I wanna be like Harry Houdini and be the one to make the great escape

[septim]

WHO: Jaime Lannister and Martin Septim
WHERE: Jaime's room, imPort housing
WHEN: Immediately after this
WARNINGS: None
SUMMARY: Jaime calls Martin over for some reason
FORMAT: Quicklog

[ In the interest of Jaime Lannister not venting his frustrations towards his hapless phone, Martin rushes towards his apartment (still an odd word on his tongue) as fast as his cassock will allow. Whatever Jaime needs is probably not worth skinning his knees, otherwise the Lannister would've pressed the urgency of the matter.

Speaking of, Martin needs to remind Jaime that there's no need to call him Septim as if it were a title, as Tamriel is not before them. His stint as an emperor was too brief to miss what he never had.

Martin knocks thrice on Jaime's door, announcing his name and waiting to be let in. ]

Comments

that is not the icon i was aiming for

[heavyhanded]

[ Martin does not, as it turns out, have to wait long for this mystery to be solved. Jaime pulls the door open in just a few seconds, and without even a greeting, thrusts out an golden apple for Martin to see. ]

Did you do this?

I WAS GOING TO SAY

[septim]

[ Martin nearly fumbles the gold-coated apple, catching it at the last seconds. He stares at it for a couple of seconds, then at Jaime, tapping the apple with a finger as he speaks. ] I've never been good at Alteration spells.

suddenly diddling

[heavyhanded]

[ He has no idea what that means, and he doesn't really care. Martin is getting a Squint. ]

I nearly broke my teeth on that.

[septim]

[ Don't laugh, Martin, don't laugh. But the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth is there. ] Is magic in your realm possible? Because in Tamriel people come into their magic spontaneously. I was six or so when I discovered I was a mage. Set a bunch of hay bales on fire. Great fun for a child, not so much for his father.

[heavyhanded]

Only in stories for babes. [ He holds his hand out for the apple back, and can't seem to stop glowering at it. ] If it wasn't your doing, then some other magic user.

[septim]

[ Who would want to play a prank on Jaime? There are funnier tricks to perform with magic, such as sticking a magelight to a cat's tail. Turning items into gold isn't a trick, it's a blessing, if you care for money.

Martin hands back the golden apple. ] If this is a prank, it's a poor one. You could sell that apple for 500 septims, buy yourself a new suit of armor.

[heavyhanded]

Septims. [ He's definitely arching a brow at that. ] You've named your coinage for your holy men?

[septim]

No, they were named after the founder of the Septim dynasty, Tiber Septim. Normally I would find it egotistic to name the coinage after an emperor, but Tiber Septim became a god so the point is moot.

[heavyhanded]

And I thought the Lannisters were numerous.

[ man, whatever. Jaime's finally retreating from... standing in the middle of the doorway, and collapses in a seat in a chair. Martin is apparently free to do whatever he wants. ]

Dragons and stags are the only coin worth counting in Westeros.

[septim]

[ Stated factually. ] I wouldn't call the Septims numerous. I'm the last and a bastard at that.

[ Martin dislikes speaking of his past, because why would people in this realm care about it? So he stands near the wall, hands tucked into his cassock's sleeves, steering the conversation towards Westeros, not Tamriel. ] I assume two different coins for two different dynasties.

[heavyhanded]

[ He's about to contest "last", but— oh, right, the guy's dead. Well, so much for that dynasty. ]

Aye, gold dragons for the Targaryens, and silver stags for the Baratheons. We have trouble keeping kings around. I expect we'll be needing to rename the copper stars soon enough.

[septim]

[ Martin wonders if they'll keep the septims around now that the dynasty is dead. Changing mints seems a lot of trouble, not to mention whichever dynasty takes over next isn't guaranteed to last. ] This realm isn't ruled by a king or an emperor, but the people themselves. [ Martin Septim, the emperor of non sequiturs. ] It seems to run just as well as Tamriel did. It makes one wonder if there's a point to dynasties at all.

[heavyhanded]

[ That gives him a pause, and some of the wryness fades a little. ]

True, we've walked into no wars. Yet. I might reserve my judgment for a month or so, if you don't mind.