The young man sat at the prow of the wooden boat, his gaze fixed on the distant silhouette of the Wisdom of the Moon. As the constant waves were tilting the boat, water's movements carrying it higher and lower, the already impossible sight seemed almost incomprehensible, the boat's every motion making it look as if the enormous ship was twisting and turning, an optical illusion increasing everyone's nervousness. The young man was no exception, his fingers involuntarily tracing over the familiar texture of the Valyrian steel link hanging from his chain, its pleasant coldness offering much needed comfort.
Marwyn, for that was his name, was a fairly young man, barely in his twenties, with a short and squat build, thick neck and strong jaw. He wore the standard robes of a maester, though his were noticeably more worn and travel-stained than most. His dark hair was cropped close, and his eyes were the color of storm clouds—gray and full of a restless energy that spoke of ambitions and curiosities far beyond Oldtown's walls. Around his neck rested a chain, already filled with links despite his young age, but the only one really relevant to Marwyn was a link of dark gray, almost black metal, layered with distinctive rippled patterns.
It was a Valyrian steel, its weight on his neck a constant reminder of the knowledge he carried- a knowledge that set him apart from most of the other maesters. It was a link that few others in the Citadel dared to adorn, and one that fewer still could claim to understand.
Unfortunately, the mere possession of such a link did not automatically mean that a maester could call himself an expert in the field of higher mysteries, something Marwyn had learned the hard way during his studies. On the contrary, it would not be a lie to say that the more valyrian steel links a maester had, the less he actually knew about magic. This was, of course, due to the Citadel's dismissive attitude towards magic itself.
Most maesters did not recognise this seemingly illogical aspect of the world, willingly declaring it extinct and focusing solely on the purely theoretical aspect of higher mysteries, studying their history and impact on past civilisations. Almost no one was interested in learning about the mysteries themselves, telling themselves and anyone who asked them that magic was dead and that exploring its nature was merely a fool's errand.
The highest-ranking maesters in the field of magic, such as Archmaester Ormond, were in their positions not because they possessed comprehensive knowledge in the field or practical skills related to it, but because they preached widely accepted theses about the death of magic while possessing some purely theoretical knowledge of historical examples of higher mysteries in various cultures.
The widespread hypocrisy and willful ignorance among the maesters ensured that Marwyn did not have many friends in the Citadel. His enduring fascination with magic and his constant attempts to discover and understand it made him a 'black sheep' among the maesters, his every move being viewed with suspicion and dislike, whether by his colleagues or his teachers and superiors. The widespread distaste the other maesters had for Marwyn was best illustrated by the fact that the most educated friend Marwyn had in Oldtown was not anyone from the Citadel but Lord Leyton Hightower, whose fascination with all manner of magic also made him an object of suspicion to his subjects, the maesters and the cityfolk.
All of this ensured that, after absorbing the theoretical knowledge offered to him by the Citadel, Marwyn immediately chose to embark on an expedition around the world with the goal of exploring the world's magic systems without the 'grey sheep' constantly undermining his discoveries and placing unnecessary restrictions. The man wanted to observe with his own eyes the greenseers and wargs of the frosty north, learn about the water mages of the sandy south, as well as find the warlocks of Quarth and shadowbinders of Asshai. He wanted to see magic as it was, to explore it and come closer to answering the most important questions, his work free from the prejudices and parochialism of his colleagues.
Preparations for the expedition were going exceedingly well. His familiarity with Leyton meant that raising the necessary funds for the expedition was not difficult, and the harbour was full of volunteers and hedge wizards ready to venture into unknown lands in the hope of riches and glory.
He had been on the verge of departure when the news had reached the Citadel of the strange ship appearing in Oldtown's harbour, carrying wonders and horrors beyond comprehension. Upon seeing the wizards casting spells in the harbour and the monsters surrounding them, Marwyn knew that his expedition to learn the world's deeper mysteries had to be postponed. For before him was the chance to see the arcana from beyond the sea, where magic was apparently still thriving.
