The banquet lasted deep into the night, with host and guests alike enjoying themselves.
At least, that was how it appeared on the surface.
After the gathering dispersed, House Hightower had specially prepared a lavish room for His Majesty the King, so that he might rest properly.
Yet the King himself, after declining the hints—some subtle, some quite explicit—from several noble ladies or young noblewomen he had met at the banquet, instead deliberately kept behind the unsightly and homely Maester Marwyn.
Seeing that the King did not intend to spend the night with a woman, but had instead chosen an old wreck like himself, Marwyn felt his chrysanthemum tighten slightly and a chill run down his spine.
But just as he was racking his brains, trying to think of an excuse he could use to refuse the King's invitation, Kal quietly rubbed his fingers together out of sight of others, producing a faint arc of lightning, which instantly dispelled Marwyn's intentions.
"I am very willing, and deeply honored, to receive Your Majesty's invitation."
Casting his previous thoughts straight to the clouds, Marwyn eagerly agreed, practically bouncing with excitement as he looked forward to the private meeting that was to come between himself and the King.
Inside the richly decorated room, Kal sat upright on the sofa and raised a hand, gesturing for Marwyn to sit in front of him.
And Marwyn, after the door closed behind them, spoke his very first words not with polite courtesies, but by immediately and impatiently asking: "Your Majesty, was that some kind of little magical trick just now?"
Marwyn had seen very clearly the thing Kal had just rubbed into existence right in front of him. It was absolutely not an illusion—of that, Marwyn was very certain.
"What does Maester Marwyn hope it is?"
Yet as he asked this question, Kal wore a meaningful smile on his face, his tone deliberately ambiguous.
Such a reply immediately made the smile on Marwyn's face stiffen noticeably.
With no other choice, he could only speak directly.
"I have never seen such a trick, Your Majesty Kal. I once stayed in the distant east for eight years. There, I experienced many things—drawing maps, searching for lost books, and even visiting warlocks and shadowbinders."
"But even though I have witnessed no small number of miracles, none have ever shaken me as much as what you showed me today."
"You mean Robert? A dragon that exists only in history?" Kal said as he reached out and took the wine bottle from the table, first pouring himself a cup of summerwine.
He then raised the cup to his lips, but did not drink. Instead, he continued meaningfully, "Or are you talking about that little trick just now?"
Faced with the King repeatedly speaking around the point, how could Marwyn fail to realize that Kal must have some necessary matter to discuss with him, which was why he had been kept behind at the banquet.
Realizing this, he immediately put away the polite smile on his face, his expression turning much more serious.
"The dragon as well. And the magic too."
"Based on my own knowledge, what you showed me at the time was absolutely real."
"So, Your Majesty, you kept me behind—I believe it surely was not simply to discuss these matters alone, was it?"
Marwyn tried to discern Kal's intentions and spoke frankly.
But in response to his probing, Kal shook his head.
"No, quite the opposite, Maester Marwyn. I truly kept you only out of curiosity about knowledge of magic."
"And you are right—this is indeed magic."
Kal did not drink the red wine he had poured. Instead, he set the cup back down on the table.
Then he rolled up his sleeve, revealing a forearm lined with clearly defined muscles.
In front of Marwyn's utterly shocked gaze, strands of lightning continuously blossomed outward from Kal's palm.
Yet no matter how the lightning struggled, it only appeared within Kal's hand, as though that place itself were the core of the lightning.
"This… this…"
Marwyn was already unable to speak.
Staring at the arcs of lightning flickering within a human palm right before him, driven by curiosity and the desire for knowledge, Marwyn instinctively moved closer.
Then, in the very next moment, a scorching, stabbing pain directly jolted the finger he had reached out, snapping it back.
The violent pain that followed stimulated every muscle and finger of Marwyn's hand, as though every tendon and strip of flesh in his hand had been torn out and beaten in turn.
Yet even such pain was still unable to affect the excitement surging within his heart.
Although the pain was so intense that tears were almost spilling from his eyes, the light in his gaze only grew brighter and brighter.
"This is real. This is not a trick. This is real!"
"In this world, the existence of magic is believed in and acknowledged by most people, yet at the same time true magic is so rare that many doubt its existence, or even do not believe that magic can truly have any effect, thinking it nothing more than a deceptive trick."
