Varys could only watch as Pycelle was burned alive, reduced to a pile of ash. The Grand Maester's betrayal had taken him sowhat by surprise.
He simply could not understand n like Pycelle.
After all, no matter whether it was a Targaryen, a Lannister, or a Baratheon on the throne, Pycelle would always remain nothing more than a Grand Maester.
Before the betrayal, he was a Grand Maester. After the betrayal, he would still be a Grand Maester. Was it not a betrayal for nothing?
Of course, Pycelle was dead now, and there was little point in dwelling on it.
What truly intrigued Varys was the one who had exposed Pycelle — the seemingly unremarkable Viserys.
As the master of whisperers, he refused to believe this was a re coincidence.
He did not think this was sothing an eight-year-old child could accomplish. He had plenty of such half-grown children among his "little birds."
No one understood better than Varys what these children were like, and what went through their minds.
'Was it Queen Rhaella?' he wondered.
He thought about it carefully and decided it was unlikely.
Queen Rhaella was too kind-hearted.
He still rembered how disgusted she had been with him after learning that his intelligence network was composed of mute, maid children.
She would not allow any child — hers or otherwise — to be used like that.
'Then who could it be? Lucerys?'
Varys thought of the ambitious Master of Ships but quickly dismissed the idea.
The only lead lay with Viserys himself, but soon the boy would be sent away with Queen Rhaella to Dragonstone.
And on Dragonstone, even the Spider would find himself blind and deaf.
He had always believed himself to be the one hiding deepest in the shadows. Yet now it seed soone was hidden even deeper.
That made Varys deeply uneasy.
...........
In Rhaella's chambers, Viserys marveled at how swiftly Aerys had executed Pycelle while glancing at the new options presented by his golden finger:
[Absorb] [Transfer] [Fuse]
Only [Absorb] was currently selectable; the others were grayed out.
"Absorb? Does that an I'll gain the Grand Maester's knowledge?"
There was little hesitation. He chose [Absorb].
Instantly, a flood of knowledge surged into Viserys's mind, making his head feel like it might burst. Architecture, dicine, mysticism, history, herbology, politics, ravenry...
After sorting through it all, Viserys realized he had acquired knowledge across seventeen different disciplines.
And these disciplines, when combined with mories from his previous life, seed to have refined and evolved even further.
Unfortunately, before transmigrating, Viserys had been a language teacher.
Had he been more versed in sciences like physics or chemistry, it might have been even more helpful.
He also realized he had briefly glimpsed Pycelle's life:
Born into a minor noble house, sent to Oldtown at fifteen to study, and, while still quite young, entered royal service in King's Landing.
He had served three kings — Aegon V, Jaehaerys II, and Aerys II.
Opening his eyes again, Viserys's violet gaze shone with an unmistakable wisdom.
"Participation: 70%. Pycelle had achievents in twenty-four fields, and I obtained seventeen..."
Viserys pondered, gradually understanding the function of his golden finger.
It allowed him to acquire another's skills and knowledge through their death. But re academic knowledge from half a Grand Maester would not change his fate.
If he wanted to survive, he needed territory. He needed an army!
Despite gaining Pycelle's vast learning, Viserys found there was little he could imdiately do.
He still had to flee with Queen Rhaella to Dragonstone.
'No — wait! Ravenry!'
He quickly browsed the knowledge in his mind related to training and using ravens.
Ravens were like carrier pigeons — the primary thod of communication across the Seven Kingdoms. With Pycelle dead, almost no one in the Red Keep would know how to manage the ravens.
Maybe he could use them to contact the outside world?
But disappointnt quickly followed.
Who could he even reach out to? The North, the Riverlands, the Vale, and the Stormlands had all rebelled.
The Westerlands — the Lannisters — had rebelled too.
The Reach remained loyal to the crown, but Mace Tyrell — the so-called "inflated fish" — was an inept commander.
He had failed to take Storm's End despite commanding tens of thousands.
Their fleet was equally incompetent, unable to even blockade a smuggler, allowing the rebels to survive inside the castle.
As for Dorne, it was too far away to be of any imdiate help.
'Wait — wasn't the Sword of the Morning still alive? Could I send him a ssage, ask him to move toward Dragonstone?'
The Sword of the Morning was the most renowned knight of the era — powerful and, equally importantly, honorable.
Before the war broke out, Rhaegar had stationed him at the Tower of Joy to guard his other wife, Lyanna Stark. Lyanna was due to give birth soon.
If he could bring the Sword of the Morning to Dragonstone, Viserys would have a mighty protector.
Such a man should not die at the Tower of Joy.
Just thinking about the possibility of having the Sword of the Morning as his bodyguard made Viserys feel much more at ease.
He rembered that even after reaching Dragonstone, they would not be safe.
There were traitors there too, willing to sell them out for favor. But if he had the Sword of the Morning at his side, no one would dare harbor treacherous thoughts!
Thinking this far, Viserys found himself unable to sleep.
Technically, he could wait until they reached Dragonstone to send a letter — but Robert's forces were about to storm King's Landing.
He did not want to waste even a second.
Just as he prepared to slip out quietly, he heard soft sobbing nearby. Queen Rhaella was awake. He could not leave.
"Mother, are you still awake?" Viserys asked gently.
At the sound of his voice, Rhaella's body trembled, and she could no longer hold back her grief. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs.
Viserys got up and lit a candle.
A handmaiden imdiately rushed in from outside.
"Bring so hot water," Viserys instructed.
However, the handmaiden hesitated, looking to the queen for confirmation. Rhaella glanced at Viserys, confused, but still gave a nod.
Only then did the handmaiden leave.
'Even a handmaiden won't obey without permission...' Viserys thought, once again reminded of his own lowly status.
"Mother, since you can't sleep, let's talk for a bit," he said, holding Rhaella's hand.
Having just absorbed Pycelle's knowledge, he felt no sleepiness whatsoever. His mind was clear and alert.
"Viserys... your brother... he's not coming back," Rhaella said, her voice breaking.
"I know," Viserys nodded. "He died. And death ans we'll never see him again."
Rhaella studied him with her athyst gaze, clearly surprised.
"I know no one can replace my brother in your heart, Mother," Viserys continued, "but in my heart, no one can replace you either. I'm very worried about you."
As he spoke, tears rolled down his cheeks.
Rhaella pulled him into her arms, her cries quiet and heart-wrenching, like a bloodstained nightingale.
The sound alone could break one's heart. Fortunately, under Viserys's patient comfort, Rhaella's emotions slowly cald.
Soon the handmaiden returned with hot water.
Viserys personally wiped his mother's face, and then carefully washed her feet. The sight was so touching that even the handmaiden wept.
At last, soothed and exhausted, Rhaella fell into a light sleep.
By now dawn was near.
Viserys decided to sneak back to Pycelle's quarters one more ti.
It was a small, cautious move — whether it would pay off, he would leave to fate.
If nothing else, once they reached Dragonstone, he would just kill a few more traitors to keep the others in line!
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