Marwyn leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he studied the ship before them. The so-called Wisdom of the Moon was unlike any vessel he had ever seen. It loomed large against the sky, its richly decorated hull gleaming in the distance. The sails, seemingly engulfing the entire space above the horizon, were in a color of deep indigo, catching the wind in ways that seemed almost unnatural, as if the very air obeyed commands unknown to Westerosi sailors. Marwyn could sense the sheer power emanating from the vessel, torrent of arcane might clearly felt by his attuned senses, its presence stirring up dormant magic underneath his skin.
Marwyn probably experienced it more than almost anyone else in the city, because, contrary to his colleagues, Marwyn actually studied magic, delving into tomes that other maesters would not touch, dealing with hedge wizards, alchemists and even red priests, learning from those who practiced their arts in secrets. He was also arguably the only living maester who was able to even use magic, something that was one of his most hidden secrets.
It should be noted that the sorcery he knew was not very impressive, and that Marwyn himself had acquired these skills fairly accidentally, his teacher being a red-robed woman whom he encountered when she was drowning her sorrows in a local tavern. As a result of the various ensuing events, Marwyn, against all common sense, entered into a brief but very intense and rather immoral relationship with the woman, during which she taught him some of the basic fire spells used by the red priests. This relationship came to a rather abrupt end when the woman discovered that Marwyn was not particularly interested in joining the ranks of the dedicated followers of R'holl despite his earlier assurances, but the burns he had acquired, most of which had long since healed, were worth the magical knowledge he had acquired.
Although the spells Marwyn had learnt were not really that powerful, small flames and embers forming in his hands being mainly based on sleight of hand and misdirection with only some seasoning of true magic, even those small workings were more than any of his peers dared to achieve.
And now, with these strange arrivals, he felt the latent power within him stirring. The world was changing, and with it, his own abilities. He had a feeling that these simple flames he could summon would surely be stronger now, hotter, more dangerous than before. It was as if the very air in Oldtown was now charged with energy, waiting to be shaped by those who knew how.
The situation was fortunate for Marwyn as his previously bad reputation suddenly turned out to be a remarkable advantage. For when the newcomers from beyond the sea invited the maesters to a meeting, eager to exchange their accumulated knowledge and experience in higher mysteries, it turned out that Marwyn was the only one who met the criteria necessary to undertake such an exchange, if barely. So when Archmaester Ormond chose him as Citadel's representative in talks with outsiders about magic, purely theoretical knowledge suddenly not sufficient enough for that, Marwyn felt a certain vindication.
For years, other maesters had whispered behind his back, their voices tinged with outright contempt and fear they didn't want to admit. But now, when it finally came down to it, it turned out that the practical knowledge he possessed and his receptive attitude toward magic put him above all those gray sheep who had previously despised him. The fact that the maesters chosen to accompany him, supposedly experts in higher mysteries, looked like convicts sent to the scaffold was just a bonus.
As they drew closer to the Wisdom of the Moon, their wooden boat insignificant compared to the giant in front of them, the details of the ship became clearer. The hull, made out of glistering wood of unknown origins, was richly decorated, countless gems and precious metals creating an unfathomable array on the ship's surface. The ship's masts towered like blackened trees, their branches reaching up to touch the sky, and the air around them seemed to shimmer with a faint, iridescent glow. It was a thing of beauty, and of dread.
But as beautiful as the ship was in its incomprehensible glory, it was not their destination. For, as they had learned before they set sail from the Citadel's harbour, the group of wizards had decided to move off the ship upon reaching Oldtown to create a temporary base of operations nearby, where they could focus on their research and experiments without being distracted by the ship's other inhabitants. It wouldn't be surprising, the Citadel served a similar role after all, were it not for the unusual location of the facility.
As the maesters' boat passed the Wisdom of the Moon, a fascinating sight appeared before them. Some distance from the shoreline, previously hidden from their view, was a huge structure, inexplicably floating in the waters of the bay. Although it resembled a small island in size, it was clear that it had been created by the hand of man and not by natural causes.
The artificial island itself was a sight to behold—an expansive wooden platform, about a hundred feet wide and long, that floated on the water as if by some invisible force. Lush vegetation covered the platform, the greenery so dense that it was difficult to see the wood beneath. In the center of the platform rose a tall, pointed tower, just over seventy feet high, dominating the landscape. The tower was constructed of pure grey stone, though in several places glittering blue crystals seemed to grow from the ground and the walls, giving the entire structure an eerie, almost otherworldly appearance. Scattered around the base of the tower were several smaller buildings, most likely serving as sorcerers' homes or smaller laboratories, from which a dampened blue light could be seen coming out once in a while.
