GOT/ASOIAF: A Game Of Ice And Fire

"You see that, my prince? The oldest city of Westeros."

The voice was one I was very familiar with.

It was the voice of a boy that was a year away from being fully grown, although this world would already consider him a man.

"And yet, it is probably the most well kept." I joked towards him, teasing him about his pride over Lannisport. "At least compared to King's Landing."

Daven sat on a horse, who looked splendid in comparison to the regular horses most free riders had, right beside me and Sandor Clegane on the hill.

The future Lord of Lannisport was just over six feet, with blonde hair and green eyes.

His features were sharp, and I could see cheekbones and a jawline beginning to peek out through his no longer existing chubby cheeks.

And as the previous months had proved to the world, he was a warrior through and through, although you wouldn't be completely sure about it by his demeanor.

"You certainly jest, my prince! Lannisport makes this seem like a northerner town." He replied proudly. "Besides, how bad can the Capital really be?"

"Well it's not hard to beat those small communities, but I would like to compare it to White Harbor." I said with a chuckle. The boy, who was actually ten years older and two heads taller than me, was so easy to tease. "And believe me when I tell you that King's Landing doesn't live up to its name."

"Aye, I suppose it isn't. Have you ever been to the North?" He asked, while my eyes scanned the whitewashed walls of Old Town.

"Never. You?" I asked, and turned to him. My answer was so quick that it was easy for him to tell it was truthful.

His face had changed from the normally flippant and carefree look, to an awkward one.

Originally, Daven was not an expected companion of mine by any means. In fact, canonically he wasn't even meant to be the next lord of Lannisport.

I was expecting to find him as the son of Tywin's brother-in-law, someone who I would grow tired of being around within the next year or two.

But he had taken a liking to me, after we had spent enough time together. Being surprised at how more skilled I was compared to him and how unusually respectable I was with him and his family.

The scion of the offshoot house of the great Lannisters of Casterly Rock, was easy to talk to and didn't mind learning in silence despite his cheery disposition.

That was extremely valuable to me, as I was not interested in having mere brute fighters following me around.

Too confident with their own skills and not willing to listen to my advice would be the worst candidate for me to work with.

Gems could not be polished without friction, nor a man perfected without trials.

Because of that, I've added him to my party and raised the bar for what I expected him to become, which in return made him a formidable individual with enough experience. .

Eager to learn more even from Tyrion and Sandor, who I've also just recently added to my party.

"Has Lady Westerling stopped swooning over you yet, Daven?" I suddenly asked with a grin.

Apparently Daven had met her during one of the patrols of my Royal Legion around the Westerlands I had him join to gain experience.

Thanks to those experiences, the young lad was more than talented with the sword at his side. Not Jaime Lannister talented, but that wasn't out of his reach anymore.

Daven ġrȯȧnėd, recalling the encounter after dealing with some lowly outlaws.

"It's just hero worship coming from a child, she'll grow out of it." I reassured him, finding it so amusing that she and I had the same age. "Besides, I doubt your parents will favor such a match."

"One can only hope." Daven said as we trotted our horses back to join my Legionnaires and the traveling carts. "There's something wrong about that girl."

I merely grinned at the difference between Daven and the young wolf.

—————————————————————

One could see the legendary Hightower from kilometers away.

At first it was just a speck on the horizon, but as I got closer, still far away, I could see it pointing

up into the sky high above everything that surrounds it.

But it is only when Oldtown itself heaves fully into view that I could properly appreciate how much on a different scale this was to everything most people have seen in their entire lives.

This surely was one of the greatest wonders made by man anywhere on this planet, matching the proportions of both The Rock and Harrenhal.

And there was much to say about Oldtown itself, since it was after all the oldest and (until very recently) the largest city in Westeros, but I could elaborate on that some other time.

Not gonna lie, gazing up at it, it really feels awe inspiringly tall.

Perhaps someone was compensating for something.

Heh.

But stupid jokes aside…

I've been to higher places in my travels, Harrenhal and the Rock immediately comes to mind, but this was undoubtedly amongst the highest man-made structures on the continent.

Perhaps even the entire world.

It is higher than the wall itself, and so high

that it was said that one could even see the Wall from the top some 3 or more kilometers away.

Although I suspect that that claim spoke more about the small number of people who have actually been to the top of the tower than its actual veracity.

Not that any other buildings could get too close for the Hightower stood apart on an island in the estuary of the Honeywine River, considered one of the most lovely sounding rivers in all of Westeros as it entered into the Whispering Sound.

Again, also considered to be the most wonderfully named Bay in the Seven Kingdoms.

The Honeywine bifurcated the city, straddled by the Citadel and all manner of merchant houses and the like.

And all along both banks were docks and keys that made it easy for me to find someone who would take me and my close companions out into the middle of the river to get a closer look at the Hightower.

Although this city was further south than some parts of Dorne, its climate didn't seem to reflect that.

It was often foggy, and when it was, everyone could best appreciate the fundamental purpose of this tower being here.

It was after all a lighthouse, guiding ships through the fog into a safe dock.

On such days, and in the depths of night, the flame that burned so brightly from the top of the tower seemed to hang in the night sky, piercing almost supernaturally through the fog.

But today, thankfully, was not a foggy day.

I've heard that Humans have lived here for millennia.

Most often talked about houses being ancient if they have descended from the First Men, but I

should remind that the First Men were not actually the first humans on this continent at all.

Before them there were others, their names lost to us, who traded and settled in coastal areas like this, almost certainly founding Oldtown

itself.

House Hightower was quite possibly the descendent of some of these, and like their ancestors, they have maintained a commendable commitment to trade and diplomacy over warfare ever since.

But of course, even those humans weren't the

first occupants here.

Whenever back in antiquity the Hightower was first moved on to Battle Island, and incidentally no one seems to know why it's called Battle

Presumably there was a battle here once, but between whom and who won has been lost in the mists of history.

When the Hightowers moved in, it was to a

fortress that already existed.

Like I am now, they pulled their boats up to

this island and discovered a construction that was not just older than them, but far far beyond anything they could dream of building.

From afar, the Hightower looked to be of pale stone reaching up into the sky, but here close

up I could see its base and foundations of the opposite.

They were jet-black.

My mind immediately went back to the Sea Stone chair recorded to be located in Pyke castle, the throne of the Lord of the Iron Islands.

It was made of a black stone that felt unnatural somehow, as if it were made by magic or some long-forgotten and powerful race.

The foundation stones of the Hightower were a mystery even to their current occupants.

Exactly, it has to be said, the kind of mystery that

the Maesters who were based so close by were drawn to.

But even they were divided in their views as to what it was. It seemed to be the same sort of stone as the Sea Stone chair, but less oily to the touch and fused together with great artifice or magic.

It looks and feels much like the Black Walls of Volantis or the Dragon Roads of the Valyrian Freehold.

But unlike those Valyrian structures it was unadorned, plain and almost functional.

So, although the straightforward answer was that it was probably Valyrian or of some antecedent of the Valyrians, some Maesters say it is the work of the Deep Ones.

Those legendary half-human half-sea creatures.

And others even claim that the maze makers of Lorath were the ones responsible for it.

But whatever the truth of it, the Hightowers moved in and have been here ever since.

