AN :
In the Game of Stones, you either win or you wait. The more Power Stones you offer, the faster the chapters come.
...
( Marwyn the Mage POV )
He stroked the chin of little Lyria slowly, the white raven cooing as she did when shown affection. It was a shame that the albino bird was growing old. She had perhaps one more of his journeys in her, and then it would be the end for his favorite raven.
Almost a shame to waste some of the bird's time on this farce, but he couldn't exactly turn it down, it wasn't as if he was doing anything more important at the moment, and he was the Seneschal for the year. It was the only reason he wasn't back out in the field, to the east or south where magic still held strong.
"Go over this with me again." He scratched his nose idly, looking at Archmaester Norren across the table, looking just as annoyed to be dealing with Marwyn as Marwyn was to be dealing with him. "You're asking the son of Lord Tywin Lannister to come here so that we can-what, bully him into giving up some new toy the Lannisters have created?"
Norren frowned. "I doubt the boy created it, but Maester Eomund and House Lannister claim that he did." The skinny man said. "They're being uncooperative, but if we get the child to confess who truly made it, or to offer it himself, then we can use their words against them."
"Is this about that drama that saw Loddun thrown out of Lannisport a few months ago?" Marwyn asked, grumbling. "So what if the Lannisters can make a few books, it's not as if that's a problem for us." 'Or rather for me.' Marwyn continued to feed his raven. This entire thing just seemed like a mess waiting to blow up in the Citadel's face, not that such things were particularly uncommon for the grey sheep he worked with. Someone was always sleeping with some Lord's wife, and the Citadel was always having to cover it up to save face.
"Not just a few!" Norren snapped. "Thousands! Tens of Thousands! In short order at that! It's like nothing that's ever been done in the history of Westeros!" He sneered. "Aren't you the one always telling us to have an open mind Marwyn? Can you not see the potential of that sort of production?"
Marwyn blinked at the fervor in the man's tone, and settled into his chair, considering him. "Tens of thousands you say?" he asked, "That seems a bit exaggerated. You have proof of this?" Marwyn considered himself a man who knew a great deal about a great many subjects.
He had traveled the world and learned magic in the city of dark Asshai, where the wind whipped through the empty city like the screams of the long dead, the poisoned legacy of the Great Empire of Dawn. He had traveled through the silent forest of Iqueveron and had learned the tongue of Ibb to be let into their hidden heartland, seen the cities they cut into the mountains. In short, he had seen more of the world than any other man in Westeros, most likely.
He had seen no mechanism or trinket to write ten thousand books in a few months.
"Maester Loddun saw them with his own eyes before they threw him out, and Maester Eomund confirmed as much in his own letters on the matter, unclear as they were," Norren said quickly, the Archmaester of Tongues with his electrum mask looked at him frantically. "Imagine what we could do with such a thing! And yet they deny it to the Citadel! They claim the boy made it, that he was blessed by the Seven-Faced God." Norren threw his head back. "They're using it to write copies of the Seven-Pointed Star of all things! Already the most copied book on the continent! What could you possibly need more of them for?"
"Are they now…" Marwyn couldn't really think of a particular reason to print that many copies of the holy book, save perhaps to give the Septons a break from their forever dull tasks of scribing it again and again. Still, if Loddun and Eomund had both reported it, despite being in a spat… "I suppose I can see your purpose now." Marwyn sighed, tugging at his brow. "Is there a reason that you haven't informed the rest of the Citadel about this discovery of yours, or of the Lannisters rather."
Norren looked slightly uncomfortable at that, and Marwyn knew at once why. The man had no doubt been looking forward to taking all of the credit for bringing it into the citadel. A petty motivation for hopes of acquiring a tool this useful.
"Well, your purposes notwithstanding, I can see why you've invited the boy, what with him in the city." Marwyn rubbed his forehead, idly considering which God it'd be appropriate to pray to for this sort of thing. Perhaps the mother Rhoyne? Supposedly she was good with children. "Do you have any idea when he's supposed to-"
"Archmaesters, your guest is here!" an Acolyte said from the doorway, and Marwyn paused, then sighed.
