Chapter 13 : True generosity

"Maester Hoster Bracken, the Knight of 7 virtues, Righteous Noble, Ideal Regent. Please step forward for me."

It was time to reward Teacher Bracken', the main saviour of Fereggon Antaryon. The main show of the ceremony.

A passing thought filled me: I was the main contributor- I gave all the procedures, blood transfusions, etc. 

I then reminded myself that I am not even 10-name days old. Just the reputation of this incident is enough for me to gain a place in any lord or Magister's court. Still, such is the nature of mankind, always greedy for more. Without Teacher Hoster, I wouldn't have even got a chance for acolyte much less anything more.

I listened intently as Sealord came forward, curious about the rewards.

The rewards till now were simply generous. Mantayon described the rewards that the Sealord's generosity is beyond the minds of normal folk. In comparison, I am now richer than Mormont as long as we don't include their land. So for the third time, I am saying this; the rewards are far too generous.

However, I am sure that the Sea Lord is a smart man who will spin this into a proof of his generous nature, using this as a political message.

Though I don't think he will award the rewards; he said in the burst of emotions back then. That would be ridiculous.

"Hoster Bracken," the Sealord declared, his voice ringing out with authority, "shall be awarded his manor in Old Town, along with shares in the Braavos dock warehouses valued at 40,000 gold dragons. Additionally, he shall receive a sum of 10,000 gold dragons deposited in the Iron Bank."

Rich. Rich. Rich. Rich. Rich. The word kept echoing in my mind. Teacher Bracken is now richer than 70% of the Lords in one sweep. Not the barren northern lord, not the pirate Iron Born, but including every lord in the world. Teacher Bracken jumped very high onto the list.

But the rewards didn't stop there.

THUD

THUD

THUMP

In a grand gesture, the Sealord motioned for chests to be brought forward, each one brimming with an awe-inspiring assortment of valuables.

The Sealord's gratitude was showcased through an impressive display of riches, including jewelry embellished with valuable gems, rare books that chronicled the history of Essos, and a Valyrian steel hand guard gauntlet.

And then, as if to end the ceremony with an earthquake, the Sealord made one final proclamation. "From this day onward," he declared with warmth in his voice, "I declare Hoster Bracken a friend of the Sealord, granting him all the honors that come with such a title."

Now that is an earthquake for major power circles. A full official announcement as Sealord's friend. In Planetos, where reputation is the greatest proof of conduct, this reward might as well be the most significant. Every power that flies the Braavos banner will welcome, respect, and gift Teacher Hoster.

Braavos's banner is seen everywhere in the world.

However, the shares in the Braavos dock warehouses were a cunning move by Sealord. In a way, the shares are much more important than all of them together but also least useful.

The dock warehouses were crucial to Braavos's trading, providing profitable returns for shareholders. However, owning shares came with strict rules, and any violation of Braavosi laws meant the shares would be taken back. This allowed the Sealord to be generous with the shares while keeping his influence on Teacher for the rest of his life.

It has sharp differences between the Westeros and Braavos.

In Westeros, honour and prestige often took importance over financial prudence, leading to reckless displays of wealth that could destabilize entire economies.

 In Braavos, where practicality and cunning for wealth were valued above all else, the Sealord's decision represents the epitome of Braavosi's values.

Not gifting such ridiculous wealth, everyone would be jealous. But he gifted the wealth right away. Braavosi way.

" I am sorry, Lord Ferrego, but I have to have to refuse these gifts."

CHOKE 

COUGH

The shock reverberated through the hall as Teacher Bracken boldly rejected the rewards given to him by the Sealord. One poor noble choked and almost died from asphyxia.

"Honey! Somebody help us. My wife is choking."

"Is he insane?"

"Oh! Many faced one. The seems to be another one greeting you."

One bold guard suggested, "Should I get the sharks ready?"

Sealord shouted out in response to the insult, "ENOUGH!"

I thought Teacher Braken was dead and so was I. But it took a few seconds to realize that the Shout was for the audience.

As the silence stretched on, broken only by the footsteps of the Sealord.

