Gendry clenched Leyton Hightower's will in his hand. Much of what it contained was weighty information, things even Leyton's heir, Ser Baelor, had never known.
"Even if the Hightowers are not Pureborn of the Great Empire of the Dawn, they are still a noble house. The Targaryens, meanwhile, truly are descendants of a royal line. That must be why the ghostly emperors in the House of the Undying warned Daenerys. And House Dayne's origins are highly suspect as well," Gendry thought.
The histories of many noble houses stretched to epic lengths: Hightower, Dayne, Stark, Durrandon, Targaryen.
During the Bloodstone Rebellion, House Hightower, survivors of the Great Empire of the Dawn, crossed the vast ocean in search of refuge. In doing so, they also confirmed that the world was round, and that another side of the world existed.
House Targaryen descended from an even nobler Pureborn royal line of the Great Empire of the Dawn, but that branch fled to the Freehold of Valyria and later rose as Dragonlords.
Perhaps their status as a middling or lesser Dragonlord family was exactly what allowed them to keep their secret.
"Westeros is not so simple. Westeros is the 'Land of Magic,' the 'Abode of the Gods,' a place even the Bloodstone Emperor and the Valyrian Dragonlords feared. Valyria only dared watch it from the edges."
Westeros, the Sunset Continent, was the eye of the storm where powers collided. That was why so many strange things existed there.
The Drowned God, the Storm God, the Old Gods, and the Cold God all had their followers, priests, and Bloodlines in Westeros. The power of the gods blanketed this land.
Although House Hightower had fled here, they soon realized something was wrong with this place. The scent of magic was no weaker than in the Great Empire of the Dawn, and many gods still displayed their power. They had no choice but to lie low.
"The shadow of the Bloodstone Rebellion hangs over Hightower. House Hightower fears the rise of a King of Magic, and the tide of sorcery.
History gave us an opportunity. As the First Men expanded, the Children of the Forest and the Giants were forced back step by step, leaving the Old Gods to linger on in the north. The tide of magic continued to recede, shrinking back to the far corners of the continent.
Hightower rose with the tide, building the towering High Tower and establishing the Citadel, founded on science.
The Andal invasion was the perfect opportunity. The Seven Gods of the Andals are an empty faith that rejects magic above all else, so Hightower chose to accept the Andals and the Faith of the Seven.
But no one expected that a fugitive branch of the Dragonlords would still set its sights on the Sunset Continent... Dragonlords, the stench of Valyrian magic..." Leyton had written in his letter.
"Wrap Archmaester Vaellyn's body."
"Yes, Your Grace."
The soldiers covered Archmaester Vaellyn's body with a yellow cloak bearing the Quartered Arms.
"His loyalty is commendable. Even before a king, he held fast to the truth in his heart. For that, I think a bronze statue may be raised in the Archmaester's honor. But his crime of treason is clear, and the sword cannot pardon him."
Randyll Tarly and the others watched coldly. House Hightower had sustained the Citadel for thousands of years.
In the end, only one Archmaester had come forward to die for them. These spineless conspirators were truly revolting.
Asha Greyjoy stood to one side with her two pet "Maidens," Cole and Botley, while Baelor Hightower stood with his squires.
This was the power of a king, a ruler, a conqueror. And they were all the defeated.
Yet Vaellyn's headless corpse lay on the square, still giving off a heavy reek of blood.
Vaellyn's ring, rod, and mask were all made of Bronze, representing his supreme achievements in astronomy.
Though Archmaester Vaellyn could peer into the stars, he could not escape the shadow of his own shattered mind.
Most Archmaesters kept away from women and had no families. Their only devotion was to the Citadel.
Archmaesters were different from Maesters. Some Maesters, after serving a Lord's house, effectively became part of that house, making it difficult to guarantee their loyalty to the Citadel.
The old Maester of House Stark and the old Maester of Stannis were examples.
The smell of blood made many Archmaesters nauseous, and some vomited outright.
After all, they were old, and most were Maesters with no skill in arms.
Marwyn looked at Vaellyn's corpse and sighed. "Even at a time like this, he was still thinking about the World of Truth. Hightower's theories ruined him."
In the distant crowd, the truth about the Citadel's "Order of Truth" had finally come to light, overturning the apprentices' understanding of the world.
