The Oldest City of Westeros and greatest repository of knowledge in the known world

DURRANDON'S POV

I began my day, after sharing some pleasantries with my Hightower hosts, by walking down the Honeywine, the river that runs through the city.

"Although many cities in the Seven Kingdoms and beyond could easily claim greatness on one count or more, and in recent times it has been eclipsed politically and in terms of its sheer population size by King's Landing, Oldtown is in the mind of some indisputably the greatest city in the Seven Kingdoms." I explained to my small retinue as we reached the streets of the city right as the sun rose.

"It certainly is the oldest, I will give it that." Daven remarked, finally far away from the presence of one of the Hightowers. "Though…looking at it from up close, I'm obliged to admit…it does have its charm."

Tyrion smirked at my direction, Daven's pride over his family's city being an old topic of discussion and inside joke among us.

And from my uncle's reaction at the young Sealion's troubles with highborn women, Tyrion wasn't planning on letting him in peace so soon.

"Who knows how long humans have lived and traded here, the center of learning and the home to sites such as the Hightower, the Citadel and the Starry Sept that were renowned across the known world." Tyrion finally spoke, deciding to save his japes for later.

"It is also undoubtedly beautiful." Pia finally admitted what no one else seemed willing to.

Even the usually brooding Sandor seemed pleased by the scenery we found ourselves in.

"All great towns and cities in this continent are on the coast or on a river, Winterfell of course being the exception here…" Tyrion continued to add his booksmart knowledge to our tour. "…since the Starks were so often the exception to so many rules." He digressed by slipping in some mockery for the Wardens of the North.

Pia assumed from there and added. "…and for good reason it is the rule, as it offers water, trading opportunities and transport links to elsewhere."

This earned a few surprised looks from both Daven and Sandor, who weren't aware of how much she had been learning from me.

'Sharp as always.' I acknowledged, immediately thinking about the time I spent meditating on top of the Hightower, effectively turning it into the slowest "Ubisoft Tower" section in any game to unlock the city's map.

The Honeywine provided access deep into the most lush and fertile areas of the reach, its estuary offered safe harbor and deepwater docking for ships traveling from afar.

A perfect place for the First Humans in Westeros to settle, especially after the fires of war between whatever predecessor of the Valyria stronghold fought against the people of the sea had been put out.

Although the river divided the city, Oldtown still felt well integrated.

From our tour around we came to cross many bridges over the Honeywine, most of carved stone, but some still wooden. And unlike the one owned by the Hightowers, there were islands here joined to both sides by bridges, some so small they offered little more than a chance to pause and gaze around at the sites, others large enough for several large buildings.

Perhaps the best example was the Quill and Tankard inn.

"Oh, for the love of the Gods, new and old, let's rest for a moment." Tyrion said rather dramatically, pointing at the inn. "I've just got one nasty cramp in my legs."

As both Clegane and Daven rolled their eyes at my uncle's awful acting, and Pia failed to contain a chuckle, I decided to indulge his request. "Sure, the sun has been unrelenting since we left the Hightowers, perhaps we all might profit from some rest."

"Wonderful!" Tyrion took my response at face value and immediately led us inside, already salivating at the prospect of finally tasting some Arbor Gold.

Easily finding a table for the five of us, we were immediately well received by a worker of the inn who picked everyone's order and came back with drinks just as fast, so we continued our talk about this city.

"Did you know, I've heard from one of the Hightowers that this Inn has been here for 600 years." Tyrion pointed out, inadvertently revealing his previous knowledge of this place and impressing Pia, before savoring the taste of wine in quite a while.

"To say it doesn't seem like it would be a lie." Daven snickered, taking a sip from his drink as well. "Though I do grant it has its charm."

"If you say so." I smiled at his antics, believing he was probably still a little salty because of my previous comment in regards to great cities.

"Why is it taking so fucking long?" Sandor muttered while hitting the table without paying much attention to our discussion and startling Pia with his mood. "Where's the chicken?"

As Daven made the terrible mistake of mentioning that we've just recently had our morning meal with the Hightowers, Tyrion had to barge in and ease the situation by stating that he was also ready for another meal.

Poor Daven, if Jon Snow was oblivious to all the blessings of his position despite of his status as bastard, then I believe he could at least be forgiven to not notice that Sandor was still my Swornshield and had to behave as such while in the presence of others outside of our inner circle of friends.

Though with all the soldier training and squire training for Tygett he will continue to be doing in the future, I wouldn't worry about it being a flaw for too long.

Besides, it was an excellent opportunity to have Pia learning to read between the lines of social interactions.

Now shifting my attention away from Tyrion's subtle talk to Daven and Pia's brave small talk with Sandor, I began to admire the details of the inn we found ourselves in.

It was a tall wooden building setting it apart from the stonework seen all around Oldtown.

What else set it apart though was that it was lean. Its walls were angled sharply towards the south, giving it a slightly disorientating feel. I dread to think how confusing it must be for the patrons after one too many of the notoriously strong ciders they sold here.

But what really set this place apart, in my opinion, was its patrons.

Other than perhaps the Inn at the Crossroads I've visited, I struggle to think of a single place in these Seven Kingdoms said to have such a rich diversity of people mixed as equals, or almost equals.

On the other tables I could discern some traders and dock workers, scholars from the Citadel and less than pious clerics from the Starry Sept. Nobles like Tyrion and Daven stopped by here and so did scullery servants, deckhands and off-duty watchmen.

I've asked the servant that brought us something to drink until our meal was ready and she revealed to me that bards and poets played for all during the nights, and so I could infirm that the staff were so usually flirtatious and accommodating to all their guests.

The hubbub all around was cheery and contagious, partially the reason why I accepted Tyrion's recommendation of spending some time here. It was easy to imagine a similar scene happening here a century ago, or if nothing bad were to happen, in a century's time from here too.

Mimicking my actions with the Crossroads Inn, I slipped away by switching places with one of my solid mirror images as I disguise myself to appear as a wealthy man.

After a brief negotiation with the owner of the establishment, handing a few Gold Dragons, and having another letter sent to Chataya, I got another business under my payroll.

The previous one being the Inn at the Crossroads, who had recently informed Chataya that they had welcomed my half-sister, Bella Rivers, as one of their servant girls.

Which suited my wishes for her, since I rather have her away from the more mature kind of business she would've grown into had I not intervened, and still away from my mother's notice just to be safe.

Took the opportunity to also have the owner of the Quill and Tankard Inn to seek out some kid named Satin Flowers around the City, more specifically nearby the brothels area.

I wasn't sure yet, but was working on the theory that this lad, that one day would be sent to the Wall, was one of the potential sixteen bastards my father would sire.

I mean, he did mentioned fucking at least one woman of each of the Seven Kingdoms, so narrowing it down was very hard. Even Varrys claimed to be aware of only eight.

So while I had Chataya and Tobho Mott taking care of the ones in the Capital, it still left plenty for me to find out.

Regardless, after waiting for my companions to eat their meals, I managed to switch back with my duplicate without being noticed and finally spoke. "Although it would be fun to loiter, we are all fed and there's still a whole city for us to explore."

"Aye." Sandor remarked, feeling much less grumpy than before, before leading the way this time.

Moving away from the river and just wandering about, it soon became clear that this was a rabbit warren of a city.

Streets and pathways twisted and turned back on themselves, each bend could lead to a dead end or a vibrant street market filled with succulent produce from the Reach.

Not that you even need to travel far to find food, in season anyone could find peaches, pomegranates and even melons growing wild here in thickets of undergrowth in the city.

This, the incense from the many small septs and the seabreeze were combined to give the city an ever-present almost floral smell.

"It's rare indeed to find a city this size that doesn't smell bad…" I remarked to my group of companions, recalling King's Landing before my initial effort at cleaning it as an obvious example. "…but this is a pleasant surprise."

"Yeah, I know a few things about cisterns and drains. Feel homesick already?" Tyrion asked me, noticing this time I was the one brooding instead of Clegane.

"Yeah. But it's not the first time." I replied, earning sympathy from both Lannisters and Pia. "And I'm sure it will not be the last."

"Wise of you to consider that." My uncle acknowledged, wiping away the sweat from his forehead.

Being this far south, the climate was also noticeably different to much of my travels.

During the summer months, Oldtown could get swelteringly hot. Its citizens could be seen wearing clothing more often seen in Dorne than in the Reach, and the entire pace of life changed here.

Business and pleasure were done deep into the evenings and the afternoons were taken at a much slower pace.

At other times, when it was less humid, the fog was a regular visitor, spreading out from the whispering sound like tentacles through the cobbled streets lending an eerie feel to the ancient lanes and alleys.

Navigation from place to place became harder, added to which when it was wet, the ever-present cobbles could become very slippery.

Heard that manys the unwary visitors who had gotten lost or worse on a wet foggy night in Old Town. Those who lived here though seem to have no problems finding their way.

While there was some degree of uniformity of design here, the cobbles, the stone-built buildings and so on, each street was different and each area of the city we visited had its own feel.

Bookending the day after covering a lot of ground in this city, I led us back to the hospitality of the Hightowers, most of whom were eager to hear my thoughts about their prestigious city.

Whenever Baelor Hightower brought up the idea of having some of his household soldiers to help protect me, I replied by stating my confidence in both Sandor and my disguised Death Knight who were constantly switching turns to keep me safe.

That and the fact that a smaller group could cover more ground while also drawing considerably less unwanted attention.

Tomorrow I had planned to pay a proper visit to the Citadel with its scholarly patriarchal field, sadly having to leave Pia here with the excuse that she should rest since the heat could get to her, but Baelor recommended that there was also the area around the seven shrines by the Honeywine with its extensive gardens and peaceful atmosphere that she could at the very least accompany us and return with one of his brothers.

I thanked him for the tip, even if I already knew about it.

Not only that, but I also knew that there was also the undercity, and I've been eager to venture there ever since learning about it, as well as the usual ne'er-do-wells I hear talking of ratpits and the like.

Makes me think of my time playing Skyrim, visiting Riften and exploring its Ratway.

Perhaps I might finally get some opportunity to go on my Night Raids again, given it was very much like Flea Bottom from the Capital city and I really doubt the Spider could connect it to me after months of continuous activity near him and nothing on my stay at Lannisport.

