After the banquet, William walked out onto the balcony of Harrenhal's main tower. The moon had just risen, and a single, bright, large star hung high in the deep blue night sky, like a sparkling diamond set into the heavens.
He gazed at the star, pondering how to further expand Harrenhal's productive capacity.
From what Mollos had revealed, the Citadel seemed to be intentionally or unintentionally limiting the scale of Harrenhal's industry. Perhaps the maesters only wanted an experimental base and had no desire to foster a powerful force capable of overturning the existing order.
But in a world with such an abysmally low literacy rate, it was nearly impossible to find decent technical talent outside the Citadel. Even if he wanted to go it alone without the Citadel, it would be impossible to achieve in the short term.
'What exactly is the Citadel thinking? Why prevent the spread of technology?' William found himself pondering this question once again.
Just then, the Warlock Glop Vaty approached. William set aside his doubts for the moment and smiled in wait. The moonlight shone on the Warlock's pale skin, making it appear even colder. William had invited him here, as some topics were not suitable for discussion during the feast.
They exchanged a few words about what had happened since they last met. Suddenly, the Warlock lowered his voice. "Ser, there's been no progress in researching the rune disk. I can only say the knowledge contained within is too profound. I beg your pardon, but I am truly powerless."
"It's alright, Glop. Set the rune disk aside for now. I have another way to deal with that matter," William said, patting the Warlock's arm. "Right now, I have another problem."
The Warlock's stiff face seemed to relax slightly. "You have but to command."
"What are your thoughts on Harrenhal's hydraulic workshops?"
"Most astonishing, Ser," the Warlock's praise was heartfelt. "Although I am usually only responsible for the steam engine, I have had opportunities to see how Archmaester Mollos and his apprentices maintain the machinery. In my view, those machines show no trace of magic, yet they accomplish what only magic could do before. It's nothing short of a miracle!"
Thinking of the automatically functioning lighting rune in the secret chamber, William let out a long sigh. "But magic can operate automatically, while machinery requires people to maintain and repair it."
The Warlock was clever and immediately understood William's vexation. "The Citadel is unwilling to send more people? Then why don't we recruit our own? I know a bit about the apprentices studying under Archmaester Mollos; they are all of common birth, and most are of average talent at best."
"Without paying exorbitant fees, they must sign apprentice contracts that are akin to indentured servitude." William was also frustrated by the Citadel's knowledge monopoly. "If they sign, they still have to follow the Citadel's arrangements. If they don't sign, Archmaester Mollos won't teach them any knowledge. And even if the Archmaester were willing to teach them secretly, there's the risk of the Citadel finding out. If that happened, even the Archmaester himself might be recalled."
If the Citadel were to recall the Archmaester and all his apprentices, it would be a disaster. Thinking this, William felt an even more urgent need to master a technical team belonging solely to Harrenhal.
Both men fell into their own thoughts. Suddenly, the Warlock offered a strange smile. "Perhaps there is someone you should meet."
"Hmm?" William was about to inquire further when he saw Shella approaching with a grave expression. So, they agreed to talk again tomorrow, and the Warlock took his leave.
Shella had just personally arranged accommodations for Malora. On one hand, it was enthusiastic hospitality—after all, William had lived in her house for six years, and reciprocity demanded she not slight Malora. But it was also an opportunity to observe her more carefully.
Once Shella reached his side, William looked around and lowered his voice. "Mother, have you determined anything?"
"I don't know, child." Shella shook her head, placing a hand on the railing. Her gaze into the night sky was somewhat dazed and fearful. "But the resemblance is indeed striking. Not just in appearance; Lady Malora's demeanor is also very much like the legendary Lady Danelle."
William had thought about it seriously and was quite certain that Malora's bizarre changes began precisely after the Warlocks found the secret chamber and brought the notebook and rune disk to Oldtown.
Furthermore, the moment she first saw the notebook was etched in William's memory. He had felt keenly that whoever was in control of Malora's body in that brief instant was definitely not herself.
The two discussed Malora's words and deeds in detail. William believed many signs indicated that the current Malora was actually Danelle. But Shella remained unwilling to believe such an unbelievable thing.
'Women's intuition...'
William said helplessly, "Regardless, she probably intends to resolve Harrenhal's curse. If she hadn't told me, we might never have known about the curse. She could have comfortably stayed in Oldtown this time, yet she still came all this way, enduring no small amount of hardship on the journey. If she were truly Lady Malora, would she go to such lengths?"
After all, the distance from Oldtown to Harrenhal was similar to that from King's Landing to Winterfell. Even a leisurely journey along such a long route was no easy feat, let alone the rushed pace they had maintained.
Shella sighed. "I can sense she means no harm. But if my guess is correct, why would Lady Malora pretend to be Lady Danelle? What does she truly want?"
"Tomorrow, we'll take her around Harrenhal and observe her reactions. If she seems unfamiliar with Harrenhal, then your guess might be right. If she appears very familiar with it..." William shrugged, leaving the sentence unfinished.
"That seems to be the only way."
After a moment's thought, William voiced his concern. "There's one more thing. It's best not to let sister interact with Lady Malora alone."
Shella looked surprised. "Is she dangerous?"
"Perhaps I'm overthinking it. It's just that matters involving magic are too strange. I simply feel it's better to be cautious." William didn't want to worry his mother too much.
Shella nodded, pondered for a while, and then asked, "Is it absolutely necessary to rush this matter? Can we not wait a little longer, prepare more thoroughly?"
If possible, William would also prefer to resolve the curse only after the most thorough preparation: clad in Valyrian steel armor, wielding a Valyrian steel sword, adorned with every available magical artifact, with Warlocks and witches providing cover, and ideally, with support from someone like the Little Rose.
But war was imminent. Considering the performance of House Tully in the original storyline, one couldn't even rule out the worst-case scenario – Harrenhal facing Tywin's twenty-five thousand strong army alone. In such a situation, that extremely treacherous curse had to be dealt with first.
Moreover, he feared complications arising from delay. For such an unpredictable matter with an uncertain outcome, the sooner it was resolved, the better. If any variables emerged, there would still be time to devise countermeasures.
Only after resolving the curse could he focus wholeheartedly on finding ways to further increase Harrenhal's strength. No matter how the future situation evolved, one's own power was best when as strong as possible.
"I'm afraid we don't have enough time, Mother," William said ambiguously.