"Thus, most people who believe in magic only regard it as a legendary power."
"For scholars of broad learning in particular, each of them knows many tricks of this sort. By skillfully using certain special things, they can produce many tricks sufficient to fool the masses."
"But Your Majesty, what you have shown me is indisputable magic! The power of a true miracle that genuinely exists in this world!"
As a Maester who possessed a Valyrian steel chain, Marwyn's expression, upon seeing what was in Kal's hand, had become fanatical, like that of a zealot.
The lifelong pursuit lay right before his eyes.
What profound fulfillment this was.
"Yes, Maester Marwyn. This is true magic."
Kal withdrew the lightning he had released and, with casual nonchalance, sat back down again, lifting his wine cup once more.
"How did you do it?"
Watching the arcs of lightning vanish before his eyes, Marwyn felt an immeasurable sense of loss in his heart and instinctively pressed the question.
When his emotions surged, Marwyn did not notice in the slightest just how presumptuous his question actually was.
Kal, however, did not mind. He merely took a small, careful sip of the red wine in his cup and then gestured toward Marwyn as he spoke.
"Do you concern yourself with how you walk, how you breathe the air, how you eat and drink?"
"If you were to pay attention to those things, then you would understand how I do it."
Hearing this, Marwyn's pupils instinctively contracted, and the shocked, delighted expression on his face froze in place.
"Your… Your Majesty's meaning is that this is an innate talent you already possessed?"
Marwyn felt his heart quake, finding it utterly inconceivable.
This could not help but make him recall a joke they had once scoffed at, back before Kal had come to Oldtown.
Kal was the incarnation of a god.
The eighth god of the Seven.
"You may understand it that way. And it will only grow stronger."
"If I wished, I could turn the lighthouse we are in right now into a lightning rod."
Kal did not shy away from the question.
Marwyn: "…"
He swallowed a mouthful of saliva with difficulty. Staring wide-eyed, Marwyn stammered, "You… You really… are you… a god?"
Kal paused his wine tasting and looked deeply at Marwyn, who had unconsciously become restrained and cautious.
"You may take me as one, or you may take me as not."
"What a god is depends only on what your understanding of a god is."
"If by innately knowing, by being born with power far beyond what mortals can reach, you choose to think of me as such—then you may."
"So, Maester Marwyn, within the understanding of you scholars, does the existence of gods also have a place?"
Kal both answered the question and did not answer it, merely tossing it back to him.
Yet for Marwyn, Kal had already answered it.
Thus Marwyn's eyes went wide, his mouth falling open.
"Born knowing… innate power…"
"Y-You… you…"
He swallowed again. A chill ran through Marwyn from head to toe, and the rigid smile returned to his previously solemn face—stiffer than before.
He shifted restlessly, lifting himself from the sofa again and again, yet not daring to truly stand, frozen instead in an awkward posture.
As for Marwyn's reaction, Kal found it interesting—very interesting indeed.
From it, he could roughly grasp what views the more open-minded scholars of the Citadel held toward magic, or toward gods.
Kal then drew the conversation back to its original point.
"There is no need to be so restrained, Maester Marwyn."
"Did I not say it earlier? I am merely curious about the Citadel's knowledge of magic."
At this point, Kal finally revealed his true intent.
Though, in truth, he had said as much from the very beginning.
But clearly, Marwyn's attitude now was far more proper than before.
"I have no way of satisfying you on that question, Your Majesty Kal—and did you not say yourself that you are born knowing?"
The smile on Marwyn's face turned bitter.
"A god is not necessarily defined by being born knowing. But a god must possess at least one innate, inborn quality beyond mortals."
"The possibility that I am a god may not exist—but the possibility that I am a god absolutely cannot not exist."
Kal answered his question with a cold joke.
"All right, I understand…."
Marwyn raised his head to look at the young man before him, the expression on his face solemn in the extreme.
"Although I may not be able to fully satisfy your curiosity, I will do my utmost to satisfy it."
"However, before that, there is perhaps one necessary matter that I must remind you of, Your Majesty."
Kal paused instinctively, his gaze turning slightly surprised as it fell upon Marwyn.
He had thought that after all this maneuvering, this wretched old man would tell him something about the magic of the world of ice and fire.
