AN :
Next goal for another extra chapter is 300 power stones.
In the Game of Stones, you either win or you wait. The more Power Stones you offer, the faster the chapters come.
...
( Cersei Lannister POV )
The air was hot and thick with the smell of salty sea spray as Cersei Lannister sat on the platform beside her Aunt Genna. The wooden structure was high enough to look over the crowds, though not so tall as to block the view of the twenty-foot-tall bronze statue behind them.
It was the spitting image of her mother Joanna, holding a spear with a torch at its point, her hair flowing down her shoulders and a long flowing dress hiding her legs away from sight. The polished skin shone in the light of the morning sun as a great multitude of people, tens of thousands surely, milled around the great red-granite platform that stretched from the foot of the Gold Star Sept all the way down to the sea.
She had never seen so many people in one place before. Thousands and thousands and thousands of them. The great square was more than a mile long and at least a quarter mile wide, but it was teaming with people from one end to the other. The mass of smallfolk was only broken up by the two huge tents that had been erected to cover some eighty-thousand copies of the Seven-Pointed Star, which were going to be handed out to the heads of household for every family in Lannisport.
Outwardly, Cersei sat prim and proper in her chair, looking out over the teeming people below like a lioness on her perch, or at least she hoped that was the impression she was giving off. Inwardly, her stomach was bubbling with a mixture of excitement and anxiousness. She wasn't stupid, she knew this was a big event. Nothing quite like it had ever happened before, Aunt Genna had told her, and it was all because of her little brother.
Cautiously, Cersei glanced up the stands to where Callum stood next to Uncle Kevan, on the highest section of them. He looked serene, angelic as he waved his hand gently at the passing smallfolk, who seemed to utterly adore him. When they had come from the rock earlier in the day, the wheelhouse had nearly been stopped as the smallfolk gathered on the street sides tried to get in and ask Callum for blessings.
At least that was how it had felt to Cersei. Fortunately, Uncle Kevan had armsmen escorting them and they were able to clear a path, albeit slowly, through the streets of Lannisport. Even now those same armsmen formed a ring around the stands, though there was significant tugging and pulling in the crowd around them as smallfolk tried to get a better look, or shouted in the hopes that Callum would hear them.
Part of Cersei felt jealous of all the attention her girlish brother was receiving, but another part of her pitied him. While Callum was a beautiful boy, blessed by the Maiden and charming in Cersei's opinion, she knew him well enough to know that the serene face he was showing now was an act. Callum never looked like that normally.
He was quiet sure, and much calmer than any of the other boys in Casterly Rock, and sometimes when he did get excited he was all smiles and pride and grand gestures with his arms, like when he showed her the light ball thing, or when the ugly dwarf showed him his bad poetry. But Callum never looked like he did today, no, that tranquility was a mask, she could tell. From just a few feet away she could see his hand shaking slightly, and the hand Uncle Kevan kept on his back.
No, Callum wasn't enjoying this. She remembered vaguely something he'd said years ago, a conversation she'd half overheard with Jaime. Callum was scared of the faith, scared to be up there, but he was putting on that tranquil expression and waving politely.
That made Cersei feel proud, much more than his book-making presses, or the light ball that stung her vision from how bright it was. Callum was brave enough to stand up there even though he was scared. It made her proud of him, but it also soured her on the crowd of devotees hassling to get a good look at him. Couldn't they see they were scaring him? She glared down at them imperiously, only to feel a smack on her hand.
She looked up at Aunt Genna, her hand slightly stinging. "Aunty-what-"
"What have I told you about feeling jealous about your brother Cersei." Aunty Genna spoke quietly as she looked down at her-though not too far down, she was a short woman.
"I wasn't!" Cersei whined quietly, holding her hand, though really it hadn't been hit very hard. "Really!"
"You've spent the past three minutes looking at your brother, and then you immediately started glaring out at the crowd," Genna said, leaning forward. "Don't think you can lie to me girl, your father might have no idea what you're thinking, but I know a young woman's mind well enough."
"N-no, It wasn't… they're making him scared can't you see?" Cersei whispered back to her aunt, not wanting Callum or Uncle Kevan to hear. "They should leave him alone."
Aunt Genna snorted. "I doubt you'd be any more comfortable than your brother if you were up there being ogled at by half the city, but Callum's a smart boy and it was his decision to go out and give practically every man in Lannisport a holy book." She reached out and rested her hand gently on Cersei's shoulder. "Your brother's name is being praised by every Septon in the Westerlands. He's going to have to get used to it eventually because this will probably follow him his whole life."
"But-" Cersei started to protest, half jealousy of her brother and half care. It was unfair for Callum to be praised so much when he didn't want it at all, and for Cersei to not be praised at all when she wanted it.
"No buts, besides Cersei, Callum's not half as afraid of the crowds as he is of you." Aunt Genna said, chuckling slightly and turning Cersei to face back towards the crowd. "Now look proper, your Uncle is about to start the speech."
Cersei blinked, and, with lessons that had been drilled into her despite her protests and lack of interest, straightened her back as she looked up at Uncle Kevan, standing up on the highest part of the platform with a big smile on his face as he looked over the crowd.
"People of the Westerlands, today is a joyful day!" Uncle Kevan shouted out over the crowd, though she was sure that most of them were too far back to hear him, even if everyone was quiet, there was still a wave that ran through the small folk, as they all turned to look up at the Castellan atop the wooden stand, with Callum next to him.
"Today, by divine inspiration and miracle, House Lannister and the Gold Star Sept have worked together to provide every family in Lannisport with a copy of the Seven-Pointed Star. We give this gift for the souls of you and your children, that every believer might enter the Seven Heavens and be washed clean of their failures by a better understanding of the Seven." The people cheered, as was entirely appropriate since House Lannister was giving them something so valuable. Cersei smiled at the cheering. Her Uncle's speech was very good.
After the crowd had calmed down a bit, Kevan spoke once again. "It's a shame that my brother, your lord Tywin could not be here to present this gift to you all in person," he said frowning slightly, before smiling again. "But I do have a letter here from him that he instructed me to read, shall I read it out for you all?" The cheering was loud but somewhat quieter than before as Uncle Kevan held up the letter and began to read.
"To all my loyal and honest subjects, the fair people of Lannisport and the Westerlands, know that House Lannister has prepared this gift as a balm for your souls. I urge you to learn to read the Seven-Pointed Star yourselves, or with the help of your Septons, and to grow in faith and understanding of this tome.
This, I believe, is the greatest of gifts that House Lannister can offer you, and I provide it to you free of charge, in the hopes of ruling a better, more pious kingdom in the years to come." Kevan paused to take a breath as the crowd kept quiet, waiting for more.
"In truth though, while I did fund this endeavor, I must credit my son, Callum Lannister, whom the faith has proclaimed was blessed by the Smith, Warrior, and Father, with the gift and foresight to create these scriptures.
Let it be known that he is the ultimate source of the Presses that made this great generosity possible, and I will not take credit for my son's work, only his funding." Kevan chuckled at that, his dry reading of the letter sending a wave of laughter through the crowd.
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