Chapitre 10: Chapter - 10
It had been three days since I left Winterfell, and Fenrir had been blitzing past landmarks at an incredible pace. I stopped briefly near the Twins, at the entrance of the Riverlands, to contemplate whether I had the patience to deal with the Frey's version of nonsense or whether I should swim the river instead. In the end, I decided to swim the river and maybe mess with them on the way back. At the pace I was going, I knew I would make it to King's Landing in about four days.
As I looked at the landscape blurring past me, I began to plan what I could do when I arrived at the capital. I knew enough information to start a war within five minutes of meeting the king, but I decided to hold on to that for now as it would be too straightforward and suspicious on my part. Instead, I needed to focus on the main issue I was summoned for. I could just make the pills and hand them over to be distributed, but I was almost 100% sure that most of the pills I gave out would end up missing or stolen to be later sold to the highest bidder. I didn't really care much about money after I came to the new world, but I wasn't going to let someone exploit me so easily.
This was going to be my debut in King's Landing, so I would have to do something big and flashy that would make the "White Mage" known across all of Westeros. A grin spread across my face as a plan began to form in my head.
Four days later, I could see King's Landing in the distance and I told Fenrir to slow down as the smell hit us both. "Oh boy, if this is how strong the smell of shit is this far away, Fenrir might just die when we make it to the city," I thought as I looked at Fenrir trying to bury his nose in the ground. Taking pity on my friend, I just touched his fur and dampened his sense of smell to a huge margin, and I did the same to myself. He looked a lot better now, but was still uncomfortable at having one of his main senses dulled. But there wasn't much I could do at the moment and it would only be for a few days if everything goes according to my plan.
As I approached the gate, I knew I must have been quite the sight, my white coat contrasting quite well with Fenrir's black fur. I would have to remember to get something nice for Freya as a proper thank you before I returned. I went past the long line of people waiting to get inside the capital and approached the guards. One of the braver ones finally spoke up.
"H-Halt, state your business in the capital," he said.
I smiled at him, "The King has summoned me," and handed him the scroll that Lord Stark had given me.
He took the scroll with shaky hands and read it. His pale face paled even more as he apologized for the inconvenience, "Ser Healer, w-we weren't expecting you for another sennight."
"Ahh, considering the situation, I decided to come post haste and my mount is pretty fast," I said, patting Fenrir. Although I was a bit confused about being addressed as a Ser, I didn't dwell on it too much.
"Of course, Ser Healer, one moment," he said, returning the scroll to me and yelling at the other guards to open the gate.
I nodded at the guard and moved past the gate, aware of all the eyes on me. I had been quite a shy kid in my previous life, but I seemed to be turning into quite an attention whore in this life.
Fenrir walked slowly down the road, giving me ample time to take in the scenery around me. At first glance, it looked like one would expect, but it only took a second glance to see the poverty and hopelessness of the people living here, on top of the foul odor that I could still smell, even after dampening my senses.
I went through what looked like the marketplace to look at the wares and noticed something interesting. I smirked, as I had just found the perfect excuse to not make the pills, just as I had expected. Now, if the king or the members of the small council asked me to mass-produce or "asked me to anyway," I had a valid reason to deny them.
As I arrived at the Red Keep, I couldn't help but be awed by its grandeur. Made of a stunning pale red stone, it commanded a majestic presence, overlooking the mouth of the Blackwater Rush. The Keep boasted seven colossal drum-towers, each adorned with iron ramparts, serving as a testament to the might and power of the kingdom's rulers.
'Maybe I should become the king just to be able to call this castle mine..., Na, the rest of the city is shit and it'll be too much work to take over and fix everything. I'd rather just make sure to subtly let everyone know not to fuck with me,' I thought to myself.
As I reached the stables, I realized that someone from the gate must have alerted everyone important of my arrival because I wasn't stopped by a single guard and no one tried to stop me from taking Fenrir, which was unexpected. I rolled with it and kept going. I dismounted from Fenrir, as I didn't want to be too rude. I reached the entrance of the castle with Fenrir, and a servant greeted me nervously, taking sideways glances at Fenrir, but didn't say anything. Instead, he wordlessly gestured for me to follow him.
We reached what I could only assume was the throne room given the sheer size of the room and the herald announcing their arrival.
"Your Grace King Robert Baratheon of House Baratheon, her Grace Queen Cersei of House Lannister. Announcing the arrival of El, the White Mage of Winterfell!"
As I stepped into the throne room of the Red Keep, a hush fell over the people present, and they quickly scurried to the sides, creating a path. While it would have been flattering to believe that their actions were due to my reputation and imposing presence, the reality was that everyone was likely awed by Fenrir's imposing size and menacing aura.
As I stepped foot into the throne room, I couldn't help but feel a sense of...awe. The room was enormous, perhaps even large enough to fit the entirety of the great hall of Winterfell within and still have room to spare. Tall, vaulted ceilings. Glass windows with intricate works of art decorating their surfaces. Pillars with ornate carvings embellished with gold and jewels. The room was like a work of art ...with one notable exception. The monstrosity that was the Iron Throne perched upon the dais at the far end of the hall.
I remembered from the story that after he'd conquered the Seven Kingdoms, King Aegon I had taken the swords of over a thousand men from his fallen adversaries and used them, along with the fire from his dragon, to forge the Iron Throne. The throne was designed purposefully to be uncomfortable, and that many kings had cut themselves on the throne.
The unsymmetrical monstrosity in front of me wasn't the pathetic imitation from the show, It was the real deal and words could not describe how glorious it looked and I could somewhat understand why so many people died for a chance to sit on it.
Standing in front of the throne, separating it from the rest of the crowd, were seven men wearing gold tinted armor with heavy white cloaks around their shoulders, the Kingsguard. The best knights of the realm.
