"Greetings, Archmaester Pycelle." Under the guidance of an attendant, Maester Hory entered the room. Upon seeing that there were two people inside, he paused in surprise for a moment. But judging by their ages and the maester chains hanging around their necks, he quickly distinguished who Archmaester Pycelle was and bowed respectfully.
"I'm not doing very well," Archmaester Pycelle replied with a smile.
Hory froze, not knowing how to respond.
"These past few days, I've been plagued by how to write the record of the death of Maegor Targaryen the First. It's given me nothing but headaches, so I prayed to the gods for someone to come help me," Pycelle said with a chuckle. "But you, Maester Hory, lounged about in the camp so leisurely that you dragged things out for two whole days before arriving. That extended my suffering by two more days. My dear Maester Hory, do you really think I'm doing well right now?"
No matter how poor Hory was at dealing with people, he could clearly hear the reproach in Pycelle's words. He wanted to explain himself, yet didn't know how to do so properly. His nervousness made sweat bead on his forehead.
"No need to be nervous. I don't mean to blame you," Pycelle said calmly. With just a few words, he had already tested Hory's temperament and concluded that keeping him in the Red Keep posed no threat. He then reassured him before asking, "Do you still need to prepare anything? If not, I hope you can begin work immediately. The progress of the chronicles has fallen far behind my expectations. I hope your joining will speed things up, so that by the time next year arrives, we can complete the compilation of all major historical events before the eightieth year of Aegon's Conquest."
"Yes, Archmaester," Hory replied eagerly. A true enthusiast of history, he grew visibly excited upon hearing Pycelle's words, unable to hide the joy on his face. He quickly bowed and said that he needed no further preparations and could start at any time. But then he suddenly remembered something. "I still have a companion waiting at the guard post outside the Red Keep. I may need to go tell him a few things, give him some instructions…"
"No need," Pycelle said, raising a hand to stop him. "Unless it's something particularly private, there's no need for you to go. Just write it down and hand it to him to pass along. I don't want you wasting your time on such meaningless matters afterward."
When Pycelle pointed toward the other person in the room, that person was momentarily startled. A faint, mocking smile appeared on his face, as if to say, Let's see if I'll actually do as you ask.
But the room was dimly lit, and Hory did not notice the expression on the man's face. He did not object to Pycelle's instruction. Asking for a sheet of paper, he quickly wrote something down.
After he finished, Pycelle took the paper without really looking at it, folded it, and handed it to that man. "The things in the third cabinet by my bedside should be enough to compensate you. I hope this matter ends here. What do you think?"
Hory could clearly sense a trace of fear in Pycelle's tone. This made him curious about the scholar-like man beside him. After all, within the Red Keep, Pycelle's status was extraordinary—there was no reason he should be afraid of an ordinary maester.
The man fell silent for a moment, then reached out and took the paper. "I hope what you call compensation truly is compensation," he said coldly. "Otherwise, I'll come back for you. And next time, things won't be as simple as they are now."
With that, he turned and left the room. As he did, Pycelle let out a quiet sigh of relief, bracing himself against the table beside him to steady his slightly weakened body, doing his best to maintain a composed appearance in front of Hory.
After leaving the room, the man did not take the usual route the maesters used to leave the Red Keep. Instead, he chose a more secluded path with little foot traffic, deliberately avoiding passersby along the way. By the time he exited the Red Keep, he had not encountered a single person head-on.
Once outside, he took out the note Hory had written and casually tossed it into the weeds by the roadside. But after walking a few steps, he seemed to think of something. Hesitation flickered across his face. He turned back, rummaged through the weeds, retrieved the note, then turned and headed toward the guard post outside the Red Keep.
Soon, he arrived near the post and found the person he was looking for. But upon seeing him, he froze slightly, then walked over and asked in a very familiar tone, without any preamble, "Why is it you again?"
A stranger suddenly appearing and asking such a baffling question completely confused Lind. But he quickly realized who this person was—after all, the man's distinctive aura made him impossible to mistake.