"I never thought that, in the face of death, an Archmaester could still count as a brave man," Sarella said.
"I think he wanted to die so he could secure his own reputation!" Pate the Swineherd commented.
Sarella thought for a moment, then replied quietly, "Insulting the king is a serious crime. Vaellyn did not only insult King Gendry. He insulted the king's father, his wife, and even his ancestors."
The honor of the king could not be offended.
To harm the royal family meant losing a hand. To insult them was treason as well.
Years ago, someone had informed on Tywin's captain of guards, Ilyn Perwyn, claiming he had said, "Lord Tywin is the true ruler of the Seven Kingdoms." As a result, the Mad King had men cut out his tongue.
The Mad King was cruel, but that matter truly could have been treated as either minor or grave.
In the history that should have happened, Arya Stark's wolf bit Joffrey, yet the one killed was Mycah, the butcher's boy.
That was hierarchy.
The laws of Westeros carried their own cruelty and feudal nature, not to mention that Vaellyn had simply wanted to die.
To be fair, Sarella greatly disliked Archmaester Vaellyn. Vaellyn's words were sharp and bitter, which was why he was nicknamed "Vinegar."
But at the moment when Hightower and the Citadel collapsed, only Archmaester Vaellyn still held fast to the truth in his heart.
"Now that the snake has left its hole, the Citadel's upper ranks are all here." Gendry looked at the Archmaesters. They represented different fields of academic authority and were the absolute leadership of the Citadel. The Archmaesters were granted the right to sit on the Conclave.
The Conclave was the governing body of the Citadel, and the Grand Maester was elected by them.
All meetings of the Conclave were confidential and held only within the Citadel, cut off from the outside world.
Every Archmaester held an ancient, heavy key made of black iron, capable of opening every door in the Citadel. Only Archmaesters could possess such a key. They generally carried it with them or hid it somewhere safe.
The Archmaesters were not only responsible for teaching Maesters, but also for deciding whether a Maester could earn his chain.
The late Vaellyn taught astronomy, and his representative metal was Bronze.
Of the remaining Archmaesters, Ebrose taught medicine, symbolized by silver. Perestan taught history, symbolized by copper.
Walgrave, who suffered from dementia, was the authority on ravenry, symbolized by black iron. Archmaester Ryam was linked with gold, representing accounting and finance. Archmaester Norren, the former Seneschal, had a ring, rod, and mask made of a gold-silver alloy.
There were also more than a dozen less senior Archmaesters, but they had been less involved in the affairs of the "Order of Truth."
"Is there anyone else willing to go to the End of the World? I guarantee that what you see there will be far more real than what you have seen today. Cold nights, Others, wights. Winter brings true history." Gendry stood on the steps and spoke to the Archmaesters, Maesters, and apprentices of the Citadel.
"I am willing!"
"I am willing!"
"I am willing!" Archmaester Perestan said. "I have seen enough history in books. Now I want to see real history."
"I am skilled in economics, but I have never calculated the needs of a great army at war," Archmaester Ryam said.
"And these old bones of mine will go as well. Medicine is the study of truth," Archmaester Ebrose said. He was the Citadel's great physician and an Archmaester.
He was also responsible for judging whether Maesters and apprentices were skilled enough to earn the silver chain that proved mastery of medicine.
"Very good," Gendry said approvingly. "Maesters call themselves knights of the mind. Where, then, is your chivalry?"
"We are willing!"
"We are willing!"
A fair number of Maesters joined this wave choosing to go north. Since the Citadel was already on the verge of collapse, they might as well go and touch the real world.
"Very good. In that case, the Maesters willing to journey north to the edge of the world, to The Wall, shall form the 'Order of the Knights of the Mind,' jointly led by Archmaester Ebrose, Archmaester Perestan, and Archmaester Ryam."
"As you command, Your Grace."
"As you command."
With Gendry's call, the split within the Citadel was now settled. Three senior Archmaesters would lead a group of Maesters and apprentices north to form the "Order of the Knights of the Mind" and witness the real world.
This was not merely atonement. It was also these Archmaesters' and Maesters' own desire to travel to the distant north and see the real world for themselves.
"Theobald, how does the Society of Truth operate?" Gendry pressed the Citadel's steward for a clear answer.