But I digress…

I still had the Magical Dungeon under the Hightower to clear.

————————————————————————

That night…

Finding my way back again down to the catacombs made out of those two incredible black stones serving as foundation to the Hightower, inside the magical darkness oozing inside that dungeon, I found my second venture there much more easily manageable.

My Shadow Touched perk had successfully enabled my eyes of the night to perceive my surroundings here as just a dim lit colorless place.

Working simply with shades of grey, not that type, to differentiate things and beings from the environment.

Stalking and skulking around the undeads that I've avoided in my first passing, I easily got rid of them since they were all effectively blind down here.

Spending a bit of ki on my Shadow Arts, I made sure to eliminate all the sound I made, so one-shooting even the zombies equipped with plate armor wasn't a problem with my Valyrian steel twin gladius cutting through virtually anything and anyone.

Especially opponents completely oblivious to my presence having all their guards down.

While making short work of a few dozen, I also decided to store their lifeless-undead bodies inside my Inventory for further testing with my Necromancy studies.

Further ahead, where the entrance of the Treasure Room was hidden under my Magic Lock spell, I found a lone Shadow lurking around.

Despite its higher mobility and intelligence in comparison to regular undeads, it was so comical to find it unable see anything in this magical darkness with its regular darkvision.

Shrieking and wailing around as I casually sneak up on it, I quickly summoned my twin Unseen Servants and had them work on a theory my Portent visions had been hinting to me.

Similar to how my Wild Companion, Shadow, had managed to evolve after merging with a living plant, I've been having glimpses of my servants joining in the action.

Suddenly lighting my fist in a radiant flare, which surprisingly seemed to win out against the magical darkness, I sucker punched the lost Shadow with one of my ki-enhanced Stunning Strikes and weakened it enough to have my Servants engage it.

As I raised the palm of my other hand forward, I had the same dark smoke that I used to subjugate my Death Knight sprayed over this medium undead, forcing it into submission.

Although the Shadow by itself was an undead monster of a higher level when compared to the regular armored zombie that my Death Knight once was, I had plenty of time to practice my control over undeads and studies of Necromancy magic to win over this dispute.

Eventually, as the red dot on my Mental Map faded, I witnessed how my Unseen Servants began merging and integrating with the Shadow, seemingly ripping it to shreds to share its undead essence.

After waiting for a moment, now standing before me was a magical, translucent, gray figure that emanated negative energies, its silhouette was blurred to the point of making it appear to have echos occupying the same space.

Using Observe on it I saw…

{SHADOW SERVANT, MEDIUM UNDEAD}

{LV - 30}

POW: 20

MOB: 40

END: 35

INT: 20

STL: 45

DEF: 10*

HP: 500

SPEED: 70 ft.

DAMAGE IMMUNITIES: NECROTIC, POISON.

CONDITIONS IMMUNITIES: EXHAUSTION, FRIGHTENED, GRAPPLED, PARALYZED, PETRIFIED, POISONED, PRONE, RESTRaiNED, UNCONSCIOUS.

DAMAGE RESISTANCES: ACID, COLD, FIRE, LIGHTNING, THUNDER, NON-MAGICAL BLUDGEONING, PIERCING AND SLASHING.

SENSES: DARKVISION 70 ft. AND BLINDSIGHT 35 ft.

VULNERABILITIES: RADIANT DAMAGE.

LANGUAGES: UNDERSTANDS BUT CANNOT SPEAK.

[AMORPHOUS: It can move through a space as narrow as 1 inch wide without squeezing and assume any shape it is commanded to.]

[MAGICAL STEALTH: While in light or darkness, it can instantaneously turn invisible and shapeless, remaining like that until it needs to once again interact with its environment or deal damage to someone.]

[POWER DRaiN: Special attack that requires prolonged contact with the target that deals necrotic damage and momentarily reduces their Power stat. The target dies if this reduces its Power to 0. If a non-undead dies from this attack, a new shadow servant rises from the corpse a few hours later.]

'Excellent!' I concluded with a grin. 'Could definitely make use of an army of undead without having to raise them one by one and micromanaging their actions.'

Now that I had cleared this dungeon, and took my time to cut blocks of blackstone from the walls to store in my Inventory, I left it and went searching for more things to do before the sun rises.

It took a while to get used to it, but this Shadow Servant was basically my trade for not having the same level of deadlines of the Shadow under my control.

And unlike my Death Knight, it could actually be dismissed and summoned back with the same spell I used for my Unseen Servants, which also meant that it wouldn't constantly try to break free of my control.

However, since the name Shadow Servant seemed a little derivative to my dear fey cat, if not also a bit lame, I renamed it to Nightwalker and disguised it as my Stranger identity while ordering it to remain hidden in my Death Knight's shadow.

{NIGHTWALKER, MEDIUM UNDEAD}

'Well, would you look at that! I'm starting to build a party of undeads! I already had my frontline tank with my Death Knight, and now my damage dealing rogue on my Nightwalker. I'm sure together these two could easily wreak havoc on a small platoon of soldiers if let loose.''

Using the room the Hightowers had reserved for me for the first time, since the beacon on top of the tower was once again lit, I started to work with Page on a few spells I had come up with.

The sun finally rose and the only one I was successful with making work was…

{DARKNESS Lv- 1(0%)}

[SECOND CLASS EVOCATION SPELL: Magical darkness spreads from a point you choose within range to fill a 5 meter radius sphere for the duration (10 minutes). The darkness spreads around corners. A creature with Darkvision can't see through this darkness, and non magical light won't illuminate it. If the point you choose is on an object you are holding or one that isn't being worn or carried, the darkness emanates from the object and moves with it. Completely covering the source of the darkness with an opaque object, such as a bowl or a helm, blocks the darkness. If any of this spell's area overlaps with an area of light created by a spell of 2nd Level or lower, the spell that created the light is dispelled.]

CASTING TIME: 6 SECONDS

RANGE: 20 METERS

COMPONENTS: V, M (Bat fur and a drop of pitch or piece of coal)

DURATION: CONCENTRATION, UP TO 10 MINUTES.

————————————————————————

The following day came quickly and I shared my first meal with the Hightower family before leaving with the prospect of exploring more of Oldtown, but instead of reaching the main attraction of today first, I had a few small stops to make first.

One of them was by the docks, where I got a particularly cosmopolitan feel, waiting to meet one of my Granduncle's trading ships which had been tasked with bringing provisions for my prolonged stay here in Oldtown.

Even for this heterogeneous City, one could hear dozens if not hundreds of different tongues and accents being spoken, and there were seemingly temples for all, from Red Priests to Summer Islanders.

"Makes you miss those foreigners, doesn't it?" Tyrion sighed, longing for the good times he had with Thoros, and even the funny experience of getting used to both Syrio and Jalabhar's accents, as he had finished dealing with the marine captain sent by Gerion.

"Indeed." I replied while patting him on the back.

Although Daven wasn't that acquainted with them as we were, he still sympathized with our sentiment recalling the weeks he spent away being a squire to my granduncle, Tygett.

At that moment, Sandor spoke with the bare minimum of respect while rolling his eyes. "Shall we continue? I rather not have those gulls shitting on me."

I merely nodded, finding cute how Pia reacted to my swornshield's manners, before making our way through the areas around the seven shrines by the Honeywine, only to finally turn my gaze to one of the main attractions of the city.

The greatest temple in all Oldtown was of course the Starry Sept, to get here we found ourselves walking past increasing reminders that the Faith of the Seven was the state or institutionalized religion.

Other religions were of course allowed, but this was where power lied, at least its shadow, and power that clearly brought money to those associated with it.

The houses in this part of the city were large walled off mansions, the homes of the pious, or at least of those who would like to be thought of as pious, were luxurious, filled with servants and with no luxury spared.

It was a completely different world from that other bastion of the faith, the Quiet Isle in the Riverlands with its homespun and humble approach to the faith.

Whatever one might think of this, no one could deny that the Starry Sept itself was impressive.

It was perhaps darker and more somber than the Sept I've visited at Highgarden say, but in my opinion that just adds to its grandeur.

"It's so majestic while still being clearly so ancient." Pia seemed to agree with me.

Its walls were black marble and its windows high and arched, it was here that the great moments that forged the relationship between the Faith and the Seven kingdoms took place.

When Aegon, Visenya and Rhaenys first landed on mainland Westeros with three dragons to commence their invasion, it's said that the High Septon locked himself in the Starry Sept for seven days and seven nights of praying and fasting.

The man ate nothing and drank nothing, and at the end of the seven days he emerged to declare that the faith of the seven would not oppose Aegon the Conqueror, for if they did the Starry Sept and Oldtown as a whole would be destroyed and consumed in dragon fire.

I will leave it to others to decide the extent to which this was divine revelation and how much was simply someone recognizing the folly of trying to defy three angry dragons.

Regardless, Lord Manfred Hightower immediately accepted the wisdom of this and flung open the gates to the Targaryens when they arrived.

Aegon the conqueror was crowned King of the Seven Kingdoms here at the Starry Sept by the High Septon and was anointed in the faith of the Seven.

His son and heir Aenys the First was also crowned and anointed here.

Come to think of it, Maegor was also married here, since Baelor had yet to be born in order to build the Great Sept back at King's Landing.

The lasting connection between the church and the state was established here, not that it was always an easy relationship.

The Targaryen might have politically or superficially adopted the faith, but other than a handful of notable exceptions, they never really accepted its moral code.

The faith then, as it does now, frowned on polygamy as well as incest, but power was power and the uneasy alliance continued throughout the Targaryen reign.

Not that the Starry Sept retained its preeminent state however.

Perhaps it was one High Septon too many protesting against Maegor cruelties and many marriages, or the faith militant uprising, or just a desire to concentrate political power in the new capital of King's Landing.

But eventually the Targaryens effectively forced the center of the faith away from Oldtown to the newly built great Sept of Baelor in King's Landing, where it has remained ever since.

Regardless, I wasn't exactly sure what would happen if I made a prayer inside such a 'holy place' for the Faith of the Seven.

Worst case scenario I would receive nothing at all.

Best case, I was expecting to level up my Cleric or Paladin title.

