I commented on how my journey back to Oldtown in Captain Breken's ship had been similar. As I took in the familiar sights and sounds of the bustling city, I continued saying, "I couldn't help but notice the beautiful sights of the ocean, which were unfortunately plagued by pirates. Among the sailors, I found good friends like Geric. However, what made me different on the return journey was the newfound fame I had gained because of the incidents in Braavos."
The replies I got from my companions were as expected by me.
"I see, quite the journey, kid. I wish I could have come."
"As if. I am sure you would have been kicked out at the docks itself."
"Whatever. We are here, kid."
I was here to take over the rich manor at the border of the upper-class district. I soon realized that I had underestimated the influence of the Sealord, for him to secure such a prime estate near the Citadel.
It was a prime location, with the city walls on one end, the Citadel on one side, and the city districts on the other two.
Maester Clinton and Stevon accompanied me as we made our way to the Manor to complete the procedures with the Iron Bank representative, who acted as a professional mediator in transferring properties.
"So how long is this gonna take?" Clinton questioned the banker, his tone edged with impatience.
"It depends on you," the banker replied matter-of-factly. "Most of the hired ones are locals. If you want, you can continue with them, or I will manage them until you find alternative ones. Overall, the Manor requires 49 servants for upkeep. A dozen for taking care of the gardens, selling the produce like fruits or flowers from it, etc. Another dozen for taking care of the Manor itself. A dozen for kitchen tasks like gathering logs, skinning animals, or cooking. And finally, a dozen for taking care of the pets."
I couldn't help but detect an odd tone of fear in his voice as he mentioned the pets. Remembering Simba, our friendly Liger who had been raised among mankind, I couldn't fathom what could be so alarming about them.
So, I voiced my doubts to the banker, seeking clarification.
The banker led the way through the cobblestone path lined with fruit trees and flowers until we reached a large fenced area with an artificially created environment housing Simba. But to my shock, he wasn't alone. A dozen lions and tigers were also present.
"What the fuck?"
Stevon exclaimed, accurately mirroring my disbelief.
"The banker explained, This is an extra thrown in by the Sealord for entertaining his son,'" I recounted to Maester Clinton and Stevon, still trying to wrap my head around the sight of the dozen lions and tigers in the fenced area.
Maester Clinton, who had been silent till now, bit back with a hint of disdain. "Also an insult to Lannisters and the Volantis tiger faction. The lions of Lannister and tigers from the tiger faction are, without a doubt, the best in the world. Each reaches 10 feet if properly grown. Gifting their original gifts to us is an insult."
The banker simply shrugged in response and said, "It was an insult to the Lannisters. They were the ones to start this by insulting the Iron Bank with talks of giving us loans."
Internally, I pondered the irony of that. Still, in a manner, deposits in a bank can be considered a loan from the customer to the Bank. But I pushed that thought aside as Stevon voiced another doubt. "What about the insult to Volantis?"
Initially chuckling at the situation, I couldn't help but laugh out loud in a few seconds.
I noticed even the banker himself had a smile as he explained to the frogs in the well, "You see, the relationship between the super cities of Braavos and Volantis is such that one can never go hungry in Braavos as long as you insult Volantis."
It was a peculiar dynamic, one born out of centuries-old rivalries and power struggles between the two great cities of Essos.
-----A few days later-----
The next few days were a flurry of activity as I set about removing all the hired servants except for the animal handlers. It wasn't as if I had much of a choice in the matter, considering the animal handlers were on loan from the Sealord until my own men could learn about their craft.
Maester Clinton rejected such a measure, arguing that it was reckless. Stevon was all for it, eager to make changes and assert our authority over the manor.
It was during this time that I noticed the difference between my seniors.
Clinton seemed mostly interested in theory side of things, always seeking to understand more.
Stevon appeared to have a better grasp of the political game, understanding the importance of power and influence.
I recalled a lesson from the Game of Thrones TV series: take nothing from a stranger for granted. And so, I took matters into my own hands and started hiring people from candidates vouched for by Garhammer, my former patients whom I had treated during my time in Oldtown, as well as various other referrals.
Among them, Ryslee, the head of the servants, stood out to me. I remember encountering him during the silver chain exam, and his dedication to his duties left a lasting impression on me.
At least with these individuals, I could trust in their loyalty and commitment. From there, my plan was to remove individuals who didn't meet my standards, in both character and competence. It was a model of success practiced by nobles and kings alike, and one that I intended to follow to ensure the smooth running of the manor.
As I settled into my newly gained manor, the realization dawned upon me that even in this time period, I could recreate some comforts of modern society. I glanced at the KFC chicken pieces on my plate. Their taste improved and perfected from just a demonstration by me. Despite the cost of three gold dragons for the experiments, it was undoubtedly worth it.
The beds in the manor were as soft as could be, and redwood crafted furniture adorned every corner, giving the place a classy and sophisticated look, especially when combined with Myrish cloths.
