Since the Old Raven had decided to be incredibly blunt, Roman dropped his imposing Lord Paramount facade. He crossed his arms and demanded the ancient bird explain exactly what was going on.
"Pah! The dragon-brat is already starting to boss me around," the Old Raven muttered, clicking its beak in irritation.
Despite its foul mouth, the Old Raven clearly explained their presence.
"We were instinctively drawn here by the awakening of the Apostle, Fili. It is her latent, ancient magic that grants our specific flock the ability to truly comprehend and communicate with human minds. However, the journey was long, and my flock was starving. They couldn't help but swarm your grain sacks when the girl opened the door."
Roman zeroed in on the most crucial part of the bird's explanation. "Wait. What Apostle? An Apostle to whom?"
Immediately, Roman noticed a distinct shift in the Old Raven's body language; the bird was radiating pure, unmistakable disdain.
The Old Raven looked at Roman with an expression of absolute, withering disbelief. "To whom? To you, obviously! You are the conduit of the Pale Flame! If she wasn't your designated Apostle, why in the name of the Old Gods did you bring her here?!"
Roman turned to look blankly at Fili and Maester Tom.
Maester Tom, still kneeling in the spilled grain, frantically shook his head back and forth, desperate to convey that he knew absolutely nothing about magical apostles.
Fili, meanwhile, just stood there with wide, innocent blue eyes. "What is wrong, Lord Roman? Did I do something bad?"
Seeing Fili's utterly clueless, dopey expression, Roman was speechless. The poor girl truly had absolutely no idea she was a magical conduit.
"Fili," Roman sighed, rubbing his temples. "I need you to stay here and talk to this flock. See exactly what you can learn from them. I will have the carpenters begin constructing specialized roosts for them immediately."
After issuing his orders, Roman completely ignored the squawking protests of the other ravens, briefly flashing his draconic eyes to intimidate the flock into behaving, and pulled Maester Tom out of the room.
Once they were safely in an adjacent solar, Roman locked the door and turned to the trembling maester.
"Maester Tom, are those ravens yours? Did they escape from the castle rookery?"
"By the Seven, no!" Tom gasped, clutching his chain. "My lord, those are completely wild birds! Every single one of my trained messenger ravens is currently locked safely in their cages in the highest tower!"
Hearing this, Roman's mind finally clicked. This was the exact reason why Fili possessed such a massive, blinding spiritual flame in his draconic vision. She wasn't just a girl; she was a latent magical conduit tied to the ancient powers of Westeros, awakened by his proximity.
If this is the extent of Fili's unique magical ability... I wonder what will happen if I ever encounter the Targaryen bloodline? Roman mused silently.
"Maester Tom, calm your nerves and proceed with our previous plan," Roman ordered, redirecting the old man. "Go draft the bounties to recruit the Citadel dropouts. I will send for you once I have fully assessed this raven situation. Panicking here is just a waste of time."
Still deeply shaken, Tom gratefully accepted the excuse to flee. He bowed low and scurried away. As long as the magical girl was standing right next to Lord Roman, she couldn't run off and curse him.
After Tom departed, Roman quietly returned to the storehouse.
To his absolute surprise, Fili was no longer terrified. She was sitting cross-legged on a sack of wheat, happily playing and chatting with the massive flock of ravens.
"No, no, Grey-beak, don't steal from his pile! I have plenty of wheat for everyone."
"Meat? Insects? Um, we can discuss hunting for bugs later. I don't have any in my pockets right now."
"Oh! There are truly such terrifying giants in the deep North? Have you all really flown that far?"
Seeing that Fili was completely absorbed in her conversation with the magical birds, Roman gently knocked on the wooden doorframe to announce his presence.
Fili whipped around, her face lighting up. She immediately bounded over to Roman like an overly excited golden retriever.
"Lord Roman! I managed to get all of the ravens to speak the Common Tongue! They are incredibly smart! They have flown across the entire continent and seen so many amazing things, and..."
Fili was practically vibrating with excitement, but Roman gently pressed a finger to her lips to quiet her.
"Let me speak with them."
After asking the Old Raven a series of highly meticulous, tactical questions, Roman finally mapped out the magical logic of the flock.
The birds had been instinctively summoned the very moment Fili's latent magical connection to Roman had solidified. They had flown relentlessly across the continent to reach Harrenhal.
However, this specific flock was incredibly unique. Due to an ancient bloodline quirk tied to the Old Gods, only this specific group of ravens possessed the physical capacity to articulate human speech. Any other standard ravens in Westeros could only communicate with Fili empathically, not verbally.
"Lord Roman," Fili asked, tilting her head. "Why did the old bird say I have this ability? Is it because of the glowing figures in my dreams? They kept calling me your Apostle. What exactly does an Apostle do?"
Roman chuckled, reaching out to gently ruffle her blonde hair. "Who knows? Honestly, Fili, whether you are a magical Apostle or simply a girl who is very good with birds, it doesn't matter to me as long as it benefits us. You have done brilliantly today! With this flock, Harrenhal now possesses the most secure, uninterceptable intelligence network in the known world."
Roman was a ruthless pragmatist. He genuinely didn't care about the complex religious or metaphysical implications of "Apostles." He only cared about results. And these thirty-odd talking ravens were a military and espionage treasure that couldn't be bought with all the gold in Casterly Rock.