To start with, they lived in these dark cold corridors and halls that I saw here, the original structure being square and almost without light inside.

It was labyrinthine and unwelcoming.

It's defendable to be sure, but it isn't the kind of home you would expect a mighty lordly family to make do with.

And so, at some point, the Hightowers started to

build upwards.

First there was a squat wooden tower rising no more than 15 meters above the ancient foundations, it was in truth more of a glorified lighthouse than anything else, but it was a start.

After that, came three more wooden towers,

each taller than the last, but none were quite grand or strong enough.

So Uthor of the Hightower ordered the construction of something that would last the ages, a stone tower 60 meter high, still with a lighthouse at the top but with chambers and halls fit for a mighty house.

The person the legends tell us that he had commissioned to do this was none other than Bran the Builder, he who built the wall and founded Winterfell and House Stark.

Whether this was true or not, it was after all thousands of years old, it does at least give another reminder of how old house Hightower actually is.

Four massive constructions were built, lived in and torn down before House Stark was even founded.

At this point, Lord Hightower welcomed us into his glorious tower as his guests.

Honestly, I had all but forgotten that canonically he would have only locked himself up there without leaving for an entire decade after the Greyjoy rebellion took place.

Perhaps he, as was rumored of several other Hightowers over the years, would become too focused on his studies of the higher mysteries.

Sadly I didn't have the time to spend more than a night with Leyton Hightower and his family, since I've spent an entire week with the Tyrells.

But also, there were plenty of matters to be dealt with in this magnificent City.

—————————————————————

Although many cities in the Seven Kingdoms and beyond could easily claim greatness on one count or more, and in recent times it has been eclipsed politically and in terms of its sheer population size by King's Landing, Oldtown was in the mind of some indisputably the greatest city in the Seven Kingdoms.

It certainly was the oldest.

Who knows how long humans have lived and traded here, the center of learning and the home to sites such as the Hightower, the Citadel and the Starry Sept that were renowned across the known world.

It was also undoubtedly beautiful.

I began my day by walking down the Honeywine, the river that runs through the city.

All great towns and cities in this continent were on the coast or on a river, Winterfell of course being the exception here, but Winterfell was so often the exception to so many rules.

And for good reason it was the rule, this offered water, trading opportunities and transport links to elsewhere.

The Honeywine provided access deep into the most lush and fertile areas of the reach, its estuary offers safe harbor and deepwater docking for ships traveling from afar.

A perfect place for the First Humans in

Westeros to settle.

Although the river divides the city, it still feels well integrated.

There were many bridges crossing the Honeywine, most of carved stone but some still wooden, and there were islands here joined to both sides by bridges some so small they offer little more than a chance to pause and gaze around you at the sites, others large enough for several large buildings.

Perhaps the best example was the Quill and Tankard inn.

Indeed, my party and I stopped here (for them to get a taste of a glass of Arbor wine) while we talked some more about this city.

"This Inn has been here for 600 years they say." Tyrion pointed out, savoring the taste of wine in quite a while.

"To say it doesn't seem like it would be a lie." Daven snickered, taking a sip from his drink as well. "Though I do grant it has its charm."

"If you say so." I smiled at his antics, believing he was probably still a little salty because of my previous comment in regards to great cities.

"Why is it taking so fuċkɨnġ long?" Sandor muttered while hitting the table without paying much attention to our discussion. "Where's the chicken?"

It was a tall wooden building setting it apart from the stonework seen all around.

What else set it apart was it was lean. Its walls were angled sharply towards the south giving it a slightly disorientating feel, I dread to think how confusing it must be for the patrons after one too many of the notoriously strong ciders they sell

here.

But what really set this place apart was its patrons.

Other than perhaps the Inn at the crossroads, I struggle to think of a single place in these Seven

Kingdoms where such a rich diversity of people mix as equals, or almost equals.

There were traders and dock workers, scholars from the Citadel and less than pious clerics from the Starry Sept. Nobles stopped by here and so did scullery servants, deckhands and off-duty watchmen.

Bards and poets played for all and the staff were flirtatious and accommodating to all.

The hubbub all around was cheery and contagious, it was easy to imagine a similar scene happening here a century ago, or in a century's time.

Mimicking my actions with the Crossroads Inn, I slip away after casting a Minor Illusion of me and Disguise Self to appear as a wealthy man.

After a brief negotiation with the owner of the establishment, handing a few Gold Dragons, and having another letter sent to Chataya.

Recently I've been informed she had welcomed my half-sister, Bella Rivers, as one of her girls.

Though she had received strict orders to keep her away from the more mȧturė kind of business just to be safe.

Took the opportunity to also have the owner seek out some kid named Satin Flowers around the City, more specifically nearby the brothels area.

Although it would be fun to loiter, there was a

whole city for me and my companions to explore.

Moving away from the river and just wandering about, it soon became clear that this was a rabbit warren of a city.

Streets and pathways twisted and turned back on themselves, each bend could lead to a dead end or a vibrant street market filled with succulent produce from the Reach.

Not that you even need to travel far to find

food, in season anyone could find peaches pomegranates and even melons growing

wild here in thickets of undergrowth in

the city.

This, the incense from the many septs and the seabreeze were combined to give the city an ever-present almost floral smell.

It's rare indeed to find a city this size that didn't smell bad, King's Landing before my initial attempt at cleaning it being an obvious example, but this was a pleasant surprise.

Being this far south, the climate was also noticeably different to much of my travels.

During the summer months, Oldtown was allegedly swelteringly hot. Its citizens wore clothing more often seen in Dorne than in the Reach, and the entire pace of life changed.

Business and pŀėȧsurė were done deep into the evenings and the afternoons were taken at a much slower pace.

At other times, when it was less humid, the fog was a regular visitor, spreading out from the whispering sound like tentacles through the cobbled streets lending an eerie feel to the ancient lanes and alleys.

Navigation from place to place became harder, added to which when it was wet, the ever-present cobbles could become very slippery.

Manys the unwary visitors who had gotten lost or worse on a wet foggy night in Old Town.

Those who live here though seem to have

no problems finding their way.

While there was some degree of uniformity of design here, the cobbles, the stone built buildings and so on, each street was different and each area of the city had its own feel.

Tomorrow I had planned to visit the Citadel with its scholarly patriarchal field, but there was also the area around the seven shrines by the Honeywine with its extensive gardens and peaceful atmosphere.

There was also the undercity of course, I've been eager to venture there, as well as the usual ne'er-do-wells I hear talk of rat pits and the like.

Perhaps I might finally get some opportunity to go on my Night Raids, given it was very much like Flea Bottom from the Capital city.

As by the docks, there was a particularly cosmopolitan feel, even for this heterogeneous City one could hear dozens if not hundreds of different tongues and accents being spoken.

And there were seemingly temples for all, from Red Priests to Summer Islanders.

The greatest temple in all Oldtown though was of course the Starry Sept, to get there one found themselves walking past increasing reminders that the Faith of the Seven was the state or institutionalized religion.

Other religions were of course allowed, but this was where power lied, at least its shadow, and brought money to those ȧssociated with it.

The houses in this part of the city were large walled off mansions, the homes of the pious (or those who would like to be thought of as pious) were luxurious, filled with servants and with no luxury spared.

