"Your Graces, King and Queen, and all esteemed sirs. I have scoured through medical texts to treat Lord Monde's injuries as quickly as possible, which is why I am late..." Pycelle's voice was humble, yet his manners were impeccable.
The Grand Maester was slightly plump, with thinning but not receding hair. His body was round and stout, and around his neck hung a Maester's chain made of twenty-four different metals, draped from his throat to his chest. Black iron, red gold, lead, amethyst, white gold, gold—perhaps every metal known to man in the known world was represented. The Maester's chain merely indicated his special status, but it did not reflect the Grand Maester's true abilities.
Using the excuse of treating Lord Monde's injuries, everyone would be grateful for his diligent efforts rather than resent his tardiness. Grand Maester Pycelle was, after all, a kind-hearted man.
Pycelle had a benevolent face, unlike ordinary Maesters who were often scholarly or aloof, buried in their bookshelves. Instead, he appeared very approachable and harmless. It is often such people who survive to the end in chaotic times. Although Pycelle had just arrived, he would later survive for more than forty years, making him an unshakeable figure in King's Landing politics.
Only Rhaegar continued to observe Pycelle's performance; he was also an old actor. In fact, he was older than the King and others, yet he appeared exceptionally sincere and humble, like a devoted servant.
Rhaegar looked at Pycelle's humble face and slightly clumsy body, yet understood his cunning nature. Maester Pycelle was a man of duplicity, often secretly doing things that were against the rules, such as seducing maids for 'study' in bed, or feigning ignorance and fanning the flames. He was not loyal to the country; he was only loyal to power.
Grand Maester Pycelle also admired strength, and after being subdued by Tywin's iron-fisted methods, he became a loyal dog of the Lannister. This seems reasonable; it's normal to have such a fanatical follower when facing a powerful Hand who has governed the country for twenty years. Power only flows from the bottom up, favoring those with an iron fist.
Perhaps, in the future, he could be whipped into becoming my secret agent in King's Landing.
Achievement: game of thrones (Little Player, you observed Pycelle's brilliant performance and gained one point of player aptitude.)
Rhaegar looked at his life tree template; his achievements had increased again.
"Your Grace, I have also prepared some picture books for Prince Rhaegar, hoping he will like them." Grand Maester Pycelle smiled genially and pulled out several picture books from his robe. At this time, Pycelle was still a royalist, demonstrating great loyalty before the King.
The picture books were nothing more than legends of heroes and beautiful maidens, such as Brandon the Builder and Garth Greenhand, and even the story of Aegon the Conqueror riding dragons to conquer the Seven Kingdoms. Although the stories in the picture books were simple, their exquisite illustrations and lifelike characters showed that the Grand Maester had put a lot of effort into them.
"The Grand Maester is thoughtful." King Jaehaerys II thanked him on Rhaegar's behalf. Everyone was very satisfied with Grand Maester Pycelle's performance, as they preferred an accommodating person over a bookworm.
In the past, the Grand Maesters sent by The Citadel regarded this task as a chore, always choosing old, half-dead individuals. Maesters disliked administrative tasks; no one even wanted to be the Steward of The Citadel, feeling it wasted their research time, and it was difficult to choose a Grand Maester for King's Landing. It was rare that The Citadel had carefully selected a young man this time.
After presenting his gifts, Maester Pycelle stood with clasped hands.
And at this moment, the atmosphere of the banquet was about to reach its climax.
"Let us toast to the King, the great King Jaehaerys II, the true dragon of the Targaryen Family, who led us to victory in the Fifth Blackfyre War." A noble lady-in-waiting was the first to toast the King, raising her glass of wine, which tasted of victory.
"Long live the great King Jaehaerys II."
"Long live the great King Jaehaerys II."
In the Queen's ballroom, people were intoxicated by the wine, the fragrant food, and the beautiful music. Such a celebration made King Jaehaerys II somewhat intoxicated himself. Since his ascension, he had worked tirelessly, plagued by war and the fires of Summer Hall. But now, the War of the Ninepenny King was nearing its end, and the dynasty seemed poised for a resurgence.
"To the Seven Gods, to the blessings of our ancestors, King Daeron II, King Aerys I, King Maekar I, King Aegon V, and to the dedication of our knights, Ser Duncan, Lord Monde, Ser Barristan. And to many, many other names I have not spoken." King Jaehaerys II raised his cup, first highly praising the bravery of his ancestors and the heroes who quelled the Blackfyre Rebellions.
"Cheers!" "Cheers!" Intermingling voices rang out, and a virtual blush seemed to color everyone's faces. In the face of victory, even the humblest person could feel pride. This was the tremor of nation, power, honor, and all will.
Rhaegar, however, knew that Jaehaerys II's words had omitted the greatest contributor to the previous Blackfyre Rebellions. In the five Blackfyre Rebellions, Bloodraven participated in quelling the first three, especially the most crucial first one. The taboo of the dynasty, the unmentionable Lord Brynden Bloodraven. Rather than being a born knight, he was more like an excellent player of power.
Bloodraven was willing to resort to dark methods for the stability of the country: deception, kinslaying, breaking promises.
Bloodraven sacrificed his honor, and in return, he secured the peace of the realm.
What he gained, however, was everyone's suspicion, hatred, and fear.
Even those who most admired Bloodraven's talents were unwilling to form true friendships with him.
This man, like the blood-red mark on his face, instilled fear in others.
Brynden Rivers's reputation was so infamous that merely mentioning his name brought to mind the terrifying years of the past. Those dreadful times mixed with spies, sorcery, occultism, war, and drought. If anyone dared to challenge Lord Bloodraven's authority and slander him, treason and decapitation awaited them. The forces that hated Bloodraven were so numerous that the longer he governed the country, the greater the hatred he received. This remained true even after he went to the Wall. Over time, everyone tacitly agreed to avoid mentioning his name. The royal family also dared not defy public opinion by boasting of this loyal minister's achievements.
There are too many stories about Bloodraven; simple black and white cannot adequately describe him. Lord Brynden Rivers was like a hybrid operating in the gray areas. King Daeron II trusted him, and King Aerys I and King Maekar I relied on and depended on him.
"Bloodraven has already disappeared Beyond the Wall. Where is he? Has he become the Three-Eyed Crow?" Rhaegar thought to himself. Everyone believed the Lord had vanished and died, but Rhaegar knew he had not.
"Moreover, are there any other traces of Lord Bloodraven remaining in the Red Keep?" Bloodraven served as Hand for so many years; where are the knowledge and books he accumulated?