"White Walkers, huh… We've got the Wall. What's there to be afraid of?" Dany said casually.
The old knight glanced around the corridor to make sure no one was nearby. Seeing it was empty, he shut the wooden door and lowered his voice. "Your Grace, those are White Walkers! Do you know the legend of the White Walkers? Eight thousand years ago, during the Long Night, they plunged the world into eternal darkness. A ten-year winter where the sun never rose—humanity was nearly wiped out. If not for Azor Ahai—"
"I know about the White Walkers, and I know about the Long Night," Dany waved her hand to interrupt. "But I don't see anyone at the Citadel acting the least bit concerned. It's like they don't take the news seriously at all. Why are you getting so worked up?"
"Because I've stood before gods and witnessed real, undeniable magic. The maesters might think the Lord Commander is lying, but I know Maester Aemon would never be mistaken."
"Right, Your Grace, do you know Maester Aemon? He's your kin." The old knight started counting with his fingers, tracing generations upward. "Even your grandfather would've called him Second Uncle Aemon!"
"Second great-uncle?" Dany's mouth twitched slightly. She vaguely remembered the character—hardly made an appearance in Game of Thrones, so she didn't have much of an impression. Seemed like he had already kicked the bucket?
"He's dead, right?" she asked.
"No, still very much alive."
"Uh… still alive," Dany murmured, rubbing her chin, looking thoughtful.
"Your Grace, the Citadel's attitude toward you is worrying, and you do lack a maester in your retinue," the White Knight said carefully, observing her reaction. "Why don't we go to the Wall? The wildlings haven't used any scorpion bolts—your two dragons can easily remove the threat. And while we're there, we can bring the old maester back to Slaver's Bay. We'd also get firsthand confirmation about the White Walkers. Three birds with one stone!"
"Who's the current Lord Commander of the Night's Watch?"
"It used to be Ser Jorah's father, Jeor Mormont. A year ago, he led 300 brothers beyond the Wall to investigate the White Walkers and wildlings. But at the Fist of the First Men, they were ambushed by an army of White Walkers. The Night's Watch was nearly wiped out. In the end…"
The old man's face darkened, and he spoke through clenched teeth, "The Night's Watch violated guest rights and killed the wildling Craster, who had offered them shelter. Worse yet, they broke their sacred vows and murdered their own Lord Commander—Jeor Mormont."
"Such a collapse of morality is truly heartbreaking," he added, nearly in tears.
"And now?" Dany asked.
"As of now, the new Lord Commander is still uncertain. At least, the Citadel hasn't received any ravens from the Wall. Maybe they're still holding the election, or maybe the ravens are still en route. After all, Oldtown is thousands of miles away from the Wall!"
"Sigh… Tomorrow, let's ask the Citadel's opinion before making any decisions," Dany said with a long breath. She slowly revealed the Citadel's attitude toward her. "Now you see? It's going to be very hard for me to claim the Iron Throne. The maesters' stance pretty much represents that of most Andal nobles. Even if I go to the Wall and uncover the truth about the White Walkers, taking any action will be incredibly difficult."
The old knight's brows furrowed into a deep crease, and his expression shifted constantly.
To be honest, if it weren't for his loyalty to the queen, he would have wholeheartedly supported the world of "rational truth" that the Citadel aspired to create.
Just as Dany had said, the Citadel's influence had an extremely broad base of support.
—Andal knightly civilization inherently rejects supernatural powers.
You could even see that from the Seven's doctrine—the Faith of the Seven represents virtues of humankind, not the worship of natural forces like R'hllor's light and shadow, the Drowned God's seas, or the Old Gods' winds, trees, mountains, and rivers.
After a long pause, the knight rasped, "What are Your Grace's plans now?"
"We stick to the original plan—figure out the Citadel's secrets. But it's time we change locations. The real vault is in the Seneschal's tower; the library basement only stores manuscript copies."
Yes, back when she first came to Oldtown, Dany had already planned to visit the Citadel's hidden archives. She even had a method in mind.
She had sent the old knight downstairs earlier as part of that plan, but the moment he saw the news about the White Walkers, he was so shocked that he forgot his role as a reference point.
"Your Grace, since the conflict between you and the Citadel seems irreconcilable, we must revise our plan."
Having recovered from his initial shock, Barristan quickly resumed his duty as White Knight and began thinking about Dany's safety.
Two hours later, he carried a stack of books and accompanied Dany to the Seneschal's tower.
"The library has chairs and is quiet, but it's too empty, too silent. Late at night, being alone on an entire floor—it gives me the creeps just thinking about it," Dany said with a smile.
After the old knight discreetly slipped four silver stags to the tower guard, they were granted access to a 40-square-meter lounge on the second floor. It had soft couches, chairs, and a small fireplace.
"If you need tea or food, just pull the bell by the door. An apprentice will come to serve you," said the doorman, Rokas.
"Thank you."
As soon as the door shut, Dany vanished from the room like a ghost.
The next moment, as if she had teleported, she appeared on a narrow spiral staircase. She descended the wooden steps, her right hand brushing lightly along the wall.
All was silent. The space was pitch black. She couldn't even see her hand in front of her face. After a while, Dany finally felt a torch fixed to the wall.
Unfortunately, it was too heavy—her spiritual projection couldn't lift it.
Snap! Dany raised her fingers and flicked. "Tsss!"
Tiny red-orange sparks the size of grains of rice flared briefly on the torch, only to extinguish immediately.