It was a completely different world from that other bastion of the faith, the quiet Isle with its homespun and humble approach to the faith.

Whatever one might think of this, no one could deny that the Starry Sept itself was impressive.

It was perhaps darker and more somber than the Sept at Highgarden say, but that just adds to its grandeur.

Its walls were black marble and its windows high and arched, it was here that the great moments that forged the relationship between the Faith and the Seven kingdoms took place.

When Aegon, Visenya and Rhaenys first landed on mainland Westeros with three dragons to commence their invasion, the High Septon locked himself in the Starry Sept for seven days and seven nights of praying and fasting.

He ate nothing and drank nothing, and at the end of the seven days he emerged to declare that the faith of the seven would not oppose Aegon the Conqueror, for if they did the Starry Sept and Oldtown as a whole would be destroyed and consumed in dragon fire.

I will leave it to others to decide the extent to which this was divine revelation and how much was simply someone recognizing the folly of trying to defy three angry dragons.

Regardless, Lord Manfred Hightower immediately accepted the wisdom of this and flung open the gates to the Targaryens when they arrived.

Aegon the conqueror was crowned King of the Seven Kingdoms here at the Starry Sept by the High Septon and was anointed in the faith of the Seven. His son and heir Aenys the First was also crowned and anointed here.

Come to think of it, Maegor was also married here, since Baelor had yet to be born in order to build the Great Sept back at King's Landing.

The lasting connection between the church and the state was established here, not that it was always an easy relationship.

The Targaryen might have politically or superficially adopted the faith, but other than a handful of notable exceptions, they never really accepted its moral code.

The faith then, as it do now, frowned on polygamy as well as ɨnċėst, but power was power and the uneasy alliance continued throughout the Targaryen reign.

Not that the Starry Sept retained its preeminent state.

Perhaps it was one High Septon too many protesting against Maegor cruelties and many

marriages, or the faith militant uprising, or just a dėsɨrė to concentrate political power in the new capital of King's Landing.

But eventually the Targaryens effectively forced the center of the faith away from Oldtown to the newly built great Sept of Baelor in King's Landing, where it has remained ever since.

Regardless, I wasn't exactly sure what would happen if I ever made a prayer or simply entered such a 'holy place' for the Faith of the Seven.

Worst case scenario I would receive nothing at all.

Best case, I was expecting to level up my Septon or Knight title.

"I did not know you were a religious man… boy, dear nephew." Tyrion remarked while both Daven and Sandor remained silent.

"Religion is often regarded by the common people as true, by the intellectuals as false, and by the rulers as useful." I replied with a serious yet friendly manner. "Though I would be dishonest to dismiss how it helps me better appreciate the beauties of creation."

"Always the philosopher, eh?" Tyrion chuckled but eventually conceded to my point. "So let us behold this… Sept."

Sandor merely shrugged, never actually complaining about where he followed me, but also never appearing satisfied either.

As for Daven, he seemed to concentrate on something while observing his surroundings.

My guess was that he had seriously taken my advice to improve Lannisport by comparing it to other cities to the letter.

However, as we stepped in the Starry Sept, a heavenly music alerted my Divine Sense as I felt my entire sight suddenly change.

Smoky black clouds of something ran over my vision, obscuring everything from sight.

Then, amongst the black clouds three constellations appeared before me.

A memory of playing the Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim flashed through my brain.

It looked just like how the skill trees did in that amazing game, although I didn't remember them ever looking like the ones that were in front of me.

The constellations were dim in my vision, but it soon formed itself into what was obviously an Archer (instead of a bow and arrow), a Chalice and a Dragon, if one was to connect the 'stars' of the constellations with lines.

Wasn't that the feature I dismissed in favor of boosting my Wild Shape and gaining the ability to Summon Animal Totems?

How come the New Gods were presenting me the same concept the Old one did?

Was it a revelation about this sept's origin? Or a fortunate coincidence that the New Gods were all about a Seven-pointed-star?

Whatever it might be, something wasn't right.

[TITLE'S LEVEL DOESN'T MEET THE REQUIREMENTS FOR A NEW FEATURE!]

The world changed from the constellations back to normal, though for the brief instant I had been away, no one seemed to notice it.

Tough luck, I guess.

But it doesn't mean I won't get it later.

What else is there to say about this great city?

In truth, it is so sprawling and ancient that we could talk for hours as we traverse the cobbles and gaze at the sights, but perhaps it was worth noting the durability of this place.

Many times it has been nearly wiped out only to return stronger than ever.

Way back in the Age of Heroes, piracy and reaping became such a problem for the city that it is said that one pirate, Gyles the Woe, was said to have carted away three-quarters of its population into slavery.

Can you believe it? That's crazy!

Only the Hightower stood strong against it.

Stronger defenses were built as a result and the city recovered.

Even in living memory the Gray Plague wiped out

half the city and three quarters of those in the Citadel.

Lord Quentin Hightower ordered the city to be sealed off and all the ships burned as a quarantine procedure.

These drastic measures worked, the plague was contained, but the smallfolk who survived didn't see it quite that way and Quentin Hightower was murdered by a mob at the very day he lifted the

quarantine.

And still, the city recovered and the Hightowers ruled on.

But perhaps that was the best way to conclude this part of my perambulation.

My companions were becoming bored in any case.

House Hightower personified by the Hightower itself loomed over this city, like Casterly Rock did to Lannisport, its shadow passing across the streets and houses as the day passes.

Incidentally, this was how the locals managed to tell the time.

This wasn't just their Lord's fortress and an impressive lighthouse for the harbor, it was a giant sundial that guided and shadowed all their days.

I could think of no better analogy and comparison for how this astonishing city kept going day after day.

—————————————————————

Outside of the Faith of the Seven and the feudal system itself, it was hard to think of a single establishment or institution that permeated every aspect of Westerossi life as much as the maesters from the Citadel.

They trained and taught the upper classes, oversaw the letters and missives sent from place to place, healed, counseled and advised in every corner of the Seven Kingdoms.

And that was just the qualified masters, when you add in the amount of people who have been

taught here or perhaps even earned a link or two in their chain without actually becoming full fledged maesters, instead turning into hedge healers, scribes, apothecaries, engineers and private teachers, its reach is immense.

For hundreds of thousands of years, the maesters have kept a virtual monopoly on learning in Westeros, and the epicenter of their knowledge and power was the Citadel.

The Citadel wasn't a single building, but an interconnected complex spanning the Honeywine in the center of Oldtown.

And although mostly stone built, there was no real architectural integrity here so much as a series of buildings created according to the needs of the time.

Some living quarters here, a lecture room there, kitchens, a forge, reading rooms, provision stores and laboratories, everything just built when it was needed.

Staring out at it now from slightly higher ground, it appeared as a hotchpotch of domes and towers and long halls, covered and uncovered stone bridges across the Honeywine so broad with its houses and market stalls sitting thirdly atop them.

Students stopping by to pick up supplies on their way to or from their studies, and the Weeping Dock sitting beneath, providing berths for

travelers to disembark within the Citadel itself without needing to fuss about the outside world of Oldtown.

It's very much a city within a city, with its own rules and feel.

Entering via the main gate, it was imposingly large and my eye was drawn immediately to the pair of large green sphinxes that flanked the entrance.

