Skyrim System In Westeros

"I did it! Lord Renly, I did it!"

In the Mage's Academy in King's Landing, Qyburn suddenly shouted in excitement.

Malora Hightower and Thoros were in the library, binding books with sturdy covers, while Renly was nearby, categorizing and labeling them. These books, handwritten by Wright, had been shipped from Storm's End and contained his insights on magic.

Qyburn rushed up to the three of them, practically stumbling over himself.

"What are you yelling about?" Malora nearly dropped the pages she was working on, startled by Qyburn's outburst. Though she often bickered with him, the two were actually quite close.

"Look! I succeeded!" Qyburn exclaimed, holding out his hand.

In his palm stood a tiny, featherless chick, its insides hollowed out. Qyburn placed the chick on the table. As he channeled his magic, the little creature began to move across the surface.

"Your necromancy worked!" Renly stood up, examining the chick closely. "Weren't you struggling with insufficient magical power before?"

"I'm not sure," Qyburn replied, beaming. "These past few days, magic has been flowing much more smoothly. During today's experiment, it just worked!"

Renly stroked the beard he had recently started growing, deep in thought. "Now that you mention it, I've noticed something similar. After reinforcing the magical wards on the school's outer walls, my mana regeneration seems slightly faster."

"Is that true?" Thoros and Malora, who had been preoccupied with school tasks, looked intrigued. They hadn't practiced much magic lately but were eager to test this newfound ease.

"Qyburn, let's finish organizing these books quickly," Renly said, his enthusiasm growing. "I'll take the three of you to the main hall to practice. If this is real, you might all master first-level magic very soon."

The group worked faster than ever. After nearly two years at the academy, they had thoroughly learned the foundational theories of first-level magic. The only thing holding them back had been a lack of magical energy. Now, with an opportunity right before them, their motivation soared.

---

Traveling to a new place always feels like a long journey, filled with uncertainty and the unknown. In contrast, the return trip seems much quicker.

When Wright and Leaf arrived at the Wall, they didn't cause a stir. Following the Night's Watch protocols, they signaled their arrival and entered the Wall through the gate.

The gate had three iron portcullises, which could only be opened from the inside. The passageway beyond was narrow and pitch black. A few members of the Night's Watch approached with torches to open the gate. When they saw Leaf, they fumbled nervously.

As Wright and Leaf emerged from the gate passage into Castle Black, they drew even more astonishment from the brothers. Most of these men had only heard legends of the Children of the Forest; this was their first time seeing one in the flesh. They quickly called for others to come and witness the sight.

With Wright by her side, Leaf wasn't worried about being harmed. She began speaking with the Night's Watchmen, engaging in conversation.

Meanwhile, Wright went to find Jeor Mormont.

"I'll be staying here for the night. Arrange a separate room for Leaf, preferably next to mine. You've got plenty of empty rooms anyway."

"Try the Silent Tower," Mormont suggested. "It used to house the stewards, but it's been empty for decades. You can choose any room you like, and I'll have the brothers clean it up and bring some bedding." Understanding Leaf's unique nature, Mormont purposefully placed her in a more secluded part of the castle.

"It's still midday," Wright replied. "I'll check it out later. For now, I want to speak with Maester Aemon."

Wright had studied at the Citadel for four years before dropping out, later earning an honorary archmaester title. His name was well-known among maesters across Westeros. During his studies of ravens, he had connected with Aemon through the Citadel, though the vast distance between Castle Black in the far north and the Citadel in the south had limited their correspondence to raven-delivered letters.

Castle Black was expansive, but as the Night's Watch had dwindled, many areas had been abandoned or fallen into disrepair. Aemon lived in a small wooden structure beneath the rookery.

"Maester Aemon! At last, we meet!" Wright greeted the elder warmly. Aemon, the sole maester of Castle Black, bore the many links of his chain around his neck. His hair was entirely white, and his posture hunched with age.

"Archmaester Wright, it's a pleasure to finally see you in person," Aemon replied. "You left in such haste last time. The Lord Commander passed on your message that we'd speak further upon your return. Shall we head to the library now?" Despite being over ninety years old, Aemon's voice was lively, though his steps were slow.

"Let's go," Wright agreed. "You once mentioned that Castle Black holds books even the Citadel doesn't have. What treasures are we talking about?" Wright followed Aemon, sensing a faint magical aura emanating from the maester.

"The same magical aura as Jon Snow's. It must be the Targaryen bloodline, likely tied to dragons."

Leading the way, Aemon explained, "There are texts on the language of the Children of the Forest, as well as scrolls brought from Essos about Valyria."

"Speaking of the Children of the Forest, one has actually come here with me," Wright mentioned casually.

"What? A real Child of the Forest?" Aemon, who had lived for over ninety years, had always believed them to be mere legend. The revelation that one had not only survived but also arrived at Castle Black left him astonished.

"Why would I lie? She's out there chatting with the Night's Watchmen right now."

As they spoke, the two descended into Castle Black's underground passages.

Winter here is brutally cold, with snow piling up to over ten meters deep, making surface travel impossible. As a result, the castle's underground passages connect its key buildings. However, during the long summer, the snow outside was still shallow.

Beneath Castle Black, the largest structure was the granary, followed by the library. Inside, Aemon sifted through a collection of books and scrolls, piling them up for Wright. Then, unable to contain his excitement, the maester hurried outside to see the Child of the Forest for himself.

The books and scrolls were of immense value. The Valyrian scrolls, crafted from aged parchment, were so fragile from the passage of centuries that Wright dared not take them away. He decided to study them in Aemon's quarters instead.

Wright set aside the texts on the Children of the Forest; he could simply ask Leaf directly if he had any questions. With plans to journey to Essos, Wright focused on the Valyrian scrolls, which contained information on their culture, language, and regional dialects.

By the time dinner approached, Aemon returned, his face glowing with excitement. Seeing Wright still engrossed in the scrolls, Aemon refrained from interrupting him. Instead, he quietly poured himself water into a wooden cup reinforced with metal bands. The northern cold was unforgiving; pure metal cups could freeze to one's lips and cause injury.

"This sword, take a look. Brynden Rivers is still alive, and he gave it to me." Wright handed the Dark Sister to Aemon.

Aemon accepted the blade, carrying it to a nearby chair. He sat down and gently ran his fingers along the sword, saying nothing.

Maester Aemon, whose full name was Aemon Targaryen, had a storied history. In 233 AC, after the death of the reigning king, a Great Council was convened by the Hand of the King. Aemon was quietly offered the throne. However, having already sworn his vows as a maester, Aemon declined and passed the crown to his younger brother Aegon, who would later father the Mad King. To avoid becoming entangled in political intrigue, Aemon voluntarily journeyed to the farthest reaches of Westeros to serve as a maester at Castle Black. Since the age of thirty-three, he had served over ten Lord Commanders.

Though Aemon's lineage was no secret, his long life had outlasted most who knew of it. Among the younger generation, few paid attention to the origins of an old maester, and his royal bloodline had gradually faded from memory.

After some time, Aemon returned the sword to Wright.

"Let the past remain in the past. Knowledge is the true weapon, as we both believe."

"You really have let it go," Wright replied. He then gestured to a scroll in his hand. "Is this accurate?" Wright avoided lingering on the topic, having merely intended to show Aemon the long-lost family sword. While they shared ties to the Citadel, it was no secret that the Baratheons had overthrown the Targaryens — a potentially awkward subject to delve into.

"Which one?" Aemon asked, taking the scroll from Wright. He examined it and saw that it detailed the histories of Valyrian dragonlords.