Wearing a wooden lacquer mask and a black gauze robe, Quemor walked through the streets of the Town of Redemption. The rune ornaments hanging from her body clinked against one another, producing a crisp sound. The townspeople nearby were drawn to the noise, casting her unfriendly and curious glances, which soured her mood.
If this were Qohor, anyone daring to look at her with such disrespect would have ended up on her sacrificial altar, becoming her next offering.
But here, even if someone was brazen enough to insult her openly, there was nothing she could do about it. The last person who tried handling such disrespect the Qohor way had already been sent to the Black Cave—not as a researcher, but as a research subject.
This was precisely why she was starting to question whether coming to Westeros had been a mistake.
As the only Shadowbinder among the mages following Lynd, she believed she should have been given special attention. Yet, based on her treatment in the Town of Redemption over the past few days, it was clear she was regarded as just another ordinary mage, receiving no particular respect. She had already decided—she would stay a few more days, and if nothing changed, she would leave. She wouldn't waste any more of her time here.
Before long, Quemor left the town, making her way toward the Silent Court, which was still under construction beside the Redemption Sept.
Though Lynd, revered as a magic prophet, did not seem to place much importance on mages, he was surprisingly invested in the construction of the Silent Court. Not only had he set aside a large stretch of land for its development, but he had even halted the construction of Summerhall Castle to accelerate the project. All the craftsmen were reassigned to work on the Silent Court, and the building materials originally intended for the castle were diverted there as well. He had even gone so far as to spend a fortune hiring additional craftsmen from elsewhere to bolster the workforce.
Because of this, within just a few weeks, the foundation of the Silent Court was already complete. The central hall and the primary halls of each department were now under construction. At this pace, it would likely take no more than a year to finish the entire project.
While planning the Silent Court, Lynd took the opportunity to restructure and classify the entire mage system—something that had never been done before, much like the ongoing revision of the fundamental magic scriptures.
Lynd divided mages into two broad categories: black magic and white magic. Within each of these, he established different factions, treating them as independent branches of magical heritage. For instance, Quemor's Shadowbinding was placed under the Black Court of Magic. Since she was the only one of her kind, she naturally became the chief instructor of this particular branch.
As the chief instructor, her responsibility was to establish the structure of her discipline, which included seeking out suitable apprentices.
However, at the moment, her focus was on designing the architectural style, layout, and interior facilities of the Shadowbinder Academy in accordance with its traditions. This was proving to be a frustrating endeavor because the artisan scholars from Oldtown's Citadel were utterly dense. Despite her explicitly stating her requirements and even providing sketches, they still managed to get it wrong, forcing her to order demolitions and rebuilds. As a result, she had to personally oversee the construction site at the Silent Court every single day.
When Quemor arrived at the Silent Court, still simmering with frustration, she was suddenly drawn to a commotion coming from the central hall. A crowd had gathered there, and among them were several instructors from various magical branches, much like herself.
"What's going on?" Quemor grabbed a passing apprentice of the Dark Warlocks and asked.
"Lady Quemor!" The apprentice stumbled from the sudden pull and was about to snap in irritation, but upon realizing that the person grabbing him was Quemor, his face instantly turned pale with fear. He hurriedly bowed with great respect and said, "Lord Prophet, in order to expand the library's collection, a reward has been offered. Any instructor willing to contribute their faction's secret arts to the library will receive a reward."
"What kind of reward?" Quemor asked.
"A dragon crystal necklace imbued with rune power," the apprentice explained, pointing to the stone giants standing outside the main hall, keeping order. "Similar to the runes embedded in their armor, but instead of creating freezing power, this necklace calms the wearer's mind. Lords Raguz, Bronn, and Maloxin have all tried it, and the effects are remarkable—it greatly enhances meditation and prayer."
Upon hearing this, Quemor immediately released the apprentice's arm and strode toward the gathered crowd.
As she reached the edge of the gathering, she unceremoniously shoved aside the people blocking her way. Those who were pushed aside reacted with anger at first, but upon realizing it was Quemor, their expressions changed to alarm, and they quickly backed away. Some even brushed off the spots where she had touched them, as if fearing they had been tainted by a deadly curse.
Their reaction was understandable. Even if Quemor wasn't the most powerful member of the Qohor Mage's Association, she was undoubtedly its most infamous. Anyone who had dared to cross her had met a gruesome fate—one of prolonged suffering, begging for death yet unable to find release.
Before long, Quemor reached the center of the crowd, where a stone platform held a necklace. Raguz and the others stood around it. Judging by the number of people present, it seemed every instructor-level mage had already arrived—except for her.
Quemor didn't care that no one had informed her about this. What interested her was the necklace itself. Through the power of her lacquered wooden mask, she could sense the immense magical energy within it.
"May I try it?" Quemor stepped forward and asked Raguz.
"Of course," Raguz nodded.
Without hesitation, Quemor picked up the necklace and fastened it around her neck. The moment she put it on, an overwhelming sense of tranquility washed over her. Her thoughts became sharper, her mind clearer than ever before. It was an entirely new experience.
After a moment, she removed the necklace and placed it back on the stone platform. Looking directly at Raguz, she asked, "How many secret arts must I contribute to obtain such a necklace?"
Like Quemor, those who had experienced the necklace's power were eager to offer the knowledge of their respective magical schools, submitting their arcane secrets to the Silent Court's library—even when Lynd's condition demanded full disclosure.
The generous reward rapidly expanded the library's magical archives, but this growth brought a serious problem: there was an enormous shortage of parchment, and not enough scribes to transcribe the knowledge.
