25th day of the 8th moon, 269 B.C.
The Hour of the Hearth (5 P.M.)
Ser Alaric Mormont, Lion's Den
Back in the Stark quarters, we are all—myself, Jeor, Jorah, Maege, and Hullen—waiting for Rickard in silence.
Although no one says a word, the look of uncertainty is noticeable enough to see that everyone is reflecting on our last two defeats. The confidence that we would sweep all the events seems to have vanished from everyone, even Maege.
While we are still in silence, the door opens, and Rickard finally appears, late for the meeting he had called himself.
"So, how is Hullen Wull doing?" He breaks the silence casually.
"Where were you? We have been waiting for ten minutes," Jeor asks, not letting his frustration be diluted by Rickard's casual tone.
"I went to thank Jon Arryn for his cooperation in the Melee."
His jaw twitches. A lie. If Jeor noticed, he did not press further.
"Hullen has a hurt arm, but nothing that won't heal by tomorrow," Maege answers the unaddressed question.
With 61/72 HP, he is not unmanageable. With the amount he will recover by tomorrow, plus three Goodberries, he will be in perfect condition to fight. This is thanks to the way he lost, which, just like Luton's and Cregan's defeats, happened because he no longer had the stamina to get back up after being knocked down, rather than being beaten until he could not take it anymore, like what happened to Luton at the end of the Duel.
"Great. One less problem." Another twitch of the jaw.
Despite wanting to project an image of calm and control, he was not immune to feeling the nervousness of tomorrow's uncertainty.
"But we need to plan for tomorrow. That Ser Kermit did not fight in the Melee, but he will fight in the Mock Battle, as will the Septon who must have taught him those spells. Alaric." He turns to me, drawing everyone else's attention. "Do you have anything that can take them out of the fight all at once? And what about those demons from Old Wyk?"
"I have spells that can kill them all. But they are very flashy and will put me in the king's crosshairs even more than I already am."
That was a firm no for Jeor.
"Then they are out of the question. These conversation sessions between events are already enough."
The strong refusal makes Rickard glance at him, but nothing more.
"Do you not have something that will change the game without drawing too much attention?" His tone was almost pleading.
"I do, but the number of spells I can cast per day is limited. To use them, we will have to change the magic plan. I will have to sacrifice some of the Goodberries or Benfred Manderly's Enhance Ability."
"So we have to sacrifice the possibility of victory for one to increase it for the other?" Harren summarizes the position we found ourselves in.
"Basically," I confirm.
Jorah then gives a piece of his mind.
"Seems like a fair trade to me. Isn't the Mock Battle the most important event?"
"Normally, it is the joust," I reply. "But Aerys is much more interested in the other one."
"Then we will give him what he wants," Rickard finally decides. "Put Benfred under an Enhance Ability so that he at least reaches the semifinals, and reserve the rest of the spells for the Mock Battle. List the ones available for use so we can decide and plan."
It seems we will lose yet another event. One more defeat until our return to victory with the most important of the events.
***
The Hour of the Hearth (5 P.M.)
Leyton Hightower, Lion's Den
An interesting man, this Maester Marwyn. He projects this image of submission, but everything Malora tells us reveals the opposite. Ambitious and manipulative is Malora's view after listening to the "noises of his mind."
The very same noises of the mind that assured us he was telling the truth when he revealed the audacity of the Citadel with Archmaester Culler. A truth revealed yesterday that made us hold this meeting among the four of us, so we can discuss how to proceed.
"We thank you for your warning, Maester Marwyn, but you must realize how, from our perspective, you have more to gain from this proposal of yours than we do."
The proposal made by Maester Marwyn was quite simple: he would break his mission with the Citadel and cover for Archmaester Culler in everything he does, giving no reason for the Archmaester's cabal to kill him, and, in exchange, he asks for our magical knowledge.
To Archmaester Culler, the trade is more than fair, and he was willing to accept it immediately, but I convinced him to show resistance until the contract was a bit more favorable to us.
Marwyn's response to my words was one of disagreement.