"A moot question, I suppose." He grabbed his rod and mask, which were tied together by a small golden string. The light Valyrian steel clanked against each other but was utterly undamaged as he placed them up on the table, still in his grasp, a small power play to show his rank. He didn't particularly enjoy talking to children, generally, but it'd be better if the Lannister boy was cowed right away.
The first one to come tromping in was a knight, tromping in with plate armor, Westerlands make unsurprisingly with a Bascinet helm. Three Black hounds Passant on a Yellow field. Marwyn didn't recognize the heraldry, but the boy behind him was far more obvious. Golden hair down past his shoulders and emerald green eyes, fair skin.
He wore a red jerkin with gold-cloth embroidery. Features were on the surface effeminate, but clearly a boy from the chin, probably just down to being a child. Definitely the Lannister boy, he had all the traits of the family, sharp eyes too. Marwyn held his tongue as Norren made introductions.
"Good afternoon, Milord Lannister." The Archmaester's voice sounded saccharine, dripping with false respect. "I'm glad that you chose to accept our invitation so quickly, we were just ah- discussing your arrival, and didn't have time to prepare. I am Archmaester Norren, and this is Archmaester Marwyn, our current Seneschal here at the citadel."
The boy's green eyes widened somewhat as they flickered to Marwyn, glancing at his rod and staff, before up to meet his gaze. Marwyn saw recognition in those eyes. This boy knew who he was. That was surprising actually, very surprising. He was well known in Oldtown, and amongst academic circles, but not further beyond, and mostly for the nickname that idiot Vaellyn had given him.
The boy turned back to Norren quickly enough though, responding politely but dryly. "Callum Lannister. I fortunately have an hour or two before I am to go visit the Starry Sept." the boy seemed entirely unawed by their status, as Archmaesters, which was not entirely unsurprising. He was the son of a great lord after all, and the Lannisters were not famed for their humility.
"I am curious why you invited me though. I had actually looked into learning here before returning to the Westerlands, but my father denied it." There was a hint of apprehension in the boy's voice. That was curious, What did he have to be apprehensive about? Marwyn had seen those same tells in many an Acolyte that had done something wrong and did not want to share what exactly that was.
Curious.
"Ah, we asked that you visit because of our curiosity, you see," Norren said, without missing a beat. "Our good friend Maester Eomund writes us that it was you, and not he, that created the book stamping device that your family is now using to copy the Seven-Pointed Star." the old man smiled broadly. "We were hoping that you might be willing to share it with the Citadel, to help preserve and spread the wisdom that we Maesters have gathered here."
The Lannister boy's demeanor shifted, his red lips parting slightly as his weight went from one foot to the other, his eyebrows rising. Marwyn caught it, but he wasn't sure if Norren did. The boy hadn't been expecting that line of questioning at all. That was curious, if not about the book device then what?
"Ah, yes, I did invent the Printing Press, though I can understand why you would choose not to believe it." the change in demeanor was evident there too, more confident now, as if he had this discussion before. "I could be convinced to share them with the Citadel for a price," he said simply, with the rough expression and tone of a Qarthene Horse Trader in Vaes Dothrak.
Marwyn suppressed a chuckle, it really did look strange on such a young boy.
"Ah, but won't you consider the good that we can do with it?" Norren asked, "After all this would not be the same as sharing the tool with some great house, or a merchant seeking profit- the Citadel would use it for the good of all, to water the tree of knowledge!" the plea sounded earnest, but Marwyn couldn't stand the obvious exaggeration. The Citadel was perfectly capable of paying for things. He decided to speak up.
"What sort of things would you ask us in payment, Callum?" Marwyn cut through the nonsense. This child was clearly precocious, not the type to fall for such idiotic ploys. Norren looked scandalized, but Marwyn didn't care.
"I honestly haven't given it much thought." the blond replied, rubbing his cheek with his finger. "I gave it to the church out of a sense of religious duty, but I have no such piety towards the Citadel." the Lannister stopped a moment in thought, before continuing. "And if the price is too small, I suspect father will be angry with me."
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