"Doctor, I understand your concerns, but the Citadel's reputation is already at rock bottom. Acknowledging past mistakes can at least prove the courage of the maesters and ease your psychological burden," Sam urged.
"Burden? What burden? Don't talk nonsense. Everything we have done has been for the people of the Seven Kingdoms."
Theobald stiffened his face and straightened his slightly hunched back, trying to make himself appear upright and righteous, as if his conscience were perfectly clear.
"We have nothing to be ashamed of. We eat well, sleep well, and stand tall!" he repeated.
Sam raised his head and pointed at the ceiling. The muscles on his round face trembled as he said, "If you're not under pressure, then why live in a bunker? The deeper the bunker and the more complicated the tunnels are, the greater the pressure weighing on your hearts."
His words were like pulling out the jack that held up the other man's spine. The Doctor-Overseer's body collapsed, and his back hunched even more than before.
Then, shamed and angered, his square face twisted into a ferocious grimace, his nostrils almost spewing smoke. "You insolent brat! You little apprentice! Is this how you speak to the Doctor-Overseer?"
Sam felt a stab of fear, shrinking his neck. In his panic he blurted, "My father is Randyll Tarly."
"In front of Daenerys, what is Randyll Tarly worth? I dared to plot against Daenerys herself. My name is at the very top of the Mother of Dragons' list of criminals," Theobald hissed.
Oddly, that threat made Sam feel less afraid. He simply sighed helplessly. "If the Citadel refuses to cooperate, then forget it."
After all, both the High Septon and the Dragon Queen had already warned the lords. The Long Night and the White Walkers were no longer secrets.
But now he truly regretted not listening when the Dragon Queen had ordered him to go home and stop coming to the Citadel.
Sure enough, the Citadel had provided almost no help.
Over the next few days, Sam did his best to assist the maesters, hoping to extract more useful information from the White Walker so his trip would not be wasted.
They studied the White Walkers' tribal structure, the relationship between wights and White Walkers, their dietary habits, and their magical techniques.The White Walker was not particularly cooperative, but he wasn't completely silent either.
In just a few days, the maesters recorded a thick stack of information about the Land of Always Winter and the realms beyond the world.
According to the White Walker, the Land of Always Winter was merely the front yard outside the world's gate. One could travel several thousand more miles farther north.
The maesters were stunned. If he was not lying, then the land north of the Wall was almost as large as the Seven Kingdoms south of the Wall.
"Why is the world so big?"
"The world is not large, but beyond the world, there are other worlds," the White Walker replied.
This made the maesters even more uneasy. If the non-human races within the world already harbored different hearts, then what goodwill could strange races and strange civilizations beyond the world possibly have?
Even the King of the White Walkers, whom Daenerys had long been curious about, finally made his appearance—through the White Walker's own words.
"The King-Beyond-the-Wall is not a permanent title. Whenever the Free Folk cannot survive the winter, the tribes gather and choose a King-Beyond-the-Wall, who then leads all the Free Folk south.
"Our tribe is the same. When food is plentiful, we live in small groups. When the Ice and Snow King is born, we submit to him and journey south in search of prey."
"For thousands of years, there was no Ice and Snow King. Five years ago, he came."
"He came?"Dr. Guilei, a gaunt man as tall and thin as a pole, chewed over these words carefully, then suddenly paled. "Your king came from elsewhere… he was originally human?"
Sam had not concealed from the maesters what he knew. He had already told them White Walkers might not reproduce and could only be transformed from Old Gods–worshipping First Men infants.
Thus Dr. Guilei, who communicated with the White Walker in ancient tongue, could detect the deeper meaning in his words.
After a long silence, a muffled voice came from behind the dragonglass mask.
"Only a noble heart entangled in monstrous sin is worthy of receiving our absolute loyalty."
"A noble heart entangled in monstrous sin…"
After Guilei translated this, Sam and the maesters exchanged shocked looks.
At the very least, the White Walker admitted one thing: the White Walker King came from the human world. He possessed a noble soul but carried an unforgivable sin. Through endless torment, he was chosen as their king.
And this happened only five years ago.
"Who? Who is he?" Sam asked urgently.
Ser Ace cast a cold, indifferent glance at Sam with his blue, glassy eyes and replied, "His human identity means nothing to us."
Sam repeated the question several more times, but Ser Ace only replied that he did not know.
Dr. Theobald stopped him and said slowly, "Even if we knew who he was, it wouldn't help us much. Let's ask something else—for example, the Ice and Snow King's abilities."
"The Ice and Snow King cannot bring the Long Night. We simply lack food," the White Walker said.
"Food? What do you eat? You've been here for days, and Ser Ace hasn't eaten a thing," Dr. Guilei asked, puzzled.
"Warm blood. Fresh blood from living beings," the White Walker said, staring at Sam. "Human blood is best."
The maesters, who had tried their best to maintain calm expressions, couldn't hold it anymore. One by one, their faces twisted in alarm.
"Don't even think about eating me!" Sam's face went pale. He stumbled back several steps and shouted, "He really is a demon!"
Theobald glanced at Sam, then forced a smile as he asked the White Walker, "Would animal blood work?"
"Human blood lasts for years after a single feeding. Animal blood is far inferior," the White Walker replied.
"Go prepare a bowl of pig—"Remembering that White Walkers might turn corpses into wights, Theobald abruptly corrected himself: "The noble Ser Ace must not drink pig's blood. Bring a bowl of phoenix blood."
"Where would we find a phoenix?" Robert Frey blurted.
"Idiot. Chicken blood," Theobald whispered harshly.
"Use a small bowl." He emphasized this again.
Robert Frey hurried off.