Just behind the Kingsguard were a handful of others that I was almost sure were the members of the small council.
There was only a single woman standing amongst them, and she was standing closest to the throne of the group. 'Cersei Lannister,' I thought as I walked closer to the throne.
Looking at her now, she somehow looked more beautiful than I had expected. However, I knew that beneath that beauty was a cold, heartless bitch who would do anything to keep her power. I also remembered a wise man once saying to never stick your dick in crazy.
Standing on the opposite side of the queen was an old man who was wearing a golden hand pin on his chest. 'The Hand of the King,' I thought. 'Lord Jon Arryn. I don't remember his face from the shows, probably because he died before episode one.' The man was not what I'd expected. He was old, very old. And going by the look in his eye, extremely tired.
The only other person standing beside the throne that caught my attention was the extremely old man that stood hunched over with more chains wrapped around his neck and shoulders than I had ever seen before. The Grand Maester. Though it was odd. The man was hunched over and he was shaking, but I could sense that he was angry, probably because I was called here for doing his job better than him by using "Magic".
And lastly, sitting atop the Iron Throne was the King, Robert Baratheon, First of his Name. He looked as fat as expected and not very impressive.
"El the White Mage of Winterfell!" the King bellowed from the throne.
"Your grace," I said, bowing. It would be annoying if people started yelling at my lack of respect so soon after my arrival.
"Rise," the King commanded.
I straightened up, and the King shifted his gaze from me to Fenrir, who was now looking around curiously at all the new faces that paled whenever his eyes passed over them.
"A fucking direwolf... bigger than a horse too." the king stated curiously. He then became serious.
"You sure it won't just start ripping people's throats out?"
"Yes, your grace," I replied. "He listens to me and won't attack anyone unless provoked."
The King's expression grew contemplative, "Very well you can keep him close but the moment he attempts to remove anyone's limbs I'll have him put to the sword".
I do my best to not laugh at the threat and just reply "Sounds fair your Grace" with a nod.
"Well then moving on to important matters, Healer," the King began, "I believe Ned has told you the gist of the situation. Do you think you can use your magic to cure one hundred thousand people of the winter chill?"
I knew it was time to put on a performance, so I confidently replied, "Definitely, your grace. I have thought of a few ways to deal with the epidemic on my journey here. Depending on which method you allow me to use, I can tell you how long it will take to do so."
"Go on," the King prompted.
"Well, the first method is quite simple, your grace," I began. "It just involves me going from one person to another and healing them individually. The only issue is, based on the number of people, it will take around two moons."
The King's face showed dissatisfaction, "Too long, I'm sure you have ways to do it faster."
"Of course, your grace," I quickly responded. "The second one is that I make the pills that you have seen I made in Winterfell. While I can make enough pills by tonight, I see some troubles arising with this method."
"What troubles? It worked in Winterfell. It should work here too," the King asked.
"I had the same thought, your grace," I said, sounding a little disappointed. "But after I reached Kings Landing, I saw quite a number of people in the market selling what they swore were pills made by the White Mage for eight silvers. Now, I am pretty sure that Lord Stark or I haven't sent anyone enough pills to be sold on the market and they were of the wrong size and color. So if we go through with this method, I am pretty sure most of what I make will end up getting lost or stolen and sold to the highest bidder, and the city will still be sick and dying."
The king looked very angry, his face darkening with rage, he turned to Varys "Is what he said true?"
"Sadly, yes, your grace," Vary replied, his voice filled with regret. "Ever since news of the White Mage's pills reached the capital, many swindlers have been using such a ruse to trick the people."
The king slammed his fist on the throne and yelled, "Renly, I want them found and thrown in the cells by the end of the day!"
Renly stammered in agreement, and I continued.
"I have one more option, your grace. I can make the medicine in a form where breathing it in would be enough to heal a person. But to make sure it works quickly and properly, I would need a pyre set up in the middle of the city." I threw in the bait and waited for the fish to bite and I didn't have to wait long.
"He's going to sacrifice the smallfolk in the pyre to practice his vile magic, your grace!" the Grand Maester shouted, his voice filled with fear and anger.
"Keep your mouth shut, Pycelle," the King said, glaring at the oldest man in the room with a look that made me realize that, despite his appearance, there was still quite a bit of strength left in King Robert.
"I have called him here to help the city with a duty which you have failed to perform. And, unlike you, I seriously doubt he is stupid enough to ask me to allow him to make human sacrifices in my kingdom?"
After shutting the grand maester up, he shifted his attention back to me and gestured for me to continue.
I smirk at Pycelle and continued, "I won't really need any human sacrifice, your grace. It's just a simple pyre, and any amount of animal meat you can spare. It doesn't really have to be the edible parts, too. Bones work as well. With this, I can guarantee that in two days there will not be a single soul in Kings Landing suffering from the Winter Chill."
"Preposterous! Such medicine does not exist!" Grand Maester Pycelle exclaimed in disbelief.
"Pycelle!!" the King yelled, and glared at the Maester "I have already warned you once, the next time I will just cave your face in. Maybe that will finally shut you up!" the fury on his face was so evident that the Grand Maester started trembling as if his legs were about to give out.
"I hope you are not lying to me, Healer," the King said, after turning to me, his voice filled with suspicion
"I have no reason to lie, your grace," I reassured him. "And even if I am, you only need two days to confirm my words," I added.
"I see, Ned seems to trust you so I'll do the same for now, when can you start?" the King asked.
"It'll take me a few hours to get everything ready," I replied. "And if the pyre is set up by then, we can get started tonight," I added, my tone confident.
"Very well then," the King said, nodding his head. "Someone show him to a room where he can work and get the bloody pyre set up," he commanded.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone