Chapter 44: Ch 35 Fortune Bird
Chapter Text
"It's a sight to behold, isn't it?" Jon breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. Sam nodded in quiet agreement, both men gazing in awe at the imposing spectacle before them.
At long last, they stood at the entrance of the Citadel, a renowned bastion of knowledge not just within Westeros but spanning the vast reaches of Planetos. Poised upon the banks of the river Hoenywine, its spires and domes were connected by grand stone bridges, some wide enough to accommodate bustling houses and market stalls.
They were standing in front of the massive entrance, where the gates were flanked by imposing statues of green sphinxes, creatures of mythical significance with leonine bodies, eagle wings, and serpent tails—two guardians, one male visage, the other female.
Their arrival coincided with the pre-rush hour, attracting a diverse throng: Smallfolk, merchants, and all manner of folk seeking the services provided by the acolytes and novices dwelling within. After absorbing the scene, Jon turned to Sam and said, "Shall we proceed?" With that, he led the way, seamlessly merging into the flow of people streaming toward the dome's entrance.
"Are you sure we won't get caught," Sam asked almost whimpering as he followed after him, fiddling with the acolyte's robes he was wearing that Jon had somehow nicked. He didn't ever imagine that with his cowardice he would do something like sneaking inside the Citadel. He felt as if everyone was staring at him and that any second now someone would recognize them and call them out for frauds and imprison them.
"Don't worry! They won't," Jon whispered assuringly while patting his shoulder, he had spent the last few days scouting and mapping the insides of this humungous place with his special friend. So he didn't have to worry about wandering around like a headless chicken and getting lost and needing to ask for directions. He knew which paths would be the most deserted, and where all the exit points were, as well as had a foolproof plan of entering and exiting so he was sure that nothing could go wrong.
"But what if they do?" Sam asked, his eyes moving left and right while looking away the moment anyone even so much as glanced at him.
The moment they entered the gates, they immediately found themselves in the Scribe's Hearth. Here the citizens and Sailors of Oldtown came to hire scribes, usually, acolytes, to write and read letters for them. The Scribes were sitting and waiting in open stalls with lines of people in front of them. There were also other stalls here that sold, bought and copied books and others even offered all kinds of maps.
"They won't apprehend us," Jon restated, pausing to examine a statue of Dareon I Targaryen mounted on a noble stone steed. The path split here, Jon's gaze shifted to Sam, and he chuckled, "Even if they did, what's the worst that could befall us? Copying books?" He grinned, resuming their journey down the right path meant for acolytes, Maesters, and workers.
They passed by two guards standing on either who didn't even glance at them as they entered, with Sam not even looking up from the floor. If the guards weren't so incompetent, and Jon wasn't so good at acting like he belonged there they would have definitely caught them because of Sam, "T-They could kill us..."
"Who?" Jon scoffed, as they entered a maze of corridors which only a person who used them daily could navigate, "These Maester and Acolytes... who've barely even seen the sun once a week... pfft! As if they could even think of catching me,"
They also passed a monument inside of King Jaehaerys I Targaryen, with a plinth on it that read, "He bound the land together, and made of seven kingdoms, one."
"Now keep your chin up and look like you belong here," Jon said as they were finally on the path to the library.
"But I don't," Sam whined but Jon wasn't stopping at all so he had no choice but to follow.
on had meticulously selected a secluded route, evading the bustling areas. Private chambers lined their path, often serving as lodgings for visiting nobles or Maesters from beyond the Citadel's walls. These chambers provided a direct route to the library—a convenient arrangement that Jon had skillfully exploited.
Just as they were about to turn a corner, they suddenly heard voices coming from the front and from the sound of them, they were two men, one middle-aged and the other one in his 70's or 80's. Swiftly, Jon ushered Sam into an unoccupied room, avoiding any potential interaction.
"I am telling you, Archmaester," the middle-aged man's voice carried, "These innovations could revolutionize our city."
"In what manner, Maester Felix?" responded the elderly man with an intrigued tone.
"Do you know how much of the budget we allocate every month towards just cleaning the street, Archmaester," Felix asked.
"I don't, but I assume that it would be a lot," the Archmaester responded. Oldtown, although the second most populous city in Westeros after King's Landing, maintained wide, fragrant, and immaculate streets—a feat that undoubtedly required significant resources and labour.
"It is," Felix nodded firmly, "And did you know that a substantial portion of those funds is devoted to cleaning up after horseshit? Now, imagine if we could replace these horses with the new invention—Starkhorses. We'd save considerable resources over a long long time..."
"And what of the initial costs of acquiring these Starkhorses?"
