Chapter 12: The Archmaester
'Much has been said - and disproven - about the supposedly magical powers of the Four Maidens. I already addressed that; however, not as much has been said about the reaction of our Order to those rumours. However, one would be wrong to assume that the Maesters were a monolithic block. As it is still the case today, albeit not quite as pronounced, the Order back then was composed of many factions - most of them centred on the different Archmaesters - with their pet theories and interests. And, as embarrassing as it is to admit as a member of an Order dedicated to gathering and spreading knowledge and battling superstition and lies, a great many of those Archmaesters flatly dismissed Maester Luwin's report, some going as far as to call for his removal on the grounds of having grown senile. However, there were two notable exceptions. The first was Archmaester Jurgen, who was intrigued by the sketches and discourse of the Four Maidens' weapons. The second was Archmaester Marwyn, also known as Marwyn the Mage for his expertise in magic. Unlike Jurgen, Marwyn was said to have immediately set out for King's Landing upon receiving Maester Luwin's report, prompting rumours that he had used magic to confirm the information sent from the North. However, despite diligent research, no proof of that claim has ever been found - and since most of the known rituals that would have allowed such a feat require sacrifices that were outlawed by the Order long before the arrival of the Four Maidens, it seems quite obvious that such claims were, as similar claims against the Order of the Ruby, lies fabricated by rivals and enemies of the people involved, like the well-known lies about a conspiracy of Maesters to erase all knowledge about magic from Westeros, which anyone who has visited the Order's extensive library on the subject, would know to be baseless.'
A Treatise On The Ruby Order, by Maester Kennet BrackenThe Red Keep, King's Landing, Crownlands, Westeros, 298 AC
Archmaester Marwyn rapped his staff against the solid wood of the door in front of him twice, then waited. And his frown deepened with each breath that passed. The chambers of the Grand Maester were not that large; even if Pycelle were as feeble as he acted, he would not take this long to answer the door.
It was a power play - or the man was trying to hide the gold the Lannisters were paying him before receiving visitors. Marwyn snorted at the thought, considered knocking once more, if only to annoy the man in turn, but straightened instead when he heard a key rattle in the door's lock. Finally!
"Now, who… Marwyn!" Pycelle gasped at him, eyes wide as if he had never seen him before.
"Pycelle." Marwyn nodded and deliberately let his gaze travel over the man's figure, from the fur collar of his red velvet robes with golden fastenings - distinctly unlike the grey robes most Maester's favoured - to the decorations on his chain.
"I don't recall receiving a raven announcing your arrival."
Marwyn chuckled. "Really?" He raised his eyebrows. "Perhaps your memory is going." As if he would send a note ahead so the fool could prepare for his arrival! "You certainly seem to have forgotten your manners."
Pycelle tensed for a moment, his rheumy eyes narrowing, before he took a step back. "Please, come in," he said with all the sincerity of a whore greeting a customer and none of her acting ability. "I should have known those rumours would draw you here."
"Rumours?" Marwyn scoffed as he stepped into the Grand Maester's quarters. They were much nicer furnished than any he had seen in the Citadel - Tywin must be paying well.
"Rumours spread by ignorant smallfolk," Pycelle said, huffing as he closed the door behind them and walked past Marwyn to the most ostentatious armchair in the room.
"I shall be certain to pass your opinion about him on to Maester Luwin," Marwyn shot back as he sat down in the next best chair. "His report was very detailed and quite conclusive." He leaned forward.
Pycelle scoffed in return. "He's spent too much time in the frozen North, amongst savages and smallfolk, and must have absorbed their superstitions."
"I'll be certain to pass on your opinion about the new Hand of the King as well," Marwyn said.
Pycelle rolled his eyes. "Lord Eddard would agree with me." He grabbed a goblet and filled it with some wine.
"Really?" Marwyn didn't ask for a glass himself. Pycelle was a corrupt fool, but he knew his poisons - and if anything happened to Marwyn, Pycelle would be the one leading the investigation. Marwyn had no doubt that too many of his so-called colleagues would be overjoyed at his demise, now that undeniable proof of magic had finally appeared. Real, tangible, observable magic, not some glimmer inside a glass candle that might or might not reappear in a fortnight!
"The girls aren't using magic. They denied it themselves."
Marwyn scoffed once more. "Of course, they would deny it! If they admitted it, they would be branded as witches and sorceresses, and a calamity would soon befall them!" His fellow Archmaesters undoubtedly were already plotting their demise.
"Again with your unfounded paranoia about a supposed conspiracy?" Pycelle scoffed.
Marwyn bared his teeth in a slight sneer and didn't dignify the comment with a response.
