15 Farewells (end)
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[William senior's POV]
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Maesters are scholars, healers and scientists, men of all ages and backgrounds united under one Order in a common quest to seek knowledge as well as to serve the Realm and its inhabitants...
Educated at the Citadel in Oldtown, the best center of erudition in the world, which also serves as the seat of the Order, their vocation is to advise the Lords of Westeros after having accumulated enough knowledge to be useful to them.
Put like that, the Order of the Maesters sounds highly honourable and dutiful, and to some extent it is, however, I could think of several examples pointing towards the opposite direction of that view.
The way the Maesters were carrying out their missions was debatable. The major part of the knowledge they possessed wasn't something they were willing to share since it was a monopoly allowing them to be indispensable in the eyes of the nobility. Putting aside sensitive information, in no way this secrecy was doing the people of Westeros any good, in other words, by wanting to be the only ones to hold their knowledge the Maesters were failing their duty to serve the Realm.
Also, it is difficult to determine where a Maester's allegiance lies. In principle a Maester has no political alignment, as such, the Maester officiating at Winterfell for example is supposed to be loyal to the House that owns Winterfell, not literally the Starks. In consequence, if Winterfell should pass into the hands of another House, the duty of the Maester of Winterfell shall be to serve the latter as if nothing happened...
In practice, it is not so simple, sometimes the attachment between a Maester and the House he serves is such that he is almost considered a member of it, and in this particular case there are many stories I have heard of Maesters who have reneged on their vows out of loyalty to the House to which they consider themselves to belong...
In the end, what one needs to know when pondering to whom a Maester's loyalty lies is that there is a long list of possibilities between the House he serves, the place he officiates, the Order of the Maesters and a third party.
In the case of House Tully, we could consider ourselves lucky with the replacement that was sent to us by the Citadel after the 'incident' that led to the death of Maester Kym. Maester Corwyn was one of the most unconventional and open-minded Maesters I have ever met, his way of thinking was welcome given how strange one of the member of our House could seem at first glance...
On top of that, his loyalty was in the right place, in fact, he was even more fanatical than I was about William becoming Lord of House Tully.
*VLAM*
I saw Corwyn, a slim man of hardly 1,65 meters dressed in a robe typical of Maester barge into my room without knocking beforehand, Brynden must have put a lot of emphasis on the severity of my condition for him to act this way because it was not in the habits of this man of mature age to rush himself in order to spare his vigor.
Out of breath and unconcerned with proper etiquette given the pressing situation, Maester Corwyn sat down on the stool to my right, and in a state of frenzy, he began to take out medicinal tools and mixtures from different 'pockets' of his robe...
"I came as fast as I could. How are you feeling?" He asked me while panting, without stopping to get his equipment out.
*COUGH* *COUGH*
I coughed purposely to remove the clotted blood that remained in the back of my throat, then I saw in Maester Corwyn's complexion, which had instantly turned pale, that he got the wrong idea that my health was further deteriorating...
"I am still... a long way... from being ready... to rest in... the Red Fork... Corwyn... my end is near... but not that imminent... do not worry. Just give me... some milk of... the poppy... for the pain." I asked him, looking at him straight in the eyes so that he could see that there was some life left in my gaze.
"As you wish, William." He answered me barely audibly, calling me by my first name because I was not comfortable with the fact that a man I regarded as a friend and who was nearly 5 years older than me referred to me with honorifics.
While Corwyn was putting away everything that was not needed in what he had taken out (that is, everything that was not a green glass vial containing a liquid whose texture and color reminded me of the one in my bollocks), I spoke again, "I talked to Hoster... about his succession..." I started to say, which earned me an inquisitive look from the Maester displaying how eager he was to hear the rest of my statement...
"He does not want... to make William... his heir... if Minisa... gives him a son... and he seemed... firm on this decision." I revealed, which had the effect of putting Corwyn in a state of agitation.
With trembling hands and a fearful but nonetheless resolute look, he went straight to the point, "When should I act?" He asked in a flat and dull tone.
"The day... does not matter... as long as... it happens... shortly after... she gives birth... and after... the guests... who will come... to pay their respects... and direspects... to my rotting corpse... have left Riverrun." I answered, not daring to speak the name of the person directly concerned by the instructions I was giving to Corwyn.
The trembling of his hands intensified, "Both must die?" He inquired in a very hesitant voice, which I could very well understand given what we were discussing. Our aim was to eliminate our own.
"Minisa has to die... no matter what... if she gets pregnant again... the same problem... might arise. As for the child... if it is a girl... of course she must... be kept alive... but if it is a boy... what needs to be done... is clear." I affirmed, thereby confirming Corwyn's fears judging by the gulping noise he made. I was beginning to believe that he was not the best person for the task.
"Very well, you can count on me. I will do what is necessary." He answered me firmly this time, although there was still a trace of unrest on his face.
I nodded, a little more reassured about Corwyn's ability to do as I ordered.
"Uh... please, could you open your mouth." He asked me, thus changing the subject, after uncorking the vial containing the milk of the poppy.
I did as instructed and Corwyn gave me the equivalent of a tenth of the liquid in the vial before placing it back on my bedside table, "Drink the rest when you will want to have a sleep in which you will be sure not to be interrupted." He told me in a low voice before heading towards the door of my room, quite a flowery way of saying 'this dose will put you to sleep and dull your senses so much that you won't feel death coming'.