On one side of the platform, at the end of the stone path leading from the tower, was a small wooden pier where the maesters were presumably expected to dock on arrival. At the edge of the pier stood a group of figures whose appearance became clearer with each passing second. They were tall, taller than any man Marwyn had ever seen, and clad in robes of rich black and deep red, the fabric shifting like liquid in the blue light of the lamps. Their faces were hidden beneath helmets that appeared to be shaped like stone heads, with features so intricately carved they looked almost real. The helmets gave the figures an eerie, inhuman appearance, as though they were statues brought to life, or ancient gods coming down from their pedestals to greet mere mortals.
The other maesters were whispering amongst themselves now, their voices hushed and fearful. Marwyn could sense their unease, their instinctive dread of the unknown. He was afraid as well, but he pushed his own fear aside, as there was room for it inside him, not when he stood on the cusp of discovery.
As their boat drew alongside the pier, Marwyn stood up, his eyes fixed on the figures waiting for him. The air was thick with tension, the kind that comes before a storm. He could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on him, the sense that this encounter would change everything—himself, the Citadel, perhaps even the world.
The figures on the pier stood perfectly still, their stone-like helmets turned in his direction, unreadable and impassive. Marwyn felt the weight of their gaze, even though he could see no eyes behind those masks.
It didn't take long for them to finally dock, the boat wobbling slightly upon rubbing against the pier. As one of the maesters started roping their boat to the mooring pile, Marwyn took a deep breath and stepped on the pier with a firm step, his heart pounding in his chest. The air seemed to grow colder as he approached the sorcerers, though perhaps it was just his anxious mind playing tricks on him, a gullible maester seeing magic even when there was none.
The sorcerers remained motionless as Marwyn and his group approached, their presence as still and imposing as statues. He could feel their eyes—or whatever lay behind those stone helmets—watching him, judging him. He stopped a few paces away from them, close enough for conversation, but far enough to be respectful.
For a long moment, there was silence. Marwyn could hear nothing but the pounding of his own heart and the faint creak of the pier beneath his feet. The sorcerers did not move, did not speak. They simply waited, as if expecting something from him, some sign, some gesture.
Marwyn hesitated, his mind racing. What was he supposed to do? What could he say that would not seem foolish or presumptuous in the face of such beings, sorcerers whose knowledge and experience dwarfed his own? But in the end, he decided he couldn't just give up after coming so far. Gathering his courage, he opened his mouth to speak.
"Greetings." he began, his voice steady despite the tension he inwardly felt. "I am Maester Marwyn of the Citadel, sent here as the representative of the Citadel's maesters. My colleagues and I have come here to exchange with you the knowledge of magic and everything related to it. Would you be willing to receive us?"
His words hung in the air, met with nothing but silence. The sorcerers remained still, their faces—or helmets—unreadable. Marwyn felt a flicker of doubt. Had he offended them?
But just as the heavy atmosphere was beginning to weigh down on the man, a figure standing in the middle of the group, a woman wearing a stone mask with a carved female face, stepped forward. Her face was invisible and her pose regal and dignified, worthy of a leader of powerful warlocks from beyond the sea. In response, Marwyn mustered his courage, expecting to be overwhelmed by the knowledge and experience possessed by the woman, but then...
"Welcome, Maester Marwyn and the esteemed guests from the Citadel!" the woman declared loudly, her voice surprisingly young and her tone unexpectedly nervous. Suddenly she didn't feel like a mysterious matriarch from the unknown lands, but like a girl younger than Marwyn, unused to her new position. "I am Master Talia of Lunar Conspectus. We are honored to welcome you and your companions to the Sea Tower. Please, allow me to show you around."
Talia stood on the pier, the sea breeze playing with the loose strands of her blonde hair sticking out of her stone crown. Her heart fluttered in her chest, a mixture of excitement and nerves, as she spotted a dimly-lit boat slowly emerging from the sea mists.
