SAMWELL
A sharp foul stench invaded Sam's nostrils as he entered the huge room with Pate. The shelves in every corner were full of medicines. On the rough stone floor lay numerous bodies. It looked like they were having the most peaceful nap in their whole life. Sam pinched his nose with his right hand and coughed. Pate was as calm as still water.
"If you want the Citadel to give you a chain, you shouldn't cower from such things," the youth stated.
Samwell Tarly made a disgusted face.
"Now wash the corpse of that old man in the corner," the youth told him.
Samwell felt queasy. He filled a pail with clean water and leaned across the white haired body. The hard floor hurt his knees. Then very cautiously, he wiped the man's cadaver with a cloth.
Pate's cool green eyes studied him as he performed the task. "Good," he said. "Now grab a knife and cut it open."
Sam did as he was told. He pressed the knife on the man's chest and slashed a vertical cut across it. He felt bile at the back of his throat as the sharp steel went through the mushy skin. No, he told himself. You cannot surrender. Do this for Jon, for little Sam, for Gilly.
His whole body was soaked with sweat by the time he finished. Pate studied the corpse. "Good," he said. "Now move on to the next one."
Sam was dumbstruck. "But I just finished this one! It is only the first day of my training."
Pate sighed. "Don't blame me. I don't decide your schedule. I'm just a helper."
"I'm not sure I can do this," Samwell Tarly complained.
"When you serve as a maester in a battlefield, you will have to tend thousands and thousands of wounded soldiers at a time. There, you can't give such lame excuses."
"But this is my first time!"
"We preparing you for the worst," Pate told him. "The maesters are the wisest people in the whole Westeros. They must have put some thought into this."
"I don't quite get this," Sam told him. "How is cleaning dead men going to help me become a maester?"
"To achieve something big, you have to start small," Pate told him. "These corpses will wash away all the emotions inside you. You will no longer feel any disgust while tending to wounded men."
That was obvious, Sam thought. You are embarrassing yourself again. Perhaps the sight of so many dead people had dulled his senses.
"The path is going to be hard," Pate admitted. "It is going to take years and years of practicing. Ask yourself Samwell Tarly, are you ready?"
He hadn't thought about it much. If I fail here, then what is my next destination? Horn Hill was definitely not an option. My dear father will chop my head with his stolen the second I go home. He could go to Winterfell and fall to Jon's feet and ask forgiveness. I can never look Jon in the eye after that. His last option was the Night's watch. But what good would it do if he went back there without achieving something. They would call me by my old name; Samwell craven Tarly.
He took a deep breath and looked at Pate. "I am ready," he said washing the next corpse.