With a determined look, Maester Bracken got the conditions penned down in a document. It was a relief to see it in writing, like a safety net for my venture. The Archmaester council, not looking too thrilled, begrudgingly signed it.
I couldn't help but feel lucky at my decision to accept Bracken's offer back then.
Unlike how we take it for granted, in the Citadel, a Maester can easily steal the achievements, but Teacher instead made this possible. This was it—the Citadel backing my endeavor.
But it wasn't just about that; the document held a clause that protected my name. According to the contract, they couldn't tarnish my reputation or spoil the quill's name in the market.
As Bracken explained, "Any attempt to discredit or harm the name of our protege's invention would result in the shares reverting to him. And believe me, he has the option to split them between the Iron Bank and himself."
It was a smart move, making sure my interests wouldn't be spoiled. The contract became my shield, protecting not just my shares but also the reputation of the auto-filled quill. If they tried anything tricky, I had the power to take back what was rightfully mine. The copies were given to me, the Citadel, and the Iron Bank.
The wheels of Westeros publicity services were in motion, and I was ready to ride the wave.
A week passed, and things got interesting. I found myself sitting down with a parchment and some prompts from AI. They wanted me to answer questions. It felt like a Westeros pop quiz. First up, I had to spill my thoughts on a historical figure—Aegon the Conqueror. It was a breeze. I didn't even need the AI prompts. I just laid out all of his achievements, from uniting the Seven Kingdoms to flying on dragons. It was like reciting the highlights of a hero's journey.
As I wrapped up my thoughts, I dropped an unbiased opinion—the Faith Militant uprising was bound to happen sooner or later. It's like predicting the sunrise. With their Valyrian heritage and complicated marriages, it was a recipe for rebellion.
Who was the founder of House Stark?
{Answer: Bran the Builder is the legendary founder of House Stark.}
What is the ancient Valyrian steel sword of House Targaryen?
{Answer: Blackfyre is the Valyrian steel sword associated with House Targaryen.}
Which event is known as the Field of Fire?
{Answer: The Field of Fire was a major battle during Aegon's Conquest, where House Targaryen used dragons to defeat the combined forces of the Reach.}
Name the legendary hero who defeated the Night's King.
{Answer: The legendary hero who defeated the Night's King was Brandon the Breaker though controversial to it in Essos, Azor.}
Who knew I was about to write the Builder but apparently it was the breaker. The stark Brandon alone were in thousands. Now I am really curious about the first Brandon-The Builder.
Which house is known for its words, "Fire and Blood"?
{Answer: House Targaryen is known for the words "Fire and Blood."}
Identify the ruling house of the Reach.
{Answer: House Gardener was the ruling house of the Reach.}
What was the fate of House Gardener?
{Answer: House Gardener faced extinction during Aegon's Conquest. Their women were all married into House Tyrell. Even the progeny from this unions were are also married back into the house to strengthen the claims. A good decision to stop the claim from spreading but fatal in not allowing an alliance opportunity for decades causing the weak rule.
Sure there were marriage to the Heir and others but not of the secondary branches, as required to hold the Reach.}
Though most of the questionnaire was about the conquest—lucky me—but the full 7 links would require answering questions on all time periods and commenting on various decisions of the kings of Westeros. It is like they are forced to study for the other links; I mean, how does one answer about the economic implications of a decision without studying economics.
Having aced the Westeros History Quiz with full marks, I found myself whistling my way to the Healing test site. Citing the Citadel's permission, which had become somewhat famous in Oldtown, especially after numerous pens were sent as gifts to Hightowers and the Faith in the last month. The Hightowers paid for theirs and even ordered custom ones. The big guy at the Faith, however, requested his in five detailed parchments.
Controversy has always been a companion on my decisions, and the decision to pursue the silver link in healing was no exception. The idea took root during a trip into the city with my teacher, Maester Bracken.
Our purpose? Routine checkups with nobles and a bit of "Requill" to navigate the intricate web of relationships, particularly with the heads of the guards and the esteemed septons of the Faith.
As we weaved through the bustling streets of the city, I couldn't help but be captivated by the ebb and flow of life. Each person seemed to play a part in an intricate dance guided by the unspoken rules of society. Maester Bracken, with his wealth of experience, moved through the crowd as if he held the blueprint of this social choreography.
Our first stop was the residence of a noble, a customary visit that had become a tradition over the years. Nobles, like anyone else, valued their health, and Maester Bracken was the key to maintaining it. He engaged in polite banter, offered advice on well-being, all the while subtly building alliances and connections.
I watched in awe as consultations unfolded. The maester provided medical advice, occasionally offering herbal remedies. Yet, it was the financial transactions that left a lasting impression on me—a golden dragon for a mere consultation, a hundred dragons for what I deemed "minor surgeries."
The stark contrast to modern medical practices hit me like a lightning. In our world, medical fees were a fraction of what was demanded here. A single gold dragon could sustain a smallfolk family comfortably for a year, and yet, the nobles willingly parted with their wealth for the maester's expertise.
