Dying to Know - (ASoIaF, Qyburn!SI)
234 AC, Oldtown
There has to be an irony in all of this. I mean, one thing is to wake up as a nobody in the middle of Westeros, or even someone that may end up become great through noble right or pure plot armor. I would dare to say I hit the 'odd jackpot' with the kind of hand I was dealt with.
Born an orphan in 220 AC and mostly self-raised in some troubled streets in some desolate town near Oldtown, lil' Qyburn was not an happy boy. I was not happy, that's for sure.
Hardly smiled, not for a lack of effort but rather because my face was already sporting a degree of 'displeasure' towards the world around me. A scowling boy with a relatively neutral mindset due to how far from having a reason or a chance to influence current politics or events.
In fact, while I would have been earnest to assert myself politically since politics was where the inner strength was in this Game, the truth was that I decided to thread a 'canonic path' with this sort of start. I was relieved to learn a year ago that I could already join the Order of Maesters, and I did so as I bravely faced a most hideous first hurdle: learning the peculiar alphabet of Westeros plus the even more peculiar aspect of speech that was Westerosi 'English'.
Albeit inspired by old Aenglish, I would say that I was quite a 'struggler' to apprehend stuff such as re-learning that 'thirteen years old' was now 'being old three and ten'. Or that instead of 'months' there were 'moons'. The term 'month' could be used, but it was rare due to the traditional primacy of Moons.
Nonetheless, the hurdle made my bones tough in facing the rest of my education. It took me a year of being subjected to some belittlement from Acolytes before I became one of them. Novices were focused on gaining their first to their chain, while Acolytes were meant to have it 'tougher' for them due to Letters being the bane for any young boy.
Sadly for any of those, I made my first link by mastering Letters within a year. I wrote a small essay on dialetics, the nature of wording, the purpose of phrasing and even the 'necessity to eventually address the passing of time within the world of Letters'.
There was a bit of a popular praise to it, but I also received some criticism due to how 'limited' I was in my elaborations. I admit to that fault, having had little time to plan out a way to move through to ultimately make it to Maester before the age of 'five and ten'.
That was where things got incredibly troublesome as I learned to hate the Test to become a Maester. It made sense by the way it was introduced, but it also made some of the theories I knew about this 'dark room to spend a night within and glare at some glass candles'.
The test was to either 'spend a full night' or 'find a way to lit them up', but it was clear as hell to me that those ugly things, that are so sharp to the touch to the point of easily leaving cuts with a careful poke, are the 'definition of anti-science'.
The true test was to just sit there and be reminded that 'science had a limit' and that 'magic existed'. After all, Glass Candles were purposely made to be usable only by magical entities.
No Maester worth their salt would ever want to lit them up as that would be the 'defeat' of their enforced tradition. If you so manage to lit them up, you either get kicked out or even killed because you are a 'mage'. The vehemence behind such a practice was so irritating that I was quite earnest to give my vows the next day and be ready to start my work as a diligent student.
Following the original Qyburn's steps, I studied under Archmaester Ebrose, but I admit that I also found comfort in the teachings of other Archmaesters over Historical Preservation and even over the properties of chemical products (which was called in another name, but the concept was close enough).
My first long-term project that took me two full years to accomplish was a complex analysis on pregnancies, the mechanics of conception, and the reasons for miscarriage or stillborns. Taking the original Qyburn's first fall as a warning, I focused my 'close-up examination' with dead bodies.
Dissecting bodies was indeed a feasible task, albeit one frowned upon. What I did was to examine female ones in regard to their reproductive organs, same for men, and I carefully ignored the mere disgust that came in having to pretty much describe how 'babies' were really born.
Retrieving the samples was step one, producing a working microscope took a while longer than expected, but I had visible proof to draw the sketches of the main elements behind the process: sperm and egg. Then it was time to 'theorize' how these two worked when united, producing something to 'work upon' from then on.
