it had been, especially under the guttering lamps of the temple’s interior, but as soon as Tyrio’s indigo eyes looked into his, Daario own eyes widened with surprise. He recognised the man who had been fascinated by the flow of blood from the white bull.
The introductions were made and Daario asked the most obvious question. What did Tyrio Querini want from him? He was far from surprised when Tyrio also ventured the obvious. Support for his candidacy from Clan Naharis.
“I cannot give it my lord Tyrio.” Daario replied. “Presently both of your competitors are more experienced and therefore more suited to the office. For different reasons I still do not endorse either of them either. Even with support from me, you are still not likely to win. It would not do, to be seen to be actively backing a losing cause.”
Tyrio inclined his head in acknowledgment. Clearly the man had been expecting such an answer.
“Then in that case I cannot win.” was the Querini’s measured reply. Daario was initially surprised to hear no anger or even mild bitterness in the man’s voice. Then as he considered why that might be so, he chided himself for a fool. Querini had not expected to win. What he had done was flush out potential friends and allies in the Lyseni Senate and perhaps more importantly who his enemies were. Clearly Tyrio Querini had not been disappointed at the results. He had established the base from which to work upon and grow. Daario’s respect for the man’s cunning and political astuteness grew.
The young Querini was continuing to speak. Daario was lost in his own thoughts and did not at first hear him clearly.
“What did you say?
Tyrio repeated patiently, “I can’t win my lord Daario, but with my support you can.”
“I’m not even a candidate.” protested Daario.
“Then become one.” urged Tyrio. “Declare your candidacy now.”
Daario thought for a moment. If he nominated now after several votes, it gave the impression that he, one of the foremost citizens of Lys, had thrown his hands in the air in exasperation at the results of the vote and the poor quality of the candidates and nominated to improve the standard. Yes, it could work. There was nothing to stop him. His clan would vote for him in a bloc and they comprised just under a quarter of the Senate. If the ones who had consistently voted for Tyrio voted in his favor that would leave him about twenty odd votes short of a two thirds majority. That was closer than any that had come so far and within striking distance. Some of the smaller clans were wavering in their support for the other two and could be presuaded.
Daario nodded. Within minutes he had struck a deal with Tyrio that if he became Prince, Tyrio would be supported by Daario to run for the office of Polemarch or Navarch. The Polemarch was the leader of the city’s armed forces, while the Navarch led the naval forces. To prevent too much power falling into the hands of one family or person, the Polemarch or Navarch was elected every twelve months for a period of two years
Head reeling from the rapidness of the decision and with his heart pounding, Daario later didn’t remember much of the instance where Tyrio Querini withdrew his nomination, followed by Daario proclaiming his candidacy as Prince of Lys. Daario did remember with some satisfaction the grin the appeared on Volentin’s face at the news of Querini’s withdrawal, disappearing rapidly, as Daario made his own announcement. After a short frantic period of lobbying the Lyseni began to vote again.
This time it was over quickly. The sixth and final vote was decisive. Tyrio’s supporters switched their support to Daario. The Naharis clan voted for Daario to the last man. Even members of the smaller clans who had been wavering in their support for Volentin and Terys switched their support to the popular and respected Daario. Daario’s closest supporters had worked the crowd, promising and cajoling. Much to the frustration and indignation of both Illyrio Volentin and Gythero Terys, the votes in favor of Daario easily accounted for the minimum two thirds.
Lys had a new Prince.
Results:
- Daario Naharis is elected Prince of Lys
From those vantage points it could be seen clearly that the long crocodile procession had wended its way from the manse of the outgoing Prince of Lys into the great square that served as the main meeting place of the government and people of Lys. First of all now close to the entrance of the great square, led by the Polemarch came the captains of the forces of Lys resplendent in their red and gold finery, where the priests and slaughtermen waited with two flawless white bulls on spangled halters, their horns gilded and their dewlaps garlanded. At the rear of the captain strode the personal guard of the Prince of Lys. After the bodyguard came the Prince himself, being carried on a gilded chair high above the crowd. Following him the members of the Lyseni Senate followed him, including Daario and his son. Last of all came those who did not by rights belong there - sightseers and a host of the Prince of Lys’ clients and other hangers-on.
In the end perhaps a thousand men walked slowly up to the square in front of temple of the Great Goddess of Lys, rearing its impressive bulk in the highest place of Lys. The Westerosi built their Septs on the ground, but the Lyseni built their temples on loft platforms with many steps and the steps which led up to the great Goddess were indeed many. The processions were now merging into one great procession led by the sacrificial animals until at last they clustered as best they could in the restricted space before the great temple on high.