"That's a one-time expense," Maester Felix dismissed with a wave. "Moreover, if we execute the plan properly, I believe it could be entirely cost-free, requiring not a single penny from our coffers," he concluded with a triumphant smile.
The Archmaester halted in his tracks at the mention of "cost-free," a nearly magical phrase to someone overseeing the budget. "Explain."
"Firstly, we must ensure that these 'Starkhorses' are readily accessible to all," Maester Felix explained eagerly. "Given their novelty, I'm confident that our citizens—ranging from affluent merchants to modest households—will rush to procure them." He knew that the price might be steep for ordinary smallfolk in other regions, but in Oldtown, where some of the wealthiest smallfolk in Westeros resided, affordability wouldn't pose an issue.
"Go on..."
"Subsequently, after a reasonable period, we would establish a limit on the number of horses and animals permitted within the city. Over time, we could progressively reduce this limit, ultimately enforcing a complete ban. This could be executed without causing much dissent... Naturally, nobles and dignitaries could be granted exceptions."
"Hmm..." The Archmaester hummed thoughtfully, standing still for a moment before saying, "Your concept seems plausible and holds merit. However, this will remain a mere notion unless we can secure a bulk supply of these Starkhorses. As far as I'm aware, they're being primarily created in the North and others have yet to replicate their success. Obtaining a sufficient quantity and transporting them here would prove difficult and costly."
"That is the absolute best part," Maester Felix's voice grew animated, accompanied by a broad smile. "I received a missive just last night from my cousin, a merchant in Highgarden. They've received a substantial shipment of Starkhorses from the North—a supply that will not be limited to a single instance. In fact, it appears there will be a consistent flow."
Archmaester responded with genuine surprise, "That's truly remarkable." As they continued walking, he added, "If you can furnish me with a comprehensive proposal, including the required budget, by the week's end, I'll present it before the conclave."
The voices gradually faded as Jon eased the door open, an amused grin playing on his lips. 'Seems I'll need to correspond with Dacey to amplify production once again,' Jon contemplated with satisfaction. Turning to Sam, who had been on the edge of panic, Jon quipped, "Shall we proceed?"
The rest of their way towards the library was completely smooth and after around ten minutes of walking, they stood before the towering edifice that was the library.
Numerous entrances dotted the perimeter of the library building. The primary entryway, a grand expanse through which a constant stream of people flowed, contrasted with the less frequented one Jon and Sam approached. This entrance was overseen by a lone Librarian seated behind a table. A few log books lay before him, serving as records of those entering and departing, as well as the books borrowed and returned.
"How will we get in?" Sam asked as they hid behind a pillar near the entrance. While it was really deserted here, it would still be impossible for them to enter without alerting the Librarian who would ask them for their identification which they didn't have.
"Fret not, I have a plan," Jon whispered back, his gaze flitting to the nearby bookshelves, and after choosing an appropriate one, he immediately sent an order to his friend.
"How are you going to—" Sam's query was cut short by a resounding thud resonating through the space. A massive tome had toppled from a high shelf. Startled, the Librarian, engrossed in a book, shot to his feet, demanding, "Who goes there?" He hastened toward the source of the noise, muttering, "Do you know how old the books here are—" only to find no one there. He looked around for a while but still didn't find anyone, "Maybe it was a mouse..." he mused before shaking his head and placing the book back in its place.
Unbeknownst to him, two unauthorized teenagers had seized the opportunity to infiltrate the hallowed halls of the Citadel's library.
"How did you manage that?" Sam whispered, awed, as they roved amidst the labyrinth of bookshelves. His gaze danced over captivating titles, each beckoning to him, eager for his perusal.
Jon's response was casual, "Hmm... What do you think?" As he skipped one section after another while searching for the one he wanted, they were going deeper and deeper into the maze. The one or two acolytes that they were coming across started getting scarcer as eventually, only dusty tomes were around them.
He eventually found the section he wanted which had a plate hanging with "BIRDS" written in big letters.
Jon entered that section with Sam mumbling softly behind him, "Did you pay someone to do that for you—But then the librarian would have caught him... Hmm then did you use a thread—But then how did you tie it to the books..." he kept talking to himself in circles making one absurd theory after another and disproving them on his own, "...D-Don't tell me y-you a-are a—" Sam gulped not completing his sentence, his eyes wide open.
Jon's amusement gleamed in his eyes. "Am I a what?"
"A m-magical, like a W-Witch?" Sam's voice trembled.
Jon pondered the notion. "Who knows?" he mused, his tone elusive. "What if I were?"
