"In the light of the Maester Haurus' elevation to the position of arch maester, and his recent publication regarding the disappearance of his predecessor, I feel a need to rectify the wealth of false information that was unleashed in its wake. Certain names, including my own, will be changed or outright omitted for the protection of individuals involved in the events of my recount, though this should not be taken as evidence of falsehood or secrecy on my part. I myself have lived far too long now, and I give little thought to the reprecussions that might await after shining light on this matter. However, I do not wish to discredit friends and acquaintances whose names might be tarnished by the uncaring company they keep. The Conclave is a powerful institution and I fear the maesters might unleash their wrath against innocent targets nonetheless.
My peers have urged me to refrain from telling this admittedly fantastical tale, but my desire for truth is too strong to take what I know with me to the grave. Maester Jeraume has been a valued friend for many years and I cannot stand seeing his life's work discredited. I admit the discovery in question might be unbelievable to some, however, this is the truth and it needs to be told. My friend has not taken his own life when the Conclave deemed him a fraud. His artwork has not been created by the recently deceased Qohorik stone mason now credited for its creation. And I will not idly watch as his former collegues sully Jeraume's good name.
As many may know, Maester Jeraume has been well-respected ever since he forged the first link of his chain. His knowledge of literature and art was unrivaled, and throughout his life, Jeraume's thirst for learning was never quenched. Much of our understanding of Valyrian poetry is owed to his relentless research and continous travels across the Narrow Sea. Restaurations of many great paintings bear his name, including the much beloved 'Mother of Oldtown' that many believed irreparable after the harbor fire, twelve years ago.
However, I cannot and will not let the affection for a friend cloud my judgement. Praising only his accomplishments would do a disservice to anyone seeking full understanding of the events I recount. Genius and insanity are two sides of one coin, and Maester Jeraume certainly embodied this saying. Some of his works, early paintings and statuettes in particular, had a peculiar, odd quality to them and were often described as 'deliberately incoherent' by more seasoned artists. A notion I disagree with to the day, I should add.
I have always been an avid collector of art, an interest nurtured from early age on by my father. Unlike so many noble sons looking to make a name for themselves in this world, he had never been drawn to the lists. Of course, he had practiced swordplay and horsemanship in his youth without grumbling, had done everything that was expected of him as the heir. Though he was said to have talent, he lacked the passion and never dreamt of great victories in combat or tourneys. His imagination was captured by tales of travels to distant shores ever since he had visited the port of Oldtown as a young boy. When my father came of age, he followed this calling and returned to the place where his fascination had been sparked. For one short spring and a much longer summer, he studied in the Citadel under Maester Kallayne, much revered for his vast knowledge of cartography and navigation. My father came home with a link forged of electrum, which would remain his most prized possession throughout his life.
He sailed for many years, until my grandfather's passing, and he sailed again when I was old enough to take his place in the Great Hall during his absence. Many pieces of my collection were gifts from my father, mementos from his travels to the Free Cities and beyond. Myrish tapestries, wood carvings from Qohor, paintings and sculptures from Lys, Volantis and even the Summer Isles filled the private halls of the castle and more were added each time my father returned..."
﴾ _ ﴿
I put down the letter and sighed to myself when I realized no less than six more closely written pages still lay on the desk. Though the author claimed to value anonymity, citing fear of repercussions as reason, his habit of rambling worked against him. It was quite obvious that Lord Buntley had written this letter, I was certain of that before I had even skimmed the first page. His motives were not much of a secret either. Yes, he had gone through great lengths to frame it as a matter of honor, the noble attempt to clean his friend's name. However, I knew the man, the reality behind the supposedly selfless intention. Honor played only a small part in Lord Buntley's motiviation. His greater concern lay with the value of his art collection, or to put it more bluntly, the loss of it.