"They aren't using magic," Pycelle went on. "If you hadn't rushed to travel here as soon as you heard the first rumour, you would have been able to read the actual reports."
"I am sure that a woman's head withstanding a full blow of a Kingsguard's sword is the most natural event ever observed in the Seven Kingdoms." Something Maester Luwin had personally witnessed - as had half the royal court, including Pycelle himself, as Marwyn had ascertained before visiting the old man.
Pycelle glared at him. "Just because something cannot be explained by our current knowledge doesn't make it magic."
Marwyn laughed. "Are you taking refuge in such pitiful semantics? A novice without a single link would craft a better argument - if his opinion had any merit!" He leaned forward. "Regardless of their own claims, those four women wield magic - and they readily admit that they are seeking magic!"
"To return to their home. Not to wield it. King Robert agrees with that assessment."
"And our king is, of course, an expert on the matter." Marwyn shook his head. Pycelle was as much of a fool as Marwyn remembered. No - even more so; the fool had let his position go to his head. Not that he had been using his head for anything useful, anyway.
"He has spent more time with the four maidens than any of our order."
"I don't doubt that," Marwyn replied. "But that doesn't make him an authority on magic." Maidens? Hah! Marwyn knew better than to believe those claims. No mere maiden, much less a girl half-grown, could wield magic as skilled as the reports claimed!
Pycelle rolled his eyes. "Your arrogance has not diminished at all with age. You refute the girl's own words, the King's experience, my own observation…"
And why wouldn't he? Of all the Archmaesters, only Marwyn was interested in the subject. "I reject hearsay."
Pycelle scoffed. "None of their feats match any description of magic we have."
"They match the legends of the Age of Heroes," Marwyn retorted. "When people wielded magic to accomplish feats we could not explain, much less duplicate, today."
"ˆLegends' distorted by millennia's worth of embellishments and retellings." Pycelle sighed theatrically. "But go on, talk to them - tell them how they are wrong and are actually using magic! Insult their intelligence!"
Marwyn chuckled. "Of course, I will meet them - they are looking for places with magic, and who better to help them than I? They are offering to share their knowledge with us in exchange, aren't they?" Luwin had been clear about that as well.
Pycelle glared at him, and Marwyn was tempted to ask if his master hadn't sent any instructions about how to treat the four girls yet. It would explain why Pycelle kept denying the truth of his own eyes - the man truly was a slave to Lannister gold.
But he had annoyed the man enough already. Despite his foolishness, Pycelle was quite entrenched at court, and Marwyn was aware that his own reputation preceded him.
No, Marwyn would not push too far. Not until he had made inroads with 'Team Ruby'. He nodded at the fool and rose from his seat. "Well, I've announced my arrival as required; I've done my duty to the Order - for now."
Pycelle glared at him again, but Marwyn did his best to ignore him. He had magic to investigate! Mages to meet! He couldn't wait, after hearing all the reports and distorted rumours, to finally see the truth with his own eyes!
"Oh, you're a Maester? Like Luwin? Hi! I'm Ruby. Ruby Rose! And those are my friends - and my sister - Weiss Schnee, Blake Belladonna, and Yang Xiao Long!"
"Archmaester," Marwyn corrected the girl out of reflex as he tried not to gape at the sight in front of him, in the Red Keep's training grounds.
Team Ruby were… girls. Young girls. Barely flowered, as much as he could tell. As tall or taller as Marywn, but that didn't mean anything - he was short. Stocky, and stronger than many thought, but short. Not that he cared; he was past such vain concerns.
"Archmaester, sorry!" Lady Ruby smiled at him. She didn't look like any of the sorcerers or sorceresses he had met in his travels. If this was an act, it would make any mummer weep with envy. If it wasn't… "So, are you a friend of Luwin's? You dress similarly, unlike the Grand Maester."
"Most Maesters wear grey robes," he answered, almost absentmindedly, as he glanced at the girls. They were all wearing exotic clothes. He didn't recognise the styles, but they showed so much skin, most of the younger members of the Order, and the older ones who did not value knowledge more than lust, would have been distracted. Even in most parts of Essos, those clothes would have drawn attention. Coupled with the obvious beauty of the girls - even the small scar Lady Weiss had on the side of her face did not detract from that - they would turn heads even in the most depraved cities of Essos or even Slaver Bay. But the scar was important - it proved that despite the reports of their magic turning blows away no matter the strength of the attacker, the girls were not invulnerable.
"All of them? That sounds boring."
"He said most, not all of them, Yang!"
Yang Xiao Long. A name that would fit Yi Ti. And yet, her appearance did not match the people from that distant country. Another important detail.