THUD

THUD

THUD

He looked at Teacher Bracken's eyes with a calm demeanour, keeping his expression unreadable. With a measured tone, he asked, "Why do you refuse, Maester Bracken?"

In response, Teacher Bracken stood tall from his kneeling position as he spoke with unwavering honesty. "While I performed the surgery, the true credit belongs to my student, Kerith," he declared. "He was the one who devised the procedures and contributed significantly to the success of the treatment. I humbly request my Lord that these rewards gave upon him instead."

His words hung in the air, echoing through the hall and eliciting a flurry of murmurs and whispers among the onlookers.

I stood behind Teacher Bracken, stunned into silence by his request. It was only now did I realised that my knowledge and opinion of my mentor were incomplete.

No wonder he got such impressive titles. But, I just wish I didn't get the proof when being pointed out by all of Braavos.

During the swirling chaos of my emotions, the Sealord's voice cut through the noise, commanding attention once more. "Very well," he pronounced, his voice carrying authority and finality. "All these rewards shall be given upon Kerith, who, by saving my son's life, became the Brightest Healer of my life."

With a respectful bow, Teacher Bracken took his leave, leaving behind a hall abuzz with conversation and speculation.

As we made our way out of the palace, I couldn't help but feel the heat of the burning questions in me.

--===A few days later===---

I lodged back in my seat while Walder and Smallfoot played cards in the background.

It took days to complete the procedures in Iron Bank regarding the account and means of contact. As well as the delivery of the gifts and wealth. Luckily, the iron bank took responsibility for that. It was the bankers indirectly sucking favour with the Sealord palace.

While Iron Bank is comparatively more powerful, its power is more distributed compared to the Sealord Palace which is held by one man-Sealord.

So, thank the gods.

CRUNCH CRUNCH 

CRUNCH

In the confines of the carriage, as it rolled towards the docks where our ship awaited, I found myself unable to stop the curiosity that gnawed at me. Glancing over at Teacher Bracken, engrossed in his book on plants, I finally mustered the courage to voice my doubts.

"Teacher, why did you have the rewards given to me?" I risked the question burning in my mind for some time.

Raising an eyebrow, Teacher Bracken countered with a question of his own, "Didn't I tell the truth? So why the doubt?"

I bristled at his response, my frustration increasing at his nonchalant reply. "Because you were the one who vouched for me and followed up on it," I retorted. "Can you name anyone other than you who would have done the same in your place?"

Instead of providing a direct answer, Teacher Bracken seemed to deflect my question. "Can you name any other kid who is so talented and knowledgeable about your age?"

The irritating part is his lazy smirk.

Taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I begged him, "Please don't run circles around the topic. I require an honest reason."

SMACK

Closing his book with a decisive snap, Teacher Bracken fixed me with a penetrating gaze. "The reason is the truth, and it is just as I stated," he began, his tone earnest. "But if your doubt lies in why I don't hold wealth or fame in high regard, allow me to shed light on my past."

--====Flashback===---

Hoster Bracken's POV

WHOOSH

CLANG

"Hey! Did you hear? There seems to be a disease spreading around Reach and Essos."

"Yeah, but who cares about them? If they die, I won't even lose a wink of sleep. Now, shut up and look at the spar."

CLANG CLANG

"Get him, Hoster. I bet a night at Pleasure House with Beren's mother."

WHISTLE

"Fuck you, asshole."

"No, my friend. I prefer your hot Mother."

WHOOSH

As the shouts and curses filled the background, I effortlessly dodged sword strikes, keeping my movements fluid and precise.

The slow, lumbering nature of my opponent's attacks only made it easier, and I couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all.

My breathing echoed in my ears as I danced around the yard, anticipation building with each passing moment.

SLASH

When my opponent finally grew tired of the humiliation and went for a wide overhead slash, I smirked, the warrior's spirit coursing through my veins.

CHUCK

With a slight sidestep, I easily dodged the blow, the motion reminiscent of Maester Berek's lessons.

