Marwyn asked curiously, "Your Grace, how do you plan to reform the Citadel?"
Dany came back to her senses and shook her head. "Not the 'Citadel'. The Citadel created the so-called 'Real World,' instigated the 'Dance of the Dragons,' violated guest rights, broke vows by meddling in the Seven Kingdoms' power struggles, lied repeatedly, and grossly failed in matters concerning the White Walkers. With so many transgressions, its reputation is already ruined."
"However, I do admit, the maesters may have personal ambitions, but no selfish motives."
"The concept of a 'Real World' is impractical, and their methods defied moral norms. Still, the spirit of exploring the world is commendable."
"In the future, the maester training system will be divided into 'Primary School,' 'Secondary School,' and 'University.' Primary schools will educate children, secondary school students will be equivalent to maester apprentices, and admission into a university will mean one is officially a maester. The teachers at the universities will be called doctors."
"Each of the Seven Kingdoms will have several primary schools within their counties, the exact number depending on local finances and population."
"Each of the Seven Kingdoms' capitals will have a secondary school, and there will be a university each in King's Landing, Oldtown, and the North."
"King's Landing University will focus on practical disciplines like politics, economics, forging, and medicine."
"Its graduates will serve the nobility of the Seven Kingdoms."
"Oldtown will train dreamers. Discussions on topics like the 'Real World,' the 'Scientific World,' or the 'Necessity of Magic' will be free and open."
"Oldtown University will be tasked with developing new arts, new ideas, new technologies, and new scientific theories. It will belong to theorists and scientists."
"As for the Northern University..."
At this point, Dany smiled oddly.
"No matter what, I will tear down the Oldtown Citadel. The current maesters and doctors—those guilty will be sent to guard the Wall, and those innocent will help establish the Northern University, which will specialize in overseeing threats that endanger the world."
"Think of it as atonement."
"Of course, this is just a preliminary plan. In the future, I will definitely convene with maesters and lords to work out a more detailed and practical charter."
"For example, I'll also establish a Magic Academy."
"Whether or not I ascend the Iron Throne, I believe I still have the right to reform the Citadel."
Having reassured her younger brothers and assigned them their tasks, the Dragon Queen flew back on her dragon that very night and returned to Astapor by the next afternoon.
She had come in haste and left just as quickly, barely interfering with anything in the Seven Kingdoms.
Yet her brief appearance on Dragonstone stirred up a storm in Westeros, where tensions were already running high.
The Eyrie.
Moon Tower, once the residence of the Lord of the Vale.
In front of a grand double bed, the fireplace blazed, casting a warm glow across most of the room. The flickering firelight danced in Littlefinger's dark eyes.
His upper body was bare, slick with sweat, as he lounged lazily against the headboard. In his right hand, he idly twirled a lock of auburn hair around his finger.
As he twisted the silky strand too tightly, it tugged at Sansa, who lay on the pillow gently panting.
"Ow, you pulled my hair," she said in a playful tone.
Littlefinger looked down and saw a patch of snowy white skin that stirred something in his heart. He teased, "Where did I hurt you?"
"You—" Sansa turned her head away in embarrassment, burying her face in the feather pillow.
"Heh..." Littlefinger's eyes flashed with a strange light as he smiled—a smile that held satisfaction, pride, delight, and a trace of inexplicable melancholy.
She is not her, after all.
But she is enough.
Hearing his laugh, Sansa turned around confidently, blinking her misty blue eyes—no longer pure and innocent—and asked curiously, "What were you just thinking about?"
"I was thinking about what Daenerys is thinking."
Littlefinger spoke without reservation.
He rarely hid anything from Sansa.
"What has she done now?"
Suddenly, Sansa's rose-colored cheeks paled slightly. She said nervously, "Maybe we should move away. The Eyrie is too high and too dangerous. It's easy to defend against a ground attack, but if that talking black dragon flies over..."
Littlefinger waved his hand and smiled. "I have no conflict of interest with her. The Dragon Queen would never strike against me. In fact, if she gets more aggressive and launches an invasion of Westeros, I might even willingly pledge allegiance to her."
"You want to side with Daenerys?" Sansa's face changed. She said anxiously, "What about me? She won't spare the Starks. Or Robert."
Yes, this Robert had the surname "Arryn," the only son of Jon Arryn, his foster father.
Theoretically, Robert Arryn and Sansa were each the last of their respective houses—and both should be prime targets of the Dragon Queen's revenge.
"Sigh. She has dragons. I've taught you before—never side with the losers in the game of thrones. She doesn't just have dragons. She controls Slaver's Bay and has a standing army of fifty thousand."
"What's more terrifying is her reputation among the nobility."
"They don't see her as a foreign invader, so they won't unite against her," Littlefinger said as he gently stroked Sansa's hair, his tone helpless.
"Why? She hasn't spent much time in Westeros, and it seems like she hasn't really done anything," Sansa asked, puzzled.
Littlefinger gave a bitter smile. "Have you forgotten? At tonight's feast, that bard named 'Seven-String Tom' sang a ballad about the 'Violet Knight.' You listened with great interest and even gave him a silver stag as a tip."
"Oh, the Violet Knight was Daenerys? I didn't realize at all."
Suddenly understanding, Sansa grew even more confused. "I've heard songs about the 'Lady Knight Leila,' the 'Queen's Knight,' the 'Princess Who Wore Her Own Garland,' and the 'Black Bat Knight'—all related to Daenerys. But they're all about tourneys.
