"King Aerys Targaryen, second of his name, summons you to a meeting."
My personal guard tenses.
"Very well, I shall follow you. Beren, go to Lord Stark and my father and inform them of my whereabouts."
"Yes, Ser," Beren replies reluctantly.
Turning back to the window, I see the girl still sitting there, but this time she is looking at the Archmaester, who was being led away by more Targaryen guards.
'It seems this will be quite an unusual meeting.'
***
Archmaester Culler
Splendid. Simply splendid. I had great expectations when I first heard the reports written by Maester Yves regarding the Mormont boy's feats, expectations that he surpassed to a level I did not think possible.
Every letter sent to the Citadel, detailing his magical feats in the war they exaggeratedly call the 'Second Long Night,' caused chaos among my closed-minded peers.
Healing Lord Stark from the brink of death, creating the conditions that allowed for the death of thousands of Drowned, strengthening the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and Lord Rickard, summoning storms, demons made of wind, and giant spiders.
I have studied all the history of magic available in the Citadel library, and I state with certainty that there is no account of a magic user who compares to him. He is something never seen before.
He single-handedly brought victory to humanity. Maester Yves said the same about his part in the first invasion of the Iron Islands against Bear Island, but the magics reported then do not compare to what he used at Old Wyk.
Was he holding back before, or did he learn more in the short period between battles? No one among the high ranks of the Citadel knew the answer, but that did not stop them from panicking.
While the other Archmaesters grew fearful and debated how to get rid of him, I only imagined what else he knew and how I could get my hands on his knowledge.
Fools. Fools, all of them. The revelation of the resurgence of magic is a path of no return. Hopefully, they will realize this reality before it is too late and they are left behind.
I, on the other hand, will not stay on this sinking ship.
***
22nd day of the 8th moon, 269 A.C.
The Hour of the Rest (1 P.M.)
Lannisport, Lion's Den
"Our fables tell stories of the existence of the walking dead, the White Walkers, roaming beyond the Wall, Your Grace, but the Lord Commander has reported nothing to me that even resembles White Walkers beyond the Wall. Only the same old wildlings."
Lord Rickard Stark answers King Aerys, who was sitting in the lord's chair at the table.
"Then where did these walking dead and the winter from the Septon's vision come from?" Pointing his finger occasionally at the seated Septon of serene expression, Aerys asks in an accusatory manner. "The North has the duty to protect the Seven Kingdoms against threats beyond the Wall, Lord Stark. And you seem to have failed in it."
Aerys did not pull any punches.
Around the table, all the other participants of the meeting watched the scene in silence, not wanting to draw his wrath upon themselves.
All of us, myself, Lord Stark, Maester Dunaver, Archmaester Gilbert, and Septon Mycah, were summoned here by the King and his Hand to discover a way to deal with the vision presented by the Septon who claimed to be a prophet.
'Those most qualified to deal with the matter,' was what Aerys said when we all sat down.
But the meeting that should have been about how to prevent the apparent destruction of Westeros quickly became about finding the culprit.
Aerys began questioning Lord Rickard. Questioning how he could, in the future, let the walking dead pass through the Wall.
"The purpose of the Wall is to prevent the passage of wildlings, Your Grace, not monsters from fairy tales. And we do not even know if this vision—" Stark casts a skeptical look at the Septon, who does not react to having his character put into question. "—is true."
His submissive tone vanished. It seems the wolf lord decided to show his teeth. Brave, but hardly wise.
"I believe it is, Lord Rickard. I have too much to lose to bet against it and be wrong. So you had better start strengthening your wall of ice. Or I shall have to call the banners again. Do not act as Quellon acted and allow your kingdom to become a threat to the rest. Do not turn the North into another Iron Island. If Westeros continues to lose kingdoms like this, soon I will have to stop calling myself King of the Seven Kingdoms."
Trying to hold himself back, Lord Rickard clenches his jaw.
Even Lord Tywin shifts uncomfortably at the King's words.
Apparently, our King was becoming quite comfortable with the idea of simply putting an end to kingdoms that had existed for millennia before his family's even arrived in Westeros.
While we, the adults, perceived the King wanting to become an emperor, a youthful voice speaks up, drawing everyone's attention and making us turn our heads.
"The North will fulfill its duty, Your Grace; there is nothing to worry about. I myself will do my part. But the other kingdoms must also do theirs."
Ser Alaric 'The Dauntless' Mormont speaks in rescue of his liege lord and kingdom.
"The Night's Watch has been declining every year, and wildling attacks have been increasing. The North has been asking the South for help to reinforce it for a long time, but we were ignored repeatedly, and the duty remains solely on our shoulders, since the danger of the wildlings always affected only the North. But now that the danger beyond the Wall is a threat to all the Seven Kingdoms, it is time for the South to help in keeping the Wall manned and equipped."
The young boy possessed considerable intelligence for his age. He not only showed knowledge of the geo-political problems of the North, but was also tactful enough to say they asked the 'South' for help in a generalized way, without specifying that the South he refers to is the one with the only power to make all others obey the command to reinforce the Wall: The Iron Throne.
And consequently, King Aerys himself. At least for the last seven years, since his father died and he inherited. Seven years of personal negligence. 269 years of family negligence.
Apparently, he is not only talented with the higher mysteries. Provoking the King by pointing out the disservice of the dragon family would achieve nothing.
And by the raising of Lord Rickard's eyebrows, he was also impressed with the Mormont.
