"What do you want from me?" The red-nosed old man slid off Gran's back and asked feebly.
"What's going on with you? Just the day before yesterday you were healthy and energetic, bustling around the wildling camp treating over a hundred patients. How did you suddenly become so feeble?" Dany asked with a forced concerned look, trying to suppress her laughter.
"I…" The old man's lifeless eyes turned toward the wooden stake where the wight was tied. "I saw it. I saw it all. The White Walkers are real. The Night's Watch and the wildlings weren't lying to me. The White Walkers really exist!"
"And so?" Dany appeared confused.
"Wuuu…" The old maester burst into tears. "The White Walkers have nothing to do with dragons. Without dragons and magic, humanity wouldn't even be able to forge Valyrian steel, let alone create Lightbringers!
The 'real world' the Citadel pursued for centuries was wrong—so wrong. If survival itself can't be ensured, then the so-called 'real world' is just the most illusory of delusions."
"Heh," Dany laughed out loud with delight. "So you finally realized you were wrong? Then it's time to atone!"
"Atonement? What crime has Maester Perestan committed? Isn't he the maester assigned to serve you?" some uninformed brothers of the Night's Watch asked in confusion.
Indeed, aside from Maester Aemon, no one else knew about the Citadel's plot against the Dragon Queen, nor that Perestan had been sent to the Wall as a prisoner and criminal.
Like Aemon once did, they assumed the Dragon Queen had followed Westerosi tradition and chosen a maester from the Citadel to assist her—though it was obvious to everyone that her attitude toward the old man was quite unusual, not at all like a liege lord toward their maester.
"Old man, go ahead and tell them," Dany crossed her arms and nodded toward him. "Today, you will officially take the black. Your brothers of the Night's Watch must understand why you're here, so that you can sever ties with the past, and your former sins will no longer follow you."
"I…" The old maester looked up blankly, only to see the Night's Watch brothers, knights, and wildlings all blinking their curious eyes at him.
Suddenly, a shiver ran through him, clearing his mind and restoring his spirit.
"I'm sick. Can I say it next time?" he pleaded pitifully.
"Weren't you all self-righteous before, saying you had a clear conscience? An upheaval like what happened at the Citadel can't be hidden. Even if the Wall is isolated, the news will get here eventually," Dany said, shaking her head.
"Sigh…" The old man's cheeks, which had just flushed with agitation, turned pale again. Facing the direction of the Night's Watch, he said, "I violated guest rights. When Queen Daenerys visited the Citadel as a guest, I poisoned her. And—"
"Whoosh!" Gasps erupted all around. No one could have imagined that this frail, sickly old man would drop such a shocking bombshell.
"By the Seven, what is happening to Westeros lately? Violations of guest rights keep occurring. Who would dare visit someone else's home again?" Ser Melisandre exclaimed in shock and anger.
"Are you insane?!" Stannis, who had been tending to the bandages on his right hand, suddenly turned around and shouted in disbelief.
"Maester Perestan, why did you do that? Aren't maesters sworn to strict neutrality, forbidden from engaging in political struggles?" Jon stepped forward with a dark expression.
"Bah, southerners are truly morally bankrupt," a wildling sneered at the old man with disdain.
The red-nosed old man glanced numbly at the crowd pointing fingers at him and continued, "In addition to poisoning her, I arranged for ambushes with crossbows and assassins on both sides of her quarters. On the rooftops and grounds, over five hundred archers and more than a hundred dragon-slaying scorpions were prepared.
I knew there was a mysterious connection between dragons and their riders. If the dragonrider were suddenly killed, the dragons would surely come to investigate or avenge her. At that point, the scorpions would be able to bring down Queen Daenerys's dragons."
Those who had been cursing the old maester fell silent, each one stunned speechless, jaws dropping in disbelief.
"The Citadel has gone mad. The maesters have gone mad. House Hightower of Oldtown has gone mad!" The knights and lords of the Stag faction shook their heads in disbelief.
"I had no personal grudge with Queen Daenerys. I did all this only to fulfill the ideal of a 'real world.'" The old man then poured out everything about the Real World doctrine and the secret history behind the Dance of the Dragons.
The entire place fell silent—no one even scolded him anymore. For every listener, there was a gaping mouth and bulging eyes.
The shock was overwhelming. Everyone looked at the old maester as if he were an alien from another world.
Most couldn't understand what the "Real World" was about. They only knew the Citadel was powerful, insane, and terrifying enough to wipe out dozens of Targaryen dragons.
A few who did grasp the Citadel's ideology felt a chill in their hearts—could maesters with their own will and ambitions still be trusted by nobles?
It was now clear: the maesters of the Citadel treated their sacred oaths as empty words.
Regardless of whether dragons are good or bad for the world, the maesters did swear loyalty to the Iron Throne and to stay out of politics.
If today they could destroy dragons in the name of the Real World, would they not, tomorrow, slaughter all nobles and priests in pursuit of a "fair world"?
Fat Sam stepped forward, puffing out his cheeks and said, "Maester, the Citadel has two purposes. First, to explore the truth of the world and treat knowledge as faith. Second, to serve selflessly the people and nobles of the Seven Kingdoms.