"Why are you here, Lord Bovo?" Lind asked curiously as he looked at the Faceless Man Bovo, now disguised as a maester.
"Archmaester Pycelle owes me a debt," the Faceless Man Bovo replied simply. He then handed Lind the note in his hand. "This was given to me by a maester named Hory. He asked me to pass it to you."
Lind paused, then took the note and read it. The contents were very simple: Maester Hory was giving him all the books he had left behind in the camp.
After putting the note into his pocket, Lind looked at the Faceless Man and asked, "How long will you be staying in King's Landing?"
"If nothing unexpected happens, I'll leave tonight," Bovo replied casually. Then he looked at Lind with a strange gaze and said, "Don't you think it's rather miraculous how we keep running into each other? As if there's an invisible hand subtly tugging at the threads of our fate."
"No, not miraculous at all," Lind replied coldly, glancing at him. "If you count it, we've only met three times—and one of those times, you were the one who came looking for me. This kind of coincidence is perfectly normal. There's no need to make a fuss about it." He paused, then added, "You're not planning to recruit me as a Faceless Man, are you?"
Bovo shook his head. "Anyone in King's Landing could become a Faceless Man—but you absolutely cannot."
Though the words sounded like a compliment, Lind couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.
Bovo then studied Lind for a while longer, his face filled with confusion. "What exactly happened to you in the days since we last met in the Kingswood? Why do I sense that you've gained…" As he spoke, something seemed to dawn on him. His gaze sharpened, scrutinizing Lind, before his expression shifted to sudden realization. "I understand now. So that's why the Many-Faced God sent me to carry out this blessing. That water dancer was never the true objective. You, Lind the Bear Hunter—you were."
Lind frowned slightly, his hand subtly dropping to the hilt of his sword. "Lord Bovo," he said coolly, "are you suggesting that I, too, should receive some kind of blessing from the Many-Faced God?"
"No. Not you," Bovo said, completely ignoring Lind's guarded posture. He shook his head in a mystifying manner, then glanced at the gold cloaks who had stepped out of the guard post out of curiosity. "This isn't the place to talk."
With that, he gestured to Lind and stepped onto the main road, heading toward Baelor's Square.
Lind hesitated briefly before following, though his guard remained fully up. In his eyes, fanatical religious believers were no different from madmen—one moment they could be chatting and laughing with you, and the next they might draw their blades for some unfathomable reason.
"Can you tell me about what you've experienced these past few days?" Bovo asked after Lind caught up, slowing his pace slightly. "I want to know what exactly drew the attention of the Many-Faced God to you."
"The attention of the Many-Faced God?" Lind slowed his steps, his expression turning ugly.
He remembered discussions from forums in his previous life about the gods of the A Song of Ice and Fire world. Almost everyone agreed that aside from the artificially constructed Faith of the Seven, none of the other gods were good news. Even the seemingly righteous Lord of Light, R'hllor, had doctrines filled with disturbing ideas and rituals. Most importantly, many of these gods were real—and being noticed by such beings was never a good thing.
The Faceless Man easily saw through Lind's thoughts. "Don't worry. Right now, it's impossible for you to receive the Many-Faced God's blessing. And by the time you're qualified to be placed on that list, I believe your abilities will have grown to the point where no Faceless Man could even get close to you. So you truly have nothing to fear."
Thinking it over, Lind felt Bovo was right. At his current rate of growth, by the time his reputation became great enough for someone to spend a fortune to hire a Faceless Man, his strength would likely have reached an inhuman level. His senses would have improved accordingly, making assassination attempts a non-issue.
With that realization, Lind relaxed a little and asked in a bargaining tone, "I can tell you about my recent experiences—but what do I get out of it?"
Bovo was taken aback, giving Lind a strange look before asking, "What kind of benefit do you want?"
Lind fell silent for a moment, then recalled his reaction when he had come into contact with dragonbone. He spoke in a low voice, "You can enter and leave the Red Keep freely, right?"
"With some limitations, perhaps—but ordinary entry and exit isn't a problem," Bovo replied confidently.