"I did not know you were a religious man… boy, dear nephew." Tyrion remarked while both Daven and Sandor remained silent, admiring the Sept in their own way.

"Religion is often regarded by the common people as true, by the intellectuals as false, and by the rulers as useful." I replied with a serious yet friendly manner. "Though I would be dishonest to dismiss how it helps me better appreciate the beauties of creation."

"Always the philosopher, eh?" Tyrion chuckled while noticing Pia showing admiration over my words, but eventually conceded to my point. "So let us behold this… Sept."

Sandor merely shrugged, never actually complaining about where he followed me, but also never appearing completely satisfied either.

As for Daven, he seemed to concentrate on something while observing his surroundings.

My guess was that he had seriously taken my advice to improve Lannisport by comparing it to other cities to the letter, and from the looks of it, he might be considering how he would pitch it to his father.

Regardless, as we stepped in the Starry Sept, a heavenly music alerted my Divine Sense as I felt my entire sight suddenly change.

Smoky black clouds of something ran over my vision, obscuring everything from sight.

Expecting another trip to the Westerosi version of Mount Olympus, only to find myself in between black clouds and floating debris of marble, witnessing three constellations appearing before me.

A memory of playing the Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim flashed through my brain, it looked just like how the skill trees did in that amazing game, although I didn't remember them ever looking like the ones that were in front of me.

The constellations were blindingly bright in my vision, but it soon formed itself into what was obviously an Archer, instead of a bow and arrow, a Chalice and a Dragon, if one was to connect the 'stars' of the constellations with lines.

Gazing at my hands, I suddenly noticed I've assumed my Starry Form without knowing.

How come the New Gods were contacting me through the trait I got from the Old ones?

Was it a revelation about this sept's origin? Or a fortunate coincidence that the New Gods were all about a Seven-pointed-star?

Whatever it might be, something wasn't right.

[YOU'VE CREATED A STAR CHART AS PART OF YOUR HEAVENLY STUDIES!]

A tiny crystal manifested before me, projecting starry patterns as it passed over the light in the background, only to resonate with the holy symbol in my wrist.

Both magical items merged together, and the seven-pointed star of polished metal I earned from the New Gods became crystal-like.

Gazing inside its translucent core, I saw again multiple depictions of constellations, this time countless more than the ones my Starry Form had.

Finding similarities between them and the ones of night sky, in my mind, I understood I've just acquired a new use of my Divine Points.

A flash of radiant light struck out from the palm of my hand, hitting one of the largest floating targets that appeared to be a rock, only to speed it backwards from the attack and make it shine like a shooting star thanks to the mystical light glittering on it.

The world changed from the constellations back to normal, though for the brief instant I had been away, no one seemed to notice it.

The only proof of anything happening was the new version of my Holy Symbol in my bracelet, that and an actual shooting star racing through the day sky visible through the roof of the Starry Sept.

'I'm a lucky bastard, I get it.' I thought before immediately beginning my prayers for the Seven that were One while activating my Balm of Peace.

Reciting the usual trappings, thanking The Mother for her mercy and peace, The Father for his just judgment, The Warrior for his protection and strength, The Crone for her wisdom and foresight, The Smith for his blessings on creation and craftsmanship, The Maiden for both love and beauty, and finally The Stranger for its sheltering of the dead.

Prayers and thanksgivings done…we moved on.

What else was there to say about this great city?

In truth, it was so sprawling and ancient that my small party and I could talk for hours as we traversed the cobbles and gazed at the sights, but perhaps it was worth noting once again the durability of this place.

"Many times it has been nearly wiped out only to return stronger than ever. Way back in the Age of Heroes, piracy and reaping became such a problem for the city that it is said that one pirate, Gyles the Woe, was said to have carted away three-quarters of its population into slavery." I assumed Tyrion's place as our informal guide, surprising him with a bit of history he wasn't expecting me to be aware of. "Can you believe it? That's crazy! Only the Hightower stood strong against it. Stronger defenses were built as a result and the city recovered."

From the eyes of both Lannister I quickly understood I was touching a nerve there, so I quickly switched focus away from pirate raiders that might remember them of the Ironborn.

"Even in living memory, the Gray Plague wiped out

half the city and three quarters of those in the Citadel. Lord Quentin Hightower ordered the city to be sealed off and all the ships burned as a quarantine procedure. These drastic measures worked, the plague was contained, but the smallfolk who survived didn't see it quite that way and Quentin Hightower was murdered by a mob at the very day he lifted the quarantine."

"Not very popular, was he?" Tyrion scratched his head awkwardly.

"It's all in a day's work for most rulers, my father taught me." Daven remarked, aiding Pia who was now stretching her legs, clearly already tired of roaming around a second day in a row.

I acknowledged both comments with a nod. "And still, the city recovered and the Hightowers ruled on."

Perhaps ending things here earlier was the best way to conclude the segment Pia would be making us company.

My companions were becoming bored in any case to walk aimlessly around, so I had Pia take the ship back to Battle Island, only to finally notice another obvious fact of this city.

House Hightower personified by the Hightower itself loomed over this city, like Casterly Rock did to Lannisport, its shadow passed across the streets and houses as the day passed as well.

Incidentally, this was how the locals managed to tell the time, for this wasn't just their Lord's fortress and an impressive lighthouse for the harbor, it was a giant sundial that guided and shadowed all their days.

I could think of no better analogy and comparison for how this astonishing city kept going day after day.

—————————————————————

Later that day…

Outside of the Faith of the Seven and the feudal system itself, it was hard to think of a single establishment or institution that permeated every aspect of Westerossi life as much as the maesters from the Citadel.

They trained and taught the upper classes, oversaw the letters and missives sent from place to place, healed, counseled and advised in every corner of the Seven Kingdoms.

And that was just the qualified masters, when you add in the amount of people who have been taught here or perhaps even earned a link or two in their chain without actually becoming full fledged maesters, instead turning into hedge healers, scribes, apothecaries, engineers and private teachers, its reach was understandably immense.

For hundreds of thousands of years, the maesters have kept a virtual monopoly on learning in Westeros, and the epicenter of their knowledge and power was the Citadel.

The Citadel itself wasn't a single building, but an interconnected complex spanning the Honeywine in the center of Oldtown.

And although mostly stone built, there was no real architectural integrity here so much as a series of buildings created according to the needs of the time.

Some living quarters here, a lecture room there, kitchens, a forge, reading rooms, provision stores and laboratories, everything just built when it was needed.

Staring out at it from the top of the Hightower, it appeared as a hotchpotch of domes and towers and long halls, covered and uncovered stone bridges across the Honeywine so broad with its houses and market stalls sitting thirdly atop them.

Students stopped by to pick up supplies on their way to or from their studies, and the Weeping Dock sitting beneath, providing berths for travelers to disembark within the Citadel itself without needing to fuss about the outside world of Oldtown.

It's very much a city within a city, with its own rules and feel.

Entering via the main gate, it was imposingly large and my eye was drawn immediately to the pair of large green sphinxes that flanked the entrance.

They were tall and exquisitely carved with the bodies of lions, the tails of serpents and the wings of eagles. Their faces were human, one male and one female.

This, while striking, was actually not particularly unique to me.

Any eagle-eyed traveler would have noticed a similar Sphinx was outside the entrances to several other august buildings or rooms.

The Valyrians had statues of sphinxes and legends say that some still stood in the ruins of Old Valyria.

There were a pair in Volantis guarding the bridge that joined the two halves of the city.

And there was even a pair of sphinxes flanking the entrance to the Council Chamber back in the Red Keep in King's Landing.

Here of course, there was an added irony, the Sphinxes might be both male and female, but what they were guarding, the chance to access the knowledge and understanding in the Citadel, was barred to women.

Only men could train to become masters and have access to the great library within.

Pycelle had revealed a shared bias in secret to me when I noticed he wasn't teaching everything to Alysse back when we were studying together.

For better or worse, he wasn't a regular Maester, so his mind was easily changed.

Though fortunately his initial disinclination worked well in my benefit, since being the one to teach Alysse so much not only made our friendship bond grow stronger ever since, but it had also proven an excellent investment of my time and effort to raise that particular skill.

In any case, now being led by Gunthor Hightower to this part of the Citadel, it allowed us time to notice its bustle of traders, locals and acolytes even at this time of day.

This was very much the outward facing part of the complex, so all were welcomed here.

"Like everything else in Oldtown, the founding of the Citadel was inextricably linked to house Hightower. The exact story was of course lost to legend, but the story I like the most was of Prince Peremore the Twisted." Tyrion spoke, more focused on me, but not worried that our Hightower guide could also hear him. "Peremore suffered for all his life from a variety of maladies that left him bed bound, but although he could not travel he loved to explore with his mind. The Hightowers were rich and influential then as now and Peremore spent his money lavishly to bring the greatest teachers and intellectuals, magicians and healers, musicians and priests to Oldtown to teach him and share their knowledge with each other."

"It must have been quite a gathering." I remarked, still wondering how much different thighs would have been all those years ago.

My uncle nodded his head, but showed some signs of sadness in his next words. "Peremore's flame might have burned brightly, but his life was short and he died still a young man. His brother, Urrigon, could then have decided to release all of these wise men, that he called 'Peremore's pets', back to wherever they came from."

"But he didn't." I stated the obvious.

The short Lannister nodded again. "Perhaps it was out of love for his younger brother or his own love of knowledge, or maybe even something more farsighted. But he granted this motley collection of learned men land in the center of the growing city where they could establish a permanent home for learning and community, and thus the Citadel and the order of maesters were founded."

"I can see you're an admirer of the two brothers. Perhaps if you were the one to live your life building something to be remembered for, uncle Jaime would do everything in his powers to keep it preserved." I finally mentioned the similarities between them and was surprised to see how much of an impact my advice about taking care of his health had left on him.

For those who care about the timings of these things, it's worth observing that Peremore was the son, it is said, of Uthor of the Hightower, he who commissioned Bran the Builder to build the Hightower from stone.

So if we are to take all this at face value, all of these things the founding of the Citadel and the maesters, the building of the Hightower, the founding of House Stark Winterfell and the building of the wall which were also Bran the Builder doing all that, happened in the space of one lifetime, and all remains strong and central parts of Westerossi life today.