Since the Silent Court had been born from Lynd's sudden inspiration, there had been no prior planning or preparation. All the parchment for its library had originally been allocated for the Sphinx Academy's revision of apprentice textbooks and study materials.
Moreover, copying texts on arcane secrets was vastly different from transcribing ordinary books. Only individuals with a constitution resistant to magical influence could safely scribe such knowledge. Ordinary people attempting it would succumb within a day or two—killed by the curses and unknown forces embedded within the secret arts.
Realizing the severity of the situation, Lynd had no choice but to introduce papermaking and printing ahead of schedule.
He had long considered revealing these technologies to strengthen his influence, but fearing potential backlash from the Citadel, he had chosen to keep them hidden.
Now, however, circumstances had changed. Given Lynd's current power, he no longer needed to worry about the Citadel's reaction. In truth, he had simply forgotten about these "weapons" after locking them away for so long. It wasn't until the Silent Court's library encountered this crisis that he remembered and finally decided to bring them into use.
"This is highly advanced technology!"
After summoning Malora from the Black Cave, Lynd handed her a parchment detailing the methods of printing and papermaking. She skimmed through it briefly before glancing up at him, her expression sharpening with realization.
"My lord, you've mastered these techniques long ago, haven't you?" she asked. "But you withheld them because of the Citadel, right?"
Lynd nodded.
"Why bring them out now?" Malora pressed.
Lynd explained the situation with the Silent Court's library.
After listening, Malora shook her head. "If you were to take my advice, I'd tell you to keep these two technologies sealed away a little longer. Wait until you have the same control over the Seven Kingdoms as you do over Summerhall—or at least half of them—before unveiling them. That would be the wiser course."
"Do I still need to fear the Citadel at this point?" Lynd frowned. "When I built the Sphinx Academy in Miracle Harbor, their reaction wasn't that extreme..."
"The Sphinx Academy is an entirely different matter," Malora said seriously. "I've seen its curriculum. It trains the lower-tier officials we need, and no matter how many it produces, it won't truly threaten the Citadel. Let me put it this way—if given the choice between a Citadel Maester adorned with a golden chain and a financial administrator trained by the Sphinx Academy, who would you pick to handle your local treasury?"
Lynd didn't answer. He simply smiled, because the answer was obvious. The Citadel's Maesters held too many advantages.
"That's why the Citadel sees little real threat in the Sphinx Academy. They resent it, but given your influence, they hold their tongues," Malora continued. "But these two technologies? They strike at the very foundation of the Citadel's power. If they spread, the system they've maintained for thousands of years will face complete upheaval. The Citadel won't just sit back—they'll do everything in their power to stop it."
Lynd's expression darkened. "And what exactly can they do? Stir the Seven Kingdoms into attacking me?"
"They wouldn't need to mobilize the Seven Kingdoms." Malora shook her head. "The Citadel harbors many secrets—many dangerous, forbidden forces. Maybe they can't harm you directly, but I can assure you, those around you won't be able to withstand them."
Lynd was silent for a moment before a thought struck him. He chuckled. "I've been thinking about this the wrong way. I only need papermaking and printing for myself—I don't actually have to be the one spreading them."
Malora narrowed her eyes. "Once these technologies are out in the world, you won't be able to control their spread. The principles behind them are simple—anyone with some expertise can replicate them. How do you plan to keep those involved from leaking them? Put them all through loyalty trials?"
Lynd smiled. "You misunderstand me. I'm not trying to stop their spread—I want them to spread, just not by my hand. If someone else disseminates these technologies first, I can use them freely afterward. By then, the Citadel won't have any reason to target me."
Malora blinked, momentarily stunned. She had assumed Lynd wanted to monopolize these technologies for as long as possible, extracting maximum benefit before they inevitably leaked. It hadn't even occurred to her that he might not care about controlling them at all.
Regaining her composure, she asked, "And how exactly do you plan to do that?"
Lynd thought for a moment. "What if I distribute a dozen copies of these technical documents to every major city in Westeros and Essos?"
Malora let out a short laugh. "I'll offer the Citadel my condolences."
She turned to leave but hesitated at the door. "Issue me a reading pass for the Silent Court library. I want to see if there are any books I haven't read."
Lynd didn't refuse. He quickly signed an authorization and handed it to her. Before she left, he added, "Don't let just anyone into the Black Cave. And don't speak of it to anyone."
"I know," Malora replied without looking back.
...
After Malora left, Lynd immediately summoned his Master of Whisperers, Balin, and the leader of the Blood Armored Men, Lothor Brune. He entrusted them with the task of spreading the printing and papermaking technologies, emphasizing that under no circumstances should it be traced back to Summerhall.
As they were about to depart, Balin suddenly stopped and turned back. "My lord, what should we do with the members of House Soyed who are still under house arrest?"
It had been over a month since House Soyed had been brought to Redemption Town. The household servants, employees, and anyone without direct or indirect blood ties to the family had already been reassigned across Summerhall—some to farm in Red Watch, others to build roads in Ridge City. Some had been placed in the military camps at Miracle Harbor as cooks and laundresses, while others had proven themselves and secured positions as attendants to various officials. A select few had even joined the Chosen Army.
Only the true members of House Soyed remained unprocessed, locked away in a prison on the outskirts of Redemption Town under the watch of Balin's intelligence network. Throughout their confinement, they had been interrogated extensively, providing valuable intelligence on the Free Cities, the various kingdoms of Essos, and the secrets of House Soyed.
"Has their interrogation been completed?" Lynd asked.
"It has," Balin confirmed.
Lynd fell silent for a moment before giving his order. "Bring Qos Soyed to me."