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“It is the bank that interests me most,” you say.
“The bank… you have the head for it,” your father states, stroking his beard in thought. “Clerking is a slow start to be sure. I had thought you wanted for more.”
“Not a clerk. A broker,” you clarify. Unlike the menial clerks and acolytes, brokers are more esteemed in that their wages supplied through the successful dealings they make.
“One does not become a broker on a whim. They are appointed,” your father reminds.
“My plan has merit. I have made cause with some Westerosi, you have met Ellyn,” you say. “The heir to her house of Duntreow owes me a great debt.”
“This paramour. I confess I wondered at your aims with her. I did not know you to bring lovers to the home,” he says. You resist the urge to remind of Varelio’s own past in that regard.
“She is cousin to the heir. Place at my side ensures our dealings are not forgotten. They are of the Rainwood. By my estimates, it is a backwoods of untapped resources. A cultured hand would do them good,” you explain.
“Heirs are not lords, elsewise you would be speaking to Varelio at this desk… but I will not deny the appeal of you well placed within the bank. If an appointment is available, I could call upon a favor. Simply creating you position would risk my impartiality,” Father says.
“As you said, these are opportune times. There will be an opening,” you casually state, sparing him the details and finishing your meal in relative silence. Your father knows how this game is played. He taught it to you. Doubtless this task is your first real test from him. It may take a fortnight or so of digging, but you have confidence in your ability to find the right mark to sideline. More importantly is how you plan to go about it.