"That works out the same. No individuality!"
Marwyn laughed. "You are not wrong, Lady Yang. Some crave conformity so much, one could call them grey sheep."
The girl in question laughed at that - and the three others were, as far as he could tell, amused, even though they tried not to show it.
"But I digress. I am a colleague of Maester Luwin, and I have been in correspondence with him." A technical truth - he had read all of Luwin's reports he had been able to get.
"Ah." Lady Weiss nodded. "You normally live in the Citadel, don't you?"
Marwyn nodded. Maester Luwin would have talked to them about the Order. "When I am not travelling for my research, I live in the Citadel, yes."
The girl cocked her head to the side and took the bait. "Your research?"
"Magic." He smiled. "I am, without false modesty, the leading expert on magic amongst my colleagues. I have travelled much of the known world in research of knowledge." He bowed his head. "They call me Marwyn the Mage, and I think I can be of assistance to your search." And find out all you know.
"Oh! You're an expert on magic?" Ruby Rose beamed at the old man. Just what - who - they needed! He certainly looked like a wizard - barely taller than herself, but stocky and wide, not quite as wide as Professor Port, but similarly built. And he was wearing dusty grey robes and carrying a gnarly staff. He just needed a pointy hat to fit every check box!
"You're a mage? Can you transport us home?" Yang leaned forward, an eager grin on her face.
"Maester Luwin's description of the Citadel made it seem as if your order was more focused on theoretical knowledge rather than practical applications when it came to magic," Weiss added in that polite but doubtful tone of hers.
Though now that she mentioned it, Ruby recalled that as well - the Citadel was supposed to be a library of sorts, with scholars, not wizards.
"That is correct. As much as I might lament it, were I of lesser spirit, my passion for studying magic is not, unfortunately, paired with a matching talent for the practice of magic." Marwyn nodded. "Nevertheless, I do have some talent, meagre as it might be, which is more than most can boast of. More importantly, though, I am familiar with many kinds of magic and its history, so while I cannot send you home, I think I can help you find your way home."
"Ah." That was… Ruby forced herself to smile widely. She really wanted to go home, to her family, their friends, their kingdom, but it wasn't Marwyn's fault that he couldn't snap his fingers and transport them back. And if he knew as much as he claimed, he could surely find another set of ruins like the one that had sent them here!
"Awfully optimistic." Yang sounded disappointed.
"And you're helping us out of the goodness of your heart." Weiss sounded suspicious.
Ruby glanced at both and made a face when Marwyn wasn't watching. No driving away the helpful Archmaester!
Marwyn, at least, wasn't mad at her - he laughed. "Oh, nothing quite as altruistic as that, I assure you! I intend to study whatever phenomenon brought you here and how to duplicate it to send you home - a goal shared between you and me, I believe."
Of course! Ruby nodded.
"Yes." Weiss nodded as well, though with a cynical smile.
"Oh, yeah, that makes sense." Yang grinned.
Blake nodded without saying anything, but she didn't seem very relieved - at least, not in Ruby's impression. She would have to ask her friend later what this was about. Once Marwyn wasn't around and they could talk in private without being rude.
"So…" Ruby trailed off for a moment. They probably shouldn't just talk about the ruins they were looking for. Surely not in the middle of the training grounds. "...what have you heard about us?"
Now Weiss was making a face at her, but Yang was grinning, and Blake's lips were twitching, so Ruby felt this was OK.
"That you were transported here from another world, with a broken moon, where what we call magic here is as common as draft animals are here," Marwyn replied. "That this happened against your will, and without your doing, and you are looking for a place similar to the one you left, hoping to find a way back. And that you do not consider the ability to shrug off blades and arrows as if they were a gentle breeze or use dust that creates fire and water as magical."
He was well informed. Ruby knew that they hadn't been as good at keeping their secrets as they should have been, but this was quite a lot.
"It's not magic, no," Weiss said with a frown. "Both Dust and Semblances have been studied extensively by our scholars. They are as far from magic as any other physical, measurable effect."
"Magic can be studied and measured," Marwyn replied with an easy - but also slightly toothy - smile. "I suspect we might be arguing about mere semantics."
Weiss's frown deepened, and Ruby quickly offered to demonstrate her Semblance to avoid a row.
Really, they didn't gain anything by arguing about magic like that! They needed to keep their eyes on the prize, and that was getting home!
"Ah, finall… Ruby!"
Ruby grinned at Weiss's expression as she appeared at the tub of warm - not hot, not really - water the servants had left in their room. "First!" Her Semblance ruled!