The ravens suddenly puffed their feathers, seemingly chilled by the deeply calculating, predatory look in Roman's glowing blue eyes.
The Old Raven immediately hopped forward, puffing its chest to establish boundaries. "Let me make one thing absolutely clear, dragon-blood! Even though you are the master of our Apostle, my flock will not blindly take orders from you! We are not your slaves!"
Roman smirked, crossing his arms. "A warm, weatherproof roost inside the highest tower. Unlimited access to high-grade grain and fresh meat. And a dedicated, highly trained maester to act as your personal veterinarian. How do those three conditions sound as payment for your espionage labor?"
The younger ravens, who had been preparing to aggressively squawk their independence, instantly snapped their beaks shut at the mention of unlimited food and heated nests. The Old Raven stammered, completely caught off guard by the generous offer.
"Is there something else you require to seal the bargain?" Roman asked smoothly.
Realizing he was losing his negotiating leverage, the Old Raven went all out. "We... we also require strong, beautiful female mates to expand our flock!"
"Um... done," Roman nodded, suppressing a laugh. "I will have the Whent hunters capture healthy wild mates for you."
Roman had essentially secured a continent-wide, magical espionage network for the incredibly low price of birdseed and a few heated cages. Animals were vastly easier to negotiate with than human lords; as long as their baseline physiological needs were guaranteed, their loyalty was absolute.
With the terms agreed upon, Fili immediately jumped up, eager to run off and begin constructing the new aviaries. But Roman reached out and firmly grabbed her by the arm.
"Lord Roman?"
"You have been working yourself to the bone since the moment we returned from King's Landing," Roman said gently. "Even the lowliest scullery maids in Harrenhal are legally required to take rest days. Yet you never stop moving. Sit down."
Fili, truly believing she possessed infinite energy, immediately tried to argue, but Roman effortlessly pressed her down into a plush chair by the hearth.
"If you insist on working, then your new assignment is to simply sit here, drink tea, and keep me company. That is an order."
Roman walked over to the hearth and expertly brewed a pot of herbal tea—his movements vastly more practiced and fluid than Fili's—and placed a silver plate of candied nuts on the table between them.
Fili, who had spent her entire tragic life aggressively serving others to survive, was suddenly being pampered and served by a high lord. For a moment, she was completely paralyzed, having no idea how to react to the kindness.
Seeing her stiff posture, Roman took the initiative. He began casually discussing the mundane logistics of the recent harvest, deliberately steering the conversation away from magic and politics to help her relax.
Fili was inherently pure-hearted. With a little gentle guidance, she quickly overcame her rigid, servant-class nervousness. She began happily chatting about the funny incidents she had witnessed among the Harrenhal staff, eventually transitioning into her deep, personal thoughts regarding House Whent.
"Lord Roman, you truly are entirely different from the other high lords," Fili said softly, holding her teacup with both hands. "In the Crownlands, I saw noblemen ruthlessly haggle with starving farmers over a single copper penny. They invent every cruel method imaginable to exploit the smallfolk."
"But you... you seem to genuinely desire that we, the people at the absolute bottom of the mud, live better lives. Why is that? What is your ultimate goal?"
"Do you want the beautiful lie, or the ugly truth?" Roman asked, taking a slow sip of his tea.
"Hmm. I want to hear both!"
Roman set his cup down, his bright blue eyes locking onto hers. "The lie: I am a deeply benevolent, bleeding-heart lord. I want all my subjects to live in absolute utopia, and I want the noble name of House Whent to be praised by the Seven across all of Westeros."
"As for the ugly truth..." Roman leaned forward, his voice dropping into a cold, pragmatic baritone. "I want to extract vastly more taxes. Sick, starving, ignorant peasants produce nothing. Only when the smallfolk are healthy, well-fed, and properly educated can they maximize their labor and generate true, unimaginable wealth for my treasury."
Roman subtly uncoiled his massive, black draconic tail, resting the terrifying, scaled appendage deliberately on the table between them. "So... which version do you believe?"
Fili didn't answer immediately. Instead, she calmly reached into her pocket, pulled out a soft polishing cloth, and began gently wiping the soot off the heavy scales of his tail.
"I believe the lie is the absolute truth," she smiled warmly. "Because despite your scary words, you radiate a deeply reassuring, protective fire."
"You silly goose," Roman chuckled, reaching across the table to affectionately pat her head. "If you keep being this foolish and overly trusting, you are going to get yourself killed in this world!"
Fili puffed out her cheeks defensively. "I am not foolish! I only act this vulnerable around you, Lord Roman. I would never let my guard down around anyone else!"
Roman's smile faded slightly as he glanced down, noticing the dark, heavy bags under Fili's eyes.
"Even the most magically gifted Apostles require sleep, Fili," he said, his voice laced with genuine concern. "You have been severely overworking your body to prove your worth to me. You are going to start resting properly, starting today."
Seeing Roman's serious expression, Fili opened her mouth to argue her stamina again, but Roman cut her off instantly.
"If you refuse to take care of your own health, I will permanently banish you from my service. Do you understand?"
Faced with that terrifying ultimatum, the stubborn, magical girl finally, reluctantly nodded her agreement.
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