It was quite an achievement to say the least.

Can't wait to surpass it.

"I believe so." Tyrion finally answered my question, after thinking for a moment about his older brother serving as my father's Kingsguard.

Tyrion was already smart enough to understand that even without Jaime as heir, Tywin wouldn't give him Casterly Rock so easily.

Fortunately things were finally showing signs of going well between them, that Tyrion allowed himself to be a little more optimistic.

Eventually we passed by the Sphinxes, coming immediately into the scribe's half, which was a large court with open booths all around the edges, some of which were filled with bored looking young men.

Noticing the disparity between their stats, I came to an obvious realization.

One that although the Citadel accepted applicants from a range of social classes, with the occasional letter of recommendation of course, not all students accepted were equally gifted.

Some would sail through and in a matter of a few years have enough links in their chain to become masters.

While others will spend even longer learning just the rudimentaries of reading, writing and so on. Living their lives as novices or acolytes, but really just glorified servants to the maesters.

Most, of course, were placed somewhere in the middle.

Once a novice had gained the first link in his chain, he may call himself an acolyte, but for many of these acolytes the dream of maestership was still a long way off.

Some of these drifted away from the Citadel, to become teachers of merchants' children or scribes to noble houses, but those who remained needed to continue funding their studies somehow.

And many choose to do so here, selling their scribing skills, books or whatever from the boots here.

The citizens of Oldtown came here to the scribes hath for this very reason, because they have a letter that needs reading to them, or need to purchase a book on a particular subject, or commission some cartography.

It makes for a busy, if slightly refined, atmosphere, half marketplace half library.

But there was so much more to see here even deeper into the Citadel, so we moved forward.

A quick peek into the seneschals court, the center of justice and governance in the Citadel, showed a couple of bashful looking acolytes waiting to be seen, and just outside another sitting miserably in the stocks presumably as punishment for some petty crime.

People had evidently been pelting this one with cabbages and the like, so he will be in sore need of a bath when they release him.

"It's a depressing punishment to be sure, but there are harsher regimes elsewhere in these Seven Kingdoms." Tyrion argued. "And even worse beyond it."

"I believe you." I agreed with him. "My Royal Legion isn't as lenient with its punishment to those that broke our rules."

Although I was eager to see the famed library, I decided first to ask Gunthor, our Hightower guide here, to lead us to stop off somewhere else.

The oldest inhabited part of this complex was the ravenry situated on an island in the Honeywine, linked to the rest of the citadel by a creaking wooden drawbridge that seemed permanently stuck in the down position.

Coming here felt like a castle, with a stone curtain wall surrounding the towers within, and indeed it used to be a castle.

A stronghold for pirates in the Age of Heroes before the Citadel was here.

This made me consider the possibility of finding another Magical Dungeon here, the center of knowledge here in Westeros for time immemorial.

The walls here still stood in reasonable repair, but this place still felt different to the rest of the Citadel. Perhaps it was the legacy of the First Men who built this place, but from all the history lessons I've had, it felt northern.

Standing briefly in the courtyard, we all noticed how it was cool and damp and dark, even if the weather outside was anything but.

The walls were covered with purple moss or lichen and climbing vines were everywhere, and in the center, an ancient nile weirwood tree stared out at me.

It too was covered in moss, hiding much of the white of its bark, and everywhere there were Ravens.

They sat in the branches of the weirwood atop the walls in windows and all around the yard gazing at me accusingly.

'Who are you? What do you want? What have you done?' I heard many of them asking me and my group thought the True Tongue only I knew.

But once their attention quickly shifted away to something else, repeating the names of the places they had been, I felt relieved.

"Been a while since I last saw one of these." I told my group while striding forwards to touch the bark of the ancient tree.

Feeling small glimpses of its accumulated knowledge through the ages, I ensured some insight of the rise of the maesters' order on Westeros, as well as progress with both my Druid and Ranger titles, though not to the point of leveling them up.

Just a better use of my Thorn Whips cantrips where grasping weeds and vines sprout from natural environments in a 5-meters square from any point within 10 meters of range from me.

Basically turning the ground in the area into magical difficult terrain that entangles anything on it until I dismiss it or it is destroyed.

'Guiding Bolt as a ranged version of Divine Smite and now this… the gods must be finally acknowledging my worth.' I thought to myself.

"It's a little…uncanny… how much it resembles a person." Daven pointed out with both Tyrion and Sandor agreeing with it.

"Almost as if it is about to come to life. Is it wise to touch it?" My uncle asked, still uncomfortable under the invisible stare of the Old Gods.

"You worry too much." I dismissed his worries with a casual smile, while still avoiding to offend the ancient tree before me.

Exploring the place I noticed that there were two main towers here.

The north tower was the main rookery and also contained the chambers of the archmaester of the higher mysteries, in other words, magic.

Although the Citadel would claim that all magic, if it ever was real, was long gone. They still made a habit of enforcing that this was the age of man, as most veteran Maesters would proudly defend.

And as if to back up that point, these apartments were, it has to be said, not well-maintained, with faded tapestries, mounds of parchment and a single faintly lit black candle in the center of the room that shimmered brighter with my proximity.

Fortunately nobody seemed to notice, so I kept my distance for now, rather than ruin all my efforts of publicly disassociating myself from magic.

Safe from specific individuals, no large groups had learned of my powers. And even if I wanted to, the Maesters wouldn't be the first on my list of potential allies.

As for the other tower, the West Tower, it was the home of the archmaester responsible for ravenry, and also the ravenry for the white ravens.

These were for one purpose only.

When the maesters consulted their auguries and textbooks and decided that the season had changed, they would go out in their hundreds to the nobles across the land with that one message.

I'm sure the maesters responsible for that task had been putting these animals to use much more frequently than the decades before my birth, but in the meantime, while the ravens were stuck here, I gathered that the main concern of the maesters was keeping the white ravens away from their black brethren.

They did not get on well, it would appear.

And to think that some people still believed that humans, with all of their flaws and misconceptions, were inherently an abomination to nature.

Regardless of that, can you believe it? In this low-fantasy medieval world, this tower was the closest thing Westeros had to a communication center. Maesters, even Pycelle, spread throughout Westeros reported directly to this place and followed the orders sent their way.

I believe even the Spider would be curious about this network of agents the Citadel had built for itself.

In any case, now finally moving on to what I've been eager to see, Gunthor Hightower led us to the massive library the Maesters prided themselves of.

This was the beating heart of the Citadel, for there were books here that existed nowhere else in the known world, copies of texts from Old Valyria, transcriptions of ancient knowledge passed down from the First Men, legends, poems, books of science, maps of every corner of the known world, treaties on every imaginable subject.

Many were available to all acolytes and welcomed guests, some were locked tight deep in the vaults beneath the Citadel, accessible only to a select few.

From the individuals allowed here, I confirmed that all this vast expanse of knowledge opening up before me was forbidden to all women.

'This knowledge was only for men' The maesters so frequently said whenever I questioned them about it, though rarely in such blunt terms.

Perhaps as a woman you could cut your hair and dress as a boy and maybe then they would let you in. I doubt these old duffers would even notice.

Thinking about you, Alleras.

But like the hierarchy of the Faith of the Seven and the rules of succession for almost all noble houses, this knowledge was barred to women.

Which was another reason for not bringing Pia with me here yet.

As I've noted at the start of this journey, these were the Institute oceans that held sway over the realm and they were also the ones that rarely if ever allowed women in formal positions of power.

—————————————————————

During one of the subsequent nights…

The Undercity was basically a subterranean sewer turned squalid and overcrowded district beneath the innermost land in the city of Oldtown, west of the river where the Guildhalls of merchants and traders lined the river bank.

In this underground slum, one could find an unsavory form of recreation such as Rat pits, lesser versions which couldn't compare to the large and official fighting pits in Slaver's Bay, and black brothels, of a lower quality, less expensive and cater to an unsavory clientele compared to Chataya's.

All of that without mentioning the organized crime that ruled it from the shadows.

Suffice to say, whenever the Hightower's beacon was lit and I wasn't up to spend hours locked in the guest chamber the Hightower so gently offered to me, I had plenty to occupy my nights.

And let me tell you, in this place hidden from the sunlight, the occasional torch and candle were everything these people had to see anything down here.

While some only came down here to engage with the illicit activities available to visitors such as a black market with passing slavers, it was the squalor of those that were born and stuck here that was mostly explored.

Westeros was said to be free of slavery, but aside from the servitude in name only that most smallfolk had towards the highborn nobility, outside the continent most slave traders often knew how profitable some ports of Westeros were.

Proven by how far they went to buy slaves from Jorah Mormont, who would so desperately sought to pay for all the expenses and luxuries his second wife, that very same Lynesse Hightower that is has been constantly trying to seduce both Daven and Tyrion during our stay here.

Not that the Hightower's cared enough to stop these illegal activities to prosper down here, perhaps they never felt the need to do so, since these criminals paid them enough tribute to look the other way.

Even my time back in King's Landing, roaming around Flea Bottom, had shown me that even the crown wasn't innocent of connivance against its own laws.

Fortunately I've not only crippled the crime factions there, but left Rhaenys with the task of building something in their place.

Our Dark Guild so to speak, with the likes of rogues, thieves and assassins.

This led me to eliminate the competition down here.

Stalking in the dark, I was invisible even to creatures with night vision, so the common men had no hopes of seeing me coming, or sometimes even seeing me leaving was easier said than done since my sound and tracks were erased with a bit of Ki spent on my Shadow Arts.

And shadow stepping all around added so much to the mythical theme I was aiming for.

…

"Over here!" I finally heard a thug shout while leading a few bandits through a narrow street barely lit by a few torches.

No, I wasn't being chased by them.

As a matter of fact, I was chasing them, who in return seemed to be searching for someone who robbed something from them.

In any event, right now, their motives didn't really matter to me, my main goal was killing a few of them and putting the fear of gods on the criminals living down here.

Hearing the men panting heavily while making sound with their steps over the wet pavement, I patiently waited until they tired themselves out from their pursuit.

When they finally did it, I shadow stepped to an advantage point from above them and heard one of the bandits curse. "Shit! Seven Hells! That brat…he really bit me and it's fucking hurting!" He turned to the others and remarked with malice. "When he's caught, I'll be the first to have fun with him!"