"You always go first!" Weiss complained. "And now half the tub is covered in petals!"
"They're fading!" Ruby shot back, dipping her face into the tub. Ah! She needed that after training - and a bit of showing off for the Arcmaester - so hard. She rose and shook her head.
"Ack! Don't act like a dog!" Weiss snapped. Despite her complaints, she dipped a washcloth into the tub anyway and started cleaning up. "Really, always rushing forward, hogging the warm water…"
"Rushing forward before I've checked for poison," Blake added.
Ruby froze. "You think they could poison the water?"
"Yes." Blake nodded.
"We don't know what poison they have here, so best assume the worst," Weiss said.
Ruby frowned at her. "You just used the tub yourself!"
Weiss pouted but had no comeback for that.
"So… is it just me, or was that Marwyn more than a bit creepy?" Yang asked a bit later, once everyone had cleaned up.
"I'd say… eager, not creepy," Ruby said. "He didn't, ah, you know…" How to say that?
"His attention wasn't sexual, you mean," Weiss said.
"Yes, that!" Ruby nodded at her with a smile.
"That doesn't make his staring any less creepy." Yang shook her head.
"You were fine with him when you thought he could send us back with a snap of his fingers," Ruby pointed out.
"Sue me, I thought he was a wizard." Yang snorted.
"I don't believe they have wizards in Westeros," Weiss said. "But Marwyn might very well be the closest to an expert on magic we can find - provided his credentials and claims hold up to scrutiny."
Blake nodded. "We'll have to investigate. He is a bit too interested in us to trust easily."
"Well, we are from another world - Luwin was all eager to learn everything about our world as well," Yang told her. "And we have Aura and Semblances."
"They only know mine," Ruby pointed out. "But yes." Who wouldn't be fascinated by visitors from another world? Ruby would be as well if there were people from Westeros at Beacon - well, at least until she found out what they thought about marriage and stuff, of course.
"That's why we investigate before we extend him the benefit of the doubt," Weiss said. "If he is honest, this might be our best opportunity to find a way home."
"He certainly didn't even try to hide his interests," Blake added. "But we have to consider the consequences even if he is honest."
"What do you mean?" Ruby asked.
"If we, with his help, find a way to return home, what then?" Blake asked. "What if he learns how to travel to Remnant? And back?"
"Oh." Ruby blinked. "He'd… he'd probably try to take as much as possible back with him. If he gets guns and sells them here…" Even the cheap, mass-produced, soulless guns would allow whoever got them to defeat anyone else.
"And what if Grimm return with him?" Blake asked.
Ruby gasped. That would be a catastrophe! Westeros was helpless against Grimm! And so many people were miserable here… "The Grimm would overrun the entire continent!"
"We can't risk that," Weiss said in a clipped voice. "Once we have a way home, we need to ensure that everyone who knows about it is aware of the dangers."
"Do you really think that will be enough?" Blake tilted her head slightly as she looked at them. "Do you think Marwyn, for one, won't attempt to acquire whatever magic he thinks we have on Remnant?"
Ruby winced. She had met Marwyn today for the first time, but she was pretty sure the man wouldn't let a Horde of Grimm stop him from pursuing whatever he thought was magic. "But even if we tell him off, he'll hound us anyway, right?"
"That would be my assessment as well," Weiss agreed.
"Then we have a problem," Yang pointed out the obvious.
"One more problem," Blake corrected her.
The Red Keep, King's Landing, Crownlands, Westeros, 298 AC
"Ah, Lady Weiss!"
Weiss Schnee's polite smile didn't change while she turned her head to look at who had just called out to her while she was on the way to lunch. "Lord Baelish?" She inclined her head slightly as she greeted the Master of Coin. He was dressed in fine silks and jewellery - though a smidgen too ostentatious to pull off the kind of understated display of wealth she was used to from her family's peers in Atlas.
He smiled widely at her. "Are you on the way to lunch?"
It was noon, and she was walking towards the Small Hall; the answer was obvious, and Weiss had no doubt that Lord Baelish knew it already - she was certain that he had waited until she was passing to exit his room. But to point this out would be rude. "In fact, yes, I am," she replied instead.
"Would you mind some company? I was pouring over accounts and ledgers until my stomach reminded me that it has been hours since I ate."
She could refuse, but without an excuse, such as already having plans to meet someone, that would be akin to insulting the man - and it wasn't as if Weiss had any reason to do so; she had met the man before, but only in passing, and had not exchanged more than polite greetings so far. Something the man apparently wanted to remedy, and Weiss was quite aware that as a member of the Small Council, what passed as the cabinet for Westeros's government, essentially as their minister of finance, he would have considerable influence at court. She smiled. "I am meeting my friends for lunch, but you are welcome to join us."
