Magic is Might
Prologue: Order of the Maesters
by FireAndSteel
AN: 24/2/15 - This has received a lot more attention than I thought it would. As such, I revised and polished the first chapter, it was not really acceptable in its state. Also, changed perspective from First Person to Third.
"Who here follows the Seven?"
Over half the room raised their hands.
"Who here follows no Gods?"
Nearly all of those remaining, bar two, raised their hands.
"And you two?" the Maester queried.
The Maester was a middle-aged, strict man. He held himself up highly, almost as if he believed himself to be superior to those around him. Despite that, he commanded respect for the four links in his chain if not for his lack of manners.
"I follow the Old Gods." Harry said.
"As do I." The other man said.
Harry looked over at the other man at the same time he looked at him. They nodded at each other approvingly.
"Northmen." The Maester noted, with perhaps a hint of bitterness.
"Old Gods, Seven Gods, the Drowned God, the Great Stallion, the Lord of Light…" He counted each with a finger. "You will drop your religion as soon as you enter the doors of the Citadel."
Some of the boys and men in the room glanced at each other, but most watched the Maester intently.
"Religion –" He gestured widely, "Has no place in the Citadel. We are no Alchemists. What we shall teach you is what any learned man may know – the areas of Warcraft, Economics, Medicine, Ravenry, and even – " he snorted slightly "The Higher Mysteries, or Magic. Your task is to learn more, extend more, and find what we do not know – becoming a Maester is an intellectual pursuit, not a stepping stone for a life in a castle."
During his impromptu lecture, a small murmur had erupted in the class, many voicing their excitement and telling those near them what they wanted to do.
The boy next to Harry grinned widely and whispered to him. "I want to learn all about warcraft."
He smiled gently, not sure what to say. "Um, I'd – "
"If you'd let me continue," the Maester glanced pointedly at parts of the large room. "I'd like to gauge the interest in our subjects. Raise your hand if you wish to gain a link in the Sciences – astronomy, engineering, and the like."
A sizable portion of the room raised their hands.
The Maester didn't look very surprised. "Warcraft?"
A fair few raised their hands, all youthful and grinning like the boy beside Harry.
"Economics? Medicine?"
Nearly everyone else raised their hand, and suddenly, Harry felt quite nervous. Was there anything to be nervous about, really? He looked around quickly.
"All who didn't raise their hand, raise it now." He put hiss hand up slowly.
"What do you want to do?" The Maester asked the others.
The question was met with various standard responses, like Astrology, Smithing and History, until he got to Harry.
"And, finally, you?"
He licked his lips. "Magic, the Higher Mysteries."
Looking around, he could see the looks on the others' faces. Scorn, amusement and laughter.
"Perhaps you wouldn't be out of place in the Alchemists Guild." He half-jested, drawing a few titters and jeers from the room.
"Perhaps not." Harry replied mildly.
The Maester lifted his nose up.
"You will all be seen to where we shall have meals. Dismissed."
A small, hobbling man was waiting for them outside. He was remarkably old, and his face was marred with wrinkles and stubble. His voice, however, was surprisingly calm, firm and smooth.
"Follow me, apprentices. I shall show you to the Dining Hall."
A couple of us exchanged glances of curiosity.
The walk to the hall was quiet, but not awkward, as many of the soon-to-be-Maesters took their time walking through the building. The Citadel, whilst old and decaying, still held the knowledge and works of hundreds, if not thousands of scholars, scientists and academics. It was awe-inspiring for an intellectual.
Harry couldn't say that he'd ever thought himself much of an intellectual. He could plot with the best of them, and his magic was something to behold (not that he was foolish enough to use it publicly), but he could never - and would never - see the appeal in pouring over countless tomes in search of an answer. If he wanted an answer, he would find it himself, which landed him in a spot of bother more often than not.
But then, even he could appreciate the knowledge within these walls. There would probably have been one Maester, he thought, in the long, spiralling history of the Order, who had studied Magic and had found out it existed and how it was used. If that was not worth pouring over tomes for, he didn't know what was.