"The guiding principle of the Society of Truth is that magic creates chaos, while science preserves order. Magic is evil. Science is truth. The Society of Truth holds secret meetings regularly, and on very rare occasions, House Hightower sends people to attend. But the High Tower has always maintained control over the Society of Truth," Steward Theobald said. "Because House Hightower has always been the Citadel's patron."
"What about the Society of Truth's membership selection?"
"We examine everyone who aspires to become a Maester or an Archmaester, to make certain they truly believe in the truth. Magic and all those tricks of false gods and spirits should be left to monks and septons. Maesters should devote themselves to studying the truths of the world," Theobald said, his voice trembling. He had no time to mourn his companion's death. Soon, an entire institution would collapse.
"Relatively speaking, we tend to favor those with ties to the High Tower, or those who have received its favor. They are better suited to carry out the Society of Truth's missions. Only such people are chosen as Archmaesters and brought into the Society of Truth."
"This is the world you imagined, isn't it?" Marwyn asked. "Aemon Targaryen should have been made an Archmaester long ago. Why was he left to waste the rest of his life at the Wall? Because of his bloodline. His bloodline made him untrustworthy. Just like me."
"Yes..." Theobald lowered his head. "We take precautions against those of the Targaryen Dragonlord bloodline, and even those with the blood of the Storm Kings of House Baratheon, the Starks of Winterfell, and House Martell of Dorne. Those bloodlines also carry a trace of the magical. They are closely tied to the Dragonlord, connected to magic, and cannot be trusted."
"But Marwyn still became an Archmaester?" Gendry asked.
"Your Grace, they have tried to poison my porridge before. But I have always been cautious, and I even foresaw it. I have killed assassins sent by the Citadel as well. Besides, my movements are unpredictable, and I sometimes spend long stretches traveling abroad," Marwyn said, stepping forward.
With Marwyn's dockside thug appearance and powerful build, combined with his glass candles and cunning, the Citadel truly would have found him difficult to deal with.
"Although someone like Marwyn became an Archmaester, we never trusted him. He would never receive that key to the cellars. The books in the cellars, the secrets of the Society of Truth, he would never know any of them. We kept him isolated."
"So that is how it was." At that, everyone understood.
"A fraud. It was all a fraud."
"A fraud."
The novice Maesters and apprentices were burning with rage.
It seemed the system promoted by the Citadel and the Church was not absolutely fair after all. It was filled with dealings behind closed doors.
The Hightowers were closest to the source, so naturally they rose the fastest.
Many people, because of their birth or bloodline, would never be allowed near the core secrets.
"Silence!"
"Silence!"
The soldiers shouted to restore order, their Longspears striking the black marble floor.
"Truth in name, with schemes hidden up your sleeves and conspiracy upon conspiracy. This is the Society of Truth inside your Citadel."
"We beg... forgiveness... Your Grace." Theobald could barely remain on his feet.
"Hightower required us to devote ourselves to shaping a real world, a world of truth, and to reject magic, dragons, and glass candles. But the Targaryen Dragonlord bloodline and the dragons could bring about magic's return. The prophecy says Oldtown will be destroyed by dragons, and that the dark dragons will dance again. So, many years ago, we..."
"That was also why you arranged for Veris Flowers to go north, to overthrow the Dragonlord's rule and prevent the dragons' return."
"Yes, Your Grace," Steward Theobald said. "Back then, only a very few in the Society of Truth knew of it. Myself, Steward Walgrave, and Lord Leyton. To us, it was nothing more than assigning a loyal southern Maester to the exceedingly greedy Lord Rickard."
"Why did you choose Great Lord Rickard Stark?"
"Rickard had three sons and one daughter, yet the Old Wolf kept delaying any northern marriage alliances for them. It was obvious he had ambitions to move south. With the Maester's encouragement, he... Besides, the North is remote and cold, with little influence from the Iron Throne, so it was easier to incite."
Theobald wiped away his sweat, cold perspiration dripping from him.
Rickard was greedy and wanted to win great marriage alliances for his children, but he had also placed himself in danger.
Gendry tightened his grip on Just Maid. Those words were true. Even now, the North still had a strong pull away from the center.
Or rather, the entire Seven Kingdoms suffered from that danger. Division was history. Peace had only ever been brief.