"There's no fun or anything on a brat like that! And if it weren't for your stupidity, he wouldn't have gotten away!" Another replied back, showing discontent for having to be here looking for someone who had no business roaming free anymore.

The previous one groaned at them and turned to ask a bystander beggar who sat leaning against one of the walls. "Hey, there's a dirty little kid over here, right?!"

"Those are the only kinds around here." The beggar in his mid twenties replied, nonchalant about the threat these men posed to him.

"You must be one of the scum of this area. A rat, isn't it?" The leading thug spoke up, walking towards the beggar.

"Scum?" The beggar repeated the thug's insults before staring back at him in defiance. "Which of us are?"

Right then, before the two could exchange more words, the thug seemed to finally spot who he had been searching from a distance, lying unconscious on an alleyway due to exhaustion and malnutrition.

"Hey…I found him!" He announced it to his group, completely ignoring the beggar's behavior towards him.

As he was about to walk towards the passed out boy, and I prepared myself to slaughter him while disguised, we were both surprised by the reckless attack of the vagabond towards the leader of these criminals.

"Aaarrrgh!"

He stabbed the thug's exposed neck with an improvised weapon, which appeared to be a shiv, only to be immediately pushed back by the criminal's quick punch with his metal knuckles glove.

The vagabond took a hard blow, losing a couple of teeths, but the damage to his target was already done and soon the thug dropped to the ground, grasping his throat while struggling to not drown in his own blood.

"Who is the scum here, you sick fucker!" The vagabond spat blood on his dying victim and dropped to the ground while the group of bandits rushed to avenge their fallen leader.

Only after noticing that the beggar didn't seem to have acted with a plan for what to do next, I intervened by dropping over the quickest opponent of the group and doing my best copy of the iconic air assassination.

Before the remaining criminals could waste their breaths asking 'who the fuck I was', I dashed forward, teleporting with each stride, and made short work of them, brutally killing the worst of them by my Observe's description while maiming the rest that was almost as bad.

The bloodbath was over before the stunned beggar could recover his senses.

A brief silence fell between us as he witnessed the bloodshed.

"Y-you… w-who…" He could barely say anything as blood began to bleed out of his mouth.

Placing my hand over the man's face, easily overpowering his scrawny and hesitant figure, I used my Lay on Hands power and healed him immediately.

Sensing how his smell announced his ignorance to higiene, I subtly casted Thaumaturgy to magically clean his body and clothes.

"By the gods, a miracle!" The beggar claimed before dropping to his knees and praying for his gods as I read the window that popped up from using Observe on him.

{TIC - RAT THIEF OF THE UNDERCITY}

LEVEL: 9

POW: 9

END: 6

MOB: 10

INT: 13

STL: 20

DEF: 1* (Worn Out Clothes: +10% Weather Damage Resistance)

{Beggars are the homeless and hopeless wretches that eke out a meager existence at the fringes of society in cities and towns. Some are once farmers, craftsmen, or other working folk stricken blind or lame, while others are orphans from birth, subsisting on alms and charity so long they have known nothing else. This agile vagabond carries a single shiv he had crafted himself from scraps, beware his courage to stand his ground though. Tic is an orphan and bastard of a foreign sailor of Braavos with a common whore. He steals and kills for necessity only, unless he comes to face the militia in charge of the undercity. He is a member of the unofficial militia of thieves that is trying to make life in the undercity more bearable. He fervently hates slavers more than anything else, due to his religious beliefs that it is a heinous crime to the gods and is willing to risk his life to kill any that crossed his path.}

"Rise my good man, your devotion to the Gods speaks volumes of your worth and your cause is just." I said while oozing the charisma of a holy man despite my roguish attires and menacing voice. "What's your name?"

"Tic! I go by Tic." The man quickly replied, now admiring my image as if I was a literal god.

"I admire your bravery, Tic. But I would like to encourage you to not throw your life away like this again, you are not worthless." I told him, using my Bardic Inspiration to mark it into his brain. "Be assured that your cause down here is just."

Quickly looking at the kid that caused all this fuz, I was surprised to read his name.

{SATIN FLOWER - SLAVE BASTARD OF THE UNDERCITY}

LEVEL: 7

POW: 6

END: 4

MOB: 6

INT: 11

STL: 13

DEF: 0* (Roughspun Attire)

{Slaves are living, thinking creatures who are nothing but the property of another. By law or power, they have no rights and are forced to suffer anything their masters want them to. They have no choice or control. While some masters are kind and generous, others are mean and cruel. Slaves are insignificant and beneath notice. After all, it's not like they should be treated like people, because, as long as they are slaves, they are not. To most, slaves are nothing more than another's property. This pitiful boy carries no weapon with him, although not very brave, due to his younger age, he has a lot of potential to grow thanks to how clever and quick learner he is. Satin is an orphan and bastard of Robert Baratheon with a common whore during one of his stays in the Reach. Satin has been groomed as a boywhore from birth after his mother sold him to the criminals of the undercity. Even though his owners have constantly drilled on him unquestioning obedience and skill in giving pleasure, Satin had never openly defied them up to this day, but he is adamant to never submit.}

'So that's why the owner of The Quill and Tankard inn didn't find anything on him.' I realized.

Instantly teleporting to stand before him, I crouched down to heal my half older brother's debilitating conditions. I couldn't help wondering how he ended up joining the Night's Watch in less than a decade and why the hell had he kept his name after leaving this life behind.

"W-what…I-I… this is not…" Satin muttered while still not fully awake.

Looking at his appearance as he came back to his senses, I had to admit he was rather attractive, though more like a girl, having dark eyes with a small hint of blue, soft skin, a sweet voice, and black hair in curly ringlets.

Although my uncanny dark figure almost made him shit himself at first sight, I swiftly lowered my hood and removed my mask, revealing my fake Dornish features and friendly face.

"Don't worry, you are safe." I reassured him before asking, using the opportunity to formally introduce ourselves to one another. "Hey, boy, where are your parents?"

"I-I never met my father, as for my mother…She's dead." He replied, apparently buying into the story his captors had told him.

"What's your name?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"Satin…just Satin." He meekly replied.

"I got it. I am Rogue. Just Rogue." Raising him to stand, I offered my hand for a handshake. "Nice to meet you."

"Hmm." Satin hesitated for a moment, unaware of the pile of bodies and unconscious cripples left behind, before accepting my hand.

Leading the boy away from that alleyway, I noticed the vagrant named Tic following me, clearly still in wonder of what he had just witnessed.

"We should go somewhere else, I know a place that isn't much of a home but I believe it beats staying here waiting for more thugs to arrive." Tic said, immediately flinching under my stare only to bow again. "Not that I doubt your…abilities."

I merely nodded and signed for him to lead the way.

Eventually we reached, after entering a barely illuminated labyrinth of tunnels that seemed recently carved in comparison to the rest of the undercity, occupied by more beggars I came to recognize as Tic's companions, and I had to say it was less than I had anticipated.

But still, it was more than enough to give us some privacy.

And also served to inform that there were multiple entrances to this place hidden throughout Oldtown, some even outside its walls.

As for the ten years old boy…

An unfriendly kid on the brink of death is what my father had left behind.

But offering him and Tic one of my best meals, a smash burger and coca-cola, I lowered Satin's suspicions by satisfying his hunger.

Poor boy, the way he gulped everything so quickly reminded me of Rhaenys, though her situation albeit unfortunate wasn't anywhere near as terrible as it had been for this kid.

I wasn't so heartless that I would let him just die, but I wasn't either willing to allow him to claim the throne that my father fought for just because he was older than me.

Introducing myself as a foreigner from a far far away land, I revealed that I've been blessed by the Stranger itself to aid in taking the souls that were misplaced in this world.

From that night onwards, every time I came to visit I found out there was so much I had taught both him and Tic.

Things like how to grip a weapon or how to 'get along' with people and say 'hello', as well as how to swing a deal and how to swing a blade.

Basically, things one needs to know in order to survive here in the undercity while remaining free.

I even introduced Satin to the philosophy of the Faith of the Seven and the Old Gods.

While I would be taking the boy under my care, by claiming that Durrandon Baratheon was the chosen one of the Gods and he could trust him, if this Tic fella wanted to bring some change to things down here, it was up to him to do it alone after I taught him the hang of things.

Thankfully, similar to my half brother, Tic was quick to learn and clever to find solutions to problems, with the added benefit of being fearless in a fight even if he had no hopes of winning.

That and how to better organize and lead this pseudo thieves guild he was part of, by performing elaborate revenge schemes ranging from petty thievery to contractual assassinations on those who would prey on the lowborn of society.

That and contributing in disparate ways to random acts with a desired goal of mutually profitable ends, would assure them a healthy amount of support before I had to step in.

And the prospect of dividing the group's membership so that no one cell could be able to betray all their secrets had to come first, just as I had hinted to Rhaenys.

I just had to teach Tic how to read and write with thieves' cant for future contact, in order to better aid him and his associates once the organization is strong enough to be of use.

Like establishing a rhythm to their actions, vanishing from enemy pursuit, harassing their complacency and earnestly striking whenever they showed signs of weakness.

—————————————————————

A month after my arrival at Oldtown…

Initially, I found a mixed reception at the Citadel when I first arrived here with two noble Lannisters and my swornshield accompanying me.

The Maesters were, of course, pleased that the Crown Prince of the Realm was interested in them and their learning, with the added importance of having a Hightower presenting the place to me, but on the other hand they seemed slightly anxious about the Royal scrutiny.

I couldn't blame them.

It must be pretty comfortable for them, to be generally away from the intrigue of the capital and only engage at it when they chose to, with the luxury of never standing out.

And now comes the royal brat with who knows what agenda?

However, I couldn't care less for their suspicions anyway.

Directly speaking with the Archmarsters in charge, especially the ones that had traveled all the way to the capital in order to deepen my understanding of fields of study such as Economy and Astrology, I requested an inventory of every book they had stored, explaining that I was interested in contributing with their preservation.

Obviously, being the organization freaks they were, they had it with them a pretty robust account of everything, safe for an in depth description of what was stored in their secret vaults, of course.

