Baelon's Match-three

Baelon had expected as much.

He asked, "What happened to the dog?"

Old Katu said flatly, "Someone caught it and took it to the Flea Bottom canteen to be eaten."

That was nothing.

He had caught cats and dogs himself, trading them at the canteen for bowls of brown.

Old Katu was not sad. He had lost too much in his life: his wife, two sons, and a daughter.

It was only one more dog.

What did it matter? Why was it worth going on and on about it?

He had lost a great deal, but he still had plenty left.

He had even snatched back that dog's hide!

Old Katu!

He cursed himself inwardly. You fool! Going on again about things nobody wants to hear!

You finally got a chance to speak to the prince, and this is how you waste it!

He heard the prince sigh.

Baelon was not good at comforting people.

He said, "I'm sorry your dog died. You must be very sad."

"I don't know how to help you. Nothing can take that dog's place in your heart."

Useless platitudes, Baelon thought.

A kind, naive prince, Old Katu thought.

What a wonderful opportunity.

Pretend to be sad and ask the prince to grant you a few Silver Stags!

Ask for the prince's help, and perhaps the generous prince will reward you with a few Gold Dragons.

Then you'll never have to cut reeds again!

But he raised his head and met a pair of pitying eyes.

Old Katu suddenly remembered something.

"I forgot to give that dog a name."

An ugly face was reflected in those purple eyes.

Old Katu reached up in a daze and touched his wet face.

Only then did he belatedly realize that, at some point, tears had already begun streaming down his face.

Ah.

When?

For a long time, Baelon had been wary of the people of King's Landing.

These were ruthless people who could storm the Dragonpit and slaughter dragons when they rioted.

Their lesser feats included pelting the peerless "King Joffrey" with dung; their greater ones included driving Rhaenyra out of King's Landing.

But after actually interacting with them, Baelon found that they were not powerful.

Baelon held out his hand to Ser Uther.

Ser Uther understood and took out his purse.

Baelon passed over the few Silver Stags in the purse and took out five Copper Stars.

He took Old Katu's hand, dry and cracked like the earth, and placed the five Copper Stars in his palm.

"You have the right to grieve, Katu."

"I'm buying seven days of your time. For these seven days, you needn't work. You can let yourself sink into your grief."

Pity stirred in Baelon's heart, but almost instantly, he realized that listening to the sorrows of the poor and offering them comfort was the duty of the Faith.

This was the Faith's dereliction of duty.

Yet it was a fine opportunity for him.

But he had to be careful. The slightest lapse could bring fire down upon him.

Still, that was all right. Targaryens' resistance to heat and flame always far exceeded that of ordinary people.

Baelon said, "If you have nowhere to speak of your sorrow, come to the Red Keep. I'll arrange for someone to receive you."

Old Katu closed his hands around the five Copper Stars.

He said nothing, quietly shedding tears.

Baelon did not know what to say to comfort him, and at some point, the crowd had fallen silent too.

A moment later.

Baelon waved a hand, and a knight stepped forward to help the old man sit by the roadside.

Baelon turned and put one foot on the carriage step when a voice suddenly rang out behind him.

"Prince!"

Baelon looked back.

A sturdy middle-aged woman held a swaddled baby high and pleaded, "Please, give this child a name!"

Baelon: ...

He was terrible at naming things.

The only names in Baelon's head were common ones like Aegon, Aemon, Aemond, and Aerion. House Targaryen used the same few names in rotation.

Surely he couldn't give this child one of those common Targaryen names.

Wait.

Why couldn't he?!

When Baelon approached, the woman extended her thick arms and carefully held the baby before him.

He discovered that the baby's swaddling was actually yellowish-brown linen.

"Was he born in the Public Birthing House?"

The woman held the baby steadily in both arms, a hearty smile spreading across her round face. "Indeed he was, prince!"

Baelon nodded. "Then didn't you receive a towel and an egg after registering the birth?"

Glass had long existed in this world, so distilling alcohol was not difficult.

As for childbed fever, the demon that killed countless pregnant women, eighty percent of cases could be prevented as long as midwives soaked their hands in high-proof alcohol before delivering babies and kept up disinfection afterward.

But alcohol could not possibly be supplied freely without limit.

The backward state of medicine in this world also frightened Baelon. If someone poured alcohol straight into a pregnant woman's lower body, it would harm her instead.

So a planned rationing system was the answer.

At Baelon's urging, Viserys had ultimately agreed to his request.

With Viserys's backing, a Public Birthing House jointly funded by the royal family, the Faith, and the maesters had sprung up in King's Landing.

Baelon provided Alcohol Holy Water free of charge.

For pregnant women in King's Landing, rich or poor, noble or lowborn, the alcohol used during childbirth cost nothing.

It had the Faith's endorsement, deliveries were attended by maesters and professional midwives, and there was the miracle that childbed fever almost never occurred at the Public Birthing House.

In addition, after giving birth, women could register to receive a woolen towel and an egg free of charge.

Baelon was not short of money, but to raise donations, he had melted down a ceremonial gold ship and scraped the gold plating off his carriage.

He had publicly announced that the gold would become eggs and fill the belly of every pregnant woman.

The High Septon of the Starry Sept in Oldtown had publicly praised him as Baelon "the Merciful."

The Mother had inspired his mercy, and the Crone had granted him wisdom.

He had also called the alcohol holy water.

After a few insignificant setbacks.

Over the past two years, babies born in King's Landing had all been swaddled in woolen towels sewn together.

Unfortunately, even after two years of development, the Public Birthing House could only serve King's Landing, not extend its reach throughout the Crownlands.

So when Baelon saw a baby wrapped in linen swaddling for the first time in a long while, he was rather surprised.

He really was very surprised.

Someone in King's Landing actually dared to embezzle what was his?!

Over six years, he had spent enormous sums gradually building up a retinue of sixty-two knights.

Full suits of armor, three horses per man.

From time to time, he even asked how well they were eating and sleeping.

He wasn't feeding these men just to have them sit around doing nothing!

Baelon had already decided that if the woman said she had received neither towel nor egg,

he would immediately order his men to storm the birthing house's supply distribution room and beat everyone they saw.

The woman let out a booming laugh. "Prince, we got them! We got them!"

"After my daughter finished using it, she even sold it to buy a few eggs to build her strength back up!"

"That's good, then."

"It's a boy."

Baelon smiled faintly. "Then call him Baelon."

He simply used his own name.

After all, Baelon was hardly a rare name to begin with.

He rather looked forward to the sight of King's Landing full of Baelons.