Somewhere amongst them was Daario Naharis and his eldest son. Daario was one of the foremost citizens of Lys, one of its richest and most influential. Yet on this day he was, for the moment, merely one of many that moved towards the temple.
There was a sudden reflective stir and murmur amongst the crowd of senators; the outgoing Prince of Lys Sallador Orseolo was about to offer his white bull to the Great Goddess. Only it wasn’t behaving itself, perhaps having the presience to avoid its last manger of drugged fodder. Typical of the misfortune of the Orseolo’s tenure as Prince, the mutterings began. Lys had lurched one from one misfortune to the next in the last five years, the largest disaster being the loss of the Stepstones, which the city had controlled for the thirty years previous to the current reign.
The first of the two victims was now snorting and plunging with half a dozen priestly underlings hanging on to his horns and ears. Daario watched appalled – the silly fools should have put a ring through his nose he thought. Stripped to the waist like the other attendants, the acolyte carrying the stunning hammer didn’t wait for the raising of the bull’s head to the Great Temple and therefore the Great Goddess. He stepped in and swung his iron weapon up and down so quickly it was a blur. The dull crack of the blow was followed immediately by another, the noise of the bull’s knees hitting the stone paving as it came down all sixteen hundred pounds of it. Then the half naked axeman brought his double-bladed instrument down into the neck and the blood was pouring everywhere, some of it caught in the sacrificial cups, most of it a steaming sticky river coursing off to nowhere, melting and thinning as it ran across the ground.
You could tell much about a man how he reacted to the shedding of blood, thought Daario, clinically remote a half smile curling the corners of his full mouth, as he saw this one step hastily aside, that one indifferent to the fact his left shoe was filling up, another trying to pretend he wasn’t on the verge of puking.
Ahhhh. There was the man to watch. He was moving off now but not before Daario Naharis has seen his indigo eyes glisten, flare, drink up the sight of the blood redly, greedily. Positive, even with his eyesight not what it had once been, Daario wondered who he was; certainly not a nobody certainly. He glanced down at his son Aegon – only 10 – but noticed with disquiet that he too had not looked away. Daario felt distinctly uncomfortable that a boy of such youth and raised in his house should also be gazing at the running blood in much the same way as the stranger Daario had observed earlier.
Though the second bull was better drugged, it fought too, even harder. This time the hammerman didn’t manage to strike true the first time, and the maddened creature turned in blind rage to charge. Then some thinking fellow grabbed the swaying bag of its’ scrotum, and in the single frozen action afforded the slaughtermen, the hammerman and the axeman swung together. Down went the bull spraying everyone within two dozen paces with blood including Prince Sallador, who had descended from his golden chair to witness the sacrifice that marked the end of his reign. Daario nodded to himself in some satisfaction. It was fitting that such a disastrous reign should be concluded by a disastrous sacrifice to the Great Goddess.
The Pontifis, the chief priest of the Goddess of Love and guardian of her temple as well as overseer of all the other lesser temples in Lys, was now rattling off the concluding prayers and soon the Archon - the chief magistrate of Lys - would have the herald call the Lyseni Senate to meet inside the Temple of the Great Goddess. In Lys the Archon’s main function was that of a magistrate or judge, although in other cities such as Tyrosh, the Archon was the ruler of the city. In Lys the Archon would preside over trials involving criminal acts as well as grant court orders or validate "illegal" acts as acts of administering justice. But his other important duty was to officiate in the absence of a Prince of Lys, especially when they met to choose a new Prince.
As soon as the herald began to bray his summons, Daario began to move towards the Great Temple. Aegon could go no further with him – as he was not one of the three hundred who made up the Lyseni Senate. As previously arranged Daario duly delivered Aegon into the hands of one his servants to escort him back to the Naharis manse.
Once Aegon had been safely spirited away, Daario moved towards the earthly dwelling place of the Great Goddess and together with the other Senators entered the vast central room of the temple. The visibility was reduced to semi-darkness, but the brick red face of the Great Goddess glowed as if illuminated from within. She was very old, made centuries before the Doom of Valyria, though gradually she had been gifted with an ivory robe, gold hair, golden shoes, even silver skin on her arms and legs and ivory nails on her fingers and toes. Only her face remained the colour of that richly ruddy clay of her creator – not exactly the type of image Daario conjured when thinking about the goddess of love.
As Daario took his seat on one of the front benches, he glanced around at the assembled throng. Three hundred men were taking their seats. The Senate was dominated by the members of the seven foremost clans of Lys. Sallador Orseolo the former Prince of Lys was head of possibly the wealthiest of the clans. The Orseolo dealt in slaves, sailing their slaver galleys as far as Slavers Bay to the south-east and dealing with the rulers of those cities that ringed the bay such as Astapor, Yunkai and Meereen.