After skimming another two pages of affronted ramblings, I put the letter down again and went to the sideboard to pour myself a new cup of wine. The jug was lighter in my hand than I had hoped it would be. Running short of good wine was just one more subtle reminder that I had been living beyond my means for a while. It had been six months since I had left the Citadel with my very own link of electrum, but an opportunity to use my knowledge in practice had not yet presented itself. Despite the size and bustle of Oldtown's harbor, there was little demand for first mates or navigators. Fleet owners and captains only hired sailors for grunt work in the taverns, and I hadn't studied the finer points of cartography and navigation to manhandle cargo or scrub dirty decks.
I returned to the table and the letter, thoughtlessly left behind by the room's previous occupant. The circumstances of Maester Jeraume's disappearance were shrouded in mystery even within the halls of the Citadel and admittedly, this had intrigued me during my studies. Never enough to look into it, but I couldn't deny that I had pricked my ears when I heard whispers about it in the taverns. A famed artist and respected scholar who suddenly vanished during his travels, the controversy surrounding his work, the all too simple, too ostensible explanation. It was a good mystery, well-suited to take a man's mind off more pressing matters for an evening.
Perhaps the pages had reached me for a reason, I thought as I continued to read. After all, my situation afforded me time to indulge in musings about such riddles. Coming up with a satisfying answer would not pay for more wine, but neither did dawdling about at the harbor. A diversion like this would keep me occupied for a few days and once I'd continue my search for paid work, I might even see things in a new light.
I kept reading, though now more intently, no longer skimming and skipping lines. Lord Buntley had been a frequent visitor of the Citadel, but I had never spoken to him, and I wanted to be well-prepared for the plan that slowly took form in my mind. Tomorrow, I had decided, I'd seek him out, ask questions the whispers in taverns had not answered. I knew Lord Buntley was a staunch admirer of Maester Jeraume's marvelous work, and well-acquainted with the artist himself. If there were details the Conclave had omitted from the formal statement, he would be able to provide valuable insights. Lord Buntley wasn't a scholar, so I was doubtful about his claims regarding the discovery of Valyrian secrets. A stone imbued with ancient magic that made it more suited for sculpts and carvings alike? It seemed far-fetched. Maester Jeraume had never obtained a link forged from Valyrian Steel and hadn't had much of an interest in higher mysteries before this strange kind of rock supposedly turned up. However, Lord Buntley had funded some of his expeditions. If nothing else, he'd know where the maester's travels had taken him, including the destination of the voyage Jeraume never returned from.
﴾ _ ﴿
Light rain greeted me when I stepped onto the street in the morning - a blessing for the Reach's golden fields, just another minor inconvenience in the dull life of a stranded sailor. Yes, this diversion had found me at the right time. I had spent too many months loitering about at the docks, watching ships come and go, wishing they would take me with them to less tedious horizons. The taverns and inns I had occupied in the past offered little to challenge my wits or quench my thirst for adventure. My way through the cobbled streets, across bridges and through lively alleys, reminded me that there was a city outside the taverns, a sprawling world beyond the dreariness of the docks.
Lord Buntley's white-washed manse lay by the Honeywine, near the elaborate gardens of the Seven Shrines. Many townhouses in this area belonged to nobles from other parts of the Seven Kingdoms; shameless display of wealth and exalted positions. Some only occupied their palaces for a few months while they took care of important business in Oldtown. However, Lord Buntley was not among them. He permanently resided in the city for close to three decades by now and had only returned to his ancestral seat in the eastern Reach twice. If gossip held any truth, he left the castle in the hands of a brother, a man better suited to lordly duties and without a vast interest in the arts.
I was surprised just how quickly I was invited inside once a maid had informed Lord Buntley of my unannounced arrival. Shabby robes like mine, even though they were clean and well-maintained regardless of age, were a rare sight in this part of the city. On my way, I had almost made my peace with the prospect of being turned away at the gate, denied further access into the elevated world I had entered. Yet there was no hesitation when I introduced myself and explained why I wished to speak to Lord Buntley. If anything, the maid seemed relieved for a moment, just before she hurried away to inform her master that a guest was awaiting him in the parlor.
