Oldtown, the Citadel.
The Dragon Queen had not inflicted much damage on the Citadel.
By now, even the main hall that had been struck by a fireball of dragonflame had been restored.
Council Hall of the Archmaesters.
"Acetic" Vylin let out a soft sigh, placed the letter in his hand onto the table, and tapped his right fingers lightly on the parchment, producing a dull "thud, thud, thud" that echoed with the rhythm of his frustration.
The room was silent. The clear morning sunlight streamed through the colored mosaic glass, casting ever-shifting patterns across the faces of the archmaesters, whose expressions flickered just as unpredictably.
"...Pylos has written again," Vylin broke the silence, sighing softly.
Vylin, an archmaester of astronomy, was known for his sharp tongue and fondness for nicknames—he had dubbed Marwyn "the Mage."
As a result, the other archmaesters had nicknamed him "Acetic Vylin."
Perhaps it was a case of appearance mirroring personality: the bald little old man had prominent stork-like bones, hollow cheeks, and a face as sharp as his tongue.
Yet now, the usually domineering and acerbic man appeared dejected and thoroughly disheartened.
"This is fake news. It's fake. Next!" Archmaester Theobald, seated at the head of the table, slapped the table hard, speaking with unwavering resolve.
Vylin blinked in surprise and asked, "You've read it already? I just received the letter."
"No need to read it. The fact that it came from the Wall is enough for me to know it's a fake," said Theobald dismissively. "Next."
"But Pylos—"
Vylin had only begun when Theobald cut him off: "He's fake too. A fake Pylos!"
"A fake man spreading fake news. Fine, makes perfect sense!" Vylin rolled his eyes and continued, "Fake or not, I think you all should hear this."
"The 'fake' Pylos at the Wall sent a raven, urging us not to shy away from reality. He claims Daenerys and her dragons are the true saviors of the world.
He says the foundation of the 'real world' is the continued existence of the world itself.
If Westeros falls and humanity is wiped out, then even the noblest ideals are meaningless."
"Definitely an imposter. The real Archmaester Pylos has a resolute will and unwavering faith. He would never say such things," said Archmaester Ambrose.
Ambrose had a long, narrow face with a wild white beard that reached his chest. He was the Citadel's archmaester of medicine, and considered the highest authority on healing in all Westeros.
Vylin shrugged and said, "The fake Pylos went into great detail about the weaknesses and tactics of the White Walkers and wights. He wrote that regular armies stand no chance. In fact, after each battle, the number of wights only increases.
If the White Walkers breach the Wall, their forces will grow like a snowball rolling downhill—until all of humanity is wiped out.
He also said he's aware of the Citadel's smear campaign against the Dragon Queen.
He claims to feel ashamed of it, and even implored us—grief-stricken and sincere—to pack up immediately, don black cloaks, and go to the Wall to atone."
"Fake! That fake Pylos is detestable!" the archmaesters echoed in unison.
Vylin tugged at his soft, comfortable sable coat and said firmly, "Yes, fake. I'm afraid of the cold. Winter is coming. Going to the Wall would be the death of me."
"But that impostor is still a big problem. The Wall has sent ravens to nearly all the top noble houses in the Seven Kingdoms.
Not only is he rallying nobles to aid the Wall, but he also twisted the truth about the Citadel's recent decisions—claiming to be Archmaester Pylos and repenting his sins. Many nobles believed him," said Archmaester Norren.
Norren was the former Grand Archmaester, and an expert in economics and mathematics.
Vylin groaned, "It's truly a problem. The fake Pylos' raven arrived at the noble ravenries right around the same time as ours, which seriously damaged the Citadel's credibility.
Now, many maesters who serve noble houses are writing to us, demanding to know why we've acted so insanely—so openly in violation of guest rights."
"Why would the nobles rather believe fake news than the Citadel? It's irrational, unreasonable, and unacceptable. We are the Citadel—the headquarters of all maesters.
Maesters hold the authority over knowledge. Maesters shape public opinion in the Seven Kingdoms. Shouldn't nobles believe what we say?" Theobald growled angrily.
Norren gave a bitter smile. "The nobles aren't fools. Think about it. Why would the Dragon Queen violate guest rights without reason? Burning down a place like the Citadel, which claims to be 'absolutely neutral,' serves her no purpose.
If she had never set foot in Westeros, never interacted with any noble house, perhaps they could believe that. But she did come. She even entered the tourney and won the championship.
Hundreds of nobles, thousands of knights saw her, drank with her, talked with her. At the feast, she was radiant—eloquent and dazzling.
Thanks to that, the nobles and knights from the Reach, the Stormlands, Dorne, the Westerlands, and the Crownlands got a good sense of her character.
To them, she is the first female knight to crown herself 'Queen of Love and Beauty.' They genuinely like and respect her. They simply don't believe she's the second coming of the Mad King."
"Everyone knows how influential that tourney was in the Seven Kingdoms."
Gallado, the archmaester of history and linguistics, compiler of The Children of Summer, sighed and said, "And then there are the singers and poets.
They already sang about 'Lyra Waters' as if she were a legendary hero. Now that they've learned Lyra Waters is also the Last Princess, the Queen of Restoration, the Breaker of Chains, the Mother of Dragons, the Mysterious Knight...
All these legends stacked together. The singers and poets in the taverns have gone wild. They're practically delirious with excitement.
You should visit Quill and Tankard. It's been just over two weeks, and already there are over 300 songs praising the 'Mystic Knight Queen'—plus 46 different versions of the story 'The Dragon Queen's Rose Crown Duel.' The derivative poetry and tales are countless."