Daario studied Illyrio Volentin, the head of the Volentin clan, a dark man with a forked beard who was throwing back his head and laughing at some joke told by the man beside him – a brother or cousin by the look of him. Volentin showed long gleaming white teeth that reminded Daario of one of the savage Hraakar that inhabited the Dothraki Sea. A dangerous man, not one to cross and very likely a candidate to be the new Prince of Lys. The Volentins were traders in spices such as saffron and pepper, although such trade had become more difficult since the free city of Pentos had become little more than a vassal of Braavos. The Volentins had suffered accordingly and were far less influential these days than they had been – perhaps consisting of about a sixth of the entire Senate. Each man in the Senate was amongst the three hundred richest men in Lys, as ascertained by a yearly census undertaken by the Archon. Daario’s Naharis clan was on the rise in the last few years, with the Naharii consisting of nearly a quarter of the Senate. Daario traded in both red and white wine and owned a few grape presses himself. The Orseleo clan was richer but the wealth was distributed amongst fewer men – numbering by Daario’s estimate about a fifth of the total Lyseni Senators.
The clans Terys, Otherys, Querini and Prestayn made up the other main clans and while not as numerous as the other three individually, they did make up the remaining third of the Senate. They could and often did vote in a bloc and as such one of their number had often been elected as Prince. Gythero Terys was, Daario knew, likely to put his candidacy forward as Prince of Lys, but the tall blond trader of carpets was considered by many to be too young and inexperienced to be Prince just yet. Many thought that the older more experienced Illyrio Volentin would make a better Prince, but just as many, Daario thought with amusement, even a few in his own clan, heartily disliked him.
Daario, despite the fact his own clan was the most numerous in the Senate, did not consider himself a candidate. Perhaps in five-ten years he would put his name forward, when his clan was in a position to dominate the Senate and he would not lose face, if he was rejected by the Senate. To be elected as prince required two thirds of the vote meaning that three or four clans usually had to vote as a bloc for their candidate to succeed. For now, Daario was content for both candidates to lobby him for his and his clan’s support.
In the end there were just three candidates, two of them expected Gythero Terys, Illyrio Volentin and one who nominated from the floor from one of the more minor clans - Tyrio Querini a man of about twenty five years of age – somewhat young to be the Prince Daario thought – although he said nothing.
The candidates all having declared themselves, the Archon called for the Senate to divide into their clans, where the vote would take place. There was no obligation for one of the Senate to vote upon clan lines, although this was very common – with the head of the house Daario had no strong opinion on any of the candidates, so as head of the clan he had issued no instructions to his kinsmen to vote in a particular way. Voting took place simultaneously. Each man had to file past a basket containing a blank wax tablet. Each voter having received his wax tablet from one of the scrutineers appointed by the Archon paused to inscribe it with a provided stylus, then moved across the floor to drop it into a large basket.
As the baskets held only about a hundred tablets, three baskets were needed with the first removed for counting as soon as it was full. The counting was kept in the central vision of the Archon who sat on a raised dais the whole time; it went on at a large table just below him with three assistants busy counting the votes. When finished. the Archon would announce the result of the vote and if a candidate had the required two thirds of the vote, a new Prince would be acclaimed.
None of the three candidates had achieved the required two-thirds of the total vote, which meant the whole voting process began for the second time. Two votes later and there had been very little movement. Illyrio Volentin had made a slight improvement upwards at the expense of both his competitors, but was still about a fifty votes short of the two thirds majority he needed.
It was at the end of the third inconclusive vote that a deputation approached the benches where Daario and his close kinsmen were huddled in conversation. At their head was Sallador Orseolo, the ex-Prince and Ternesio Otherys the aged Pontifis of Lys.
“My lord Daario” quavered old Ternesio. “You must help end this impasse.”
Daario surveyed both men and spread his hands in apparent helplessness.
"My lords, what can I do?"
Orseolo was more direct. “You control the votes of your clan and you can direct them to help elect any of the three candidates. With your clan’s numbers in this gathering, your bloc of votes will secure victory for the candidate you support.”
“But,” said Daario smoothly. “unfortunately none of this year’s candidates as Prince fill me with confidence. Therefore I am not in a position to help.” He nodded towards Gythero Terys, a tall blond Lyseni, who kept running his hand through his long blonde hair and tossing it back like a woman, as he spoke to first one Senator and then the other. Without a doubt Terys trying to shore up support for the next vote. A preening peacock – not a fighter or warrior – nor even a statesman., was Daario’s assessment.