Well, she'd been practicing "Fire Control" ever since arriving in Oldtown, and she was nearly 90% done with the second stage: "Concentration of Fire Elements."
If her physical body had been here, she could've ignited the torch with a single thought.
In fact, she wouldn't even need the torch—creating a floating fireball the size of an egg wouldn't be too difficult. She was far beyond what she'd been in Lys. But now, as a spirit form, her sorcery was greatly diminished.
Those few little sparks? They only managed to appear because her real body was so close to her spirit projection.
If she projected her spirit across hundreds or thousands of miles, she wouldn't be able to use any sorcery. But if the projection was right next to her physical body, it could do almost everything the real body could—except for one spell that had a side effect due to high magical consumption. It was very similar to the Shadow Clone Jutsu from Naruto.
That was why Dany brought the glass candle to the third floor of the library earlier.
At first, she believed the Citadel's secret tomes were hidden in the basement of the library, so she had Barristan wait on the first floor while she cast her spell on the third floor, using her projection to phase through the ground and enter the underground reading room.
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At that time, the distance between her physical body and the projection was less than fifty meters. Not only could she use "low-powered" sorcery, but the spiritual form also had a strong capacity for carrying weight.
However, after the old knight learned about her irreconcilable conflict with the Citadel, he immediately advised her not to appear there in person: although most people wouldn't immediately associate her with Queen Rhaella just by looking, the fact remained—they were mother and daughter, and they did share some resemblance.
Clearly, he hadn't forgotten what had happened with Dr. Volgrave that afternoon. The old knight had been so tense his heart had leapt to his throat.
At this moment, it was her spirit body that had followed the old knight to the overseer's hall—her real body had quietly returned to the inn, where the great black one was hiding in the river nearby.
"Hiss hiss hiss hiss—BOOM!"
After trying another seven or eight times, the whale oil torch finally caught fire from the sparks.
By the firelight, Dany looked around and found herself in a cylindrical cellar about two hundred square meters wide and two stories deep.
The curved bookshelves had four tiers, decreasing in height from the innermost to the outermost ring. In front of each level stood tall, movable wooden ladders.
The innermost shelves were placed flush against the wall, almost touching the ceiling. The outermost ones stood around four meters tall, enclosing a thirty-square-meter reading area in the center, where a round table sat surrounded by seven or eight high-backed chairs.
Dany raised her hands to cradle the blazing torch flame, "Whoosh whoosh whoosh—"
The bright red fire visibly swelled and rose, almost as if treated with a flame retardant.
Then Dany changed from cradling to cupping it, as though lifting a lotus flower from the water. The basin-sized flame detached from the oil-wrapped wooden handle and floated in her hands, burning in mid-air.
She appeared to knead the flame like dough, reminiscent of Naruto forming a Rasengan. The illusionary, basin-sized fireball changed from an irregular shape into a smooth sphere like a ball. It then shrank from volleyball-sized bright red to baseball-sized dark red.
Eventually, when she opened her right hand, a dim little fireball—only the size of a pigeon egg—floated from her palm, drifting above her forehead like a headlamp.
Then, with a graceful leap, Dany descended from the top of the ladder like an immortal, lighter than a feather and more agile than a swallow, landing precisely beside the central wooden table.
She randomly selected a shelf made of ebony. It wasn't fully stocked, but nearly every row held a few or dozens of books of varying thickness.
The wooden panel on the side of the shelf had white painted labels corresponding to each row:
"Sorcery — Asshai — Shadowbinders",
"Sorcery — Asshai — Necromancers",
"Sorcery — Asshai — Judicator Knights".
Aside from the mysterious professions of Asshai, there were extraordinary practitioners from other parts of the world as well:
"Sorcery — Qarth — Warlocks",
"Prophecy — Yi Ti — Moon-Singers",
"Sorcery — Sothoryos — True Necromancers",
"Blood Magic — Qohor — Black Goat Priests",
"Alchemy — King's Landing — Alchemist Guild",
"Sorcery (?) — Braavos — Faceless Men".
The more she read, the more shocked Dany became. She felt like she had stumbled into the Jade Pavilion or the Return Water Pavilion—an utterly surreal experience.
"That bunch of bastards at the Citadel. They keep saying 'no, no,' but their bodies are being very honest. They've practically scraped together every arcane art they could find from around the world."
As she walked further, Dany saw an eerie, pale weirwood shelf dedicated to Valyria:
"Sorcery — Valyria — Fire Mages",
"Sorcery — Valyria — Pyromancers",
"Prophecy — Valyria — Dreamwalkers",
"Sorcery — Valyria — Seeing Glasses",
"Sorcery — Valyria — Immortal Stones".
Valyria alone occupied an entire large shelf. After that came an exclusive bookshelf for dragons:
"Legendary Creatures — Dragons — Dragon Eggs",
"Legendary Creatures — Dragons — Hatchling Taming",
"Legendary Creatures — Dragons — Dragonriding",
"Legendary Creatures — Dragons — Dragon Dung",
"Legendary Creatures — Dragons — Scorpion Ballistas",
"Legendary Creatures — Dragons — Physiology".
Just the section on "Scorpion Ballistas" stacked nearly ten meters worth of books!
Yes—ten meters thick with books. That's the only way to describe it. So densely packed with literature and documents, it was impossible to count.
"F*ck, what were the Targaryen ancestors doing all this time?!"
The Citadel had practically dissected dragons down to the last detail. The number of books on the dragon shelf alone exceeded all other supernatural materials she had seen so far—aside from Valyria.
(End of Chapter)
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