His smile widened, and he bowed to her. "Thank you, my lady! I'll aim not to bore you with talk about my work!"
She laughed politely at his joking reminder that he wouldn't let slip any of the Kingdom's secrets - not that she expected him to, nor wanted to know any - and offered her arm to him so he could escort her. As soon as he slipped his arm through the crook of her elbow, she started walking again, just promptly enough to almost tug him along.
It was more than a little petty, Weiss knew that, but the man reminded her - perhaps unfairly; she didn't know him well enough to tell - of the kind of corporate executives who got along a little too well with her father.
On the other hand, he might also be the closest to a self-made man she had met so far in this world; a minor noble who had reached - and kept, so far - one of the most influential positions at court, although apparently, he had profited from his friendship with the wife of Lord Eddard's predecessor as Hand of the King.
They didn't take long to reach the small hall, passing two guards from Lord Eddard's household as they entered, and Weiss saw that Ruby and Yang were already seated at their usual part of the long table, though Blake was still missing - no, there she was, talking with Bran and Arya in a corner.
"Weiss!" Ruby waved at her. "And hello Lord… Baelish, right?"
If the fact that Weiss's partner had slightly struggled with his name had hurt his ego, Lord Baelish didn't show it. He smiled and bowed with a minor flourish. "The very same, Lady Ruby, Lady Yang. Lady Weiss was so kind as to offer me to join you for lunch. I hope this meets with your approval."
Did he expect Ruby to contradict her? Or was he merely covering his bases with their team leader? Weiss couldn't tell yet.
"Sure!" Ruby beamed at him. "You're Lady Catelyn's childhood friend, right? She told us about you."
He nodded, and his smile turned a bit… nostalgic? Weiss wasn't sure as he took a seat across from Ruby. "Yes, my lady. I was fostered at her father's court and grew up with Cat and Lysa - Lady Stark and Lady Arryn, these days. If any of us would have imagined where life would take us, back when we were but children, before King Robet's Rebellion swept the Mad King from the throne…" He sighed.
Ruby nodded with obvious empathy - they all had heard the stories of the Rebellion from the King as well as, less embellished, from Lord Eddard.
"Did you fight in the Rebellion?" Yang asked.
"Alas, no. A foolish mistake - I blame my youth and inexperience, and my temper and ignorance - prevented that." He sighed again.
He was obviously baiting them to ask for more information, and Weiss saw no problem in obliging him. "That sounds like a painful memory, Lord Baelish," she prompted him.
"Yes! You don't have to tell us if you don't want to!" Ruby nodded, as did Yang.
"Ah, it's practically ancient history - and I do like to think I have grown past such foolishness." He smiled, then bowed his head. "Lady Blake."
"Blake! This is Lord Baelish! He was about to tell us about his tragic past!" Ruby told her.
"Ah." Blake would have been listening to their conversation from afar, but there was no need to advertise that, and Weiss quickly filled her in.
The arrival of the food, meat and side dishes on large platters, delayed Lord Baelish's story some more, but once everyone had been served, he leaned forward a bit and lowered his voice. "As I was young and foolish, fancied myself as Cat and Lysa's protector - a sort of foster brother, as foolish a notion as any a young boy from a minor house could have when he was friends with the daughters of the ruler of the Riverlands. In any case, when I heard that their father had betrothed them to the heirs of Lord Stark and Lord Arryn, and having met Cats' betrothed, Lord Brandon Stark, I, in my naivety, challenged him to a duel in a misguided attempt to save Cat from what I considered an unwanted marriage." He sighed again. "I was a youth with delusions of grandeur facing one of the best swordsmen of his age, and I was very lucky to survive the experience; with one blow, he cut me from shoulder to hip, and while he spared my life upon Cat asking him to, I was left bedridden for weeks while I struggled to recover."
Ruby gasped. "Oh, no!"
"Oh, in hindsight, it was a harsh but necessary lesson - as a minor noble, trying to interfere with a marriage arranged by Lord Tully, I was reaching far beyond my station. Most men would have killed me for my foolishness despite their betrothed begging them to spare me." He smiled and sighed softly again before taking a deep swallow from his cup.
Weiss glanced at the others. Ruby shook her head, obviously taken by the man's story. Yang and Blake looked a bit more sceptical. Of course, the story did fit what they had heard before from others. And yet, it was quite obvious that Lord Baelish, despite his claims of having learned his lesson, still disagreed with the arranged marriage between Lord Brandon and Lady Catelyn.
She nodded as well. "Lord Brandon was later killed by the Mad King."