Very few can grasp the arcane, but no one can deny that magic is a form of knowledge too. You may choose which knowledge to study, but you cannot erase the knowledge you can't understand.
It's like warriors choosing their weapons. Some wield swords, some wield hammers, others spears or bows.
You can't choose a sword and then declare on behalf of all the world's warriors that only swords are right. Nor can you destroy hammers, spears, and bows, trying to erase other weapons from existence."
Dany looked at the doughy-faced fat boy in surprise. She hadn't expected him to have such insight and courage.
"Sam, you're right. I was wrong. The Citadel was wrong," the old man bowed his head and sighed.
"I think the Citadel's Real World ideal is a good one," Stannis suddenly said. "A world without magic, dragons, gods, or White Walkers would be far more humane."
"Is that something the Holy Child of the Lord of Light should be saying?" Dany's mouth twitched.
"This doesn't conflict with my faith in the Lord of Light," Deer II replied solemnly. "When the world is free of demons and monsters, His Majesty R'hllor will reign high in the astral realm, watching over the peaceful world as the sun rises and sets."
"That's not right," Perysstan shook his head. "Your thinking, like mine once was, and like that of the scholars in the Citadel, has fallen into a trap.
The world gave birth to us — we did not create the world.
The world is here, right in front of us. It has existed for millions of years and will continue to exist for countless more.
Everyone longs for an eternal summer, but the cycle of the seasons has nothing to do with what we desire.
Even now, I believe the ideals of the real world are beautiful — as beautiful as eternal summer. But this is a world of magic, destined to have gods and sorcery.
If humanity cannot adapt, we will be eliminated.
Take the Long Night, for example — the White Walkers clearly possess intelligence and civilization.
We hated magic, denied its existence, and even drove dragons to extinction. As a result, we lost the ability to fight magical beings. In the Long Night, we perished, and the White Walkers replaced us as the new humans of this continent.
The world still exists, and it continues to run as usual."
"…What?" Stannis was stunned.
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"Old man, you've really grown in awareness and insight lately!" Dany stared oddly at the red-nosed old maester.
"I violated the guest right and hurt you. I'm willing to don the black." The old man glanced at Dany, then turned to scan the Night's Watch, shouting, "I've said everything I need to. Who will lead me in reciting the Night's Watch oath?"
The senior members of the Night's Watch exchanged glances, hesitant and unsure.
"Your Grace, can we just kill him with one stroke?" Eastwatch commander Cotter Pyke said grimly to Dany. "Or feed him to the dragons? We Night's Watchmen don't care much about a man's past, but there are some unspoken rules — we don't take in those who break guest right."
The old maester's face turned pale as he cried out in panic, "Since when was that a rule?"
Even the Night's Watch didn't want him. Where else could he go?
"There's no official rule," Bowen Marsh swallowed hard, "but no one wants to be brothers with someone who broke guest right."
"That's right, that's right," Dimwit Grenn nodded repeatedly. "I don't even know what you guys were talking about just now — the world, reality, I don't get it. But it's obvious this guy is the same kind as Walder Frey and the Rat Cook.
Gods, make me the Rat Cook's brother? No way!"
"Yeah," added Toad with a nod. "Male prostitutes, rapists, murderers — I can tolerate them. But the Rat Cook? That's just too disgusting."
"I'm not like the Rat Cook or Walder Frey!" the old maester trembled with rage. "I acted for the sake of ideals, without personal grudges or gain."
"No difference. A thousand years ago, there was a Rat Cook. A thousand years later, you, Perysstan, will become the infamous 'New Rat Cook.'
After all, you betrayed a great king. As long as humanity exists, this will never be forgotten," gloomy Edd said matter-of-factly.
"Sigh… Walder Frey should thank you," said Ser Melis. "With you taking the heat, he might manage to hide quietly in history — at least not as obviously."
The old maester closed his eyes in despair. Two streaks of tears slid down his withered cheeks. He tilted his head back and cried, "Mercy! Compassion! Kill me! Let dragonfire burn me to death!"
The induction ceremony had turned into a public denunciation. The old man had broken down.
"Uh… don't get so worked up," Dany quickly tried to comfort him. "This is the Citadel's collective sin. You shouldn't have to bear it alone."
"But I'm the only one people remember. There's only one Rat Cook! Why didn't you drag a few more archmaesters over here?" the old man snapped, like he'd given up entirely, even blaming the Dragon Queen.
"There's still hope if you're alive. If you die, you really will become the Rat Cook."
"What hope? Even the Night's Watch despises me..." the old man muttered in despair.
"No worries. I'll force them to take you. The Night's Watch cannot refuse a convict sent by the Queen."
"No, please! Your Grace, mercy! Kill him instead!" came a collective wail from the Night's Watch.
"Silence!" The Dragon Queen, possessed by the soul of the dragon, let out a thunderous roar. The room fell instantly silent, everyone staring at her in awe.
"This is how it will be. Grenn, go to the crypt and fetch a wight."
The Dragon Queen made her ruling with unshakable authority. No one dared object.
"Toad, Edd — get the maester suited up."
"What for?" the old man asked blankly.
"The initiation ceremony."
(End of Chapter)
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