Though the stone mask she wore concealed the emotions she felt from the world, and her robes covered her shaking body, the visit of these so-called maesters to the Sea Tower, recently built by her and the rest of the Sorcerers, caused her great nervousness, especially considering that, due to a number of unfortunate coincidences, she was the one responsible for receiving the guests, a task she did not feel ready for.
Talia was still a young woman, a child even, compared to the august masters and grandmasters once walking the esteemed halls of Raya Lucaria Academy, whose knowledge made them almost equal to the demigods and monsters rampaging through the Lands Between. Compared to them, Talia was nothing special, her skills still developing and her knowledge nothing compared to the ancient scholars of the past.
The only reason she was even in her position, the inexperienced head of a newly created Lunar Conspectus, was because after Lord Hadwyn's assault on the Academy there weren't many experienced sorcerers left alive and the remaining ones weren't too eager to join the Carians in their journey.
She still remembered the day of the attack, the way the skies had brightened with glintstone fire and the air was filled with the roars of Lord Hadwyn's forces. It was a pure chaos- spells flying, screams echoing through the halls, and the once-mighty walls of Raya Lucaria shaking under the force of the onslaught. Many of the most powerful sorcerers in the Academy had been cut down, branded traitors for their betrayal of Queen Rennala, whose mind was lost to madness.
Through the window of the classroom where she and the other students were hiding, Talia could see her teachers, once seemingly all-powerful and immortal, fall under the force of dragon's blue fire, the huge swords of the troll knights, and the blade of Lord Hadwyn himself, who was marching through the Academy like a vengeful god. The girl watched as the sorcerers' last line of defence retreated further and further, finally reaching the gate of the Grand Library, where the Queen's last knight, Moongrum 'the Moon's reflection' of Carian Knights was already waiting for them, sword and shield in his hands. And as she watched the esteemed heads of the Academy fall from their owners' shoulders, the defenders surrounded from both sides, for the first time in her life, Talia was grateful to be just a student.
In the aftermath, the Academy was a shadow of its former self. The great scholars were gone, the wisdom of ages lost and the survivors rounded on the main square. Although many of the captured wizards went under the axe, in their infinite mercy the Carian Royal Family chose to spare the surviving students, refusing to blame them for the treacherous acts of their masters. This did not mean, of course, that they were simply let go, as their captors required them to swear a renewed oath of allegiance, something Talia did eagerly after seeing the power wielded by the dynasty.
And while the few years that followed, spent slowly repairing the Academy under the watchful eye of the Carians, were not the worst, when Lady Ranni and Lord Hadwyn announced their grand plans, intent on sailing into the unknown and discovering all that was undiscovered, Talia, like most of her colleagues, had remained at their side, determined to learn, to grow, to carry on the legacy of those who had fallen.
The former students soon realised, however, that little remained of the old knowledge held by members of the academy, most of the books destroyed in battle or seized by the princess, who was unwilling to share her wealth of knowledge with the former traitors. Thus, Talia and her friends decided to create a new Conspectus, serving to recreate the academy's former achievements and restore it to its former glory.
It was a tragic coincidence, however, that there was no one competent enough to assume the role of the head of this Conspectus, so Talia, as the oldest and most experienced of the Academy's surviving sorcerers (something that spoke volumes about their current state), was unwittingly proclaimed Master of newly created Lunar Conspectus, the name of which was meant to constitute a peace offering to the Lunar Princess.
And while she had no trouble overseeing the various experiments conducted by her subordinates, each one potentially expanding the girl's repertoire and experience, her new position also involved more...social functions, ones she was not that eager to perform.
And that's why here she was, standing on the pier of her new Conspectus, ready to greet a delegation from a land she had never heard of, whose knowledge about the arcane surely dwarfed her own. It was thrilling and terrifying all at once.
The Westerosi boat was close now, and Talia could see the figures on board. While most of them looked rather bland, frail old men dressed in grey, unremarkable robes and wearing chains of various colours, there was one among them who drew her eye—a young man sitting in the front of the boat, with a sturdy build, large strong hands and sharp eyes full of intensity.
He alone was looking at her without any fear, seemingly trying to unravel her every secret with his gaze alone. Upon seeing that, Talia instantly knew that this man was not an ordinary mage, trained only in spirit and not in body, but a battlemage, proficient both in spells and physical combat in equal measure. In a way, he reminded her of Hugues, though she wasn't sure if it was fair to the unknown man, given the infamous battlemage's foul reputation among the sorcerers.