"Yes. He strangled himself trying to save his father from being burnt alive." Lord Baelish shook his head. "And Cat married Lord Eddard, with whom she is, fortunately, happy. Something good, at least, came of the whole affair."
That, everyone could agree with - that the Starks led a happy marriage was obvious. Especially if you were familiar with unhappy marriages. But just because Lady Catelyn and Lord Eddard were happy together didn't mean Lady Catelyn and Lord Brandon would have been happy.
Or, Weiss couldn't help thinking, that Lord Baelish had been purely motivated by the desire to help his childhood friend avoid an unhappy marriage.
The Red Keep, King's Landing, Crownlands, Westeros, 298 AC
Blake Belladonna grinned as her ears picked up the sound of furtive footsteps, barely audible even in these tunnels - at least for human ears. Her own had no problem hearing the spy approaching, nor any trouble discerning that they weren't a grown adult but a child from the way they walked - although she had expected that from the tracks she found.
It seemed her patience had paid off; it had taken several nights of hiding in the darkness of the tunnels beneath the Red Keep, but whoever controlled those children had finally decided to send them after Team RWBY - and directly into Blake's hands.
If Blake were planning to intercept them, of course. But she wasn't. Her friends knew not to talk about their secrets, so there was no danger in letting the kid listen - and then track them back to their secret employer.
Her eyes, adjusted to the total darkness in the tunnel here, caught the first glimpse of the candles the child was carrying. It wasn't a lantern - she could see it flicker - and it fit the traces of wax she had found during her exploration of the tunnels. Whoever employed the children was stingy with equipment.
Wedged in a corner between the stone walls, directly under the tunnel's ceiling, in a small side corridor, she tensed as the steps grew closer and the light grew in strength. People rarely looked up, but trained spies knew better - at least at home. If she was discovered, she would have to capture the spy, and her plan would have been foiled.
There was the child! Blake caught a glimpse of a young urchin dressed in… not rags, but certainly not garments that would let them pass as a servant, or the child of a servant, at court, as they passed her spot, hands clutching a small candle and eyes fixed ahead - and carrying a small bag. Whoever commanded the spies wanted them to hide from everyone, then.
Blake waited a few moments, then dropped silently down to the floor and followed the spy at a safe distance. When the steps stopped, so did she - the spy had gone where she had expected, right behind the wall to her team's quarters. Good. Now, all she had to do was wait until the spy left again and follow them to whoever they reported to.
Then they would finally know who was behind those kids.
Blake had underestimated her still-unknown opponent. Instead of reporting to someone after finally leaving their hiding spot after her friends had gone to bed, the child had dropped off a note in another part of the tunnels. For someone who used children as spies, they were quite professional otherwise or they wouldn't have used a dead drop like that. Maybe the children didn't even know who they were working for?
She pondered this while she waited, once more, in the darkness near the dead drop. If the kid spies didn't know who they were reporting to, they couldn't reveal their employer, therefore providing said employer with another layer of secrecy. However, while that would render them safe from being discovered, it would also put them in additional danger of being betrayed since there wouldn't be any way to foster loyalty with such a setup.
Back when she had been a member of the White Fang, they had used informants who were purely motivated by payment. But they had never trusted them, and not because they were usually humans but because anyone who was only in it for the money would sell you out as soon as it seemed more profitable than staying loyal.
And if a spy didn't even know who they were reporting to, what other motivation than money could they have? Except for hatred for the target, of course, but Blake was quite certain that this didn't apply here; they hadn't been around long enough to make the kind of enemy who would spy on them, at considerable risk, for someone else they didn't even know.
So, if those kids were kept ignorant of their employer, they would be easy to turn. If they were kept ignorant, of course - dead drops were also useful to pass on information without having to meet in person, say, if your schedules clashed.
But it also meant that Blake had to stay hidden for even longer - and she was already tired. Well, she'd stayed awake through worse. She wouldn't be at her best, but it would be good enough. At least for humans who had no idea that Faunus existed and wouldn't be wary of their enhanced senses.
So, she picked a nook nearby - far enough not to be seen by anyone approaching, close enough to detect anyone who wasn't as sneaky as herself - and prepared to spend more time waiting in the darkness and the silence.
Once more, the sound of footsteps alerted her to someone approaching - and once more, they were a child. Narrowing her eyes, she moved a bit away, hiding in the shadows, when the spy passed, then had to quickly follow them when she realised that they were not stopping to read the note they had picked up.