"Fucking Delicious."
"So crunchy. And this sauce is so tasty."
"I know right, try this one too."
Shouts of happiness erupted from Walder and Smallfoot as they savored the taste of the food. Making me happy about my cooking hobby in my previous life.
It had taken some convincing, but I had persuaded them to live with me. After all, the rules to stay in the Citadel were for the maesters who swore their oaths, not for us apprentices. Though, I am sure the envious old fogeys and other apprentices will try something or other.
Thankfully, I have an Archmaester who owes me a favor and Teacher Bracken's reputation skyrocketed from the incident, such that there are talks he is the next prospective member of the Archmaester council, as an Archemaester of Healing.
However, amidst the comfort and joy, a nagging thought lingered in the back of my mind. How could I leave the Citadel without tarnishing my reputation and still maintain my contacts within its walls?
It was a dilemma that required careful consideration, especially before the old fogeys consider I am old enough that it is appropriate for me to swear the vows.
My mind went to the passing rumours from Stevon, who heard that some officials of Oldtown were provoking the topic. Because if I swear the vows, all my wealth would be renounced. While the wealth in Braavos may be sustained, the Manor will go back to the Oldtown.
To avoid that, I have to write a will naming an heir to my wealth. Then again, there are problems.
The only person I trust fully in the world is someone I know 100%, and it is Smallfoot who has grown up with me in the orphanage. But he also has the same problem as me with vows.
Other than him, there is teacher and Walder, with whom I could say my trust levels are over 95 %. They also have the same problem.
For now, though, I pushed the thought aside and focused on enjoying the present moment of comfort and luxury.
As I gathered Walder and Smallfoot, I couldn't contain my excitement as I announced, "Hey, guys, I have a surprise for you."
Their questioning gazes followed me as I led them to the grounds where a rugged-looking man stood, his blonde ponytail swaying in the breeze. He stood at about 5 feet 7 inches, dressed in leather armor, with scars telling tales of battles past.
"This is Garrel," I introduced, gesturing towards him. "His honor was vouched for by Garhammer himself. He's a former mercenary and your new sword instructor."
Garrel nodded in acknowledgment, a faint smile playing on his lips as he assessed the two young men before him. "Pleasure to meet you both," he said, his voice carrying the weight of experience.
Walder and Smallfoot exchanged excited glances, almost vibrating in happiness knowing that they will be learning from a seasoned warrior like Garrel.
"Wow, this is awesome!" exclaimed Walder, his enthusiasm.
Smallfoot nodded eagerly, a grin spreading across his face. "Yeah, thanks for arranging this, mate," he said, his appreciation clear.
I grinned in response, feeling satisfied that I had arranged something that would benefit my friends. "No problem, guys. Garrel here will whip you into shape in no time," I said, clapping a hand on Smallfoot's shoulder.
With that, their training sessions began, filled with laughter, sweat, and the clashing of swords as Garrel imparted his knowledge and skills to Walder and Smallfoot. I left them to their task and got back to the task.
--------
As I descended into the depths of my basement laboratory, the flickering candlelight illuminated the well-appointed study, complete with crafted chairs and shelves filled with tomes of knowledge.
Reaching one of the candle stands, I deftly pressed it in a sequence known only to me—three clicks to the left, followed by two clicks to the right, and [ Hidden number ] final click to the side. With a soft mechanical sound, a hidden door slid open, revealing a passage leading into the darkness beyond.
Navigating the labyrinthine network of underground passages with ease, guided by the mind map I had meticulously crafted with the help of AI instructions, I soon arrived at the heart of the secret network—the Hidden Room of Magic.
The passageways had existed since the room's inception, expanded over time by successive archmaeters.
However, their existence remained a closely guarded secret only because of the original enchantment of peremore that tested the minds of those who wanted entrance.
And these passageways were deemed entrances by the magic. I found this out with an incident.
Employing workers to dig a short connection to one passageway leading to the forest outside Oldtown, I found that the enchantment effect extended to them, preventing them from recalling their tasks or the existence of the hidden room.
On Hindsight, I was lucky. Otherwise, I would have to take measures to keep the secret. I am truly thankful for Peremore's paranoid brain, and I realize my mind should be just as paranoid to guard the secrets.
To my surprise, one of the gardening servants I hired permanently could pass the enchantment, revealing a latent potential for magic within him.
On enquiry, I found that he was the one of dozens of kids recommended by Garhammer.
Investing a considerable sum of gold dragons into verifying his character and background, I found he is a rare find.
Hiss name was Garmond—a figure abandoned by his prostitute mother and raised by the people of the smith. He was uneducated and his thoughts and actions were simpler and purer, reminding me of Smallfoot.
I taught him how to read and write, and he took to it with surprising speed. His eligibility from passing Peremore's enchantment was an incredible compared to my passing of the test with the aid of AI.
Few can afford a way to training one's mind to resist metaphysical pressures.