Among all the tangled, intricate knowledge of blood sorcery, only one ritual could be performed without a blood sorcerer’s own bloodline: the Blood Puppet ritual.
From the effects described, Gavin had no doubt this was the method Qyburn would one day use to bring the Mountain back to a twisted kind of life.
The book laid it out step by step.
First, you needed a fresh corpse—whole, with as little damage to muscle and bone as possible.
Then, using special materials, you drew a series of complex, glowing runes across the skin.
Those runes carried their own dark power and would channel what came next.
After that came the drugs.
Special compounds had to be injected carefully into multiple points throughout the body so they spread evenly and changed the corpse’s internal environment.
The true heart of the ritual came last.
Blood and drugs infused with magic had to be pumped slowly and steadily into the corpse’s veins, gradually replacing every drop of its original blood.
Speed, quantity, and exact injection sites were all strictly controlled.
One mistake and the entire working collapsed.
This particular sorcery was never considered especially powerful among true blood sorcerers.
Most of them used it simply to create loyal servants.
The resulting puppet’s strength was limited by whatever it had been in life.
Without regular infusions of magic, it would eventually fail and rot away.
The hardest part for anyone who wasn’t a blood sorcerer was the blood-replacement step.
It demanded absolute precision.
A true blood sorcerer who could command blood directly could do it with ease.
Anyone else would almost certainly fail.
Gavin’s interest sharpened.
Qyburn must have found ways around those limitations later.
The maester almost certainly had no magic of his own.
The cleanest source of magic-infused blood would be the master who intended to control the puppet.
Once revived, the creature would be completely loyal—bound to obey its creator without question, its own will wiped away.
That meant Qyburn’s work on the Mountain had fallen short of the full ritual.
The Mountain had kept some uncontrollable obsession and, in the end, had refused to follow orders.
Gavin studied the long list of required materials and drugs.
Most of the names meant nothing to him, but the ones he recognized were all rare and expensive.
Certain herbs grew only on remote cliffs or in ancient, hidden forests.
Some minerals had to be dug from deep underground at great cost in labor and time.
Still, coin could buy them—if you had enough.
Running the numbers with his own knowledge, he felt a chill.
One Blood Puppet would likely cost no less than a thousand gold dragons.
An enormous sum.
He clicked his tongue.
Even if the tourney prize came through exactly as he hoped, it would probably stretch to only four such puppets at most.
Making money was still the biggest problem—and it was going to stay that way for a long time.
The one bright spot: if his guess about the panel was right, it could greatly enhance these flesh puppets and free them completely from the limits of their original bodies.
Even an average corpse could become something terrifyingly strong.
The thought sent a thrill through him, but the bigger picture was sobering.
Building an army of the undying this way was going to be a long, hard road.
He had plenty of ideas for goods that could make serious wealth.
Every time he thought about actually producing them, the same helpless feeling returned.
With his current strength and position he couldn’t protect what he created.
The moment real profit appeared, powerful people would descend like wolves on fresh meat.
He was already thinking about finding a strong partner to shield any venture.
The next day he returned the books to Qyburn’s study.
He knocked, entered with a polite, modest smile, and bowed.
“Maester Qyburn, thank you for lending me these books.” Qyburn nodded, still smiling.
“How well did you understand the contents?” Gavin stepped to the desk and began laying out his thoughts in clear order.
They discussed the material deeply.
Gavin’s ideas—drawing on knowledge from beyond this world and his own feel for magic—clearly surprised Qyburn and solved problems that had troubled the older man for a long time.
After a long conversation, Gavin leaned forward, eyes hopeful.
“Maester Qyburn, talking with you has been incredibly valuable.
I’d like to ask if, through your position as a maester, I could borrow more books like these—especially anything on magic.
It would help me broaden my knowledge a great deal.
Would that be possible?” His hands rubbed together unconsciously, betraying his nerves and eagerness.
Qyburn leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping the desk as he studied Gavin.
After a moment he spoke seriously.
“That’s no small request, Gavin.
Most of those books are precious and closely guarded.
Only full maesters are normally allowed to borrow them.
I can arrange for you to see some, but you must swear to keep everything you read in absolute secrecy.” His expression was grave.