They were tall and exquisitely carved with the bodies of lions, the tails of serpents and the wings of eagles. Their faces were human, one male and one female.

This, while striking, was actually not particularly unique to me.

Any eagle-eyed traveler would have noticed a similar Sphinx was outside the entrances to several other august buildings or rooms.

The Valyrians had statues of sphinxes and legends say that some still stood in the ruins of Old Valyria.

There were a pair in Volantis guarding the bridge that joined the two halves of the city.

There was even a pair of sphinxes flanking the entrance to the Council Chamber in the Red Keep in King's Landing.

Here of course, there was an added irony, the Sphinxes may be male and female, but what they were guarding, the chance to access the knowledge and understanding in the Citadel was barred to women.

Only men could train to become masters and have access to the great library within.

Pycelle had revealed it in secret to me when I noticed he wasn't teaching everything to Alysse back when we were studying together.

For better or worse, he wasn't a regular Maester, so his mind was easily changed.

I stood in this part of the Citadel for a brief moment, as my Companions noticed its bustle of traders, locals and acolytes.

This was very much the outward facing part of the complex, all were welcomed here.

Like everything else in Oldtown, the founding of the Citadel was inextricably linked to house Hightower.

The exact story was of course lost to legend, but the story I like the most was of Prince Peremore the Twisted.

Peremore suffered for all his life from a variety

of maladies that left him bed bound, but although he could not travel he loved to explore with his mind.

The Hightowers were rich and influential then as now and Peremore spent his money lavishly to

bring the greatest teachers and intellectuals, magicians and healers, musicians and priests to Oldtown to teach him and share their knowledge with each other.

It must have been quite a gathering.

Peremore's flame might have burned brightly, but his life was short and he died still a young man.

His brother, Urrigon, could then have decided to

release all of these wise men, that he called 'Peremore's pets', back to wherever they came from.

But he didn't.

Perhaps it was out of love for his brother or his own love of knowledge, or maybe even something more farsighted.

But he granted this motley collection of learned men land in the center of the growing city where they could establish a permanent home for learning and community, and thus the Citadel and the order of maesters were founded.

For those who care about the timings of these things, it's worth observing that Peremore was the son, it is said, of Uthor of the Hightower, he who commissioned Bran the Builder to build the Hightower from stone.

So if we are to take all this at face value, all of these things the founding of the Citadel and the maesters, the building of the Hightower, the founding of House Stark Winterfell and the building of the wall which were also Bran the Builder doing all that happened in the space of one lifetime, and all remains strong and central parts of Westerossi life today.

It is quite an achievement to say the least.

Can't wait to surpass it.

Passing by the Sphinxes, we came to the scribes half, this was a large court with open booths all around the edges, some of which were filled with

bored looking young men.

Although the Citadel accepted applicants from a range of social classes, with letters of recommendation of course, not all students were equally gifted.

Some would sail through and in a matter of a few years have enough links in their chain to become masters.

Others will spend even longer learning just the rudimentaries of reading, writing and so on. Living their lives as novices or acolytes, but really just glorified servants to the maesters.

Most, of course, were placed somewhere in the middle.

Once a novice has gained the first link in his chain, he may call himself an acolyte, but for many of these acolytes the dream of maestership was still a long way off.

Some of these drift away from the Citadel, to become teachers of merchants' children, or scribes to noble houses, but those who remained needed to continue funding their studies somehow.

And many choose to do so here, selling their scribing skills or books, or whatever from the boots here.

The citizens of Oldtown came here to the scribes hath for this very reason, because they have a letter that needs reading to them, or need to purchase a book on a particular subject, or commission some cartography.

It makes for a busy, if slightly refined atmosphere, half marketplace half library.

But there was so much more to see here even deeper into the Citadel.

A quick peek into the seneschals court, the center of justice and governance in the Citadel, showed a couple of bashful looking acolytes waiting to be seen, and just outside another sitting miserably in the stocks presumably as punishment for some petty crime.

People had evidently been pelting him with

cabbages and the like, so he will be in sore need of a bath when they release him.

It's a depressing punishment to be sure, but there were harsher regimes elsewhere in these Seven Kingdoms.

Even my Royal Legion wasn't lenient with punishment to those that broke our rules.

Although I was eager to see the famed library, I decided to lead my group to stop off somewhere else first.

The oldest inhabited part of this complex was the ravenry situated on an island in the Honeywine, linked to the rest of the citadel by a creaking wooden drawbridge that seemed permanently stuck in the down position.

Coming here felt like a castle, with a stone curtain wall surrounding the towers within, and indeed it used to be a castle.

A stronghold for pirates in the Age of Heroes before the Citadel was here.

The walls still stood in reasonable repair, but this still felt different to the rest of the Citadel.

Perhaps it was the legacy of the First Men who built this place, but from all the history lessons I've had, it felt northern.

Standing here in the courtyard, it was cool and damp and dark, whatever the weather outside.

The walls were covered with purple moss or lichen and climbing vines were everywhere.

And in the center, an ancient nile weirwood tree stared out at me.

It too was covered in moss, hiding much of the white of its bark, and everywhere there were Ravens.

They sat in the branches of the weirwood atop the walls in windows and all around the yard gazing at me accusingly.

There were two main towers here.

The north tower was the main rookery and also contained the chambers of the archmaester of the higher mysteries, in other words magic.

Although, the Citadel would maintain that magic, if it ever was real, was long gone.

This was the age of man, as most Maesters would proudly claim.

And as if to back up that point, these apartments were not (it has to be said) well-maintained, with faded tapestries, mounds of parchment and a single unlit black candle in the center of the room.

The other tower, the West Tower, was the home of the archmaester responsible for ravenry, and also the ravenry for the white ravens.

These were for one purpose only.

When the maesters have consulted their auguries and textbooks and decided that the season has changed, these would go out in their hundreds to the nobles across the land with that one message.

I'm sure they've been put to use much more frequently than the decades before my birth, but in the meantime, while they were stuck here, I gathered that the main concern was keeping them away from their black brethren.

White and Black ravens did not get on it would appear.

And people still believed that humans were an abomination to nature.

But finally moving on to what I've been eager to see, the library.

This was the heart of the Citadel, there were books here that existed nowhere else in the known world, copies of texts from Old Valyria, transcriptions of ancient knowledge passed down from the First Men, legends, poems, books of science, maps of every corner of the known world, treaties on every imaginable subject.

Many were available to all acolytes and welcomed guests, some were locked tight deep in the vaults beneath the Citadel, accessible only to a select few.

I saw it now, opening up before me, this vast expanse of knowledge, but the women among us were being turned back.

This knowledge was only for men, the maesters say, though rarely in such blunt terms.

Perhaps as a woman you could cut your hair and dress as a boy and then maybe they would let you in.

I doubt these old duffers would even notice.

Thinking about you, Alleras.

But like the hierarchy of the Faith of the Seven and the rules of succession for almost all noble houses, this knowledge was barred to women.

As I've noted at the start of this journey, these were the Institute oceans that held sway over the realm and they were also the ones that rarely if ever allow women in formal positions of power.

—————————————————————

I've found a mixed reception at the Citadel when I first arrived.

They were, of course, pleased that the Crown Prince of the Realm was interested in them and their learning, but on the other hand they seemed slightly anxious about the Royal scrutiny.