Lind stated his condition. "I'm very curious about dragonbone. After King Robert took the throne, he moved all the dragon bones into the cellars beneath the Red Keep. With your abilities, sneaking into those cellars and stealing some dragonbone for me shouldn't be difficult, should it?"
Bovo looked puzzled. "Dragonbone? What do you want that for? It's just a slightly harder bone," he said, eyeing Lind oddly. "Only lunatics and fools believe that powder made from dragonbone is the finest aphrodisiac. Don't tell me you—"
"I never knew Faceless Men told jokes," Lind said coldly, shooting him a glance. "But that joke wasn't funny."
Bovo laughed it off. "If you want dragonbone, there's no need to go to the Red Keep's cellars. I can give it to you right now."
With that, the Faceless Man motioned for Lind to follow him and led him into a narrow alley. After walking some distance, they stopped in front of a tailor's shop.
Bovo knocked on the door. It opened slightly, and an old man peeked out. Upon seeing Bovo, he relaxed and opened the door fully.
Bovo did not enter. Instead, he spoke a few words to the old man in a non-common tongue. The old man nodded and went back inside. After a short while, he returned carrying a small chest.
Judging by how much effort it took the old man to carry it, it was obvious that the contents were quite heavy.
Bovo took the chest, signaled the old man to close the door, then walked over to Lind and set it down. "Take a look. Is this enough?"
Lind opened the chest. Although he had already guessed what would be inside, he was still surprised when he saw it filled to the brim with bones.
He reached in and touched them one by one, discovering that every single piece triggered a reaction from his golden finger. That alone proved that they were all dragonbone.
Even now, Lind still didn't know exactly what effect dragonbone had on his golden finger. But with so much dragonbone to use as experimental material, he was confident that sooner or later he would uncover the answer.
Since the Faceless Man had already produced the dragonbone, Lind naturally wouldn't go back on his word. Besides, his experiences over the past few days were fairly ordinary and didn't involve any of his deeper secrets—it wouldn't hurt to share them.
So he recounted everything that had happened since the day he parted ways with the Faceless Man in the Kingswood.
Bovo listened carefully, occasionally interrupting to ask about specific details. After each question, he would shake his head, indicating that it had nothing to do with the Many-Faced God.
It wasn't until Lind mentioned the girl he had accidentally saved outside the Lion Gate two days ago that Bovo's expression finally changed, turning extremely serious.
He questioned Lind in great detail about the girl. After learning that she had awakened earlier that day, he stopped Lind from continuing.
"That girl is the reason the Many-Faced God took notice?" Lind asked tentatively.
Bovo did not answer directly. After a moment of contemplation, he said, "I need to go with you to the Tyrell camp to see that girl. If necessary, I will take her back to the House of Black and White in Braavos."
"No problem," Lind nodded. "As long as the girl herself is willing."
Bovo froze for a moment and turned to look at Lind, his gaze carrying a deeper meaning. He could hear the implication in Lind's words—if the girl was unwilling, Lind would not allow her to be taken.
Rather than feeling offended, Bovo found Lind's character rare and admirable. He acted with clear principles and was someone worth befriending.
At the same time, however, Bovo felt that people who lived by such principles rarely survived long in the Seven Kingdoms. And so, he hoped that Lind would become the exception.
As for whether the girl would be willing to go to Braavos with him, in his eyes there was no suspense at all. Since the Many-Faced God had guided events toward her, she inevitably belonged to the Many-Faced God.
...
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Here are a few fan-fic titles that I've recently uploaded on my Patreon:
"Game of Thrones: Dragon Prince"
"Game of Thrones: Political Life"
"Game of Thrones: Holy Flame"
"The Game of Thrones Upgrade System"
"Game of Thrones: Lannister Kingdom"
"Game of Thrones: Godzilla vs. Dragons"
"Game of Thrones: Ruler of the Deep Seas "
"Game of Thrones The Glory of a Knight"
"Game of Thrones: The Most Powerful Dragon Queen"
" Game of Thrones: From the Elden Lord to the Young Wolf"
"Game of Thrones: Rise of a Lord with the Army-Building System"
(End Chapter)