"I will bring you your grandson." Corwyn added with a shy smile, before putting his right hand on the handle of the door...
I nodded my head in response and smiled back at him with a slightly more enthusiastic attitude than his.
"That won't be necessary, Maester Corwyn, I'm already here." We both heard through the door, which quickly drowned out the slightly relaxed atmosphere that had just developed...
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[William junior's POV] (Definitely the last time I will have to precise which William it is)
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My grandfather was always the first to say that I should not be underestimated despite 'my age', and yet, here he was, seen through by 'a child' because he couldn't stop himself from occasionally uttering barely cryptic words that he surely thought I would understand at worst after his plan worked, at best never, but which, from my point of view, spoke volumes about his true intentions from the moment they left his mouth...
All these innuendos on Minisa's health, on the sacrifices that had to be made for the good of our House, on forcing destiny, on the responsibilities I would have sooner or later, on how my talents would be wasted if my only future prospect was to become an assistant of Hoster, then his heir's...
Seriously, what was he thinking? That I was going to tell myself that these were perfectly normal things to say? That when I was brushing off the suspicious things he was telling me with a polite smile, my thought process was stopping at that too? That it would never occur to me that he could do such a thing?
Well, the answer to each of these questions was no. I mean, since it was my grandfather we were talking about I had my doubts, but they had just been totally dispelled after I heard the conversation between Maester Corwyn and him through his bedroom door.
Annoyed by the silence, I ended up entering the room uninvited, what I saw at the other end of the door were two foolish men looking at me with shock and fear, "Maester Corwyn, please leave, I need to have a private talk with my grandfather. I will see you shortly after that." I said curtly without even looking at the person I was addressing, my eyes were riveted to my grandfather's bewildered face.
It took Corwyn a moment to come to his senses, it was only after about five seconds that I heard the door slam shut behind me...
As soon as this was the case, I saw that my grandfather was going to open his mouth to justify himself and I stopped him before he had a chance to do so by putting my index finger in front of my mouth as a sign to keep quiet...
For about twenty seconds we stayed like that, he, with his mouth half open, wondering how tarnished my image of him was, and me, still with my index finger in front of my mouth, staring at him with intensity.
Out of the blue, I turned back to the door, opened it wide, then looked both ways down the hallway to make sure it was indeed deserted, "It would have been silly for me to be tricked in the same way as you." I finally told my grandfather with sarcasm to confirm what the purpose was behind my behavior.
"Have you... heard everything?" He asked me with a tone full of shame, his eyes lowered.
"Not everything, but more than enough to know what it's all about." I said in a heavy voice as I started to walk in a random patern in the room like if it was the first time I went inside...
I stopped in front of my grandfather's bedside table, there was a vial containing what was undoubtedly milk of the poppy on it, "Besides being cruel, your plan is flawed, by the way." I added with an exaggerated sneer while fiddling with the vial.
"Flawed?" He questioned me with a raised eyebrow.
I nodded, "Let's say the first step of your plan succeeds; Minisa and her potential son die. In the eventuality that Maester Corwyn did not cover his tracks well enough, which is entirely possible given how much he seems to be pooping himself and how paranoid Hoster is about this sort of things (his first two sons died in the crib), imagine then that Hoster finds out that his wife and son didn't die under natural circumstances, he would realize that the reason for all this is to force him to make me his heir, and he would hate me for it, no matter who ordered the assassination. His heart is like that, and this is just one of many examples of how it could go wrong." I told him in nearly one breath, before putting the vial down.
My grandfather looked at me with an air of apparent alarm at how calculative I could be, "Isn't it a bit hypocritical of you to look at me like that after all you have done?" I said with a frown, showing him a bit of the anger that I had contained until then.
"You are right..." He began to tell me in a weak voice, before slowly directing his right hand towards my right shoulder, a hand that I did not reject, "...however... it may be... the only chance... you have to... become Hoster's heir... William. Even if there is a risk... is this really... an opportunity you... want to turn down?"
Maybe he expected me to take my time to answer, but for me there was no need to think, let alone hesitate, "First of all, it's not the only possibility, it's just the easiest to think about. Also, the fact that I'm rejecting this madness does not mean that I give up the idea of becoming Lord of this House one day, just that I wish to become it on my own terms." I clarified my stance.
My grandfather squeezed my right shoulder a bit, his glassy eyes were hopeful, "Then... how do you... want to proceed William?" He asked me, his curiosity piqued.
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[2 hours later]
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My grandfather had taken his dose of milk of the poppy nearly an hour ago, when he felt death coming, from then on he entered a deep sleep punctuated by occasional nauseous gurgling, coughing fits and vomiting of blood...
In the meantime I remained at his bedside waiting for everything to be over, and it seemed that it was given the total silence that was reigning in the room for the last 2 minutes and the fact that his abdomen did not seem to move anymore, which was indicating the absence of breathing.
I got down from the stool I was sitting on and slowly approached my grandfather. I felt a tear coming from my left eye so with one hand I wiped it away and with my other hand I checked my grandfather's pulse...
"Nothing." I said out loud, and tears so profuse began to flow from my eyes that from then on I was going to need both hands to wipe them away.
He was dead, gone, and even though I was disappointed in what he did at the end of his life, I was mourning him with all my heart, because even though the respect I had for him had diminished greatly, it was not as much the same for the love I had for him.
