I am Kiriti. For those unfamiliar with Hindu religion, it means the Archer Arjun. It's a rare name, even in my first life in India, courtesy of my first Dad. Despite its confusion and difficulty in pronunciation, I find happiness in it. Makes me unique on first introduction.
Unfortunately, this name followed me into Westeros, where I ended up in an orphanage under the patronage of the Faith. Those with talent in writing and language seem to find themselves drafted into the Citadel, while the rest are immediately sworn in as prospective septons in training.
At the Citadel, novices are those who begin their education. Once they earn a link for their chain, they become acolytes. Most acolytes treat novices as if they are slow-witted. Acolytes train at letters at the Scribe's Hearth and can be hired by Oldtowners to read letters or write wills. When an acolyte is prepared to take vows and become a maester, they are placed in a completely dark room with one of the Citadel's glass candles, made of razor-sharp obsidian. They must stay in that room for the entire night in darkness unless they can light the candle. The tradition serves as a lesson about truth and learning.
However, students who violate the rules of the Citadel can be ordered confined to their rooms by the maesters. They can also receive more physical punishments. For example, for stealing from the kitchens, rectors might place them in stocks at the Seneschal's Court, where acolytes may throw rotten vegetables at them.
I find myself a 5-year-old drafted into the Citadel as a novice. I believe the Citadel itself is competent and, in a manner of speaking, scary in the context of medieval Westeros. They emphasize that an average child establishes their mentality by five years old, a fact concurrent with modern paediatrics studies. The age at which a child can do their own work and chores, starting to understand the meaning of words.
Until then, it's more of a foundation built on brain development and social exposure-a baby.
Wandering through the Citadel's maze-like halls, I handed out quills and parchment to the studying bunch. Some were deep into scribbling, others messing with some weird-smelling potions.
My hands, tiny as they were, juggled a bunch of supplies while I played the delivery guy in this sea of brainiacs. Every step echoed with the low hum of gossip.
"Did you hear? Corlys resigned," one acolyte said, looking like he just heard the juiciest secret.
"Yeah, and Baleon is the new heir," another one chimed in, sounding like they were swapping the latest game scores.
"Petty nobles on the narrow sea are causing a ruckus," someone muttered, delivering the news like they'd caught a kid with their hand in the cookie jar before dinner.
"Well, it is kind of obvious considering the narrow sea nobles got richer due to the increased trade to Spicetown and Driftmark. They will no doubt support Princess Rhaenyra's claim."
A sneeze interrupted the gossip flow, coming from an acolyte with a history link-Copper. "So what?"
{Brandon}
The game like prompt is due to my AI. So convenient, it's like a customizable iOS. So nice.
With my new cute and squeaky voice, I chimed in, "What do you mean, big brother Brandon?"
The 25-year-old brunette explained, "It doesn't matter what they want. The only opinion that's worth is the kings. Especially if it's the greatest king in current times like King Jaehaerys."
The acolyte of languages represented by his twisted yellow link – twisted design shows he only mastered a part of economics subject-languages subject, {Daemon}, replied, "Isn't it the greatest one – the conqueror."
The medieval history grad declared, "The madman only threatened Westeros but didn't rule it at all. In fact, he left a succession crisis. Our current king, on the other hand, forged the kingdoms into a single entity."
While the nearby acolytes might not grasp how Aegon the Conqueror isn't universally seen as the greatest, I did. Aegon was a conqueror and a decent ruler at best. The truth of the Old King being the greatest was only recognized by the copper link – the current history students.
Ironically the only other part of society who recognised it is smallfolk, for them it simple as he brought the longest peace ever seen. Nobles, except the real players in the game of thrones, just gave lip service, entangled in their power struggles.
The words "succession crisis" snapped my attention back to the present.
As Jaehareys rejected Rhaneys, her chances at Iron throne slipped away. Afterall the lords with the brains know not to offend him now when the house of dragons is at its peak.
The talk of resignations and new heirs buzzed around like wildfire, but the real juicy bits unfolded in the hushed whispers and exchanged glances between acolytes. It was like being stuck in the middle of a Westerosi soap opera on a tight budget.
"Did you catch wind of the Ambrose debacle?" one of them muttered, glancing around to ensure no one was prying too closely.
"Ambrose? Those vineyard folks? Dish," the other replied, leaning in with a conspiratorial grin.
"Here's the juice – Lord Ambrose was supposedly caught in a compromising situation with the daughter of a well-known Dornish merchant. You know how touchy the Reach lords are about their images."
The second acolyte's eyes widened, "You're saying he got caught red-handed having a love affair with a Dornish girl? That's quite the scandal, especially for the marcher lords."
"Whether it's bold or just plain foolish depends on your perspective. But the rumour mill is working overtime. They say it's causing quite a stir at Ambrose Keep."