I couldn't blame them.

It must be pretty comfortable for them, to be generally away from the intrigue of the capital and only engage at it when they chose to.

And now comes the royal brat with who knows what agenda?

I couldn't care less for their suspicions anyway.

Directly speaking with the ones in charge, I requested an inventory of every book they had stored, explaining that I was interested in contributing with their preservation.

Obviously, being the organization freaks they were, they had it with them a pretty robust account of everything, safe for an in depth description of what was stored in their vaults.

After handing them a hefty quantity of gold, I took the opportunity to double check everything just in case they had missed anything.

After much cajoling, persuading and bribing I had been able to grab a hold of dozens of higher ranked acolytes to do my bidding for a month, one that I've spent to the fullest, searching through the Citadel's numerous shelves and repositories in search of mapping out this place completely.

Why was I wasting my time doing this sort of thing?

Let's just say, in case a tragic fire were to take place, I would be able to make a speed run and to store everything that would be useful to me in my Inventory.

Unfortunately, it had proven harder than I had first anticipated.

Not in regards to finding the restricted areas of the Citadel's collection of knowledge, much less finding my way inside it.

But the tricky part was that, contrary to the Iron Throne that mimicked its counterpart in the books instead of the series, this Citadel was more like the one depicted in the TV Show.

A mesmerizing collection of all sorts of knowledge on an unrealistic scale, from the trivial to the essential.

While in the books, phrases like "so many books at the Citadel that no man can hope to read them all" or "if the world ended tomorrow, they could rebuild it with the knowledge contained in these books" were mostly overstatements, now I wasn't that much sure about.

Still, I've come with a mission.

The numbers they had first provided me in exchange for a generous donation were paramount to come up with a realistic plan to list all of the books in the Citadel.

"Another one listed…" I remarked while closing the heavy tome with a snap, startling a few of the acolytes around me that had been tirelessly looking for any vague field of knowledge that might interest me.

Tyrion had decided to lend me his head after he got tired of running errands alongside my Legionnaires, leaving the Hound to lead them and 'keep an eye' in case they end up getting in trouble.

"Already?" Asked Tyrion, raising his head from a dusty tome. "Are you even reading anything?"

"Volumes one to thirteen of Archmaester Gorrion's 'On Westerosi Ancient Cultures' had some interesting details… but nothing special. What about you?" I asked back with a casual smirk.

"The descriptions of Old Braavos were nice, but nothing more than history trivia." Said Tyrion with a shrug. "But the essential reads are getting much rarer to find.

We must have actually read less than a tenth of the entire complex, but my operation of mapping where everything was stored was finally reaching its end.

Hours and hours, weeks of sitting through dusty tomes and stained parchment but I hadn't been able to find a single new skill.

Just improving what I already had.

Probably due to my cram with Pycelle in my initial years, so anything new was probably locked amongst the restricted areas.

I'd been getting faster and more concentrated the more time I spent here though… thinking that I needed to vary the research with some kind of more practical projects, as usual.

Took the opportunity to 'copyright' some songs from my previous life, claiming to be made by one of my aliases like Bard/Ranger or outright to myself in the case of the stories from my past life.

Obviously, I was aware of the potential such things had of causing a buŧŧerfly effect.

But by now, it was inevitable that they were spreading amongst the highborns after my time playing and singing in Chataya's brothel.

Why not extend it to the smallfolk as well?

It was just a matter of proper branding, and having some of the acolytes and Maesters indirectly helping me out with it.

They certainly were interested in my recipes for hamburgers and Coca-Cola, but I wasn't ready to make it public knowledge yet.

As for Daven and Sandor, they had not been as helpful as Tyrion with listing books, but my Pretty Pia had helped to, at least, clear the most trivial ones.

She knew how to handle herself in a library thanks to the many hours she had spent in Casterly Rock reading about many things.

There were not exactly many things to do when there was a heavy snow storm outside anyway.

At the moment, Pia was asleep over a thick tome about, of course, Heroes of the past.

I took a drink from a nearby cup of clear water while wiping a bit of filth off the next tome, I've gathered some Combat lessons treaties, references and manuals for Daven to read when he had the chance.

"Another section has been listed in our books." I said after opening the tome while receiving a written report from the acolytes I had working for me.

I took a deep breath before sighing again, our work was finally approaching its end.

"So, uncle, I've been meaning to ask you." I decided to change subjects for a change. "What is your honest opinion of my stories?"

Tyrion raised an eyebrow at my sudden question, but quickly came up with a proper response. "You are a very radical storyteller." He remarked closing the tome he was inspecting and wrote its name alongside a brief description in one of our books. "To my knowledge, you don't follow the literary standards of our time, demonstrating a preference for your own style. Which is both your strength and weakness."

"Interesting." I pondered for a moment at his words. "Please, explain it to me."

This time Tyrion was the one to sigh. "You constantly divert from plot and narrative to dwell on a person, place or thing— often simply because you wanted to. You also pause the flow of the story to linger on songs and myths. Your great heroes and battles are most often secondary plot lines." He raised a pretty good argument. "In the tale you call 'The Lord of the Rings', you've been clear that bigger, better things happened before what was happening in the story you were actually telling. History is certainly central to your stories, often making the main narrative feel like a lesson. All of these things run counter to what one would expect from any novel." Tyrion got up and placed the tome back to its place on the shelf. "If I was someone who thought he was getting to hear about a fantasy story about flawless heroes defeating a villain that was evil for the sake of being evil, your tale would not be it. It is difficult, formal, and academic reading at times."

"I see." I acknowledge his point, understanding my limitations in mimicking the work of others.

"But in my opinion…" Tyrion continued. "…all of those are also the reason your storytelling works so well to me. With this particular tale about this place named Middle-Earth, you are less interested in narrative fiction than you are in world-building. The former serves the latter. The totality of your effort is precisely what makes it, ultimately, so immersive. And the fact that it breaks with norms so much is part of what allows me to experience it as something more realistic than most 'fantasy stories'."

"You make a fair argument." I replied in recognition. "Perhaps you might consider writing something, I certainly would like to see what you can come up with."

Tyrion chuckled and shook his head. "I'm sorry, dear nephew, but I'm more of a reader than a writer."

"If you say so." I shrugged my shoulders before standing up and stretching. "I believe it's enough work for a day. We are so close to the end, it would be best to not rush it now." I turned towards the sleeping Pia. "Wake her up, please."

Tyrion smiled walking towards the girl I've managed to sneak inside the citadel. "Poor lass, she has certainly tried her best to help us out. Even going as far as disguising herself as a boy."

"Indeed. The people from here must be completely blind to mistake her pretty face for the one of a boy." I remarked with a smirk, even if someone had suspected anything, I doubt they could do anything to stop me from having her tagging along. "We should probably go see Clegane and Daven. Hopefully my sworn shield hasn't killed anyone yet."

"Oh, he certainly has." Tyrion argued back while gently shaking the drooling Pia awake. "Let's just hope it's not one of your men."

I nodded and the three of us left that section of the Citadel.

It was right there, walking through the wide corridors of the Citadel, that my Observe skill drew my attention to an individual with jangling chains I hadn't considered searching for here of all places.

He was tall, slightly stooped with crinkles around his warm brown eyes.