"Greetings!" The man said, docking the boat and stepping forward, his voice cutting through the tension in the air. "I am Maester Marwyn of the Citadel, sent here as the representative of the Citadel's maesters. My colleagues and I have come here to exchange with you the knowledge of magic and everything related to it. Would you be willing to receive us?"
There was a pause as the other sorcerers remained silent, their expressions carefully hidden behind their stone masks. Talia felt a pang of anxiety—what were they waiting for? Shouldn't someone say something? She looked to the others for a cue, but then she realized it was her responsibility to greet their guests.
Knowing that the moment was slipping away, she quickly stepped forward, her heart pounding.
"Welcome, Maester Marwyn and the esteemed guests from the Citadel!" she declared, her voice a bit too high for her own liking, but she powered through. "I am Master Talia of Lunar Conspectus. We re honored to welcome you and your companions to the Sea Tower. Please, allow me to show you around."
She could feel Marwyn's gaze on her, his expression unreadable. For a moment he didn't say anything, but eventually he nodded slightly, a conflicted expression forming on his face.
"…Thank you." The man replied eventually, his voice a little strained, but after a few seconds determined expression once again appeared on his face, his previous hesitance dealt with. "We would be grateful for your guidance."
"So, once again, welcome to our Sea Tower." As they began their journey, the entire group slowly climbing the cobblestone path leading to the main tower, Talia began to explain the nature of their facility, her voice cheerful despite the formal nature of the meeting. "This is where we conduct most of our research and experiments. As you can guess, our work can be quite volatile at times, so it was easy to convince Lord Hadwyn to let us move here. Without anyone around, we can really focus on our projects without having to deal with all those 'security concerns' and ' bystanders' they have on the ship."
"This is… incredibly impressive." Marwyn admitted as he was observing the island, his eyes full of admiration and curiosity, something shared by his colleagues. But while the rest of his group seemed content to just admire the various sights in silence, it was clear that the man had questions, his mind already trying to understand the magic behind their works and make it his own. "But tell me, how does such a heavy structure, especially in such a shape, float on water? It defies all logic."
"Well, it's all thanks to our recent discoveries, well, rediscoveries in the field of gravity magic." Talia grinned, pleased by his interest. "The platform is enchanted to reduce the force of gravity just enough to remain buoyant, no matter how much weight we add. The tower itself is supported by similar spells, of course, reducing the weight of the stones used in its construction."
"Gravity, you say? I'm... I'm afraid I am not really familiar with the term." Marwyn replied with hesitation, his voice slightly mangling the unfamiliar word. It was clear, however, that the man was intrigued by the unknown phenomenon, his eyes brightening upon hearing Talia's words. "Still, it sounds quite amazing, and I'd be delighted to learn more about such spells if You'd be willing."
"Of course, I'd be happy to share what I know," Talia offered, her smile widening, though no one would be able to tell because of her mask. "My former teachers would probably frown about that, but…well, their ways proved to be incorrect to say the least. I'm sure there is much we can learn from each other."
As they were passing one of the smaller structures on their way to the tower, with Talia and Marwyn enthusiastically chatting along the way, a sudden loud crash came from inside the building, followed by a series of frantic footsteps and alarmed shouts. The whole group stopped in their tracks, Talia's group with curiosity and the maesters with barely concealed fear, as the door to the building burst open and a male sorcerer stumbled out, his robes singed and small wooden bolts sticking out of his body at odd angles.
"Well, that didn't go as planned. Note to self: pure glintstone is a poor power source for marionette soldiers..." The sorcerer murmured to himself as he slammed the door behind him and pressed against it with all his weight, stopping whatever was inside from escaping. The action itself was smooth and he didn't seem overly concerned, which suggested this wasn't the first time he had found himself in a similar situation. As he turned his attention to the group, noticing their amused (or in some cases concerned) gazes, his body went completely still, surprise and embarrassment clearly visible in his posture. Careful not to move away from the door, something still striking it from the other side, the man tilted his head slightly, a futile attempt to salvage at least some of his dignity. "Ah, Talia...and the maesters, I assume? Pleasure to meet you. I'm Arthur, head of Conspectus' Prosthetic Division. I would be delighted to talk with you, but as you can see, I'm in the middle of the experiment at the moment."