'The Violet Knight' was about a lady knight fighting a dragon to save a prince. That..."
"Think about the lyrics Tom sang. Beautiful violet eyes, a brave and battle-hardened silver-haired princess who defeats a demon dragon, seizes three dragon eggs, and finally becomes a dragonrider. Who else could it be but Daenerys?"
"Seven-String Tom is from the Riverlands. He didn't attend the Oldtown tourney, but he knows Daenerys's story is the hottest topic right now, so he swapped out the protagonist from an old tale and made up a new one. You could say it's a spin-off about Daenerys," Littlefinger explained.
Sansa sighed and said, "Just because she won a tourney, everyone likes her now?"
"When you hear this story, don't you feel a bit of fondness for her?" Littlefinger countered.
Sansa fell silent. Lately, she had been hearing stories about her nonstop.
If the Targaryens weren't enemies of the Starks, she would have openly said: I really like her, just like Bran liked Barristan.
The Dragon Queen had accomplished things she herself didn't even dare to dream of, gaining honors beyond her wildest imagination. She truly admired her.
Because she knew she could never achieve the same—she couldn't even bring herself to feel jealous.
Littlefinger continued, "Every people has its own core culture. Across the Narrow Sea, in Lys, indulgence and pleasure in the Gardens of Delight are central to their way of life.
In Westeros, tourneys are at the heart of Andal culture.
I even suspect she intentionally used the tourney to gain fame.
Tsk tsk. Her squire in the tourney was none other than Barristan—the most legendary and noble knight in the Seven Kingdoms, the very model of knighthood."
As he said this, a trace of envy and resentment appeared on Littlefinger's face.
Dragons, bloodline, and such bravery and strength.
The gods are so unfair. If he had been given just one of those three—combined with his own intelligence—his life would have gone a hundred times smoother.
Soon, he chuckled quietly to himself. Was he actually getting flustered by the Dragon Queen?
He was starting to doubt the principle he had clung to all these years: compensate for every disadvantage with cunning.
As long as I can figure out how she thinks and acts, I'll never lose—maybe even...
Littlefinger's lips curved into a smile—part confidence, part composure, mostly humility—as he said:
"The tourney is only one aspect. She once aided the Wall, resolved the wildling crisis for the North, and set aside personal feelings to spare your bastard brother and Stannis.
At least, the noble houses under 'Bronze Yohn' believe she is broad-minded and capable of tolerance—nothing like her father.
And just recently, there's word from Gulltown that Daenerys arranged for Ser Rhaegar of Crab Isle to deliver grain to the Trident. The supplies are being distributed by an old septon named Meribald to aid the war-stricken people of the Riverlands.
It's said that the Dragon Queen once stayed briefly in the Riverlands, where she met a septon traveling by donkey. Upon learning of the common folk's suffering from repeated wars and their inability to farm, she took pity and promised to help them in the future."
"Heh, I've been hearing 'A Targaryen's word is as good as law' a lot lately. Who believes she didn't plan this all along?" A trace of mockery flickered across Littlefinger's face.
But soon, he sighed helplessly and shook his head. "Alas, ordinary people just love this kind of narrative.
And that so-called 'Beauty Brienne'—that ugly knight.
Yes, Brienne of House Stark—lately she's become unexpectedly famous.
Because Barristan tried to recruit her, and the Dragon Queen invited her to become one of her Queensguard. But Brienne refused."
"Brienne? The knight who found the Eyrie, came to the Gates of the Moon shouting that she wanted to see me... to see Sansa Stark?" Sansa asked in surprise.
"Yes. Brienne searched for you throughout the Riverlands. Everyone knew about it. A red-haired maiden—a virgin. Virgin—hah! She'll never find you now!"
Sansa's face turned red, then pale. Embarrassment flickered in her beautiful blue eyes, tinged with a faint melancholy.
Littlefinger caught her expression and grew even more pleased with himself, though he didn't push further. He quickly changed the subject:
"She couldn't find you in the Riverlands, so she came to the Vale and found me.
She's a true knight—steadfast and dedicated.
She once swore an oath to your mother and has held to it ever since, wielding the 'Oathkeeper' sword and vowing to find you and your sister no matter what.
That's also why she turned down the Dragon Queen's offer.
The Queen greatly admired her loyalty. Not only did she not take offense at Brienne's refusal, but she also honored her with the title 'The Cloakless Guard,' praising her as 'the last light of honor in a decaying Westeros.'
No one calls her 'Beauty Brienne' anymore. Now she's known as 'the Cloakless Guard' or 'the Light of Knighthood.'
Countless young knights, upon hearing this story, are filled with passion—dreaming of becoming the hero, or even marrying her.
Tsk tsk. As soon as that old fox Yohn Royce heard about it, he immediately sent someone to Tarth to propose on behalf of his eldest son to 'Eveningheart'—Brienne's father.
The Earl of Tarth must be utterly bewildered these days. Why is it that his daughter, whom no one ever wanted, is suddenly being courted by so many handsome heirs from noble families?"
Sansa listened, utterly captivated, and secretly wished she could be Brienne—to receive the Dragon Queen's praise.
No. I'm no longer a naive girl lost in daydreams. The Dragon Queen hates the Starks. She is my enemy. I must remember that.
(End of chapter)
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