But we were not the only ones to be impressed. I can also see the classic expression of acceptance from Archmaester Gilbert, who refuses to wear his silver mask, and the interest of Maester Dunaver, the maester of Lion's Den.
Even Aerys, oblivious to the intention behind the words, nodded his head in agreement.
The only ones impassive were the Septon, who maintained a serene expression and remained apart from the whole discussion, and Lord Tywin, who was the first to speak in response to the boy's words.
"The Westerlands will send reinforcements."
"Your help will be welcome, Lord Hand," Lord Rickard thanks him, although there is no tenderness in his voice when addressing the man.
Attempting something like stealing a Valyrian steel sword is not something easily set aside.
Even I did not believe Tywin's audacity when the talented Malora initially informed us of what she read in the head of the second most powerful man in Westeros.
"I myself will speak with Lord Leyton. We are quite close, and I can advise him to also send reinforcements," I add.
Lord Rickard nods his head to me in gratitude.
Aerys then speaks again.
"That will help, but it is not enough. I want the Night's Watch to stop sitting on their asses at the Wall and create outposts beyond the Wall. I want the North beyond the Wall totally watched."
"That will be extremely difficult, Your Grace," the Lord of the North warns. "Even at its peak, the Night's Watch failed to establish outposts beyond the Wall. The terrain there is too inhospitable. The wildlings can barely survive, which is why they try to jump the Wall to the south."
"The fact that something has never been done before does not mean it is impossible, Lord Stark," Tywin says. "If the wildlings can survive, even if only barely, then we can do better."
"Hm," Aerys grunts in silent agreement. "And with Ser Alaric saying he will do his part, there is nothing to worry about considering the talents he displayed at Old Wyk," the King adds.
The King's eyes fixate on the boy, certainly thinking of his magic.
"As impressive as his skills may be, Ser Alaric is still very young and, more importantly, valuable for the future, Your Grace. Placing him in the infantry against an unknown and powerful threat that has survived in hiding for millennia, according to the tales, would be very reckless."
Cunning lion.
By the way the boy looked at Tywin, he also noticed Tywin's move.
"I thank you for your concerns, Lord Hand, but there is no need to worry. I have more than what is necessary to survive beyond the Wall." He shifts his gaze from Tywin and observes all those seated around the table as he continues: "So, with the North discussed, what of the South? Does anyone know who is responsible for the fire?"
When he finishes speaking, he halts his wandering gaze on me for a moment longer than the others, locking eyes with mine.
In that brief moment, I hear a muffled version of his voice ring in my mind.
'Say something, quick!'
Ha… he wants me to help him divert attention from himself.
"They are Red Priests!" I speak up unnecessarily loudly, giving neither the King nor his Hand a chance to return to the previous subject. "The red robes and fire magic described by Septon Mycah are consistent with those of Essosi men and women."
"Why would they come to Westeros? We have never done anything against them," Lord Stark asks.
"They must have finally decided to spread their religion over us by force," Archmaester Gilbert speaks for the first time since the meeting began.
Following his example, Maester Dunaver also speaks for the first time.
"I heard that the Red Faith has become much more active since the passage of the… of recent years." He hesitates to mention the comet. "To the point of burning hundreds of slaves in sacrifice to their god, but instigating the Free Cities to a war against us? Is that not too much even for them?"
"They are fanatics," I explain the basics to them. "Common sense is not even part of their vocabulary."
"Well, they seem to have won the war in Septon Mycah's vision, Archmaester Culler, so perhaps you underestimate their common sense."
As always, Gilbert seems to take pleasure in contradicting me, even if he has to sit on the wrong side to do it.
"We would have to be occupied with the walking dead of the North to be defeated by them. Believe me, Your Grace. Westeros would never lose a war against them, or Essos in general. We must focus on strengthening the North so we are not caught weakened by them."
Aerys watched me with his elbow resting on the table and his hand supporting his chin, his palm covering his mouth. His eyes, which did not yet show that he believed me, traveled between Gilbert and me.
"Westeros has entered into war with the Free Cities in the past, Archmaester Culler," Gilbert continues. "They were not easy to win. And this time, perhaps all the Free Cities will unite against us, instead of just the Triarchy."
I cannot help but sigh at hearing such ignorance.
"Westeros never united to fight against the Triarchy, Archmaester Gilbert. Westeros managed to repel them from the Stepstones with only the forces of House Velaryon and Dragonstone."
"And two dragons," Aerys says, making me pause for a moment.
He had a frown. It seems it was not wise to remind him of the era that preceded the beginning of his house's decline.
He was also scratching his arm, as if he were trying to feel something beneath his doublet. Probably the reptilian scales reported by Grand Maester Pycelle.
Something I will have to verify myself in the future.
"And two dragons, Your Grace. But still, our numerical superiority alone is too much for the Free Cities; besides, should they manage to set foot on the continent, they will have to fight where we are best. Take the Dothraki, for example, savages who manage to extort them through numerical advantage and competence in land combat. With the exception of their sellswords, the Essosi are no different from the Ironborn."
His frown slowly softens.
It seems I managed to calm and convince him.
"They perhaps also have a god behind them." I hear a voice that had not spoken since he introduced himself to everyone there.
Turning to its source, I find myself facing the Septon who claimed to be close to the Seven themself, staring at me with his serene gaze.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
For 6 advanced chapter, you can go to my patreon: Patreon.com/Keiondir