They led her, though without realising it, through quite a chase, halfway through the maze under the keep, until they slipped through a secret door which closed too quickly for Blake to follow - not that she had planned to, of course. Nor needed to - her ears could pick up a mumbling voice even at a distance, and…
The door opened again, and Blake had to scramble back and hide in an alcove before she was spotted by the child. It seemed that they were merely a courier, dropping off the note they collected without delivering a verbal report.
Blake debated following the child but decided against it - whoever had received the note was more important. And yet, when she approached the secret door, her ears didn't pick up any sound - not steps, not breathing. And when she opened the door, a gap only, she saw nothing but an empty room - a storage room, it seemed. One rarely used.
Then her nostrils widened. She knew that lingering smell of perfume. She had smelt it before, down in the tunnels.
So, in order to find out who was behind those kids acting as spies - someone who also roamed the tunnels for clandestine meetings with visitors, she reminded herself - she had to find out who used this brand of perfume.
It seemed she would have to shift her activities from night to daytime for a while.
After she had caught up on her sleep, she added, stifling a yawn.
Street of Steel, King's Landing, Crownlands, Westeros, 298 AC
"Yo!" Yang Xiao Long called out as she stepped through Tobho Mott's backyard and entered his smithy.
"Lady Yang." The old smith nodded at her and put down the axe head he was working on.
"My lady." His apprentice, Gendry, waved, and Yang nodded at him as well. The boy cut a fine figure in his apron - he had some serious muscles, and he was tall for his age - but she wasn't here for eye candy.
"Did anyone ever tell you that your guildmaster is a stubborn fool?" she said while Mott cleaned his hands with a wet rag.
Mott laughed. "I think every smith I know did, at one point."
"Well, he is. I had to threaten to go to the King for a royal charter or whatever you call it before he relented and graciously granted me permission to do some smithing in the city." Even though Yang had no plans to sell anything she made, and so she wasn't competing with any established smith anyway. "So, you won't be in trouble if you let me use your forge."
"Good." Mott nodded with a pretty satisfied smile.
Weiss had ranted about the entire guild system when she had heard about the mess, something about stifling innovation by hobbling competition, but Yang had tuned her out even before Blake had started to talk about the evils of unfettered capitalism, and the whole thing had turned into a row about economics. Bleargh! She'd hated that stuff at school already.
"The guildmaster is rather shortsighted," Gendry said. "But his loss is your gain, Master."
Yang grinned. "Yeah."
Mott didn't smile. "We shall see. Not all techniques are easily adapted, especially the more… advanced ones."
"It's not magic," Yang said. "No matter what the people claim. Just advanced metallurgy." And some Aura, of course. But she wasn't about to mention that bit - judging from what Mott had hinted at about some Valyrian smithing, the locals might take the 'put your soul into your work' stuff a bit too literally here. Especially since they didn't have Aura. "We don't do sacrifices." Blood magic… Ugh!
Mott nodded again, and Yang hoped he believed her. Team RWBY didn't need more rumours about dark witchcraft or whatever spreading in the city. Sure, the King liked her team and would probably crush anyone accusing them of being witches, but Yang knew better than to think that would keep the gossip and rumours from spreading. Signal had taught her that - Dad couldn't stop some of the rumours. Hell, the fact that Dad was a teacher had probably caused some to spread rumours.
"And speaking of shortsighted…" Mott frowned at Gendry.
The boy pouted in return. "I'm not going to sell the helmet. It's my first real piece of armour."
"How do you expect to live if you won't sell your work?" Mott scoffed.
"I am going to sell my work, just not this one."
Mott turned to Yang. "The Hand of the King took a fancy to the helmet the boy forged, but he won't sell it to him."
Yang shrugged. "Hey, I wouldn't sell Ember Celica either." Hell, she'd probably be hard pressed not to sock anyone even suggesting she sell it.
Gendry smiled at that, but Mott frowned. "Are you planning to become a sellsword, then? As the Hand offered? Abandon your craft?"
"No, Master!" Gendry protested.
"Then what use do you have for a helmet? It is only useful for those who fight!"
"But…" The boy trailed off. "It's my first real piece of armour!" he repeated himself.
"And it might be the last one for a long while! If the Hand had bought the helmet, that would have been a great boon for your reputation, boy!"
Yang took pity on Gendry. "Some things are worth more than money. And you never know when you need to fight to defend yourself, right?" Well, at least in Remnant.
Mott stared at her for a moment with a weird expression before he slowly nodded. "A helmet alone won't help you."
"I'm going to make a sword next," Gendry said.
Mott huffed. "As long as you sell it like a proper smith!"
Yang chuckled. "What about me? Am I not a proper smith?"
Mott scoffed again. "You're different, Lady Yang."