"War unites us." But that was fine. Once the Battle of the Long Night began, the Seven Kingdoms would truly become one.
"During the Dance of the Dragons, my ancestor Great Lord Boremund had difficulty reading and writing. Was it a Maester who read the Black Queen's letter to him back then?" Gendry opened Fire and Blood. The matter was recorded in history.
Put kindly, it was difficulty reading and writing. Put bluntly, he was illiterate.
"Your Grace... the Maester at Storm's End did not alter the main meaning. He may only have embellished it somewhat. After all, it was during the struggle between the Blacks and the Greens."
"Good." Gendry nodded.
Back then, in that muddy chaos of war, the gravely wounded Great Lord Borros killed twelve knights, as well as Lord Roland Darry and Lord Jorah Mallister, before fighting Great Lord Kermit Tully and finally dying beneath the Tully Great Lord's Morningstar.
The man had been absurdly strong, killing so many knights before he died. But like Rickard, he had a head others could use as a weapon.
The Citadel could not be allowed to remain.
"Theobald, hand over the list of the Society of Truth."
"I understand, Your Grace." Theobald nodded bitterly.
What came next was the moment of judgment. The great ministers exchanged opinions without pause, then finally delivered their recommendations to the king.
The answer was ready-made. Following the precedent of House Greyjoy, strip House Hightower of the High Tower lordship and break up the Citadel.
"As punishment for the treasonous crimes of Leyton Hightower, Malora Hightower, and House Hightower, as well as the Citadel's conspiratorial support for the rebels, House Hightower is stripped of its authority and taxes over Oldtown, and stripped of its administration of the High Tower. The royal family shall appoint the administrator of the High Tower.
"From this day forward, Oldtown shall be governed by a Council of Stewards. In addition to the royal-appointed steward and customs officials, House Tyrell, House Tarly, House Redwyne, House Rowan, as well as House Costayne, House Bulwer, House Mullendore, House Beesbury, House Cuy, and others shall assist in its administration.
"To demonstrate the king's generosity, House Hightower shall still retain one steward seat.
"As for the territories belonging to House Hightower, the royal family shall redistribute them.
"With the exception of the Order of the Mind Knights, who voluntarily marched north, the Citadel shall also be restructured and relocated.
"Given that Oldtown's town hall has been destroyed, future meetings of the Council of Stewards shall be held on the ruins of the Citadel."
"I understand, and will obey the decree. Your Grace, honored ministers." Baelor Hightower felt as if he had shrunk in place. Voice of Oldtown, Lord of the Harbor, Protector of the Citadel, Lord of the High Tower, Lighthouse of The Reach. All of these identities were about to leave House Hightower behind.
Even though House Hightower still possessed fertile lands on the southwestern cape, their status had fallen sharply. They had lost Oldtown forever.
The Hightower vassals, however, were all smiles. From now on, they would be independent lords of the first rank, no longer subordinate vassals.
The fat prize of Oldtown was enough to satisfy everyone.
"The Conclave will obey... obey Your Grace's decree," said the Citadel's stewards and Archmaesters, their faces bitter. It was a painful sentence.
It was just like what had happened to House Connington in the past. After King Robert Baratheon's coronation, he returned Griffin's Roost to House Connington, but stripped them of their lordly title and most of their lands, then granted those lands to supporters more loyal to him.
Thus, after the War of the Usurper, their family status fell from a full noble house to a knightly house.
And so today's affair came to an end, with the bloodshed and distribution that followed war.
Gendry looked at the people below the steps. Twilight was growing darker and darker, and only darkness was devouring the world.
Gendry and Daenerys were about to leave the square together and return to the camp.
"I will pardon those who confess their treason now, kneel, and swear loyalty. But if anyone remains stubborn and plays underhanded tricks behind my back in the future, they will end up like this colossus."
Gendry ignored the crowd after that. He drew Just Maid, blue light flaring along the sword, as though the blade were wrapped in radiance.
As Gendry passed the green Sphinx colossus, a layer of blue sword-light burned over Just Maid, bright as a cold star.
"Crack!"
Gendry drew the sword and sheathed it again. The front half of the green Sphinx colossus was cut through by the sword-light, split apart, and crashed to the ground.
"Long live Your Grace!"
"Storm Dragonlord!"
Only after the king's procession had departed did the earth-shaking cheers ring out.