﴾ _ ﴿
Lord Buntley was a stately man, wider than tall, almost bursting out of his elaborate robes. His tousled curls had been copper when I had last seen him, during one of his visits to the Citadel, two years ago. Now there was a touch of silver on his temples and the hairline was receding, and the shrill colors of his attire stood in stark contrast to deep-set, tired eyes. His voice hadn't lost its volume though. It was still as booming as ever and echoed with enthusiasm when he greeted me.
His apparent delight over my visit made me feel less out of place in a manse that rivaled the splendor of the Free Cities. Exquisite carpets from Myr covered floors of white marble, tapestries and paintings lined the walls. Wherever I looked, my eyes found new wonders; painted vases, masterfully carved statues, ornate curtains and displays of exotic weapons from the most remote places of the Known World. The upholstered armchairs by the hearth, a work of art in itself, had to be worth more than the entire tavern I stayed in, and once we sat down, a maid served Dornish wine in a sophisticated crystal decanter.
"Valyrian Marble," Lord Buntley explained with an air of importance once the conversation had moved past introductory pleansantries. "A discovery that could have changed the fine arts forever!" He scoffed and drank a swig from his wine, shimmering blood-red like rubies in the glow of the fire.
"Why didn't it?" I inquired, still looking around in the large parlor with awe. "Were the maesters not interested in its research? I'd have wagered a new kind of stone would have sparked quite the excitement."
"Arch Maester Ortys, this sniveling scoundrel!" Lord Buntley gasped as if my words had implied something very improper. "He had the audacity to smash a priceless carving, only to deduct it was made from 'ordinary granite'! May he choke on his steel link and every stone in the world!" He took a deep breath and leaned closer to me. "I should pity him and his envy, but I don't," he said, sat up again and straightened his back. "But it is well-known that he was always a jealous man, prone to begrudge the achievements of others."
I knew of Arch Maester Ortys only in passing, as the subjects he taught never pertained to my studies. He was respected by his peers and I couldn't recall hearing any rumors or accussations of this kind, but I thought it better to not question my host and let him go on.
"It is a disgrace how Jeraume's lifework has been treated!" Lord Buntley's puffy cheeks flushed and he quickly drank another sip from his wine. "Nobody has ever heard of this supposedly gifted stone mason from Qohor! Except for Ortys, of course, and laymen don't doubt the claims of an arch maester. They fear the repercussions if they call him a liar, but I'll expose this duplicitous snake for what he truly his!"
Taken aback by the sudden outburst, I only nodded and quietly drank from the good Dornish wine. Perhaps this was a waste of my time. After all, I had listened to Lord Buntley's ramblings about the incompetence of various maesters for close to an hour, yet not learned any details that shed light on Jeraume's demise. "I presume you have evidence to corroborate that Maester Jeraume's discovery was genuine?" I asked while Lord Buntley, still huffing and puffing with anger, waved for more wine.
"Of course I do!" He placed the crystal glass on the table and heaved his corpulent body out of the chair. "The artwork speaks for itself! No common stone can be carved in such marvelous ways, not even by the gifted hands of a true master. Come, let me show you."
﴾ _ ﴿
Lord Buntley led me up wide, marble stairs and down a long hallway until we reached large, richly ornamented double doors. Two household guards, posted left and right, opened them when Lord Buntley approached, and revealed a vaulted hall, flooded with sunlight through the arched windows facing the yard.
