"Hello, Archmaester Marwyn. I'm Lancelot Lannister. I've heard a lot about you," Lancelot said.
"And I've heard a great deal about you too, Ser Lancelot! Rumor has it you can truly use magic. I wonder if you could light this candle."
Archmaester Marwyn produced an obsidian candle—a glass candle. It had no wick and no oil; it was simply a candle shape carved from obsidian.
Lancelot knew that the night before an acolyte became a Maester, they would attempt to light this candle in a secret room.
If they couldn't light it, they had to spend the entire night in the darkness without leaving. This served to remind the Maesters never to forget the hardships and obstacles in the pursuit of truth.
It was actually quite similar to the vigil knights held in a sept the night before their knighting ceremony; both served as a solemn warning.
Lancelot took the candle and used his fire magic. However, while flames flickered in his palm, they couldn't ignite the obsidian.
After all, it was stone, a non-flammable material.
"I failed, Archmaester! I admit it's difficult. It seems no one can do it?" Lancelot said.
"No, someone has done it before. Ultra Seven from House Cerwyn... he once lit a glass candle," Archmaester Marwyn replied.
"Ultra Seven is a legend. I've heard of him for a long time as well, but I've never had the chance to meet him. It's a real pity," Lancelot sighed.
"But the fact that you can conjure fire in your palm... it seems you really are a wizard."
"I was once mocked by other Archmaesters for being a wizard. Meeting a real one today feels like destiny. What did you come to find me for?" Marwyn asked.
"I came to talk to you about White Walkers, dragons, and other mysterious entities."
"Mysterious entities... I am one of the few Archmaesters in the Citadel who studies magic and the occult. I think you'll find I have an appetite for such things," Marwyn said.
"You two can go up to the Hightower together. No one will disturb you there," Margaery suggested.
House Hightower also studied those mysterious arts, so they wouldn't reject them.
So, Archmaester Marwyn and Lancelot went to the Hightower to attend the banquet there.
Lord Leyton Hightower was nearly eighty years old, yet his body was still hale and hearty. He had many children—over ten of them.
Including his grandchildren and great-grandchildren, his descendants numbered in the dozens; the family tree had truly flourished.
He was very respectful toward Lancelot because here was a man who had truly mastered magic.
Lancelot, in turn, was very curious about Leyton Hightower and Archmaester Marwyn. He couldn't resist checking their stats.
Name: Leyton Hightower
Identity: Noble
Class: Knight
Strength: 5
Speed: 6
Intelligence: 23
Spirit: 24
Magic: 20
Name: Marwyn "The Mage"
Identity: Commoner
Class: Maester/Archmaester
Strength: 6
Speed: 4
Intelligence: 34
Spirit: 35
Magic: 28
Both men had studied magic, so their Magic stats were much higher than an ordinary person's, but Lancelot wasn't sure if they could actually use magic.
Perhaps their Magic stats come purely from theory, and they can't actually cast even a simple spell to light a cigarette, Lancelot thought.
At the banquet, Leyton Hightower's eldest son, Baelor Hightower, asked Lancelot, "Ser Lancelot, how is the situation at the Wall? Are the Seven Kingdoms safe?"
Lancelot wiped his mouth with a napkin.
"Everything is fine at the Wall. We are repairing castles that are still habitable, and the coalition forces are spread out among them. Whether it's White Walkers or wildlings, they won't easily break into the home of the Seven Kingdoms."
"In that case, let us drink to them!" Baelor raised his goblet.
The others followed suit.
"To the warriors fighting in the North! They protect the Seven Kingdoms without fear of death. They are all heroes."
Meanwhile, in the far North, beyond the Wall, snow filled the sky.
Lu Bu and his army had occupied Craster's Keep.
They had commandeered the place as a stronghold. Craster was currently squatting on the ground, behaving himself and awaiting orders.
He had no choice but to submit. That guy named Lu Bu had actually lifted a five-hundred-pound fat pig in each hand. Lifting a thousand pounds total seemed like no effort at all for him.
Craster immediately realized he couldn't use force. He invited them inside, treated them well, and even had his wives and daughters serve them.
Lu Bu was currently sitting grandly on a chair with a backrest. He hadn't been sitting for fifteen minutes when a loud CRACK was heard.
The chair shattered.
Lu Bu had to switch to a sturdy bench. He looked down at Craster.
"We came here because we heard we could get intel on the wildlings from this place. Do you have anything to say?"
"Mance Rayder did send someone to invite me!" Craster said.
Aguda immediately let out a cold sneer.
"Invite you? More like he sent someone to give you orders! Would he really be that polite to you, Craster?"
Craster glanced at Aguda and continued, "Anyway, he sent people to find me and tell me to go with them. But I refused, because I can protect myself, and I can protect my family."
"You? Alone?" Lu Bu looked at the man with disdain. In his eyes, although this little old man was tough and had a bad temper, he was just one man. Two fists can't fight four hands; how could he deal with multiple enemies alone?
"Don't look down on me. I've lived beyond the Wall my whole life. Wives, daughters, a whole pile of them—who else but me has that kind of capability?"
Ygritte looked at Craster's wives, feeling puzzled.
"How exactly do you survive in this Haunted Forest? After all, those things appear here frequently."
"They are my gods. I worship them, I serve them. When they come, I offer sacrifices: pork, mutton, even my newborn sons."
"As long as I can survive, I don't care," Craster said with utter indifference.
"You... no wonder. No wonder everyone here except you is a woman. Did you sacrifice all your sons to those beings?" Ygritte asked.
"So what if I did?" He was self-righteous, feeling no guilt whatsoever.
"Only by doing this can I survive here."
"They will come tonight, too. They've been coming more frequently. But I still have plenty of pregnant wives, enough for the sacrifice... Hahaha!" Craster laughed, sounding like a madman.