Vylin said helplessly, "Whether among the common folk or in noble circles, her reputation isn't just untainted—it's practically exploding.
Even if she were to fall from the sky and die while riding her dragon today...
Ten thousand years from now, as long as human history still exists, people will still be singing of her deeds.
Just like the legendary heroes from the Age of Heroes, whose names have lasted through the ages."
"So what do we do now? The Old Man of Oldtown has made his stance clear—the Hightower family will no longer be involved.
And Lady Olenna of Highgarden is even worse. On one hand, she subtly hints that I should tarnish the Dragon Queen's name, but on the other, she explicitly states that Highgarden knows nothing and will not meddle in the conflict between the Citadel and the Dragon Queen," said Theobald.
"If worse comes to worst, perhaps we should admit the truth," Norren sighed. "The story that Daenerys violated guest rights and burned the Citadel... it just doesn't sound plausible."
"How is it not plausible? She's the Mad King's daughter. The Mad King acting reasonably would be the most unreasonable thing of all."
"The problem is that no one believes it. Perhaps we should come clean about the ideal of the 'real world.' I believe the nobles and people of the Seven Kingdoms will understand us—after all, we truly have no selfish motives," Norren said.
"Don't say it," Velin quickly interjected. "'The real world' is the greatest selfish desire!"
"Sigh, what kind of mess is this? Sooner or later, the Citadel will fall because of that foolish ideal called the 'real world.'
So what if dragons are extinct? Just look at how active the Red God is now, and the sorcerers of Asshai have never disappeared," Dr. Zabarro lamented pessimistically.
"'The real world' really is a pitfall. Which bastard brought it up first?" Dr. Nymos muttered curses under his breath.
Seeing the group of archmaesters so disheartened, the Archmaester quickly changed the subject. "Velin, go on. Any other news?"
"The Wall has elected its 998th Lord Commander—Jon Snow, the Stark bastard," Velin said.
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"Why him? What about Ser Mallister, Ser Alliser, Lord Slynt, or Commander Cotter from Eastwatch?" asked Dr. Ambrose curiously.
"Because Jon Snow has made outstanding contributions. He infiltrated the wildlings, saved Castle Black, later helped the Dragon Queen win them over, then joined the suicide squad to hunt White Walkers, and even personally killed one," Velin explained.
"Fake news! No such thing as White Walkers. Next," the Archmaester cut in.
"Next..." Velin twitched slightly at the corner of his mouth and said, "The false Pyparestan is once again urging us to send out ravens widely, spreading word of the Long Night, the recruitment of Night's Watch members, and the Dragon Queen's vow—"
"Fake, fake. No Long Night, no White Walkers," Archmaester Theobald rudely interrupted the astronomy maester. "Next."
"The false P—"
"Is that bastard ever going to stop? Why haven't the White Walkers taken him away already?" the Archmaester snapped irritably.
"Archmaester, the White Walkers are fake. Don't say such nonsense," Velin retorted sarcastically.
Repeatedly interrupted, the astronomy maester was getting frustrated.
"Continue," the Archmaester muttered.
"The false Pyparestan, in order to prove the White Walkers are real, plans to send a Night's Watchman named Samwell to the Citadel, along with a White Walker and two wights."
"Take care of him before he reaches the Citadel," the Archmaester said matter-of-factly.
"Uh, the false Pyparestan is aware of the Citadel's methods. He specifically warned us not to harm Samwell, as he has also sent a letter to Lord Tarly," Velin said awkwardly.
"Why does this involve Randyll Tarly again?" the Archmaester asked, puzzled.
"Samwell's last name is Tarly—he's Lord Tarly's eldest son."
"Damn it, now I remember. That false Pyparestan is truly detestable!"
The Archmaester nearly wanted to announce aloud: Samwell is a fake Tarly.
But he didn't dare let Randyll Tarly be cuckolded.
Archmaester Theobald thought for a moment, then said slowly, "Samwell may reach Oldtown alive, but the fake White Walker he brings must be eliminated beforehand."
At the far end, a newly promoted middle-aged maester asked in confusion, "Why? What if the White Walker is real?"
Archmaester Theobald raised a hand to stop him, his expression complicated. "Dr. Osney, you're still young and inexperienced.
Back when news of Rhaegar's death and King's Landing's fall reached the Citadel, we felt like the sky was collapsing, as if the world itself were ending.
Later, when Robert was murdered by Cersei and the Lannisters usurped the Baratheon throne, we again felt a similar panic, like reality itself was shattering."
"But through it all, the Citadel remained calm, unchanged. The sun still rose as usual. We have stood for thousands of years and shall continue to do so—forever."
Inside the council chamber, all the maesters nodded silently.
"Maester Velin, go on," the Archmaester said.
"Many nobles have written to ask about the Dragon Queen's proposal that the 'Ender of the Long Night should be king.' How should we respond?"
"Fake. Next," the Archmaester said immediately.
"What's fake? The Long Night, or what the Dragon Queen said?"
Dr. Theobald replied with conviction, "All of it is fake. Without a Long Night, there is no 'ender' of it.
That woman is cunning.
Right now, the allied forces are nearby, and she lacks the strength to attack Westeros. But she fears the Lannisters solidifying their rule, so she spreads lies to sow chaos—while secretly amassing strength on Dragonstone.
When winter passes, she'll proclaim herself the prophesied savior of the world and use force to compel the nobles to acknowledge her as queen of the Seven Kingdoms."
"That actually sounds quite plausible..." Velin muttered.
"Anything related to the Long Night, White Walkers, or the Wall that smells like fake news—don't bring it up again," Archmaester Theobald declared firmly. "Next."
"Oh, right... next."
(End of Chapter)
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