Chapter 3.2 Mousetrap

Maester Lyndon wore a radiant smile, much more radiant than usual, and walked towards his tower with a dancing step, while whistling a little tune.

The old man knows that his steps are watched by the lord, and that he does not trust him, so he was very surprised by Lord Dustin's answer. He thought of sending a raven and communicating it to the Citadel, but he would rather not do it yet, because of the same vigilance he was under. He did not want the boy's opinion to change, so he would act with special caution for the next few days.

He went into his room, and took one of the books from his bookshelf, then sat down on his bed. The wooden chair was too hard for him, and his joints ached from sitting on it for too long.

The book was about agriculture, he had bought it from a dealer a couple of months ago, but due to lack of time he had only been able to take a quick look at it. He wanted to read it to better understand the explanation Lord Dustin was going to give, he wasn't an expert on the subject after all.

With a candle in one hand and the book in the other, the Maester remained immersed until nightfall, surprised that no one in the castle had requested his services.

However, as he read, he heard something crash against his wooden window, it sounded like....

'A stone?' thought the Maester in confusion. The tower was quite high, it was where the crows were sent from after all; on the small balcony the room had, so to prevent the crows from colliding with something, the Maester's tower was always the highest tower.

The Maester got up from his bed with a great effort, and walked with heavy steps to the window. He didn't want to open the window much, he didn't want the cold to come in, he was too comfortable in its warmth.

As soon as he opened the window, he thought he saw someone in the distance, a silhouette in the night, quite small for an adult, but he could not recognize who it was. The Maester did not give it importance, but... he felt a slight breeze, so he turned to see the door, and it was open.

"Was it the wind?" whispered the Maester, but he didn't believe it. He knew that since he hadn't gone to sleep yet, he hadn't locked the door, but he also didn't believe that the wind could open a door. 'This...this is weird.'

A couple of candles had been blown out, so the Maester's visibility was less, it seemed to have been the wind as well. The Maester didn't think anything of it; he was tired after reading for so long, and happy after hearing Lord Dustin's words a few hours ago. The old man simply closed the door and locked it, and lay back down on his bed, now ready to sleep.

However, as he lay back down and rested his gaze on the ceiling, horror flashed across his face, and his eyes widened in surprise. A man dressed in black was hanging from the ceiling!

Before the Maester could react, shocked by the person who clearly had evil intentions, the man deftly unhooked himself and covered his mouth.

Sounds escaped from the Maester's mouth, but he could not summon any help. His last resort was to bite the hand that covered his mouth, but despite his bite, which was certainly weak, his attacker showed no reaction to the pain.

Her attacker went for the pillow that was on her bed; a true luxury that only the most important figures of the castle enjoyed in their bedchambers, but that luxury would turn deadly.

The hooded man grabbed the pillow, after a small struggle, and removed the hand, which was not even bloody, from the Maester's mouth. Before the latter could scream, the pillow went straight to his face, and began to choke the man. Both his mouth and nose were covered, and despair flooded his face as he tried to struggle.

His attacker seemed not to have much strength, in fact, from his stature, he looked like a child, but it was still more strength than that of a decrepit old man who has never exercised in his long life.

'Wolfgang Dustin?' the Maester thought for a moment passingly, but dismissed the idea. He could not ramble on any further because his eyes began to look a little misty, and his thinking slowed. Certainly not enough oxygen was getting to his brain anymore.

In a couple of minutes he was already unconscious, and the attacker wasted no time. He walked over to the door and locked it, and approached the Maester again. He took the apple out of his pouch, and shoved it into the man's mouth, evidently not whole, with force. For a moment the Maester's eyes seemed to become clearer, as he felt something stuck in his throat, and he tried to raise his arm to relieve himself, but he had no strength for such an action. The attacker again placed the pillow partially on his face, to further hinder his present condition, while also keeping the old man lying down; that he could not straighten up.

Master Lyndon had died of drowning.

The attacker took it upon himself to close the window, and went out of the door, but not before unlocking it. Lyndon always ate an apple before bedtime, but no merchant had long since come along to sell them, so the Maester had replaced it with a carrot; but unconvinced by its taste he decided simply not to eat anything before bedtime.

Wolfgang always had an apple available, both for himself, and for when it was time to finish off the gray rat; when it became too much of a nuisance.