Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day

Chapter 471: Archmaesters of the Citadel

Rhaegar's words pierced Corben's heart like a dagger. Stumbling a few steps, his face contorted with grief and humiliation, he said, "As you wish, Prince."

He was powerless to resist.

In that moment, Corben understood why, according to historical records, the High Septon received guidance from the Seven Gods and opened Oldtown's gates to the conquerors. Faith alone could not save Oldtown.

Rhaegar’s mouth curled into a smile, and he waved his hand casually. "You are not feeling well. Please go and rest. My wedding will be a grand event."

Corben’s eyes filled with sorrow as he bowed his head and left, looking like a dog that had been beaten down.

This scene did not go unnoticed by the holy brothers and sisters present. They quickly bowed their heads, unable to believe their eyes. The Faith of the Seven was sacred—how could it bow to power?

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Rhaegar leaned back and called out, "Lord High Septon, the new religion needs devout believers. I hope you will send some holy brothers to King's Landing to help build a temple."

Corben’s body shook, and he stammered, "Building a church? Isn’t it enough to recruit craftsman?"

"No!" Rhaegar replied, smiling. "The sacred temple must be infused with the faith of the faithful. It is essential that holy brothers participate in its construction and serve as an example to the people of King's Landing."

Then, with a hint of sarcasm, he added, "If you don’t want to bother the holy brothers, you can set an example yourself and personally lay the bricks for the temple."

Tears welled up in Corben’s eyes. Seeing his frail frame, he quickly agreed, "I will select a group of holy brothers to send to King's Landing so they can work with peace of mind."

"Very well," Rhaegar said, satisfied.

After this bit of "haggling," the High Septon fled, dragging the holy brothers and sisters with him. If he didn’t leave now, who knew what outrageous demands they might make later?

Rhaegar had indeed considered demanding that King’s Landing’s shortfall of holy sisters be met by the Starry Sept. However, seeing Aegon drooling over the holy sisters, he dismissed the idea.

The holy brothers, eager for their benefits, would be happy to work as laborers in King’s Landing to pay off their debts. They were already a bad influence on the holy sisters, and Rhaegar saw no need to exacerbate the problem.

...

The Starry Sept was suddenly empty.

Rhaegar’s eyes fell back on Ormund as he asked, "Where is Lord Otto? Has the High Tower received any news from Alicent?"

Alicent had been confined in a small room for half a month, with the public told she was praying for the king at the temple. While others might believe this excuse, House Hightower certainly would not.

Ormund lowered his head. "Otto returned to King's Landing a few days ago, hoping to rectify Alicent's mistake."

"He left?" Rhaegar frowned slightly. Given Otto's cunning nature, he would never have returned to King's Landing at such a sensitive time just to rescue his foolish daughter. If he truly cared for her, he wouldn't have sent Alicent to the bed of a king who had just lost his wife.

He had thrust his own daughter into a power struggle, using her position as queen to divide royal authority and bolster his and House Hightower's power.

Aemond interjected, "Grandfather left Oldtown five days ago, saying he wanted to have a good chat with my mother. Is something happening in King's Landing?"

Aegon's interest was piqued, his dead fish eyes scanning back and forth between Rhaegar and Ormund. The two brothers, being in Oldtown, had limited information.

From the few words exchanged, it wasn’t difficult to surmise that something significant had happened in King’s Landing, and it involved Alicent.

Facing his brothers’ questions, Rhaegar showed no sign of weakness. He turned to Ormund, "Do you want to tell them, or should I?"

Ormund hesitated for a moment.

"Then I will speak," Rhaegar said calmly. "Alicent made a mistake. You'd better not ask too many questions. I'll think of a compromise."

Aegon let his arms drop and looked at him blankly, clearly confused. While his brothers fought in the war, his mother was causing trouble at home. What about my credit?

"Will it be okay?" Aemond's voice was filled with anxiety and helplessness. At only eleven years old, even after experiencing the baptism of fire, he struggled to handle sudden changes. Unlike Aegon and Helaena, he was deeply influenced by Alicent's "little family" teachings and cared deeply about his immediate family.

Seeing his brothers' reactions, Rhaegar did not scare them but offered reassurance. "Alicent is the queen; she will not be in danger."

In truth, Rhaegar felt guilty. His brothers were fighting for him, the eldest brother, while their mother faced consequences.

Hearing this, both Aegon and Aemond sighed in relief. One was relieved he hadn’t lost his credit, and the other was glad his mother was safe.

"But!"

Rhaegar's sudden exclamation sent his brothers' hearts racing once again. Aegon, especially, snapped out of his lazy and depressed demeanor, now fully alert.

"What else do you want?" Aemond asked eagerly.

"Oh, I'm just teasing you." Rhaegar chuckled, then turned his gaze to Ormund, his voice chilling. "But just because Alicent is fine doesn't mean everyone else is."