With gray hair, a lean frame, and looks fatherly.

His robes were pristine and well sewed, with an impressive maester's chain around his neck.

{QYBURN, MAESTER OF THE CITADEL.}

LV: 30

RACE: ANDAL

ALLEGIANCE: KNOWLEDGE

PWR: 12

END: 14

MOB: 12

INT: 37

STL: 20

DEF: 2* (Maester Clothes)

{Qyburn currently studies at the Citadel, and is as skilled a healer as Ebrose (the archmaester at the Citadel who tests novices seeking their link in the arts of healing). However, he currently seeks to surpass the archmaester, and instead of opening dead bodies to discover the secrets of the living as the Citadel has done for centuries, Qyburn is currently opening living bodies to discover the secrets of death. He believes it helps him better understand the nature of life and death better than any man in Oldtown. He has respect for Marwyn of the Citadel, the only archmaester who favors Qyburn's way of thinking about the residue of souls after death, but he is starting to perceive the other archmaesters as "gray sheep". Qyburn is clever and loyal, but also amoral and ingratiating.}

To my knowledge, it was never stated when exactly he was exiled from the Citadel, but by the time of the War of Five Kings he was ready to join the Brave companions.

What a fortunate turn of events.

Have spent around a month here, and by sheer coincidence we come face to face in the halls of this massive institution.

"Uncle, please take Pia safely back to the Inn." I asked him while keeping my eyes on the peculiar man. "I need to settle a few matters so we can take our leave in a couple of days."

"Sure thing, Don." Tyrion nodded, aware of the trust I had in him.

Approaching Qyburn, I called for him. "Excuse me, Maester Qyburn, may I have your attention for a moment?"

His eyes betrayed his surprise at noticing I knew him by name.

"O-of course my prince! I'm always happy to help!" Qyburn managed to reply, completely halting his movement and immediately dedicated his full attention towards me.

"Excellent!" I smiled in return. "I was told you would be the perfect man to help me deal with my weakness here."

The old man's expression faltered, showing confusion but still compelling him to ask. "And what that weakness might be, my prince?"

I approached him even more, making it appear I was sharing a top secret with him. "Curiosity."

"Curiosity?" Qyburn repeated, clearly having not expected such a response.

"I'm afraid so." I nodded with a serious face, hiding my grin with Player's mind. "You see, I've been having classes with what I was told were the best learned men this institution had to offer since after my first name day. And now I've memorized so much that I'm confident I could make my own chain of links, with each one attesting to my mastery, or at least what these withered old men here in the Citadel consider mastery, of a different area of study."

The old maester's head seemed to be about to explode after considering the implication of my high intellect despite my much younger age.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm not completely invalidating what has been taught to me." I spoke before he could ask another question. "But I've come to realize the massive flaw with the order of the maesters. Only one maester in a hundred forges a link about the higher mysteries. Only one maester in a hundred has the sense that gods gave a goat."

Qyburn actually chuckled at my comment, probably having thought the same thing himself.

"You're wiser than most Archmaesters, my prince. No one has performed true magic in centuries. We merely sit in a room mumbling over a candle of dragonglass, trying to make it catch fire. After a sleepless night of failure, we are expected to admit to our own limitations. To win the link, we are supposed to lose our curiosity." The old man began to open up to me while I drew him to a better place for us to have our talk.

"I've heard you never did." I suddenly replied, knowing I finally got him where I wanted.

"I beg your pardon, my prince, but who told you that?" The old maester made a curious face.

"A group that's tired of the world the order of Maesters are leading the world to. The same maesters that studied without learning, and proudly passed down the same knowledge that was passed down to them, with no addition." I hooked him.

Just then I knew he was ready to accept my offer.

"The Alchemist Guild is once again growing strong." I finally announced after making sure through my Mental map that no one was nearby. "And they're interested in what you've been learning in secrecy."

"I-I…" Qyburn stuttered, unable to find words to answer.

"Make no mistake, Qyburn." I added while taking from my Inventory a lowly Zombie I've captured and controlled from the Magical Dungeon under the Citadel. "Magic is coming back, the maesters like it or not."

Qyburn immediately shifted his gaze towards the undead I had just summoned, at least to him, out of nowhere.

His intense gaze immediately gave space for a satisfied grin, displaying his hunger for knowledge already kicking in.

"How can I serve you and the Guild?" He kneeled before me, and through my Observe skill, I've noticed I've earned his devotion.

With luck, I can make him and Pycelle get along well.

Probably appealing to how both men weren't bound by their vows.

—————————————————————

As I raised all my stats, countless perks were unlocked to me.

At first, since Perk Points were limited to one per level, I wasn't willing to buy anything that wasn't completely priceless to me.

But since my titles have appeared and changed this matter, I was more than open for improvements.

I've already acquired around seventeen perks, that while some weren't that much impressive by themselves, created a solid foundation to the build I was striving for.

Player's Mind initially seemed to be nothing more than giving me full control of my facial and body language, which was already useful as hell, but also gave me some sort of peace of mind.

It allowed me to keep a straight face while persuading (as well as intimidating) Tywin Lannister, while also not letting myself get frightened of the nightmarish hordes of undeads I've been dealing with, which seemed to be ruining the Old Lion's nights more than the looming rebellion of the wannabe Vikings.

Added it to my Mental Map and Inventory, and I was what any respectable Gamer ought to be, as I was capable of sort of echolocating myself and my surroundings while also having the completely broken mini version of an endless pocket dimension, that made storing and equipping things a trivial matter.

Surprisingly, Healer boosted my chances of understanding Necromancy as more than raising and controlling undeads, while Linguistic gave me the necessary edge to decipher several recipes of magical infusions I got from the Alchemist Guild.

Which I was confident would be directly responsible for allowing Alysse to give the final step for me.

Doubling down on my perception, I got Observant, Sleep is for the Dead, Alert and Sentinel.

A really awesome combination.

The first made me capable of finally noticing the inscriptions carved around each dungeon's entrances without having to linger around.

The second gave me time to grind to exhaustion my skills and stats during every night while still keeping up with the necessary social interactions I had to fulfill.

The third paradoxically enough, made me less paranoid, since I didn't have to fear any sneak attack thanks to my own version of spider sense.

While the fourth gave me considerable control of the battlefield.

Crossbow Expert and Sharpshooter made me the next coming of Bullseye, Green Arrow and Hawkeye with basically any ranged attack.

Especially with the awesomeness that was the experience of using a Crossbow as if it was both a shotgun and a sniper, depending on the occasion.

By the time I got perks from my titles, I had finally reached a point where I could get more liberal with my choices.

Divine Sense served more as an insurance policy while Lay on Hands would be my second line of support in case my Medicine skill wasn't enough.

Divine Smite and Channel Divinity were contenders for best spent perk points.

They gave awesome features such as Vow of Enmity, Control Undead, Destructive Wrath and Twilight Sanctuary.

For each one of them, I had massive expectations of where they would lead me on my study of magic.

Last, but certainly not least, I had gained a certain level of connection with nature.

Which totally caught me by surprise.

Don't get me wrong, if these Old Gods compelled me to become a fanatic tree-loving hɨpster that would much rather have his fellow men starve than hunt or harvest in order for great powers, I wouldn't do it.