Before Harry knew it, they were being shepherded into the large dining hall. He wasn't exactly impressed; it was a fairly standard hall, apart from its size. There were ten or eleven long rows of tables, with food already on them, in bowls. As soon as the apprentices were allowed to go, they all shot to the tables and tucked in ravenously. It was understandable, especially to Harry. Many of them had been travelling for days and days in order to reach Oldtown - Harry and the other Northman especially, considering how far away Northern settlements were from the South.
Slowly, as the meal came to an end, conversation picked up.
"You're the one who's wanting to do Magic, aren't you?" Harry looked up. There was a forty-something year old sat across him, watching his actions intently. Harry straightened up at the scrutiny.
"Yes. I am. What are you-" he replied, before being cut off.
The man across from Harry snorted. "The Citadel is a school for scholars and academics, not magicians."
"Well, of course." Harry frowned. Did the man even have a link? He couldn't see one.
"Do you think magic exists?" He shot off, quickly.
"Yes, but what-" Harry responded, almost instinctively.
"Why are you here then? Why not the Alchemists Guild?"
His annoyance was overriden with confusion. What exactly was there to gain from Maestery? Why not-
"Exactly. Your true calling is with superstitious old crones, not the intellectual elite."
Some of his resolve returned to him. "I suppose you consider yourself a member of the," Harry paused, almost smirking, "intellectual elite? Who exactly are you to speak for the Maesters?"
He did nothing but sneer, and pull forward his chain from the inside of his robes. His chain of Valyrian steel.
"Magic does not exist, Novice. And you'll want to learn that before you forge your chain."
Harry returned his look with one of equal venom.
It was a long trudge towards the dormitory. Whilst Harry was excited, the Citadel just didn't feel like his true calling. He'd taken no vows yet, and a small voice in his head insisted that he had no wish to. Did he even want to earn a link for his chain? Did he want a life wasted away in the halls of a musty old castle?
He shook his head. Only one in a hundred Maesters had a Valyrian Steel link (signifying mastery in magic), so this was a hard enough path as it was without him doubting myself at every turn. He laughed inwardly at the fact that he was meant to forge his own chain, anyway. If he had enough Valyrian Steel, he'd send it on its way to the forges in Qohor, not put it around his neck! Magic was not respected in the Citadel anyway, he thought to himself. The only person he had seen who'd actually studied the Higher Mysteries, ridiculing him in the lunch hall, was solid in his view that magic was non-existent and irrelevant.
He shook himself again and sighed. Maesters were no fools. Magic had lost its importance and sway, to the point of irrelevance and practical non-existence, as the Conclave of the Maesters said. He didn't know of any magic users other than himself, and even he could only practise in secret.
But there was one motto, one phrase, emblazoned proudly above the fireplace in his childhood home, which gave him pause for thought - Magic is Might. And, Harry vowed to himself in bed that night, he would see to it becoming mighty indeed.
Maester Hierarchy:
Conclave: A council of Archmaesters, the Grand Maester and the Seneschals.
Seneschals: Temporary administrators of the Citadel. Two are appointed each year from among the Archmaesters, one for the former half and one for the latter half of the year.
Archmaesters: Designated 'masters' in their topic, like Ravenry or Warcraft. More info next chapter.
Grand Maester: Supposed leader of the Order, elected by the Conclave. Advisor to the monarch and sits on the small council
Maester: someone who has forged enough chains to wear around his neck.
Acolyte: someone who has forged links, but not enough to wear around his neck yet
Apprentice: someone who is working towards their first link
l've been wanting to do a HP/GoT crossover for a while, and I wanted to gauge interest before I continue. Rest assured, chapters will be longer
Don't worry, Harry joining the Maesters is merely a stepping stone. Pairing will probably be Harry/Margaery or Harry/Daenarys? Not entirely sure at this point. Thanks for reading, and leave a review even if you hated it!