At that moment, a history maester suddenly understood. "I see now. The tribe of Always Winter feeds on the blood of the Free Folk. For thousands of years, they never approached the Wall because the Free Folk were numerous enough to sustain them.
"In winter, when the Free Folk moved south, they followed.
"But when a long winter lasted several years, the Free Folk, who never stored food, died out, and the tribe of Always Winter had no choice but to invade the North."
"That makes sense. This is the true nature of the Long Night and the White Walkers!" Theobald nodded in agreement.
About half an hour later, Robert finally returned, carrying a large bowl brimming with warm, fresh blood.
However, before he could step inside, a flash of anger crossed the Doctor Steward's face. He rushed out the door, dragged Robert into the corner of the hallway, and scolded, "What did I just tell you? Why are you using such a big bowl? Are you afraid that monster won't eat enough and won't have the strength to riot?"
"This is the smallest bowl," Robert said, aggrieved.
The Doctor Steward froze for a moment and said, "Find a tall wine glass. Pour only a shallow quarter cup. It's enough to moisten his throat."
Robert's weasel-like, shifty face twitched a few times. He hurriedly turned to look for a wine glass.
"Wait," the Doctor Steward stopped him again. "Did you take care of the rooster's corpse?"
"It wasn't a rooster. There's no kitchen in the bunker, so I found 'Lazy' Leo and killed a few pigeons," Robert muttered.
"Pigeons are fine. Did you take care of the bodies?"
"How should I handle them?"
"Throw them into the fireplace and burn them. No corpses are allowed inside the bunker, not even a pigeon!" Theobald's square face hardened as he spoke sternly.
"Oh."
After almost another hour of running around, Robert finally found Leo, only to see him sitting by the fireplace, the flames reflecting red light on his greasy mouth.
A sip of red wine, a bite of a honey-roasted pigeon browned to a crisp—Leo was dealing with the pigeon corpses in his own way.
"It smells amazing. Give me one," Robert swallowed, suddenly feeling hungry.
Leo Tyrell pointed at the hearth and said casually, "Take one yourself."
"Huh? Why are there only five skewers?"
Robert crouched down and saw that two roasting skewers were already empty. Three pigeons, giving off the aroma of pepper, honey, and fennel, were still threaded on the iron rods.
"I remember we killed six pigeons," Robert said as he turned back, looking tense.
"Six?" Leo glanced lazily at the hearth. "You remembered wrong. There were only five."
"You're sure?" Robert immediately became unsure. "There are White Walkers in the cellar. The Doctor told us to watch out for corpses turning into wights."
"Hey, it's just a pigeon. Even if it really turned into an undead monster, I could crush its guts out with one slap," Leo waved him off, completely unconcerned.
"Maybe wights can use magic."
"Heh, I asked that fat old man. Wights are just reanimated corpses. Their strength is a bit greater and they move a bit faster, but their movements are stiff and they have no magic. As long as they don't come in large numbers, there's nothing to worry about."
"Better be careful. That monster drinks human blood!"
Robert carried a roast pigeon, gnawing on it while searching the room.
He found nothing.
"I told you, there were only five pigeons," Leo said impatiently.
Robert sat down and didn't bring up the missing pigeon again. For the nth time, he began discussing Roshey's first night with Leo.
A few days later, Theobald discovered that Ser Ace was more willing to chat with them, but the useful information in his words was growing fewer and fewer.
And what he had revealed before was already terrifying enough. So Theobald acted decisively and suddenly triggered the trap.
A basin of wildfire dropped from the ceiling. Ser Ace had no warning. Screaming and cursing, he was burned into a cloud of vapor by the green flames.
The Doctor Steward's ruthlessness shocked Sam, who stood beside him.
"What are you doing?" Sam asked blankly.
Holding a thick stack of imported Dragon Paper, the Doctor Steward sneered. "Either he was hiding something on purpose, or he didn't know much.
In any case, I'm certain we won't be getting any more useful information from him.
Since that's so, we must kill him immediately to eliminate future danger."
"But…" Sam's chubby face twisted in distress. "I think we should take it around and show it to everyone—let the commoners and nobles see how terrifying the White Walkers are."
The Doctor Steward patted the fat man's shoulder and warned him with deep meaning, "A monster inside a cage, no matter how terrifying its real appearance is, will never inspire true fear.
That is human nature.
Otherwise, the nobles who saw it on Dragonstone would not have been so calm. At the very least, their concern for the monster was far less than yours. You personally experienced a tide of monsters."
Sam considered this and asked, "What do you plan to do?"
"Send ravens and tell everyone about the monster." The Doctor Steward shook the documents in his hand, his expression complicated. "The maesters who serve the lords will persuade their liege lords to stock up on dragonglass, reinforce the walls, and send all idle men in the domain to the Wall."
Sam exhaled a long breath of relief. Although the Citadel still refused to acknowledge the Long Night and the White Walkers, it had finally started doing something useful.
"My mission is complete. I should take my leave," he said.
"No. You must earn a maester's chain before you can leave."
"Why? I don't want to be spat on in the streets. I don't want to shame my family!" Sam said bitterly.
"Yes, no one sees the maester's chain as an honor anymore." Theobald's expression dimmed, as if he had suddenly aged ten years.
"You are a good seedling—good family background, clever mind, and you've even killed an ice monster. Your future is destined to be bright. The Citadel depends on talents like you!"
The Doctor Steward spoke with sincerity, but Sam was already planning to run away that very night.
He returned to his quarters and immediately told Gilly to pack.
"We have to leave as soon as possible. We can't let the Doctor put that chain on me—wait, where's my horn?"
"What horn?"
"The copper-banded bull horn Jon gave me. You tried it too; it doesn't blow."
"I don't know," Gilly shook her head.
(End of Chapter)
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