Thankfully, they understood nature to the degree of knowing how harsh it was.

It was a dog-eat-dog world after all.

In any case, I was surprised by the level of actual fun I was having with the perks of being a Druid.

While my Wild Shape and Animal of the Woods raised my animal handling and training to unexpected levels, few things could beat the feeling of flying higher than the clouds as a bird of prey.

Not to mention the new meaning I was giving to pack tactics.

But if I was being honest, It would be my Wild Companion and Spirit Totem that allowed me to be really creative.

Shadow had literally become my shadow, as I've learned how to subtly summon it out of my own darkness.

A neat trick I got from using my Inventory without drawing too much attention.

And believe it or not, she was leveling up to the point of rationality.

Not like it made her question my leadership, far from it, but it actually gave her a personality.

She had yet to learn how to speak like a human, or to use magic in any way other than what our bond allowed.

But she was undoubtedly my Familiar, as small silver marks began to appear on her fur and her eyes were slowly approaching the look of mine.

Which was a little cute, if I was being honest.

Can't believe I've just been Uno Reversed.

On a side note, although I enjoyed petting her, sometimes even my mage hands weren't available to do so while I was busy.

It was for that matter that she had grown fond of my Unseen Servant, who funnily enough cast no shadow of its own thanks to its nature.

As for my Spirit Totem, just as Control Undead was excellent for my evolving understanding of necromancy, it was helping me test out my growing knowledge of the Conjuration school of magic.

And let's be real, espectral animals were dope as fuċk.

Bear, Hawk and Unicorn made their short stay, every time I summoned them, count.

Now, onto new territory.

While the less impressive were quickly ignored and forgotten (with Lightly and Moderately Armored being dismissed since I was aiming to get Heavily Armored and could instantly equip it through my inventory), the outstanding ones caught my attention.

[WAR CASTER PERK UNLOCKED - COST: 1PP]

[You have practiced casting spells in the midst of combat, learning techniques that grant you the following benefits: You have advantage on maintaining your concentration on a spell.

You can perform the somatic components of spells even when you have weapons or a shield in one or both hands. When a hostile creature's movement provokes an opportunity attack from you, you can react by immediately casting a spell at the creature. The spell must have a casting time of 6 seconds or less and must target only that creature.]

Concentration had yet to be a big deal with the spells I currently had in hands, but I knew that sooner than later I would have to.

Some Spells would certainly require me to maintain focus in order to keep their magic active, and if I lose it, such a spell would end.

Which was most likely to happen after taking damage or being surprised by an unexpected shift of the scenery, given that maintaining focus on a spell would be like rationalizing a complex mathematical problem without help in keeping track of it.

Even though I had Alert to lend me a hand on those situations, I'd rather avoid having to go through such an annoying situation.

[- 1PP]

[MAGIC INITIATE PERK UNLOCKED - COST: 2PP]

[First, second and third level spells take half their usual cost to be casted.]

No arguments needed.

Excellent for grinding their levels up and really practical to have.

[- 2PP]

[CHEF PERK UNLOCKED - COST: 1PP]

[Time and effort spent mastering the culinary arts has paid off. You gain the following benefits:

Increase your Endurance Stat by 1. You gain proficiency with cook's utensils if you don't already have it. You can cook special food, provided you have ingredients and cook's utensils on hand. Any creature who eats the food regains half its health points. With one hour of work or when you finish a long rest, you can cook a number of treats. These special treats last 8 hours after being made. A creature can eat one of those treats to gain temporary Health points.]

Basically allowing me to brew my own healing potions until I got my hands on how to mass produce what I got from my first Magical Dungeon.

Really tempted to not take it since it seems only temporary, but remembering how useful Healing was on getting Spare the Dying, I end up betting that I could learn something more about Alchemy through it.

[- 1PP]

[KEEN MIND PERK UNLOCKED - COST: 1PP]

[You have a mind that can track time, direction, and detail with uncanny precision. You gain the following benefits: Increase your Intelligence by 1. You always know which way is north. You always know the number of hours left before the next sunrise or sunset. You can accurately recall anything you have seen or heard before.]

Another no-brainer since it could speed my learning curve for basically any skill, especially now.

Besides, raising my Intelligence (even by a single level) was reason enough to get this perk.

[- 1PP]

[MOBILE PERK UNLOCKED - COST: 1PP]

[You are exceptionally speedy and agile. You gain the following benefits: Your running speed increases by 3 KM/H. When you dash or run on difficult terrain it doesn't disturb you. When you attempt to make a melee attack against a creature, you don't expose yourself to opportunity attacks from that creature, whether you hit it or not.]

I guess this is what I got from raising my Mobility this high.

Still, although running around cities while performing parkour doesn't seem to be a problem for me and I had my Wild Shape to compensate for moving around in the wilderness, I'm pretty confident this would be a perfect fit for my Water Dance style and I could always use the boost of speed.

Now I could finally sprint through a full marathon.

[- 1PP]

{RUNNING Lv - 30 (45%)}

{ALLOWS YOU TO MOVE FASTER. YOU CAN TRAVERSE LONGER DISTANCES QUICKER FOR LONGER PERIOD OF TIME.}

{COSTS -5 SP PER MINUTE. MAX VELOCITY: 15 KM/H.}

Nice.

[RESILIENT AND TOUGH PERK UNLOCKED - COST: 3PP]

[Increase the Endurance Stat by 5.

Your Health and Endurance bar maximum doubles immediately and increases twice as fast per level when you gain this perk.]

Leading me towards the path of weightlifting mammoths and running forever while also becoming near immortal?!

Sign me in.

[- 3PP]

[SKULKER PERK UNLOCKED - COST: 1PP]

[You are an expert at slinking through shadows. You gain the following benefits: You can easily hide when you are lightly obscured from the creature from which you are hiding. When you are hidden from a creature, making a ranged weapon attack or silent ranged spell doesn't reveal your position. Dim light doesn't impose disadvantage on your perception relying on sight.]

My Stealth stat had finally provided me with a perk to go along with it that didn't solely rely on my perception.

[- 1PP]

[10 PP REMAINING]

Good enough for now, better save something for later.

—————————————————————

Daven constantly sparred with my best Legionnaires.

He frequently spoke of his dream of becoming a knight who inspired greatness in others by committing brave deeds in battle.

Someone whose mere presence in a small village would be enough to cause some bandits to seek easier prey. Or someone who could turn a city into a beacon of might against an invading army.

By himself he would be a skilled warrior, but when leading a band of allies, he would transform even the most poorly equipped militia into a ferocious war band and turn a city's guard into an elite force.

Constantly remarking that he would lead through deeds, not only words.

And in all honesty, it was already showing results.

As Daven spearheads an attack, his actions seemed to awaken reserves of courage and conviction in my Legionnaires that they never suspected they had.

With dedication and appropriate tutoring, Daven had just reached a point of excelling at mounted combat.

Now learning from veteran Knights, that I've personally picked and hired, how to lead a cavalry charge and how to guard those in his charge from harm.

I make ludicrous progress because of the game system providing me with countless buffs like what I got from good nutrition and perks, but Daven made noticeable martial improvement for someone without the advantages that I had.