Yet who would have thought that this fellow would imitate his own flashy maneuver instead.
But then Kal reconsidered and felt that it was not quite like that.
Thus the corner of his mouth lifted slightly, and he raised a question related to their topic, yet not entirely related.
"Maester Marwyn, you are referring to dragons, are you not?"
At the King's pinpoint strike at the core of what he wished to say, Marwyn's eyes flickered, though he did not feel surprised.
"Yes, Your Majesty. I believe that regarding this matter, I must remind you."
"Although I am not certain whether my conjecture is correct, I believe that perhaps bringing your dragon to Oldtown may not have been a wise choice."
"Someone wants dragons to disappear, and those people are precisely the ones within the Citadel. I suppose that is what you intended to tell me?"
Kal and Marwyn spoke back and forth, laying the matter bare just like that.
Marwyn nodded and countered, "How do you think dragons went extinct? By dragon-slaying heroes wielding steel swords?"
"Your Majesty Kal, as far as I know, the world the Citadel has always sought to construct is one in which there is no place for sorcery, magic, prophecy, or glass candles—let alone dragons."
"Your arrival, and what you did at Highgarden, are a threat to everyone in this city."
"Much like the Hightower family's 'welcome ceremony' for you earlier today."
Marwyn's words took Kal by surprise.
He had never expected to hear such words from the mouth of a Maester of the Citadel—much less spoken so bluntly.
Kal tapped the knee of his crossed leg with his empty left hand, his expression turning playful.
"I never imagined that words like these could one day come from the mouth of a maester."
"Maester Marwyn, I believe you should be very clear on what it means to say such things. So I am quite curious—why are you telling me this, and what is your purpose in doing so?"
The moment Marwyn spoke those words, it could already be said that he had betrayed his own class.
What was more, he was saying them to Kal.
Yet, faced with Kal's increasingly severe and pressing gaze, Marwyn's expression was neither humble nor overbearing.
"What a scholar ought to do is uncover the truth of the world, not conceal it for certain purposes."
"And people should not be divided into ranks for all sorts of chaotic reasons. Bloodline does not determine everything, Your Majesty. That is precisely why I chose to tell you these things."
Kal was surprised—extremely surprised.
In such a feudal world, one that also possessed magic, gods, and other miraculous powers, he had never expected someone to speak so bluntly.
"The logic behind the issues you mentioned," Kal said, "is that rulers need to make their rule more advantageous and easier."
"Because those with vested interests must safeguard their class interests, they are compelled to do so."
"That is the answer to the problem."
"And I must remind you of this, Maester Marwyn," he added. "The person you are speaking to right now is a king."
"So should I cut off your head?"
Kal first explained the resentment underlying Marwyn's question.
Then, with killing intent in his eyes, he stared at Marwyn.
Yet even in the face of overwhelming murderous pressure, Marwyn remained neither humble nor defiant.
His gaze became resolute, and his expression turned solemn.
"If you need my head, I would gladly give it to you."
"But if what you need is what is inside my head, then I believe, Your Majesty, that you would not resort to such a reckless method."
Marwyn seemed to have grasped the thinking of the young king before him; his tone was firm and decisive.
"Tsk…" Kal clicked his tongue, withdrew the killing intent he had deliberately released, and offered a lukewarm assessment. "A pioneer who has betrayed his own class."
"But I have never betrayed myself, and the 'class' you speak of, Your Majesty, may not be so clearly defined."
Marwyn looked at Kal, the light in his eyes growing ever brighter.
As if to prove that his words were not mistaken, he abruptly shifted the topic.
"Do you know the maester who serves at Castle Black?"
"Maester Aemon—his true name is Aemon Targaryen, a genuine Targaryen forgotten in a remote corner of the world," Kal replied smoothly.
This, in turn, made the light in Marwyn's eyes grow even brighter.
He did not question why the young king knew so much about an otherwise obscure figure in some distant corner of the world.
Instead, he continued.
"Then Your Majesty should also be well aware that Aemon Targaryen should have long since been promoted to archmaester. So why did he waste his entire life at the Wall?"
"Because of bloodline. Bloodline made him untrusted—just like me."
"Just like you?" Kal neither affirmed nor denied it.
Nor did he expose the implication.
He simply smiled and asked in return.
Marwyn smiled as well.
"Like many of us."
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