"Marwyn, from this moment forward, you are no longer a maester of the Citadel."
Joffrey took Marwyn's ring, closed his fist around it, and when he opened his palm again, a stream of fiery red molten steel slid down his fingers onto the table below.
The wooden surface, infused with solid magical energy, remained unmarked by the scorching metal.
"A King's Landing Academy shall rise from the ground. You and scholars like Qyburn will serve within its walls, arranged in ranks of Doctor, Master, Bachelor, and Student, in descending order."
The molten steel on the table flowed in irregular patterns, threatening to spill over the edge.
Joffrey extended his right hand and made a casual gesture in the air. At once, the liquid metal gathered itself into a perfect sphere, then solidified into a badge with a six-pointed star as its base and an inlaid circular surface.
Joffrey handed over the newly formed badge. "You will find the Academy much to your liking, Doctor Marwyn."
Marwyn accepted the emblem in reverent silence.
The badge retained the color of night, adorned with a pair of soaring wings. At their center, connecting the two, was a single eye.
Flying eyes?
"I have specially chosen the 'Omniscient Eye' as the symbol of the Academy, with the hope that you and your fellows will tirelessly explore truth, make good use of all eyes at your disposal, and perceive the reality of the world."
Marwyn noticed two lines of curved, minute characters inscribed along the badge's edge:
"Omniscience is Omnipotence."
"What is Seen is What There Is."
Directly beneath the eye was etched his own name: "Doctor Marwyn."
A ring transformed into a badge, the Academy supplanting the Citadel.
What enchanting magical power. What a capricious and proud king.
Events grew more intriguing by the moment.
Marwyn carefully pinned the badge to his chest.
"Yes, Your Grace."
With these words, Doctor Marwyn completed the transformation of his identity.
Joffrey produced a similar black badge from within his sleeve. "Qyburn, do not stand there in a daze. You certainly have a share in this as well. Come forward."
As he presented the badge to Qyburn, Joffrey issued casual instructions: "The Research Department shall henceforth be known as the Research Institute and incorporated into the Academy. Going forward, personnel shall be drawn primarily from the Academy to serve as researchers. Of course, for the present, continue to recruit talent regardless of background or origin."
Qyburn accepted the directive with proper deference.
Joffrey's gaze swept over Marwyn and the two acolytes. "Qyburn, proceed with the implantation. Doctor Marwyn has traveled far—how could we bear to make him wait for divine grace? As for the other two, use high-level cores for both."
Qyburn withdrew a sharp blade and three small chips.
Marwyn had anticipated this moment. Far from being discomposed, he displayed keen anticipation and excitement.
Sarella Sand and Leo Tyrell, however, found themselves utterly bewildered. Seeing the gray-haired old man approach with a steel knife, they could not help but feel nervous and uneasy. The old man's smile did nothing to inspire confidence.
Sarella prepared to deploy the poisoned needle concealed within her hand.
Fortunately, Qyburn's blade first opened a small incision at the nape of Doctor Marwyn's neck.
Sarella and Leo stared intently at the wound, monitoring Qyburn's every movement.
The gray-haired man delicately pinched one of the chips between his fingers and, with steady precision, inserted it into Doctor Marwyn's wound. Even the resilient archmaester couldn't suppress a wince, suggesting the process caused considerable pain.
Leo shifted his gaze slightly away.
Sarella's eyes remained fixed on the procedure. She harbored no fear of pain, but wondered what damage the chip might inflict and what interference it might bring.
The chip disappeared completely into Marwyn's flesh.
Qyburn pressed his palm against the wound. After several breaths, he withdrew his hand, revealing that Doctor Marwyn's wound had vanished entirely!
Sarella's shock and unease deepened.
This must be the power of magical runes that King Joffrey had spoken of—and evidently, it could indeed be shared with others.
Her thoughts immediately turned to future conflicts.
Dorne had once resisted Aegon the Conqueror's dragons, but could it withstand King Joffrey's terrifying army in times to come? What price would her homeland pay for defiance?
She dared not pursue this line of thought to its conclusion.
All she could do now was observe in silence—and even this was permitted only by the King's indulgence.
The steel knife and another chip now approached Leo from behind.