My eyes went over with wonder as we entered the room and I let my gaze wander across the displayed works of art. Though I was hardly an expert, I recognized certain pieces that I had heard described in the past. 'Summer in Maidenpool', a famed painting by Lady Janyse Buckwell, hung resplendent above the white marble fireplace. Next to the enormous, framed canvas I saw a set of seven wood carvings depicting the Hightower's construction. There were vases from the distant lands of Yi Ti, furniture made of tigerwood and polished mahogany from the Summer Isles, old tomes bound in leather and silk, and pedestals holding masterpieces of craftsmanship, gold adorned with pale jewels, painted ivory, among other precious metals and gems. Lord Buntley's collection, I imagined, rivaled the treasures of foreign kings, and even they might have envied this wealth of exotic wonders.
The far side of the room was evidently dedicated to the works of artists from Oldtown. A mural depicting the Starry Sept under a vivid blue night sky took up most of the wall, an eyecatching backdrop for the the smaller displays. However, my eyes were drawn to the centerpiece, standing tall between easels, shelves and ebony tables. It was the statue of a woman reaching up to the sky, her slender fingers seemingly touching the stars over Oldtown. The sculptor - Maester Jeraume, I presumed – had carved breathtaking details from the unassuming material, an ash-grey stone with the faint, fine grain of marble. Every fold, every wrinkle of the flowing gown looked natural, as did the woman's long braided hair. The attention to detail on her face was equally stunning. Subtle wrinkles around her eyes and lips, even eyelashes and polished pearl jewelry on her ears.
Lord Buntley's tumid features were filled with triumph and pride when I tore my gaze away from the statue and looked back to him. "Jeraume's masterpiece," he explained with an air of importance. "Before he left for the voyage he would never return from, he was more determined than ever to prove Ortys wrong. Jeraume challenged him before his departure, said he'd bring irrefutable evidence for the Valyrian Marble's astonishing properties, a work of art nobody could replicate using common stones." He scoffed and tugged the collar of his flamboyant robe. "Ortys refused to look at it. I invited him several times and he always denied me, saying as far as he was concerned, this case was long closed."
I quietly nodded and carefully considered my answer. "A truly impressive piece," I finally said. "Doubtlessly, Jeraume was very gifted, but I must ask... How can you be certain this is his work? As far as I understand, nobody has seen him sculpt this Valyrian Marble. Nor has he ever brought back samples of the raw stone, which sparked the suspicion that he purchased the finished work from Qohor."
"Impossible!" Lord Buntley huffed and gestured to a row of smaller displays, lined up in front of the mural. "Take a look! These are Jeraume's earlier, less ambitious pieces." He pointed out a pedestal that held a red velvet pillow, atop of it a flower made of the same shimmering stone as the statue. "While the earliest works are, shall we say, generic – flowers, seashells, simple shapes..." He wandered along the length of the wall, nodding to other displays. "...he completed several of my requests later. A Qohorik mason could never achieve this accuracy and detail in things I described. This, for example!" He stopped in front of an ebony table that held a smaller statue, a Dornish dessert fox in repose. "There are similar beasts living in the Hills of Norvos, a common motif in northern Essosi art. Even the best sculptor would have made mistakes, slipped into old habits resulting in a resemblance to their native foxes."
Frankly, I was far from convinced that no Qohorik mason had ever seen or sculpted Dornish foxes, but I simply nodded and studied the display more closely. Yes, there was no doubt after which kind of beast this statue had been modeled; it was a fox from our shores, albeit a small one. The fur, though lithic and grey, looked so lifelike I almost expected the fine hairs to move in the breeze of my breath. "In your letter you urged the Conclave to reconsider their position," I said after a while. "What, do you think, will convince them of the authenticity of the statues and carvings? Do you have reason to believe that Jeraume is alive?"
"I do," Lord Buntley gave back with utter conviction. "I funded his last expedition to acquire raw Valyrian Marble. Had he demonstrated his skill, sculpted a statue under the eyes of Ortys and his cronies, nobody could have discredited his discovery." He eyed me up from head to toe, then slightly nodded to himself with apparent satisfaction. "Yet I have not had success in finding a captain willing to go where I believe Jeraume is being held."