She laughed. "Anyway, let's talk about metallurgy! I've got a few things to try, now that I can use a forge without starting a boycott or whatever!"
Both Mott and Gendry quickly dropped their argument and joined her at the table when she spread a few more sketches she had done yesterday.
"Now, this is a bit delicate, but not too bad…"
The Red Keep, King's Landing, Crownlands, Westeros, 298 AC
"And there will be a grand tournament - the Hand's Tourney!" the King declared, almost spilling wine from his goblet when he spread his arms. If the Queen had been present in her usual seat, she'd have been hit in the face, too - but she had apparently chosen to take her meal in her own chambers today. Yang didn't miss her in the least.
"A tourney? Really? With jousting?" Ruby was almost trembling with excitement.
"Of course!" The King chuckled. "It wouldn't be a tourney without the joust!"
"Oh! That's going to be great!" Ruby beamed.
Lord Eddard, though, didn't look very enthusiastic. "It's a great expense," he said with a frown.
The King scoffed. "Oh, Ned! It's a great honour! And the people deserve to have their feasts and excitement! Besides, what's a few more dragons in debt?"
"How much money will it cost, Father?" The Prince asked - unlike his siblings, he had chosen to eat with the King.
"A hundred thousand dragons, Boy. Well worth the occasion!"
Weiss started coughing. Yang took a second longer to realise how much money that was. A set of good but not exceptional steel armour was three to five dragons - Mott sold his armour for far more - so… She whistled.
"That's a fortune!" Ruby blurted out. "I didn't know a festival was that expensive! Do you think the Vytal festival costs as much, Weiss?"
"It doesn't!" Weiss shook her head. "You could pay tens of thousands of workers for a year with that money!"
"Well, without magic devices, we have to hire labourers," the Prince said.
"Ninety thousand dragons are just prize money," Lord Eddard said, then looked as if he regretted saying it.
"Forty thousand for the winner of the joust, twenty thousand for the runner-up, twenty thousand for the winner of the Melee, and ten thousand for the archery champion!" The King laughed. "That's sure to bring the best knights to the tourney!"
Yang gasped as well this time. That was a fortune! "Twenty thousand for winning the melee?" She leaned forward and grinned at the King.
"Yang! We can't enter the tourney!" Ruby snapped.
Yang frowned at her. "Why not? Isn't the melee open to everyone?"
"It would be unfair!" Ruby shook her head. "No one would have a chance against any of us! Even if they all united, we'd beat them! And that's not fair!"
Well… She was right. But twenty thousand dragons!
"Twenty thousand gold dragons…" Weiss echoed Yang's thoughts.
"And we'd risk maiming people by accident!" Ruby went on.
"That's a risk anyone who joins the melee knows, my lady," Jon spoke up.
Yang was a bit surprised - while Jon was almost always with them at those meals, he rarely spoke up in the King's presence. So… Ah. She almost snorted - if Team RWBY won the prize, they'd be able to hire retainers. Like Jon. She grinned at him - sneaky boy! - and he blushed in return.
"People die in tourneys, Lady Ruby," the Prince said. "It's not play-acting."
"I have to agree with Lady Ruby." Lord Eddard nodded. "If one of you took part in the melee, the outcome would be certain from the start."
"And that wouldn't be very entertaining." Ruby nodded firmly and narrowed her eyes at Yang and Weiss.
Yang grinned. "Alright, you're right. It would be unfair."
"And the egos of the knights would not take well to such humiliation," Blake added.
Right. They would make a lot of enemies even if they didn't maim anyone by accident.
The King laughed. "Ah, I think it would be entertaining to see some of our proud knights be taken down a peg or two - or see them fly through the air. But you're right; it would not be fair for those knights who travel here for the melee." He grinned. "But I think it would be a shame if the people missed seeing you fight. So… would you like to fight a small melee amongst yourself? The winner would get, say… twenty thousand gold dragons?"
"That's too…" Ruby started. "Ow!"
"It would be an honour, Your Grace!" Weiss beamed at him while Rub glared at her and slipped a hand under the table, presumably to rub whatever part of her leg her partner had just kicked.
"Great! This will be a tourney everyone will be talking about for centuries!"
"And that's about how long we'll be paying for it, Your Grace."
Yang was already planning how to fight her three friends.
"Although I have one condition," the King went on.
Yang looked at him. He was grinning again.
"Yes, Your Grace?" Ruby asked.
"I want you to fight to win. No holding back. An honest fight."
Oh. Yang blinked. That… complicated things. They wanted to keep their Semblances - with the exception of Ruby's - a secret.
But… twenty thousand dragons? That was a hell of a lot of money!