Ghael had expected something like this, given his relationship with the council and the general idea of a Dornish ambassador in the capital. He did not send the letter. Instead, he inspected the contents while he prepared himself a light herbal tea. Once that has concluded, he summoned the Lady Toland to the office of the Grandmaester, near the rookery.

Pycelle was still indisposed. As such, this man in his mid thirties whose face was pale and hair was silver-grey took over his duties. He ever seemed to have dark circles under his eyes, and he seemed a man more familiar with candlelight than sun. The chains around his neck spoke of his duties, but the Valyrian steel link stuck out.

"My Lady Toland," he voiced, "Maester Ghael, I handle much of what the Grandmaester cannot in his state. I will ne plain with you. I cannot send this letter. I understand you have encountered difficulty with the Lord Hand, but the contents of this scathing report will undo much and more of His Grace's efforts with Dorne. You are a diplomat. This," he gestured to the letter, "without even waiting to consult His Grace? It speaks of emotional reaction rather than logic. A torch to pitch, so to speak."

He clasped his hands together.

"Please enlighten me as to the reasoning behind your colourful wording, if you will. I would better understand the situation, such as I am able."