"Don't worry, Arthur. We were just passing by on our way to the Tower.' Talia replied, stifling a giggle even as the maesters exchanged bewildered glances, probably stunned by a sight already quite common among Conspectus members. "Still, are you all right? You seem to have some trouble."
"Oh, it's nothing I can't fix." Arthur replied, waving his hand dismissively while still pressing his body against the door. 'It's just a minor setback, which I'll fix by tomorrow at the latest. Please don't trouble yourself with me and continue your tour."
"Well, if you say so." Talia replied casually, after which she waved her hand and continued her journey, dragging the still shocked maesters along and leaving the still struggling man behind.
"It may not look like it, but Arthur is one of our most innovative minds. He's always working on something new and unexpected, though his experiments don't always go as planned." Once they were some distance away, passing the battlemages running towards Arthur, the woman decided to at least try to justify the unlucky sorcerer, probably not viewed very positively by the Citadel visitors. After all, a bad opinion of individual members could translate into a bad opinion of Conspectus itself, something Talia very much didn't want.
"Clearly..." one of the older maesters muttered, eyeing the door they just passed by with obvious wariness.
Talia sighed, her attempts obviously unsuccessful. She only hoped that the rest of the tour would go well, as she wouldn't be able to look her predecessors in the eye if these maesters were to consider them as utterly incompetent!
As Marwyn and the rest of maesters, led by the apparently very eccentric sorcerer by the name of Talia, finally approached the central tower of the artificial island, a deep, pervasive coldness began to seep into the air.
It was a cold that felt almost unnatural, as if the warmth of the sun could not penetrate the eerie atmosphere surrounding the tower. Marwyn pulled his robe tighter around himself, trying to ward off the chill as his eyes traced the looming structure before him.
The tower, which had already appeared imposing from a distance, now seemed even more formidable up close. The grey stone walls were smooth and seamless, as if they had been carved from a single massive block of stone rather than assembled piece by piece. Yet, what drew Marwyn's attention were the crystals—those strange, glittering blue formations that seemed to grow out of the ground and walls as though they were a natural part of the landscape. Some were small, no larger than a fist, while others were massive, towering like jagged spires.
The crystals emitted a faint glow, their light casting long, sharp shadows across the ground. Marwyn couldn't help but notice the way the light seemed to warp and twist, almost as if it was being bent by some unseen force. It gave the whole area an unsettling, otherworldly feel, as though reality itself was somehow distorted.
"Fascinating," Marwyn muttered under his breath as they drew closer. As he touched one of the crystals growing on the ground, he felt latent power hidden within it, a torrent of arcane might just waiting to be freed from its crystalline form. He turned to Talia, who was walking slightly ahead of the group, her steps confident despite the unnatural surroundings. "These crystals… are they natural, or were they created through your magic?"
"A bit of both?" Talia replied, her voice giving the impression she was smiling behind her bizarre mask. "Glintsone mostly grows on its own, can't stop growing really, but we may have…nudged them to grow more… intensely around the tower? They are very crucial for our research, after all, so we always need more."
The stone... grew? The realisation threw Marwyn off guard for a moment, but eventually he simply shrugged his shoulders, deciding that it made about as much sense as anything in this impossible place.
Which was to say, it didn't make any sense at all.
As they continued down the path toward the tower's entrance, Marwyn's gaze was drawn to something off to the side—a figure lying motionless against one of the larger crystals. At first, he thought it was a statue, perhaps a relic left by the sorcerers as some sort of marker or decoration. But as they drew closer, he realized that it was not a statue, but a body.
The figure was robed, the dark fabric tattered and worn, as if it had been exposed to the elements for a long time. What struck Marwyn most was the head—or rather, the lack thereof. Where the head should have been, there was instead a large, polished crystal, smooth and flawless, reflecting the pale blue light of the other crystals in the vicinity. Smaller crystals protruded from the body at odd angles, growing from the arms, shoulders, and torso, as though the person had been slowly consumed by the crystalline formations.