========================================

CHOKE

"Wait a second, Berek, as in Captain Berek? The sailor."

I just shrugged at my acolyte's words and said, "Yes, it's him. Why do you think I trust him enough to board his ship? It's the same Berek Raventree. Clinton's uncle."

Under the sound of my acolyte's choking, I continued explaining my past.

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CHUCK

With a slight sidestep, I easily dodged the blow, the motion reminiscent of Maester Berek's lessons.

The force of my opponent's missed strike dragged him forward, and in one swift motion, I executed a strong backhand thrust with the handle of my sword, further propelling him off balance.

SMACK

Laughter erupted from the onlookers as my cousin Aeric Bracken stumbled and fell to the ground, defeated.

As he struggled to rise, I cockily planted my foot on his chest, pinning him down, and pointed the tip of my sword at his neck, ensuring he felt the weight of his defeat. It felt incredible winning a spar without a single scratch on either side. It might be a miracle of seven.

The shouts of the master-at-arms rang out, " Lord Hoster Bracken is the winner!"

 Amidst the cheers and applause of my friends, I lifted my sword triumphantly into the air; I basked in the glory of my victory. Despite being a few-name days younger than my cousin, I had beaten him with only a single decisive strike.

"Yes, Hoster won."

"Down the goes the Heir, then rises the new Heir."

"Shut up! Idiot. If somebody hears you, we will be dead."

"FUCK YEAH! Brenner's hot mon, here I come."

"Die, you asshole."

CLANG

"We had an agreement."

"Yes, about your path to the Stranger. Let me show you the way."

CLANG

"ENOUGH."

The ground fell into a hushed silence as my uncle approached, and despite our close relationship, I couldn't shake the sense of unease that settled over me.

Because I just crushed his heir in the spar.

Lord Bracken's calm voice cut through the tension as he spoke, "Congratulations, nephew. You are truly the most talented one in your generation."

A wide grin spread across my face as my friends lifted me into the air with jubilant cheers, celebrating my victory on the spar.

"Give one for our Hoster."

"Congrats buddy."

"Hurry, Hoster, you lovely fucker,"

"Shush Idiot, the Lord is here."

SMACK

"What did I do? "

As the cheers and celebrations died down, and the crowd dispersed, I made my way back to my family, the weight of my victory still lingering in the air. However, the mood quickly soured as I approached my family.

I could sense the tension crackling between my uncle and cousin Aeric.

My uncle's voice rang out, stern and disapproving. "What were you thinking? You lost despite being the heir to our house."

Aeric's response was sharp and defensive. "It was just cousin Hoster."

SLAP

I watched in silence as my uncle's temper flared, his words laced with scorn and disappointment. "Are you even born to me? Are you even a fucking Bracken?"

The tyrant lord rose to his feet, his voice booming as he cursed Aeric. "If it's Hoster now, then who's saying it won't be some nobody tomorrow? Or worse, a Blackwood of all things."

I could see the anger simmering beneath Aeric's calm facade, his fists clenched tightly in frustration. But my uncle's next words cut even deeper, striking at the heart of Aeric's fears. "Perhaps I should make Hoster my heir," he declared, his tone dripping with disdain.

Aeric's face went pale from uncle's words.

The ramifications of my uncle's words are severe, posing a threat to the unity in our family and potentially pitting Aeric and me against each other for the status of heir.

Bypassing Aeric as an heir would condemn him to a fate far worse than mere defeat on the battlefield. It would mean exile, disgrace, or even worse—a life of anonymity and shame. The only option he would have in polite society would be the Watch or Citadel.

I reached out to console my cousin, placing a hand on his shoulder in a gesture of support.

SMACK

But before I could utter a word, Aeric shrugged me off and stormed away, his departure punctuated by a look of resentment and betrayal that seared itself into my memory. 

I knew that my happy and worry-free life would not continue from that point. Especially this incident.

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Looking at Kerith, my apprentice, I continued, saying, "As if those thoughts were a self-fulfilling prophecy. I never forgot the incident till this day. Because the trajectory of my life changed from that incident."