After handing them a hefty quantity of gold, I took the opportunity to double check everything just in case they had missed anything.

After much cajoling, persuading and more bribing I had been able to grab a hold of dozens of higher ranked acolytes to do my bidding for the rest of the month, one that I've spent to the fullest, coming every day and searching through the Citadel's numerous shelves and repositories in order to map out this place completely.

Why was I wasting my time doing this sort of thing?

Let's just say, in case a tragic fire were to take place, I would be able to make a speed run and store everything that would be useful to me inside my Inventory.

Unfortunately, it had proven harder than I had first anticipated.

Not in regards to finding the restricted areas of the Citadel's collection of knowledge, much less finding my way inside it with my Heartstone allowing me to become ethereal and bypass any safe or vault.

The tricky part was that, contrary to the Iron Throne that mimicked its chaotic and massive counterpart in the books instead of the much smaller prop of the TV series, this Citadel was more like the one depicted in the TV Show.

A mesmerizing collection of all sorts of knowledge on an unrealistic scale, from the trivial to the essential.

While in the books, phrases like "so many books at the Citadel that no man can hope to read them all" or "if the world ended tomorrow, they could rebuild it with the knowledge contained in these books" were mostly overstatements, now I wasn't that much certain about it.

Still, I've come with a mission.

The numbers they had first provided me in exchange for a generous donation were paramount to come up with a realistic plan to list all of the books in the Citadel.

"Another one listed…" I remarked while closing the heavy tome with a snap, startling a few of the acolytes around me that had been tirelessly looking for any vague field of knowledge that might interest me.

Tyrion had decided to lend me his head after he got tired of running errands alongside my Legionnaires on my second week here, leaving the Hound to lead them and 'keep an eye' in case they end up getting in trouble.

"Already?" Asked Tyrion, raising his head from a dusty tome. "Are you even reading anything?"

"Volumes one to thirteen of Archmaester Gorrion's 'On Westerosi Ancient Cultures' had some interesting details… but nothing special. What about you?" I asked back with a casual smirk.

"The descriptions of Old Braavos were nice, but nothing more than history trivia." Said Tyrion with a shrug. "But the essential reads are getting much rarer to find."

We must have actually read less than a tenth of the entire complex, but my operation of mapping where everything was stored was finally reaching its end.

Hours and hours, weeks of sitting through dusty tomes and stained parchment but I hadn't been able to find a single new skill.

Just raising and improving a lot of what I already had.

That's probably due to my early cram with Pycelle in my initial years, so anything new was probably going to appear eventually during my adventures.

I'd been getting faster and more concentrated the more time I spent here though… thinking that I needed to vary the research with some kind of more practical projects, as usual.

Took the opportunity to 'copyright' some songs and stories from my previous life, claiming to be made by my alias as Bard.

Obviously, I was aware of the potential such things had of causing a butterfly effect, but by now, it was inevitable that they were already spreading like wildfire amongst the highborns after my time playing and singing in Chataya's brothel.

Why not extend it to some of the lesser houses and hopefully to the smallfolk as well?

It was just a matter of proper branding and having some of the acolytes and Maesters indirectly helping me out with it.

They certainly were interested in my recipes for hamburgers and Coca-Cola, but I wasn't ready to make it common knowledge yet. I still had plenty of stuff like Pizzas and Lasagnas to show to this world.

As for Daven and Sandor, they had not been as helpful as Tyrion with listing books, but my Pretty Pia had, at least to a degree, helped to clear the most trivial ones.

She knew how to handle herself in a library thanks to the many hours she had spent in Casterly Rock reading about many things, since there were not exactly many things to do when there was a heavy snowstorm outside anyway.

At the moment, Pia was asleep over a thick tome about, of course, Heroes of the past.

I took a drink from a nearby cup of clear water while wiping a bit of filth off the next tome, I've gathered some copies of Combat lessons treaties, references and manuals for Daven to read when he had the chance.

"Another section has been listed in our books." I said after opening the tome while receiving a written report from the acolytes I had working for me.

I took a deep breath before sighing again, our work was finally approaching its end.

"So, uncle, I've been meaning to ask you." I decided to change subjects for a change. "What is your honest opinion of my stories?"

Tyrion raised an eyebrow at my sudden question, but quickly came up with a proper response. "You are a very radical storyteller." He remarked closing the tome he was inspecting and wrote its name alongside a brief description in one of our books. "To my knowledge, you don't follow the literary standards of our time, demonstrating a preference for your own style. Which is both your strength and weakness."

"Interesting." I pondered for a moment at his words. "Please, explain it to me."

This time Tyrion was the one to sigh. "You constantly divert from plot and narrative to dwell on a person, place or thing— often simply because you wanted to. You also pause the flow of the story to linger on songs and myths. Your great heroes and battles are most often secondary plot lines." He raised a pretty good argument. "In the tale you call 'The Lord of the Rings', you've been clear that bigger, better things happened before what was happening in the story you were actually telling. History is certainly central to your stories, often making the main narrative feel like a lesson. All of these things run counter to what one would expect from any novel." Tyrion got up and placed the tome back to its place on the shelf. "If I was someone who thought he was getting to hear about a fantasy story about flawless heroes defeating a villain that was evil for the sake of being evil, your tale would not be it. It is difficult, formal and straight out academic reading at times."

"I see." I acknowledge his point, understanding my limitations in mimicking the work of others.

"But in my opinion…" Tyrion continued. "…all of those are also the reason your storytelling works so well to me. With this particular tale about this place named Middle-Earth, you were less interested in narrative fiction than you are in world-building. The former serves the latter. The totality of your effort is precisely what makes it, ultimately, so immersive. And the fact that it breaks with norms so much is part of what allows me to experience it as something more realistic than most 'fantasy stories'."

"You make a fair argument." I replied in acknowledgment. "Perhaps you might consider writing something, I certainly would like to see what you can come up with."

Tyrion chuckled and shook his head. "I'm sorry, my dear nephew, but I'm more of a reader than a writer."

"If you say so." I shrugged my shoulders before standing up and stretching. "I believe it's enough work for a day. We are so close to the end, it would be best to not rush it now." I turned towards the sleeping Pia. "Wake her up, please. It simply will not do to have her not sleep well after all her good work."

Tyrion smiled, walking towards the girl I've managed to sneak inside the citadel. "Poor lass, she has certainly tried her best to help us out. Even going as far as disguising herself as a boy."

"Indeed. The people from here must be completely blind to mistake her pretty face for the one of a boy." I remarked with a smirk, even if someone had suspected anything, I doubt they could do anything to stop me from having her tagging along. I at least had her whereabouts prepared in case the Hightowers ever came to suspect anything. "We should probably go see Clegane and Daven. Hopefully my swornshield hasn't killed anyone yet."

"Oh, he certainly has." Tyrion argued back while gently shaking the drooling Pia awake. "Let's just hope it's not one of your men."

I nodded, smiling at Pia's cute sleepy face, and the three of us left that section of the Citadel.

It was right there, walking through the wide corridors of the Citadel, that my Observe skill drew my attention to an individual with jangling chains I hadn't considered searching for here of all places.

He was tall, slightly stooped with crinkles around his warm brown eyes. With gray hair, a lean frame, and looks fatherly. His robes were pristine and well sewed, with an impressive maester's chain around his neck.

{QYBURN, MAESTER OF THE CITADEL.}

LV: 30

RACE: ANDAL

ALLEGIANCE: KNOWLEDGE

PWR: 12

END: 14

MOB: 12

INT: 40

STL: 20

DEF: 2* (Maester Clothes)

{Qyburn currently studies at the Citadel and is as skilled a healer as Ebrose (the archmaester at the Citadel who tests novices seeking their link in the arts of healing). However, he currently seeks to surpass the archmaester and instead of opening dead bodies to discover the secrets of the living as the Citadel has done for centuries, Qyburn is currently opening living bodies to discover the secrets of death. He believes it helps him better understand the nature of life and death better than any man in Oldtown. He has respect for Marwyn of the Citadel, the only archmaester who favors Qyburn's way of thinking about the residue of souls after death, but he is starting to perceive the other archmaesters as "gray sheep". Qyburn is clever and loyal, but also amoral and ingratiating.}

To my knowledge, it was never stated when exactly he was exiled from the Citadel, but by the time of the War of Five Kings he was ready to join the Brave Companions in Essos.

What a fortunate turn of events.

Having spent around a month here, by sheer coincidence we came face to face in the halls of this massive institution.

"Uncle, please take Pia safely back to Hightower's castle. Our carriage must be waiting just outside the Citadel." I asked him, signaling for my disguised Death Knight to follow me, while keeping my eyes on the peculiar man. "I need to settle a few matters so we can take our leave in a couple of days."

"Sure thing, Don." Tyrion nodded, aware of the trust I had in him, and thankful that I had accepted his recommendation of getting a means of transportation since I was coming here so often.

Approaching Qyburn, I called for him. "Excuse me, Maester Qyburn, may I have your attention for a moment?"

His eyes betrayed his surprise at noticing I knew him by name.

"O-of course my prince! I'm always happy to help!" Qyburn managed to reply, completely halting his movement and immediately dedicated his full attention towards me.

"Excellent!" I smiled in return. "I was told you would be the perfect man to help me deal with my weakness here."

The old man's expression faltered, showing confusion but still compelling him to ask. "And what that weakness might be, my prince?"

I approached him even more, after making sure that I wasn't being watched by anyone else, making it appear I was sharing a top secret with him. "Curiosity."

"Curiosity?" Qyburn repeated, clearly having not expected such a response.

"I'm afraid so." I nodded with a serious face, hiding my grin with my Player's Mind perk. "You see, I've been having classes with what I was told were the best learned men this institution had to offer since after my first name day. And now I've memorized so much that I'm confident I could make my own chain of links, with each one attesting to my mastery, or at least what these withered old men here in the Citadel consider mastery, of a different area of study."

The old maester's head seemed to be about to explode after considering the implication of both my description of the maesters of the citadel and my high intellect despite my much younger age.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm not completely invalidating what has been taught to me." I spoke before he could ask another question. "But I've come to realize the massive flaw with the order of the maesters. Only one maester in a hundred forges a link about the higher mysteries. Only one maester in a hundred has the sense that gods gave a goat."