Marwyn stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening in shock and a tinge of horror. "What… what is that?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Hmm? Oh, that. It's just Grandmaster Azur." The girl replied as she turned to see what had caught her attention, her voice still cheerful despite her clear acknowledgement of the corpse lying nearby. "He is one of the greatest sorcerers to study at Raya Lucaria, his mastery of glintstone magic still unparalleled."
"…Is?" Marwyn echoed, his gaze locked on the eerie figure. "You mean to say he is not… dead?"
"I…think so?" Talia hesitated, trying to find the right words. "He is not dead, but he isn't really…with us, if you know what I mean. "Whatever Master Azur did to himself, he is now more crystal than man. Lord Hadwyn says he is still alive, in a way, but his consciousness is quite… different."
"And he just… stays here? By the side of the road?" Marwyn shuddered at the thought. The idea of being trapped in such a state, neither truly alive nor dead, was deeply unsettling.
"Well, he doesn't seem to mind." Talia assured him, shrugging her shoulders in indifference. "He doesn't need food or water, and he doesn't seem to be in pain. He's just… there. Sometimes, he even helps us, in his own way. We don't really bother him, and he doesn't bother us."
The maesters exchanged uneasy glances, but Talia's cheerful demeanor seemed to put them at ease—at least, somewhat. Marwyn, however, couldn't shake the feeling of unease as they continued past the crystallized sorcerer. He kept his eyes on the road ahead, but every so often, he found himself glancing back at the still figure, wondering what thoughts, if any, still lingered within the crystal that had consumed Master Azur.
Finally, they reached the entrance to the tower, the massive wooden doors intricately carved with symbols that Marwyn couldn't quite decipher. Talia led them inside, opening the heavy wooden door with a flick of her wrist and ushering the maesters into the tower's interior.
The first thing Marwyn noticed when they stepped inside was the frankly impossible layout of the room. The floor and ceiling were both lined with desks, bookshelves and various magical instruments, all of which remained in place despite their absurd placement. What truly caught his attention, however, was the fact that the sorcerers inside were working on both the floor and the ceiling, acting as if natural laws had no effect on them. They were all moving freely around the room without care, the people on the ceiling no more bothered by their situation than the ones on the floor.
"How...?" Marwyn began, his voice trailing off as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. It was truly a magical sight, more impressive than anything he had seen on the island previously. If this was what the newcomers were capable of...
"Oh? It's nothing special. It's the same gravity magic we used to allow the Sea Tower to float." Talia replied casually, as always conveying groundbreaking revelations with a cheerful voice, as if not understanding the gulf in magic knowledge that separated her from the maesters. "We've enchanted the tower to allow us to work in any direction we choose. It's incredibly useful for certain kinds of research, especially when you need to approach a problem from a different perspective- literally."
Marwyn stared up at the sorcerers working on the ceiling, trying to reconcile what he was seeing with everything he had learned in his years as a maester. The conclusion he eventually reached was neither pleasant nor favourable.
"This is… beyond anything we've ever encountered," he admitted after a moment of silence, his voice tinged with deep sorrow. "The things you are capable of…"
Yes, we've accomplished much, but it's nothing compared to what we had before the…change in management." Talia declared proudly, though her voice lowered slightly at the last part. "there's still much to learn and a lot to discover. And that's why we're so excited to have you here—to share our knowledge, and to learn from you as much as you learn from us."
This... how could one respond to such a statement?
How could one convey the gulf in power between them and the new arrivals? How could one admit that magic had almost completely left their lands, rejected by the petty and fearful?
And how was that fair, that Marwyn had to be the one to do all of it? He, who was one of the only people in all of Westeros who still cared? He, who was one of the only people who still believed?
The bile gathered in Marwyn's mouth at the very thought, and yet he could do nothing but admit defeat- his defeat, the defeat of the maesters and the defeat of all of Westeros.
"Magic in Westeros is… not what it once was." Marwyn eventually admitted, each subsequent word serving as another knife piercing his flesh. The expectant gaze Talia directed in his direction burned him like glowing coals, each second filled with a feeling of defeat and resignation. "There was a time, long ago, when our lands were filled with powerful sorceries most likely not unlike yours, when dragons flew the skies and the blood of the First Men still carried the old magic. But that time has passed. Most of the magic left our lands around three hundred years ago, when Valyrian Freehold vanished in flames and rock. What remains now are scattered, fragmented vestiges, pale shadow of their former glory..."