Ormund's eyes twitched, and he instinctively took a step back. Behind him stood a dozen well-armed knights. Rhaegar glanced around, but his attention focused on one person. The knight's shield bore a "sharp-pointed bull skull on a blood-red background," identifying him as a member of House Bulwer of Blackcrown. Judging by his face, he was the Lord of Blackcrown, Lord Bulwer.

House Hightower has several vassal families, and House Bulwer is one of them.

Other powerful bannerman include House Beesbury in Honeyholt, House Mullendore in Uplands, House Costayne in Three Towers, and House Hightower in Sunflower Hall. These houses built castles around Oldtown to protect it, contributing to House Hightower's immense power, even surpassing House Tyrell, the lord of the fief.

Rhaegar, his eyes deep and probing, asked, "Why do I only see Lord Bulwer here? Where are the other lords?"

Ormund's forehead broke out in a cold sweat. He said awkwardly, "The bandits from Dorne are causing trouble. I didn’t call my bannerman."

"Is that so?" Rhaegar smiled playfully. Except for Lord Beesbury of Honeyholt, who was in King’s Landing, the other lords had sent ravens declaring their refusal to participate in the political struggle between the royal family and House Hightower.

Ormund's face grew even more unsightly, and he wished he could find a crack in the ground to crawl into. Not only had he failed to summon his bannerman, but he had also sought alliances with other families in The Reach. Over half a month, only the loyal House Bulwer had responded, leading 500 infantry and 300 archers to Oldtown.

House Bulwer’s motto is "Death Before Disgrace."

Rhaegar stood up, patting the dust from his robes. "Lord Ormund, the Citadel will lead the way." The Faith of the Seven was subdued, and with the Citadel and Hightower easily taken, Ormund had no choice but to lead his group out.

Aegon and Aemond, each lost in their own thoughts, followed the group.

...

The Citadel, built on a remote dock in Oldtown, seldom saw visitors in the past. Ormund led the three dragons riders to its gates.

"Roar!"

Cannibal let out a thunderous roar as it landed, sending a wave of hot air that rattled the Citadel's glass, as if igniting an invisible fire. Rhaegar sat firmly on the dragon's back, surveying the iconic structures of Westeros.

The Citadel was situated on the Honeywine River, its tower domes connected by stone arch bridges, with residential halls built on the bridges. This design facilitated communication among the Maesters and minimized the need for additional residential space.

Flanking the main entrance were tall green sphinxes, mythical creatures with the body of a lion, wings of an eagle, and tail of a serpent. Rhaegar studied them closely. One had a male face, the other a female, reminiscent of the sphinxes in his dreams, exuding an exotic essence from the continent of Essos.

Boom!

The arched gate at the foot of the tall city wall slowly opened, and dozens of Maesters in their robes poured out. They varied in age, though most were middle-aged or older, with blank faces and shining eyes, embodying a transcendent focus on knowledge.

Leading the procession were three old Maesters, easily distinguishable by their bald heads, emaciated frames, and lifeless eyes. Rhaegar was secretly impressed; they fit the stereotype of Citadel Maesters perfectly, prioritizing the pursuit of knowledge over appearance. Vaegon the Dragonless had aged similarly, barely able to leave his bed in his old age. fгeewebnovёl.com

The three old Maesters approached cautiously, stopping at a safe distance from the three dragons. They stared at the Cannibal with shock, as if beholding an unimaginable monster. After a moment, the dead-eyed old Maester bowed stiffly. "The Citadel is honored by the presence of the three Princes. Please, come in."

The other two Maesters, snapping back to reality, quickly lowered their heads and pretended to bow. Rhaegar looked down on them, noting their micro-expressions, and said calmly, "I have already met Archmaester Fischer, and I have long admired the other nine Archmaesters of the Conclave."

The thin old Archmaester straightened up and responded, "I can submit an application to the Maester's Chamber and arrange for you to meet them as soon as possible."

The Citadel is a place for learning, where maesters and acolytes alike spend their days in research. Meetings with the maesters required appointments due to their lecture and research schedules.

Rhaegar, understanding the intricacies, replied, "Thank you." He then nodded to Aegon and Aemond, and the three brothers dismounted from their dragons.

The dragons lay at the Citadel's entrance, each one towering over the green statues, their pupils flashing menacingly from time to time. Rhaegar led the way as the Maesters opened a path for them, with the three old Archmaesters guiding the procession.

Along the way, the thin Archmaester kept talking, introducing the customs and traditions of the Citadel. Rhaegar listened attentively, observing every detail of the Citadel. The gray stone buildings gave an impression of grandeur, with a stark emptiness at the top.

The Citadel's unique style was evident in its simplicity, yet it lacked no grandeur, and everything was designed for maximum convenience. Rhaegar nodded occasionally, inquiring about significant locations such as the library and the book depository.

Due to the dispute between Alicent and Rhaenyra, Rhaegar had rarely visited Oldtown, and had never set foot in the Citadel, which he had rejected since childhood. Now, for the first time, he felt a surge of excitement.

He remembered the two old Maesters who had once filled his mind with knowledge and the oath he had taken as a child.

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