He favored using a sword and shield in duels, as that was his bread and buŧŧer, and the way he spun the shield sometimes to create openings was prodigious.

Most just held it up to block and that was it.

Not Daven.

Daven and Sandor began sparring everyday with me, so that they were prepared for agile and slippery opponents.

Even Tyrion joined our daily sparring sessions, mainly because of my insistence.

Normally minor lords wouldn't get to do such things with Crown Princes and sons of great lords, but I used what influence I had to allow it.

They were good enough to help me raise a few of my skills' levels and better define some of my maneuvers as well.

Most days though, Tyrion completely lost to Daven and Sandor, given how they weren't anything but average fighters. But those were coming farther and fewer in between, with the little Lannister actually managing to come up with some surprisingly cunning tactics to either get a 'killing blow' or 'mutual kill blow'.

It doesn't matter how mighty you were, a dagger or bolt to the heart or eye socket would still kill you.

Unless you had the Game system turning you into a game character, or were an actual undead.

However, neither Tyrion nor Daven have been able to uncover how they became so much better with everything I set them to learn.

Which speaks a little against their overall awareness.

Not that it was fair of me to expect it from them.

But still…

Sandor was becoming suspicious, given how close he was to them, witnessing first hand their rapid evolution.

Clegane never asked anything, but it was clear to me he wasn't oblivious to this abnormality, especially with Tyrion of all people trading some blows with him.

I did enjoy my time alongside my three companions though.

They were easy to be around, with Tyrion contributing with his quick tongue and good humor, Daven with his optimist yet enduring demeanor and Sandor with his realistic honesty and efficiency.

Daven and Sandor didn't drink that often, preferring water to wine which I really enjoyed since I've been trying to put Tyrion on a better path.

To the dwarf's horror.

Besides, I couldn't take someone acting drunk all the time.

Another source of motivation for me was the words that floated above their head all day.

I was eager to push the limits of the Companion aspect of the game to see what it could offer.

Since I had the choice to choose the perfect builds for my Party members, I've made Rhaenys a Rogue to better serve as my Master of Whispers and Alysse a Bard to better serve as my Master of Coin.

Though I was still oblivious to what it would take to earn those titles myself.

Retreading the path I've taken with Rhaenys, raising mobility and stealth stats while gaining proficiency with certain skills, I was pleased to see how much compative it was with Tyrion.

Focusing his training on the art of the blade, relying on speed, elegance and charm in equal parts.

Finding clever ways of coming out on top in single combat, as well as fighting with multiple weapons like daggers and crossbows while safely darting away from an opponent.

Teaching him Dirty Fighting and Water Dance was a very fun experience for me, as I was shaping him into a fusion between Bronn and Syrio.

However, since I didn't have the vast quantities of criminals to raise his experience like I did with Rhaenys, I had to make do with the eventual bandits and animals to hunt.

"I gotta give it to you dear nephew, this fancy footwork you've learned with the Bravossi fencer is quite impressive." Tyrion told me during one of our training sessions.

I've been helping him with how to land a strike and then slip away without reprisal, making sure he gave no opportunity for others to exploit.

In contrast, with my superior awareness, I was the perfect tutor to help him get the basics of sneak attacks.

But I didn't want him overconfident with his new skills, so despite his smaller frame and lighter weight, my Alert and Mental Map perks were too much for him to handle.

"You do have a sharp mind, uncle. With a knack for finding the solution to just about any problem." I complimented while flipping him over to the ground after he failed to sneak attack me. "But when stealth is no longer a choice, you should try using your charisma to taunt your targets. Make them act without thinking in order to punish their folly."

"I guess I can come up with some one-liners." Tyrion skillfully rolled away from me, wiping his forehead's sweat with a smirk before giving his best shots trying to bait me.

It served as a weaker version of my Vow of Enmity, which wasn't bad against regular foes, but lacked the power to influence me.

Still, I could see that his skill was improving.

Let's see…nimble evasions, deadly sneak attacks and charming taunts.

Oh, I made good use of his great intellect to have him become proficient with surviving and exploring.

Making him acquainted with Nature was slightly harder, but our constant campings were sufficient opportunities.

And the Larcenous arts was something he picked up by himself.

In regards to weapons, I had Tyrion grow used to wielding daggers for cunning tactics and handling smaller crossbows for a steady aim.

He wasn't ready to clean a magic dungeon by himself, but he was at least capable of fending for himself if the need ever arises.

And he would serve as a living example of what my Legion's scouts should aim to become.

As for Daven, my natural fighter, he was becoming my experiment.

I wasn't ready to boost him with the titles of Knight or Septon, but I couldn't expect him to be satisfied with either the role of a Rogue or a Bard.

The best fighters shared an unparalleled mastery with weapons and armor, as well as a thorough knowledge of the skills of combat.

They should all be well acquainted with death, both meeting it out and staring it defiantly in the face.

So I had him act more independently, either training arduously with Sandor or joining other Centuries to fight some bandits elsewhere.

Which meant he was growing at a faster pace than Tyrion.

Thanks to him I've finally had proper sparring matches to raise my skill with the shield, and I was finally progressing to learn how to properly handle great weapons and polearms.

Meanwhile Daven memorized several fighting styles, and noticed that one of his 'perks' allowed him to use his stamina to replenish his health in certain conditions.

It was named Second Wind.

Probably the best alternative he would have in place of my quick healing.

Similarly, Daven learned how to quickly burn through his stamina bar in order to boost his attacks' speed and strength.

Action Surge was probably the one I wanted for myself.

This allowed him to actually face me in a serious duel.

Sure, I didn't use my Valyrian weapons or my magic, but that simple fact was enough to baffle me.

Unsurprisingly, my Teaching skill was proving to be one of my most broken abilities, probably even above Animal Taming and Training.

"Keep in mind that combat is in fact an academic field, which includes subjects beyond battle such as weaponsmithing and calligraphy." I kept preaching to Daven, who attentively learned everything without doubting me.

"You know how to craft weapons?" He suddenly asked, realizing I've mentioned my studies with the Grand Maester back at King's Landing.

"As a matter of fact, I do." I nodded, reminding the teachings I got from Tobho Mott. "If you prove yourself capable, I might guide you through the basics after you're done studying all the treaties and manuals of combat I've got for you."

Not every fighter absorbed the lessons of history, theory, and artistry that were reflected in this build I was building for him (just ask Bronn for confirmation), but those who embodied it would become well-rounded fighters of great skill and knowledge.

And that was precisely my goal with this experiment.

I wanted to push my Legionnaires even farther than I've already had.

But I required a fully tested plan before attempting to alter what I've spent a year trying to ȧssemble.

This superiority depended upon his grasp over the maneuvers I taught him, which would serve as a martial equivalent of spells, and his ability to study his enemies through the use of his Observe skill should cover any gap between him and them.

As for my faithful hound.

I had something else planned for him.

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(11/12/2021)

*Hope this chapter is of your liking.

Anything you wish to ask or suggest, feel free to do so.

Check out my auxiliary chapter if you still haven't.

Thanks as always for your attention and please be safe.

Any problems with my writing, just point them out and I will correct them as soon as possible.

** Shoutout to both fics: "The Ladder" by "Twubs" at Fanfiction.com and "Purple Days" by "barus" at forums.spacebattles.com.. Really digging both stories.