"Scattered and fragmented? What do you mean?" Talia titled her stone head, for some reason intrigued by his words, most likely not comprehending the depths of their fall.
"There are still those who practice the old arts." Marwyn explained gently, his voice growing sombre and weary despite his young age, sounding like a grandfather describing better times to his granddaughter. "Alchemists, pyromancers, water mages… they still exist in some remote places, but they are few and far between, and their powers are but shadows of what they once were. The alchemists can still create wildfire, pyromancers can summon small flames and manipulate fire and water mages can manipulate water in small amounts, but it's not…"
"Wait a second!" Talia suddenly exclaimed, snapping Marwyn out of his story. The man was already about to ask what specifically interested the girl, his grim mood making it difficult for him to see anything of value in Westeros magic, but before he could do so she grabbed him by the shoulders and abruptly pulled him towards her, her slender arms concealing an unexpected strength. Before Marwyn knew it, he was less than a few inches from Talia's stone face, a distance almost enough for a kiss. "Did I hear you correctly? Did you say...water magic?"
"...Yes?" Marwyn wheezed uncertainly, completely shocked by the unexpected intensity that seemed to emanate from the girl, blue eyes visible from beneath the mask shining like the glintstone crystals she possessed.
"Tell. Me. Everything." Talia demanded, her tone hard and imperious, missing its former cheerfulness.
Seeing no reason to refuse, Marwyn told her.
A long very discussion ensued, one with a very surprising conclusion.
In the dim light of a flickering candle, Forley hunched over his desk, squinting at the worn parchment before him. The quiet of the Citadel was almost eerie at this hour, the silence only broken by the occasional rustle of paper or the distant barking of a dog outside the narrow window.
He dipped his quill into the ink pot, carefully tracing a line of text, when the sound of footsteps echoed down the stone corridor outside. They were slow, almost dragging, as if the person was weary beyond measure. Forley's brow furrowed in curiosity as the steps drew closer, and then the door to his chamber creaked open.
Marwyn, with whom he shared the room for the past few years, stood in the doorway, his cloak askew and his hair in wild disarray. His usually sharp, inquisitive eyes were glazed with exhaustion and his robes were covered in…crystal dust?
"Marwyn?" Forley blinked, straightening up and breaking the silence, quite interested about the man's experiences with the sorcerers from beyond the sea. "You're back? How did it go? What did you find out?"
Ignoring his question, Marwyn stepped into the room, letting the door swing shut behind him. He shrugged off his cloak, tossing it onto the bed with a heavy sigh and running a hand over his face, as if trying to wipe away his fatigue.
"Seriously, what happened? Did you learn anything useful about the sorcerers?" Forley asked, watching the man with a mixture of concern and curiosity. For a moment there was no response, but eventually his words seemed to reach the young maester, as he looked at Forley with tired eyes.
"… Apparently I now have a new master in the art of magic." Marwyn declared unexpectedly, his voice not revealing his feelings on the matter. Ignoring Forley's shocked expression, the man flung himself on his bed and stared up at the ceiling with a mixture of exhaustion and confusion. "And she's a pretty girl too. At least, I think she's pretty. Hard to tell when she's wearing a stone mask the whole time."
"Wait… what? You've got a new master? And it's a girl?" Forley stated, unable to comprehend his words, his eyebrows shooting up in disbelief.
"…That's what I said, isn't it?" Marwyn replied slowly, waving his hand dismissively, clearly not that interested in having a conversation about it. "Apparently she is very keen on learning about water magic, as apparently it's the one thing they don't have. Because that just makes sense, right? Anyway, we will go to Dorne soon, I think, looking for giant turtles and water mages…you know what? I'm tired and I don't even want to think about it until morning. So just… don't ask."
Forley opened his mouth to say something, to protest or demand a proper explanation, but then Marwyn burrowed under the covers, the day's weariness catching up to him in an instant. Within moments, his breathing slowed, and he was fast asleep, leaving Forley to sit in stunned silence.