As we left the medical quarters, Maester Bracken winked at me, "I really paid for your research," he said with a hint of amusement.
It was a revelation that shifted my perspective on the economics of healing within Westeros.
Though, it wasn't the money that intrigued me the most; it was the power of connections forged through the art of healing. In a society where power and interests often paved the way, I realized that the relationships formed in the pursuit of health were rather strong. Of course, that is only if the said healer is not replaceable. In this case, teacher was one. According to him only the archmaester and few others were better than him.
The Captain of the Guards and the septons might have demanded bribes for others but when one's life hung in the balance, as Maester Bracken put it, "pure friendship." With this newfound understanding, I made a bold decision.
After some discussions here and there, I was granted access to the test room. The atmosphere was different this time, filled with a sense of challenge and scrutiny. If I hadn't been a healer before, I doubted my ability to navigate through this test, even with the assistance of my AI.
The task ahead was multifaceted—I had to diagnose the patient, choose the right medicine from a myriad of plants piled in a heap, and then meticulously document my decisions in response to a staggering 777 questions. The number seven, a sacred and significant figure for the Faith, seemed to echo through this examination.
The patients awaiting treatment were not ordinary folks; they were local guards and septons in training who willingly paid a sum of 10 silver stags for this unique healing experience. It was a fee just above the import cost of the herbs required for the treatment, adding a mere 7 silvers to cover the cost. The faith was really strong in the examiner.
The intricacies of the test mirrored the complexity of the ailments these individuals might encounter in their respective roles, underscoring the practical nature of the healing arts in Westeros.
As I approached the patients, I noted their diverse conditions. Some had injuries sustained during their duties, while others seemed to be grappling with ailments prevalent in their line of work. Each case required a careful examination and an accurate diagnosis.
The herbs, a collection of Westerosi flora known for their medicinal properties, were spread out before me. Their names resonated with the mystique of the land—Moonbloom for fevers, Frostfern for pain relief, and Silverroot for wound healing. Choosing the right combination was a delicate dance, a symphony of nature's remedies.
I began with the patient presenting symptoms of a lingering fever. After a thorough examination, I selected Moonbloom for its renowned antipyretic properties. The patient's condition was monitored closely, and I adjusted the dosage based on their response. The delicate balance between the potency of the herbs and the individual's constitution was crucial for success.
Moving on to the next case, a guard with a laceration from a recent skirmish sought treatment. I opted for Silverroot to promote wound healing, carefully preparing a poultice to be applied directly to the affected area. The guard winced slightly as the herbal remedy took effect, the Silver root proving its efficacy.
The questions that followed were designed to assess not only the effectiveness of the treatment but also my understanding of the underlying principles of healing. I delved into the intricacies of each case, providing detailed responses that showcased not just rote knowledge but a comprehensive grasp of the healing arts.
The patients, despite their initial skepticism, began to acknowledge the effectiveness of the treatment. The testimonials they offered reflected not only the success of the healing but also the trust they had placed in the process. The 10 silver stags they had paid seemed a small price for the relief and assurance they gained.
As I concluded the test, I couldn't help but marvel at the interplay of knowledge, nature, and faith in the healing arts of Westeros. The intricate dance of diagnosing, selecting herbs, and answering the barrage of questions had given me a deeper appreciation for the challenges faced by healers in this world. The Faith's emphasis on the sacred number seven, woven into the fabric of the examination, added a layer of reverence to the entire healing process.
Leaving the test room, I chuckled to myself, thinking about how my second big accomplishment would probably end up in the history books. I am sure my about to be peers-Acolytes are pointing at me saying to each other, "Hey, there's that guy who made the auto-filled quill and aced the Healing test."
Summary: With a determined gaze, Maester Bracken secured the conditions in a document, a safety net for my venture. The Archmaester council reluctantly signed, and I realized my luck in accepting Bracken's offer. The Citadel was officially backing my endeavor, with a clause protecting my name from defamation. Bracken's shrewd move ensured my interests were safeguarded, empowering me to reclaim shares and reputation if they tried anything tricky. Armed with copies distributed to me, the Citadel, and the Iron Bank, I was ready to ride the wave of Westerosi publicity.
A week later, I found myself breezing through a Westeros History Quiz, acing questions on Aegon the Conqueror and the Field of Fire. The questions transitioned to broader topics, showcasing the challenges of acquiring links in various disciplines. Undeterred, I delved into the healing arts, navigating the complexities of diagnosis, herbal remedies, and documenting responses in a Faith-inspired examination. The practical nature of the test mirrored the intricate dance of healing in Westeros, leaving me with a deeper appreciation for the challenges faced by healers.
As I left the test room, I couldn't help but chuckle at the thought of my dual accomplishments—revolutionizing quills and acing the Healing test—earning me a place in the history books.
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