The Tyrell acolyte drew a deep breath, struggling to control his trembling, his eyes fixed upon King Joffrey as if seeking courage from the royal visage.
Joffrey observed Marwyn with interest.
The doctor, who scarcely resembled a scholar in appearance, had adapted quickly to his altered state. He shook his head in wonder, muttering to himself at intervals.
This reaction came as no surprise.
When the Divine Grace Light Curtain—visible only to its recipient—was first implanted, almost everyone exhibited similarly amusing behavior.
After all, the Divine Grace Light Curtain introduced what amounted to a second world to its host—a realm of pure information.
An intense initial reaction was only to be expected.
"Your Grace, if I may presume to ask, what is your opinion of the Citadel?"
Joffrey felt mild surprise. Marwyn had not spoken these words aloud, but had sent them through the Divine Grace Light Curtain.
His learning speed is impressive indeed.
Joffrey replied through the same channel: "What are your thoughts on the matter? Feel free to offer any suggestions—I shall consider them with all seriousness."
Joffrey understood well both the importance and the potential harm of the Citadel.
The institution that trained maesters for service throughout the Seven Kingdoms maintained a façade of neutrality, never openly favoring any particular lord or king, ostensibly focusing solely on scholarly pursuits and service to the realm.
Yet this pretense convinced few who truly understood the world's workings.
The Citadel not only stood in Oldtown but had received long-term patronage from House Hightower, the city's ruling family.
The Citadel claims absolute neutrality?
House Hightower exerts no influence over the Citadel?
A laughable notion.
What Joffrey found even less tolerable was that the Citadel was not only suspected of having contributed to the extinction of dragons, but stubbornly and foolishly continued to resist magic and mystical forces of all kinds.
This was intolerable.
In a world where magic demonstrably existed, scholars who claimed to pursue knowledge while rejecting objective truth represented a reactionary force.
They must be overthrown.
The goal was clear enough. But how best to achieve this result—whether through direct confrontation or through subtler means of division and strategic recruitment—remained open to consideration.
Marwyn, having abandoned darkness for light, might well play a significant role in this endeavor.
Marwyn's response came through the Light Curtain:
"The Conclave of the Citadel has always despised magic and clung tenaciously to outmoded ways of thinking.
Once Your Grace compels Highgarden to submit and pledge loyalty, the Citadel will not dare to resist openly. Yet for the sake of the realm's future, the antiquated leadership of the Citadel cannot be permitted to hinder the Seven Kingdoms' development.
However, as the Citadel encompasses far too many individuals, force is best avoided if possible.
Those within the Citadel who have not yet succumbed to intellectual decay might be absorbed into the Academy. When confronted with irrefutable facts, their prejudices will crumble, allowing their minds and ideas to serve our purposes and explore mysteries for Your Grace's benefit.
Within a few years, the backward and obsolete Citadel will fade from relevance of its own accord."
Marwyn's words clearly established his position: abandoning the Citadel, pledging loyalty to the Iron Throne, and devoting himself to building the King's Landing Academy.
Joffrey expressed his satisfaction. "A sound suggestion. I believe talent yet remains within the Citadel's walls. Suitable individuals may be selected for the Academy and placed under your supervision. The Academy's tasks shall be numerous and demanding—the more talent at our disposal, the better."
Marwyn would certainly raise no objection to this proposal.
Qyburn withdrew the blood-stained steel knife. "Your Grace, all three divine graces have been bestowed."
Joffrey cast a brief glance at the dazed Sarella and Leo, then dismissed them from his attention and projected a map of King's Landing upon the floor.
"The Academy exists for your use. Qyburn, Marwyn, and Hallyne of the Alchemists' Guild—the three doctors shall collaborate on designs for the Academy. It must be both practical and inspiring."
A beam of light highlighted Flea Bottom on the projected map.
"The entirety of Flea Bottom has been cleared. The Academy shall rise there."
Joffrey added specific instructions: "You need not concern yourselves with technological limitations. Simply imagine, as if engaged in crafting a beautiful dream. Any structure you envision can be realized."
Can a beautiful dream truly become reality? Marwyn felt the weight of the badge upon his chest.
Yes, he answered himself. With power such as this, what remains to fear?
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