Qyburn actually chuckled at my comment, probably having thought the same thing himself.

"You're wiser than most Archmaesters, my prince. No one has performed true magic in centuries. We merely sit in a room mumbling over a candle of dragonglass, trying to make it catch fire. Even now that they are finally burning again, after a sleepless night of failure to make anything out of it, we are expected to admit to our own limitations. To win the link, we are supposed to lose our curiosity." The old man began to open up to me while I drew him to a better place for us to have our talk.

"I've heard you never did." I suddenly replied, knowing I finally got him where I wanted.

"I beg your pardon, my prince…" The old maester made a curious face. "…but who told you that?"

"A group that's tired of the world that the order of Maesters are building. The same maesters that studied without learning and proudly passed down the same knowledge that was passed down to them, with no addition." I hooked him.

Just then I knew he was ready to accept my offer.

"The Alchemist Guild is once again growing strong." I finally announced after making sure through my Mental Map that no one was nowhere near of us. "And they're interested in what you've been learning in secrecy."

"I-I…" Qyburn stuttered, unable to find words to answer.

"Make no mistake, Qyburn." I added while briefly dropping the illusion on the face of my Death Knight, making it seem I just pulled a faceless man stunt, and displayed it as a treasure. "Magic is coming back, the maesters like it or not."

Qyburn immediately shifted his gaze towards the undead's face.

His intense gaze immediately gave space for a satisfied grin, displaying his hunger for knowledge already kicking in.

"How can I serve you and the Guild?" He kneeled before me, and through my Observe skill, I've noticed I've earned his devotion.

With luck, I can make him and Pycelle get along well with Wisdom Hallyne once the Citadel and the Conclave of Archmaesters is no more.

Probably appealing to how both men weren't bound by their vows.

"I want you to halt all your experiments right now so as not to be exposed and immediately seek a higher rank here amongst the maesters, while gathering all the maesters and acolytes with the gift of curiosity. And once the time comes, lead them out of the City before it gets sacked." I told him, covering the undead features of my Death Knight once again. "I will take care of preserving everything of value here."

To his credit, Qyburn's conviction didn't even falter for an instant while hearing of Oldtown being sacked in the future.

As a matter of fact, he actually smiled at it. "You are not only intelligent for your age, but also quite wise. As I'm sure you would agree, my prince, sometimes before we can usher in the new, the old must be put to rest."

Finishing the remaining details of his work here, I gifted him with the first pages of my studies about necromancy. Not enough to risk him coming up with cantrips and spells, but more than enough to hook his devotion.

————————————————————————

After taking the time to introduce Satin as another servant I was willing to take under my wing, like with Pia's case, I allowed him to finally have some rest and comfort inside the Hightower.

He wasn't anywhere near as capable of killing like Rhaenys, but the boy had a certain skill for thievery and deception, and I was counting that he could have some hidden potential to be unlocked with the blood we both shared with our father.

Sandor and Daven didn't seem to care about the boy, even the usually shrewd Tyrion took my explanation at face value with questioning at all.

As for Pia, the poor girl seemed a little jealous at first, mistaking Satin's appearance for the one of a girl. Now she just wants to help him to feel at home, probably out of guilt.

As for Tic, the man had aided me to cripple the criminal business of Oldtown, so in return I provided him with the necessary support for placing his companions in that vacuum we created.

Basically money and equipment of good quality.

Besides, he had also helped me spread the rumors that the Citadel had some valuable treasures hidden in its vaults. One of my glimpses of the future had informed me that it would be beneficial to me in the long term, which was fairly rare for my Portent feature.

It now fell to Tic the responsibility of managing his group and not becoming worse than the slavers he had fought against. Though the usual resistance of those no longer in power and control of the undercity was already expected by both of us.

Now, with Pia introducing Satin to their duties and Tic being allowed time alone without my presence, I took the opportunity to delve into the magical dungeon hidden underneath the Citadel.

But first, since my days here were numbered, I decided to climb the top of the Hightower again, briefly noticing that tonight Lord Leyton Hightower and his daughter were sleeping, probably confident that their dreams were the key to their attempts of performing Divination magic.

Standing on top of this city, I took a deep breath, enjoying the seaward breeze from such altitude, looking at the cloudless night showing the moon and stars, their light quickly coming out of focus as I leapt forward and began casting my latest spell with a small leather loop on hand and my heartstone in the other.

Staring downwards, as the wind whistled past me, I saw the waves crashing against the rapidly approaching sharp rocks of Battle Isle.

Before I fell past three thirds of the Hightower full height, my spell immediately took action.

{LEVITATION Lv- 1(0%)}

[SECOND CLASS TRANSMUTATION SPELL: One creature or object of your choice that you can see within range rises vertically, up to 6 meters, and remains suspended there for the duration. The spell can levitate a target that weighs up to 250 Kilograms. The target can move only by pushing or pulling against a fixed object or surface within reach (such as a wall or a ceiling), which allows it to move as if it were climbing. You can change the target's altitude in either direction after the spell is already in effect, as long as it remains within your reach. If you are the target, you can move up or down as part of your natural movement. When the spell ends, the target floats gently to the ground if it is still aloft.]

CASTING TIME: 6 SECONDS

RANGE: 20 METERS

COMPONENTS: V, S, M (Either a small leather loop or a piece of golden wire bent into a cup shape with a long shank on one end)

DURATION: CONCENTRATION, UP TO 10 MINUTES.

My free fall was gently halted until I reached the ground and dropped my Levitation spell.

Staring up at the distance I just fell from. 'Not exactly flying like a bird, but still very useful for safely doing my Leap of Faith.' I gave an unusual grin. 'Not to mention fun.'

Even the limitation of moving only vertically could be worked around thanks to my Tempestuous Magic to have whirling gusts of elemental air to briefly surround me and take me 3 meters in any direction, or even my Starry Form while embodying the dragon constellation.

And even if floating in the air wasn't something I wanted to do all the time, given that unlike while being Ethereal, Levitating didn't make me immune to damage from ranged attacks, the added bonus of descending gently into the ground was something I could always find a use for.

Especially since I could use it instead of my Monk's Slow Fall, whenever the fall damage was too high to be mitigated.

Now, diving into the cold waters of the honeywine in my aquatic form and swam toward the citadel without having to breathe at an inhuman speed.

I didn't know what I had come to expect, but it was at first glance a kind of boring catacomb compared to the others I've been through.

No hordes of undead marching to greet me as soon as I stepped deep enough into it, no bodies of water, golden statues or natural gardens. Hell, even the conventional traps were nowhere to be found.

Granted, this one had more bends and turns than normal, which led me to identify it as a more subtle looking labyrinth. But instead of the usual filth covering all the floors, walls and ceilings, the way how immaculately clean this place was got me alerted.

Soon enough, after mapping this place for a few minutes, I identified an enemy in my Mental Map.

At first I didn't see anything out of the ordinary, but my Observe skill eventually showed me something interesting.

{ATHCOID, LARGE OOZE}

{LV - 20}

POW: 42

MOB: 9

END: 60

INT: 3

STL: 35

DEF: 0*

HP: 1000

SPEED: 15 ft.

DAMAGE IMMUNITIES: NON-MAGICAL SLASHING, PIERCING AND BLUDGEONING, LIGHTING.

CONDITIONS IMMUNITIES: BLINDED, CHARMED, DEAFENED, EXHAUSTION, FRIGHTENED, PRONE.

DAMAGE RESISTANCES: COLD, FORCE.

DAMAGE VULNERABILITIES: FIRE.

SENSES: BLINDSIGHT 60 ft. (Attracted to vibrations and warmth)

LANGUAGES: NONE.

[OOZE NATURE: Natural immunity to non-magical slashing, piercing and bludgeoning damage. The athcoid takes up its entire space, hence why many call it a gelatinous cube as it is usually found in underground tunnels. And its malleable body can fit inside any space one-inch wide.]

[ENGULF: It can momentarily dash towards its prey and attempt to forcefully engulf it, restricting its movement and not allowing it to breath while also constantly dealing acidic damage.]

[TRANSPARENT: Even when it is in plain sight, it is very hard to spot, and can easily be entered by any creature unaware of its presence.]

[PSEUDOPOD: Melee attack that deals poisonous damage and has a chance of paralyzing the target and making it easier for the athcoid to feed on it.]

Funny how after knowing what I was looking for, I could finally see it.

Giant, quivering, cube of acidic slime lumbering and scouring through the halls and passages of the dungeon like a living roombas trap, sucking everything in its path, whether it's dust particles and moss, small rats and bugs or actual creatures that were unfortunate to enter its hunting grounds, devouring and dissolving all soft living organic tissue into nothing.

"Got you!" I said, immediately hurling eight beams of my Eldritch Blast, four crackling loud beams from each hand.

[-80 HP]

[920/1000 HP]

The creature ate all of them, sponging the magical damage I threw at it like a pro.

Now with its attention on me, I dashed forward with a grin and blew two Chromatic Orbs of fire at it while also empowering it with my Metamagic.

[-5 MP]

[-640 HP]

[280/1000 HP]

'Nice!' I quickly celebrated while noticing how much I hurt it, as the slime began to boil and melt.

The ooze attempted to get me with one of its pseudopods, but I quickly dodged all of them, only to finish things by hurling another point-blank twined Chromatic Orb.

The Gelatinous Cube exploded and evaporated, leaving nothing behind.

Enjoying the feeling of a new challenge, I fastened my pace and delved deeper into the dungeon, eventually spotting several Athcoids.

Somehow, while standing still, hidden in the frequent alcoves and pit traps spread throughout this place, its transparent nature was almost impossible to notice with regular senses, making it a formidable ambusher that quickly engulfs any prey into its acidic body.

Especially those sneaky bastards that drip from the ceilings.

I have no idea how hard it would be for me to swim out of them, but I wasn't that curious to let them catch me either.

Interestingly, while testing the effectiveness of my Valyrian steel weapons against these oozes, I found that their pseudopods weren't that much of a threat to deal with.

Just pivoting whenever the tendrils came my way and cutting them out was more than enough, though I had to be aware how acidic the slime fragments became once separated from the main body.

Aside from ambushing, they didn't seem to possess any other type of tactics or self-preservation, merely sliding towards their next meal in a very predictable manner.

Drawn to warmth and movement, and ignoring cold and unmoving objects, it was very easy to bait a large group of them to a barrel of my Alchemist Fire.

*BOOOOOOOOOOM!

I got plenty of XP once the last Athcoid was dealt with.

And to my surprise, from the mass killing I just caused, I found a single small ooze barely alive, probably the only of its kind further enough from the explosion my Alchemist Fire caused to survive.

Retrieving a glass jar out of my Inventory, I stored the little blob inside and saved it for future studies.

'These creatures must be hella scary for regular people.' I acknowledged, immediately thinking about a fictional plot for one of my own stories. 'Just imagine being lost in a cave, when you hear a squish, prompting you to immediately light your torch and look around. Only to see a cube that looks like it's made of jelly, but with bones inside it. It creeps toward you as you back away. You trip, and your foot is stuck under a big rock. You scream for help as the cube absorbs you. Trying desperately to rip it open from inside, but failing miserably. The last thing you see is the cave, blotted out from the blue of the Gelatinous Cube.'

After writing that for later, I finally found the entrance to the Treasure Room of this dungeon.

However, surrounding the entrance frame, a massive shelve covered the entire wall.

At first glance, one would be forgiven for thinking that this was the treasure that they've earned after finding their way past the Athcoids, given it was covered by expensive looking jewelry.

But I knew better, since my Mental Map warned me that there was a crowd of enemies right before me.

Using Observe to learn what I was dealing with, I got…

{MIMIC, SMALL SHAPECHAMGER}

{LV - 20}

POW: 45

MOB: 46

END: 39

INT: 15

STL: 40

DEF: 0*

HP: 700

SPEED: 10 ft.

DAMAGE IMMUNITIES: ACID.

CONDITIONS IMMUNITIES: PRONE.

SENSES: DARKVISION 60 ft.

LANGUAGES: ONLY A FEW WORDS OF SEVERAL LANGUAGES.

[SHAPECHANGER: The mimic can polymorph into an object or back into its true, amorphous form. Its statistics are the same in each form. Any equipment it is wearing or carrying isn't transformed. It reverts to its true form if it dies.]

[ADHESIVE (OBJECT FORM ONLY): The mimic adheres to anything that touches it and makes all attempts of escape much harder. A Huge or smaller creature adhered to the mimic is also grappled by it.]

[FALSE APPEARANCE (OBJECT FORM ONLY): While the mimic remains motionless, it is indistinguishable from an ordinary object.]

[PSEUDOPOD: Melee attack that deals bludgeoning damage and has a chance of activating its adhesive ability.]

[BITE: Melee attack that deals piercing and acidic damage.]

'These shapechanger predators and their ability to alter their form in order to lure their prey.' I sighed as I approached the group of Mimics. 'Thankfully, from my previous knowledge, they didn't seem inherently evil or vindictive…' I thought before throwing pieces of meat for them to eat. "… they are just animals that are trying to eat to survive."

Mimics are very bitey, hungry little critters by nature, and most of them are food motivated. Basically if the oozes I've faced were more solid and intelligent than gelatinous and brain dead.

Why else would they risk eating adventuring parties?

"Food…good!" Many of them replied, coming out of their camouflage before staring at me.

Witnessing these piranhas quickly devour all the food I provided them, I got the danger they would be to an ignorant prey, especially if they all jumped together.

"More!" A couple of mimics attempted to bite me after dropping to the ground, only to be crushed beneath my armored feet.

"Hungry!" Another slightly larger one was dumb enough to make the same mistake, by jumping down from its higher place on the shelf with its mouth open, and I immediately made it pay by showering it with my Eldritch Blast.

"Anyone else?" I asked, exhaling my frightening aura at them with my cold stare.

While most of the others either scurried away like cockroaches, by dragging themselves over the walls and ceilings, or shapechanged back to their disguises while still trembling in fear, one smaller mimic stood out and carefully approached me.

"Sorry…no eat you. Want… make… deal." I hear it actually attempting to bargain, with each word mimicking a different voice and tone. "Obey… you…feed… me."

I had to raise my eyebrow at that, this one was actually more intelligent than I had first anticipated.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Gobble." It muttered before asking. "You?"

"Master, is fine." I casually answered.

"Mmm…sss…trrrr…" Gobble failed to pronunciate, only to succeed in his second attempt, though this time he spoke with my voice. "Master."

"It's weird, but I will allow it." I shrugged. "Will you obey me if I keep feeding you, Gobble? Is that it?" I questioned, wanting to make things clear between us.

"Yes." It replied with its mouth filled with sharp teeth and long tongue as we shared stares and I looked for signs of deception.

"Alright." I accepted, throwing a succulent piece of meat I had cooked myself. "Better find a more convenient disguise though."

As the creature munched the food I gave it, it immediately turned into a small pouch of coins made of black leather.

'Oh, Shadow and Page have a new friend.' I mentally chuckled before picking the seemingly normal pouch up, momentarily testing how trustworthy was the word of a mimic while also appreciating its shape changing skill.

"Stick to my belt." I ordered it, and the mimic did as it was told. "You can take a finger from anyone that tries to pick you without my consent."

"Yes…master." The pouch of coins manifested a mouth and one red eye while replying, but camouflaged again soon after.

'I want to see anyone trying to pickpocket me, only to lose a finger or two without knowing why.' I grinned and moved to open the Treasure Room of this dungeon.

Taking the opportunity to use my Arcane Lock spell on it to seal the entrance shut once again, I made sure that none of the Mimics I spared would disturb me.

Finally inspecting what I've earned for this quite lucrative dungeon, I was once again reminded that it wasn't for nothing that the Citadel was considered the greatest repository of knowledge in the known world.

From all the cultural background and importance the Hightowers had to its foundation, the chamber before was just as large as the one under Highgarden and Casterly Rock, offering a pretty large work office I could use for future studies and lectures I could provide to my chosen disciples.

A large vault, carved out of smooth yet simple stone, with plenty of shelves of many floors covering most of their surfaces, safe for six large blackboards, similar to the ones found in the Citadel and schools of my previous life.

Only these ones had arcane knowledge written all over them.

[BLACKBOARD OF INTERMEDIATE ABJURATION]

{WOULD YOU LIKE TO ABSORB THE KNOWLEDGE IT POSSESSES?}

[YES/NO]

Without wasting a second I pressed "YES", causing the annotations before me to fade away as if a strong breeze had cleaned it off and the arcane knowledge was immediately absorbed into my mind.

[ABJURATION MAGIC - Lv 40 (0%)]

{HOW MUCH YOU UNDERSTAND ABOUT THE ARCANE KNOWLEDGE OF THE SCHOOL OF ABJURATION.}

Quickly walking towards the next panel and repeating the same action and felt the influx of more knowledge to flood my mind.

[TRANSMUTATION MAGIC - Lv 40 (0%)]

{HOW MUCH YOU UNDERSTAND ABOUT THE ARCANE KNOWLEDGE OF THE SCHOOL OF TRANSMUTATION.}

'More!'

[CONJURATION MAGIC - Lv 40 (0%)]

{HOW MUCH YOU UNDERSTAND ABOUT THE ARCANE KNOWLEDGE OF THE SCHOOL OF CONJURATION.}

'Don't stop!'

[ENCHANTMENT MAGIC - Lv 40 (0%)]

{HOW MUCH YOU UNDERSTAND ABOUT THE ARCANE KNOWLEDGE OF THE SCHOOL OF ENCHANTMENT.}

'Hell yeah!'

[EVOCATION MAGIC - Lv 40 (0%)]

{HOW MUCH YOU UNDERSTAND ABOUT THE ARCANE KNOWLEDGE OF THE SCHOOL OF EVOCATION.}

'Unnnnlimited…'

[ILLUSION MAGIC - Lv 40 (0%)]

{HOW MUCH YOU UNDERSTAND ABOUT THE ARCANE KNOWLEDGE OF THE SCHOOL OF ILLUSION.}

'Poooooweeeer!'

I felt the surge of magical knowledge to go past all the limits I've found during my long studies with Page.

Making sure that the upper silver ring lit up a small signal to inform me I had unlocked the Citadel, I turned to face the ceiling and the colorful mosaic tiles on the ceiling depicting a scene of a great cosmological wheel filled with circular interlocking gears, as if the entire world was a place of rules. Law and process. Organization above all.

Ignoring the fact that gears like those seemed a little out of place in this world, I dismissed it for later and focused on something else.

'Where is the intermediate knowledge of both Divination and Necromancy?' I thought while desperately inspecting the empty shelves.

Hanging from almost tem meters above ground, I gave up searching and sighed.

'Guess I will have to keep looking.'

Making my way out of the dungeon with a massive feeling of disappointment, I left the Citadel while Invisible.

————————————————————————

(06/12/2021)

(11/12/2021)

(25/12/2021)

(15/07/2022)

*Hope this chapter is of your liking.

Anything you wish to ask or suggest, feel free to do so.

Check out my auxiliary chapter if you still haven't.

Thanks as always for your attention and please be safe.

Any problems with my writing, just point them out and I will correct them as soon as possible.

** Sorry for the constant delays.

*** As for the constant info dumps about the logistics of raising and maintaining a personal army, I will try to tone it down since most of you seem to not enjoy it that much. 😅 I'm aware that my writing skills aren't that high to make it more of a pleasant reading experience. Sorry if it really bothered you.

**** Shoutout to both fics: "The Ladder" by "Twubs" at Fanfiction.com and "Purple Days" by "barus" at forums.spacebattles.com. Really digging both stories.

***** To those that aren't fans of the MC revealing his powers to people, I have three arguments as to why I'm not keeping it a complete secret. First, he will eventually be known as a powerful individual capable of wielding magic. Second, it's much more helpful for those serving him to be made aware of some aspects like his magic, in order to either persuade them or merely make them useful in helping the MC work with his plans. Third, it helps me avoid writing everything as a jornal of everything that is happening without dialogues.

****** Merry Christmas everyone!!! 🎅🎄🎁😁 (I first released this chapter in Christmas Eve 😅)