"As Maester Arnel once said, human life possesses immeasurable value. What I ask is a small price."
"Small only if everything you tell is true," Archmaester Culler feigns.
We know it is true, but he does not know that we know it.
"As a seasoned archmaester, you know much better than I do how they operate. How can they get rid of people as if they were peasants. Just like they did with the former archmaester of higher mysteries."
Oh, Culler knows very well. It was precisely this knowledge that made him instantly want to accept the deal. The sudden "heart failure" of his former teacher and archmaester of higher mysteries was used as a constant reminder for me not to underestimate their power, as if the revelation that they are responsible for the death of the Targaryen dragons was not enough.
Although the high echelon denied to Culler that they were the ones behind the death of his teacher, who, apparently, was a quite influential and beloved individual in the city, he never believed them, and it seems to have scarred him.
Scarred him enough to fall silent upon finally receiving confirmation of what he had been suspecting for years.
"Well. Even if it is completely true, it is not as if we can do nothing now that we know the truth," I say, to redirect Marwyn's attention from the frozen Culler back to me. "I see the links of tin and red gold on your chain, Maester Marwyn. With your knowledge, you must know well that, with all the power and money House Hightower has at its disposal, offering protection to Archmaester Culler is not beyond our capability," I say with pride.
Although we stepped away from the great game after the Dance of the Dragons, we never let our light dim. We simply shifted our focus from social climbing to the self-development of our house. And we have been doing very well since then. But from Maester Marwyn's look of disinterest, he appears not to care.
"No matter how much power House Hightower possesses, the Citadel, when focused on something, is unstoppable." He turns to Culler before continuing. "You would need to flee to Essos to escape them. You know this."
Culler remains silent as he returns his gaze.
"Hand them over to us, and we will deliver this Citadel group to the dragon king," Malora speaks up out of nowhere.
Her threat alerted not only Marwyn but also Culler, who finally opens his mouth again.
"Lady Malora? What are you talking about?"
His voice was filled with confusion. And though I say nothing, I also turn and stare at her with the same confusion as Marwyn. What she just said had not been discussed.
"The shadows of the Sphinx have only achieved what they achieved because no one suspects them. As soon as the dragon discovers their existence and their crimes against his bloodline, he will not stop until he sees the extermination of them all."
Shifting in his chair, Marwyn became visibly alarmed, but it was Culler who spoke to her again.
"We do not need to take drastic measures just yet, Lady Malora," he says, his voice laced with apprehension.
But Malora was as apathetic to the feelings of others as always.
"There is nothing to fear, Archmaester. We will speak for you, and as the one who comes to him with the information, you will be spared from the purge."
With his pupils still trembling, her words did nothing to calm Culler. His fear is not unfounded. The crimes of the Citadel's high echelon are so extensive and deep that, even as the one responsible for exposing them, he could end up on the executioner's block. The entire order of the Citadel could end up being dismantled.
"That is an option we will certainly NOT cast aside," I say, loud and clear for everyone there. "But surely we can reach a less destructive alternative than that, right, Maester Marwyn?"
The threat was clear. But the truth is, I have no desire to follow this crazy idea of my daughter's. Although they are not entirely submissive to House Hightower, the Citadel was still the greatest source of our political power. Getting rid of them will leave a hole in our power that I have no idea how it would be possible to fill.
And unfortunately, despite my warning and his clear apprehension, Marwyn seems not to have accepted my olive branch. Narrowing his eyes, he asks Malora:
"Why would the king believe you?"
Malora does not answer. At least not verbally. I clearly understand what happened, what happened inside his head, the voice that passed through it, when Marwyn's eyes widened, and he flinched back.
Directing his wide-eyed gaze toward me, I offer him a smile and try again.
"So, can we reach a less destructive alternative?"
From his frustrated look, it seems we can. Great. Once this problem is resolved, I will be able to start dedicating myself to the proposal offered to Rickard and me by Olenna Tyrell.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
For 6 advanced chapter, you can go to my patreon: Patreon.com/Keiondir