Even though I was just the quill-and-parchment guy, it felt as if I were delivering bribes for gossip instead. Moving through the corridors, I couldn't shake the feeling that the Citadel, with all its scholarly vibes, hoarded more than just dusty scrolls – it had the inside scoop on Westeros's backstage drama, one quill at a time.
The idea of filing away information in the AI database was both a blessing and a source of perplexity.
On one hand, it was handy for storing a treasure trove of knowledge, pity it is not connected to my brain.
On the other hand, there was this peculiar sense of bloating, like having too much on a plate without a big enough appetite – a feeling that left me scratching my head whenever it reached a certain limit.
I could vividly recall the one time it happened, on my very first day of duty, diving into the vast sea of behaviour studies, a subject under the greater subject of silver-healing written by the masters of the past. The medieval equivalent of psychology is represented by the circled design of silver.
Yes, the links have different designs regarding the minor subjects under the bigger subjects- like languages in economy and Behaviour in Healing. Although it was only about a thousand books – and believe me, that's a small number compared to major subjects.
Especially history, there is an 8000-year-old history regarding the known world in this Citadel. Anyway, back to the point. In my need for mastering psychology. Yes, I needed it because I am in Westeros. That is enough explanation.
The sheer volume of information stored by me turning the pages was enough to trigger this strange sensation. It was like trying to fit an entire library into a small room, a bit cramped but functional. Since then, I'd learned to manage it. Bit by bit, over the last three months, I carefully filed away the insights, ensuring I didn't overwhelm the mental storage space.
Though I must say, the Citadel is worth its name. The books even had info on body changes when lying or angry or horny. There were studies by one named Lorence 1000 years back about lie detecting while checking the pupil, sweating even facial expression but unfortunately it takes talent, impractical and most importantly costly to popularize.
In mathematics, they've mastered schooling-level concepts. Physics, including motion and gravity calculations, has been explored. Theories like the solar system and a spherical world were proposed but ultimately rejected and left to collect dust, mirroring Earth's History.
These concepts have existed for centuries, some even millennia. It's as if the world is trapped in a technological bubble. I close the book and navigate back to the dorms, simultaneously exploring and noting the Citadel's blueprint. Unfortunately, most areas are sealed, accessible only to selected maesters based on their links.
Disregarding the special designs for the minor subjects, each major subject to show the completion of the subject regarding the Citadel library, shows increasing numbers of links- till a maximum of 7. The first link is the most important as it is the base of the entire subject. For the maester certification, the acolyte needs to complete at least 1 link in astronomy, history, healing, economics/trade, Raven craft.
Then comes the Archmaesters; these guys completed all 7 links in a particular subject, completely mastering it in accordance with the Citadel, and reforged it into a bigger single link.
The grand maester is a potion representing the Citadel in the small council, a recent addition by Aegon the conqueror.
AI shows the simple meaning of links regarding healing –
[ 1 link- competent healer who can recognize the most common disease and cure it.
2 to 7 – for each additional link shows additional competency in associated minor subjects in plants, poisons, zoology, etc. In any order till 7 is attained.
7-complete mastery in healing and reforged into a single large link as big as a folded fist.]
With enough time, I can become an Archmaester in healing if I familiarize myself with the terms local to Westeros and stupid mystical plants and magical animals. There are multiple problems with that,
I don't want to swear off women, wealth, and family.
I don't like to be cooped up in this library till death.
I don't want to be in a position where any noble can kill me and be expected to understand my killer can at best get a slap on the wrist.
Most importantly, it has a very good chance of death considering the civil war in the future.
Of course, there is the fact I am prideful and ambitious. I didn't burst my ass off to become a doctor. It was a prestigious and good profession in my previous life. In this one even more so, and the fact I have means to be even more than that makes me find a way to escape this Citadel to achieve more.
Ideally, I would like to forge a large link in Healing, a link in other subjects, and make myself a genius in front of others. Then I would move away from here. Of course, no oath is a requirement. In this society, reputation is the biggest guarantee unlike the modern world. AI notes the following,
[ 1-Political backing to leave the Citadel without consequences- needs the reputation.
2- Forge the links for the reputation as the greatest healer, in an age where common disease can be life-threatening- silver link opens many doors.
3. Companions/followers to trust and watch my back. This is Westeros
4. God, I have a burning desire to be a king. Each day I spend here and hearing the sheer power held by Iron throne makes me want to more every day. King Kiriti. KK. Sounds good.]
Summary: In this chapter, little me, Kiriti, is running around the Citadel, handing out quills and stuff. Everyone's chatting about Westerosi gossip, like who's resigning and who's caught up in a scandal. I join in with my thoughts on King Jaehaerys and Aegon the Conqueror. The Citadel's education system is kinda weird, with links and acolytes and all that. I share my plans to master healing and other stuff, but I'm itching to leave and maybe become a king. The chapter mixes school stuff, Westeros drama, and my big dreams, all told in a simple, chatty way.