He once again glanced at Volentin. No man would ever call Illyrio Volentin handsome, although the body under his tunic was lean and hard and wiry strong. His eyes were small and close-set, his nose broken and his dark forked beard and white teeth gave him somewhat of a savage look. He was a fighter no doubt, but headstrong, careless of the rights of others and liable to run roughshod over the other clans and the Senate. Certainly not the stuff of Princes, Daario thought and said as much to his kinsmen around him to murmurs of approval and agreeance.
“You have two choices my lords.” he said to the deputation. “You either get one or more of the candidates to withdraw their nomination, or you find a compromise candidate acceptable to the majority of this company.”
The Pontifis shook his head despairingly.
“Both have been suggested, but none of our prospective princes are willing to entertain the first. And none can suggest a compromise candidate that they all would accept.”
“Then I cannot help you.” replied Daario.
Two more votes followed, both of which were inconclusive. Illyrio Volentin was making slight headway, but clearly as the night settled and the lamps were lit, a result was a long way off.
It was the third and youngest candidate Tyrio Querini that finally came to see him. Daario’s eyesight was not what it had been, especially under the guttering lamps of the temple’s interior, but as soon as Tyrio’s indigo eyes looked into his, Daario own eyes widened with surprise. He recognised the man who had been fascinated by the flow of blood from the white bull.
The introductions were made and Daario asked the most obvious question. What did Tyrio Querini want from him? He was far from surprised when Tyrio also ventured the obvious. Support for his candidacy from Clan Naharis.
“I cannot give it my lord Tyrio.” Daario replied. “Presently both of your competitors are more experienced and therefore more suited to the office. For different reasons I still do not endorse either of them either. Even with support from me, you are still not likely to win. It would not do, to be seen to be actively backing a losing cause.”
Tyrio inclined his head in acknowledgment. Clearly the man had been expecting such an answer.
“Then in that case I cannot win.” was the Querini’s measured reply. Daario was initially surprised to hear no anger or even mild bitterness in the man’s voice. Then as he considered why that might be so, he chided himself for a fool. Querini had not expected to win. What he had done was flush out potential friends and allies in the Lyseni Senate and perhaps more importantly who his enemies were. Clearly Tyrio Querini had not been disappointed at the results. He had established the base from which to work upon and grow. Daario’s respect for the man’s cunning and political astuteness grew.
The young Querini was continuing to speak. Daario was lost in his own thoughts and did not at first hear him clearly.
“What did you say?
Tyrio repeated patiently, “I can’t win my lord Daario, but with my support you can.”
“I’m not even a candidate.” protested Daario.
“Then become one.” urged Tyrio. “Declare your candidacy now.”
Daario thought for a moment. If he nominated now after several votes, it gave the impression that he, one of the foremost citizens of Lys, had thrown his hands in the air in exasperation at the results of the vote and the poor quality of the candidates and nominated to improve the standard. Yes, it could work. There was nothing to stop him. His clan would vote for him in a bloc and they comprised just under a quarter of the Senate. If the ones who had consistently voted for Tyrio voted in his favor that would leave him about twenty odd votes short of a two thirds majority. That was closer than any that had come so far and within striking distance. Some of the smaller clans were wavering in their support for the other two and could be presuaded.
Daario nodded. Within minutes he had struck a deal with Tyrio that if he became Prince, Tyrio would be supported by Daario to run for the office of Polemarch or Navarch. The Polemarch was the leader of the city’s armed forces, while the Navarch led the naval forces. To prevent too much power falling into the hands of one family or person, the Polemarch or Navarch was elected every twelve months for a period of two years
Head reeling from the rapidness of the decision and with his heart pounding, Daario later didn’t remember much of the instance where Tyrio Querini withdrew his nomination, followed by Daario proclaiming his candidacy as Prince of Lys. Daario did remember with some satisfaction the grin the appeared on Volentin’s face at the news of Querini’s withdrawal, disappearing rapidly, as Daario made his own announcement. After a short frantic period of lobbying the Lyseni began to vote again.
This time it was over quickly. The sixth and final vote was decisive. Tyrio’s supporters switched their support to Daario. The Naharis clan voted for Daario to the last man. Even members of the smaller clans who had been wavering in their support for Volentin and Terys switched their support to the popular and respected Daario. Daario’s closest supporters had worked the crowd, promising and cajoling. Much to the frustration and indignation of both Illyrio Volentin and Gythero Terys, the votes in favor of Daario easily accounted for the minimum two thirds.
Lys had a new Prince.
Results:
- Daario Naharis is elected Prince of Lys