Candleboy

From the Wall to Dorne, and from the Narrow Sea to Asshai, everyone, be they kings or spies, priests or innkeeps, knows that to make a dramatic scene stand out visually, you need a dark space full of candles - LOTS of candles. Gonna stare at a big old dragon skull? Candles. Explain the history of the Faceless Men? Candles. Wipe out an entire dynasty at a wedding feast? Candles. Have a deep and meaningful conversation in a dusty crypt? You guessed it. Candles. Let's not even get into the economics of the Westerosi beeswax market, even though it is a part of your profession: You're the Red Keep's new Master of Candles, and you won't have anybody call you a mere "candleboy" ever again. You have studied with masters of the craft from the Free Cities, delved deep into the alchemy of candlemaking, and you know 36 ways of lighting a candle with nothing but your bare hands. You have mastered the art of lining them up perfectly, so even when there are a hundred of them burning at once, they're all exactly the same height until they flicker out. You take pride in your work, and whenever one of the Lords and Ladies of the royal Targaryen court says "you've got 30 minutes to prepare 200 candles for a dramatic walking scene," you reply, "I'll do it in 10." You don't do it for power, not even glory. You're content to just follow the Luminous Path - the cozy, warm, pointy and yet diffuse light your candles spread are all the reward you need, and the only thing you expect is to be treated with dignity and respect, not like a glorified, walking box of matches. Little did you know, that is a lot to ask when you work in King's Landing.