Finally it was time to add more to my project in regard to pregnancies in regard to 'physical quality' and 'frequency' impacting the chances of survival of mothers. I also added a few extra paragraphs on the importance of cleanliness and how 'a dirty place of birth could contribute to lowering the survival rate for a mother after delivery'.
When I finished this two years-long project, I ordered it all in two big well-written journals that were submitted to Ebrose himself. It was night so I was told that I would receive an answer on the chances of making a silver chain or not out of that lengthy process.
I didn't mind waiting, even going as far as drinking some of the booze I prepared for the occasion to 'remove the bitter taste of the topic's awkwardness' out of my throat. I went to sleep early to make it in time for any potential meeting after class but-
-d-d-d-d-
The loud knocking at my door shook me out of my slumber with ease since it was quite early. I had a few hours of healthy sleep, and I managed to get off the bed with ease despite a lingering 'desire' to hug my pillows.
I walked up to the door, opening it just so slightly. "Yes?"
A fellow Maester was on the other side, I think he was... a secretary to Ebrose.
"Maester Qyburn."
"That would be me. How may I help you?"
"Archmaester Ebrose seeks to speak with you of urgent matters."
I frowned, tensing up slightly. "Good things I hope."
"It seems to be the case."
"May I have the time to prepare? I am currently under-dressed."
"You have. He is waiting for you by his chamber."
After thanking the man, I closed the door and sat down by the bed to recollect my thoughts. For just a brief moment, I thought I was going to get kicked. I mean, I had done nothing to warrant it, but since an Archmaester would hardly summon someone to just 'talk', it felt like the most plausible option without further confirmation.
Once prepared, I strolled through the halls and made my way to my destination. And when I arrived to Ebrose's office, I was surprised to also find the Seneschal waiting and talking with the joyous silver-masked old man.
As I entered the room, Ebrose stopped and waved at me to approach. He looked 'happy' (I really can't see his expression with that stupid mask) and I took this as further confirmation that I wasn't going to get the boot.
"Qyburn! Your journals- I never thought you were creating such a masterful work!"
Well, that was another good thing.
"Your words humble me, Archmaester."
"And yet these journals are deserving of praise if not more," The Seneschal praised in agreement. "Young Qyburn, how long did this effort take you?"
"Two years. Admittedly, I could have tried to fasten this process but I found myself aware of the moral connotations of... trying to be too earnest in taking notes on multiple dissections at once."
Ebrose nodded at my words. "Two years and you created quite the impressive basis for further research on infants and motherhood. We are going to experiment on practices regarding a 'safer delivery' process as you have described, but I can already say this will save many lives."
I merely bowed my head, but if words didn't reach me, then the four silver links I got added to my chain confirmed that the hard work had been worthwhile by the end of those two years. The journals got a few copies written down for diffusion, as one of those batches was sent to King's Landing. I didn't get any 'thank you' letter from Aegon V but I hoped the book was going to spare a few lives and avoid some dumb-fuckery in that regard.
The next three months were devoid trouble for me as I decided to take a 'tiny' break from projects to study more in the matter of accounting (which amounted to a gold link), history (adding another copper link to my initial one) and herbology to then base a project over penicillin but- I got a letter before I could have gotten too far with those subjects.
I was actually planning to write a small essay on the history of the Durrandon House and 'why they fell' when I was alerted of this request to be the educator of one of the children of Lord Runceford Redwyn. It felt interesting that I was being sent to the 'home of the navy' considering my expertise, but the letter made it clear I wasn't going to be teaching the heir of House Redwyn. Rather, I would be teaching...
...
Oh right, Olenna Tyrell was originally a Redwyn. And she is six. And she is already in a stage of her life where she already sent one of the Maesters teaching her running.
I guess life thought I was playing it too safe or something but... oh well, I like to play rough myself!
AN
Next time-
"You're an oaf!"
Surprised~?