The bookshelf dedicated to Birds was a huge one and divided into two so skipped the Migratory one and went to the Non-Migratory. After which it was divided by region and the Reach section contained about five books which introduced all the birds recorded of which two were about the ones that had already gone extinct.
Sam hesitated for a while before he finally shook his head and said, "I-It's fine if you are, I think... as long as you don't eat me o-or use my blood for anything or don't sacrifice children or don't offer intestines and blood to the heart tree and other stuff."
Jon almost burst out laughing at that but stopped himself at the last moment, "Those are a lot of conditions but... I promise you that I won't do those things... now take one of these," he handed Sam one of the huge books while carrying the other two, "and let's go..." and they both wandered towards a nearby bench which was almost empty except for an Acolyte who was concentrating on copying an ancient book that was almost crumbling at its seams.
Jon opened the book and was just about to dive into it when he looked up at Sam who was looking at the nearby Acolyte hesitatingly as if wanting to ask something but not daring to, so he helped him.
"Psst! Hey!" Jon called softly. The nearby Acolyte looked up, perplexed. "Yes, I'm addressing you."
"Yes?" the Acolyte responded, puzzled.
"How many years have you been here?" Jon inquired, infusing his tone with authority.
"Five years," the Acolyte answered, baffled.
"Excellent," Jon nodded, "Now, my friend here," he waved at Sam who gave him a forced smile, "wants to know all about what an Acolyte does and what you've had to do since you joined here to become a Maester. So I need you to tell him all that you can about it... You know you're daily routine and stuff. Alright?"
"But Why? Aren't you one yourself—"
"Don't ask questions," Jon interrupted impatiently, "Here take these for your inconvenience," he placed about five silver stags on the table and the acolyte's eyes immediately lit up and all his questions died in his throat he immediately nodded his head like a chicken while pocketing them.
The Acolyte turned to Sam and started speaking after clearing his throat, "I joined here about five years ago and the beginning they..."
With the background noise of Acolyte droning on about his life, Jon scoured through the books to glean the information about the mystical bird he had heard about. He had been just asking about different kinds of usual creatures to satisfy his curiosity when he had heard from an old innkeeper about the Fortune Bird.
The Fortune bird was somewhat of an urban legend here in the Reach, it is said that whoever even catches a glimpse of one would be lucky for a whole year. But they are almost impossible to see as they are not only one of the smallest mature birds they are also one of the fastest birds recorded. They have the widest diversity of plumage colour, particularly in blues, greens, and purples. They were similar to Hummingbirds from his previous life so the moment he had heard about them he wanted to have one for himself.
After about two hours of rifling through page after page of information that wasn't even inserted alphabetically, Jon finally managed to find the information he needed. He read the two pages worth of information more than five times to make sure he didn't miss anything, from their habitats to their mating habits he took note of everything.
Satisfied, he closed the book, a triumphant smile gracing his features. Armed with this newfound knowledge, he knew where to find the mystical avian creature.
Glancing over, Jon noticed Sam's dejected expression, while the Acolyte had returned to his tasks after satisfying Sam's queries.
"Sam," Jon addressed him gently, "It's time to leave."
"Huh? Oh, yes," Sam responded absentmindedly. Once Jon returned the books to their respective shelves, they retraced their steps. The librarian, momentarily distracted by another falling tome, allowed them to exit without incident, cursing the circumstances.
"Are you all right?" Jon inquired, concern lacing his tone as they walked.
"Yes," Sam nodded, forcing a smile. "It's just... I hadn't imagined that an acolyte's duties would encompass so much... chamber pot cleaning and menial chores."
"Don't be troubled by it," Jon comforted, patting Sam's shoulder reassuringly. "We can revisit this library whenever you wish to borrow more books. Remember, this isn't the sole repository of knowledge in the world—there are many such places to explore. Winterfell boasts one of the oldest libraries, and then there's the Wall. You won't be confined to just one place."
"That's true," Sam agreed with a grateful smile. "Thank you."
"Don't mention it."
As they traversed a dim corridor, faint sounds of an argument filtered from within a nearby chamber. Intrigued, Jon cautiously moved closer to eavesdrop.
"What are you thinking, Jon?"
"Shh..."
Jon strained to catch the voices within the room.
"...You cannot simply come and go as you please, My prince. Certain rules must be upheld, even by you—"
"And what might those rules entail, esteemed Archmaester?" a languid voice drawled, dripping with nonchalance. "Furthermore, how do you intend to enforce them, may I inquire?" The voice oozed sarcasm, and Jon's eyes immediately widened as the realization washed over him as to who exactly was in the room.
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