The next morning, Gawen awoke once again to the same pealing bells.
At this rate, one of two things was bound to happen over the next few years.
Either the bells would drive him completely insane and inspire him to organize a daring bell-stealing operation…
Or they would convert him into a devout believer, prompting him to resurrect the long-defunct Warrior’s Sons.
There really didn’t seem to be a third option.
Nothing improper had happened after dinner the previous evening.
Oberyn’s appetite for pleasure might have been legendary, but even he had his limits.
After sparring with Gawen, he’d looked like an orange that had been squeezed completely dry.
So, after finishing off two jugs of wine together, the pair had returned to the Citadel and retired to their own rooms.
Their quarters weren’t far apart, occupying the same wing.
Based on everything he’d learned so far, Gawen decided that today’s destination would be the Rookery.
He intended to study how the Citadel trained its ravens.
Druids naturally possessed an affinity for birds and could tame them with ease…
But perhaps the maesters had techniques worth learning as well.
The streets still lay beneath the soft shadows of early morning.
The sun had only been up for a few hours, yet Oldtown was already alive.
Groups of novices hurried through the streets carrying out errands.
Several maesters strode toward their lecture halls.
“And here I am…” Gawen mused to himself.
“Off to spend the day with ravens.”
Amused by the thought, he crossed the narrow passageways, walked over the bridge, and returned to the small island.
The fortress was exactly as he’d left it.
Ancient.
Silent.
Desolate.
Stepping inside, he activated his Druidic sight to search for living beings.
The spell wasn’t particularly subtle.
Whenever he used it, a faint, steady glow flickered within his eyes like quiet embers, though it caused him no discomfort.
After a careful sweep, he located several life signatures.
One remained perfectly still.
Probably asleep.
Another was moving somewhere on the opposite side of the fortress.
Finding one’s way through an unfamiliar castle was no easy task.
Though most castles followed similar architectural principles, their twisting corridors and layered passageways could confuse even experienced visitors.
Even with his enhanced senses, Gawen found himself walking into dead ends more than once.
Eventually, he reached his destination.
It was an enormous aviary—
Or rather, a vast enclosed sanctuary.
Iron mesh stretched across the roof, supported by heavy chains to keep the birds from escaping.
The sight reminded Gawen of the first zoo he’d ever visited in his previous life, where owls and eagles had been kept inside massive walk-in enclosures.
The owls immediately brought another memory to mind.
Hogwarts.
“Over there, wizards use owls to carry messages…” he thought with a grin.
“Here, ordinary people use ravens instead.”
For a brief moment, he even wondered whether he should raise an owl himself.
It certainly suited the image.
The enclosure was enormous, easily large enough to house hundreds of birds.
Some perched among the branches.
Others wandered across the ground.
And several…
Were gathered around a lone figure, seemingly communicating with him.
The man tending the birds was already well into middle age.
He looked to be around forty, with a balding head, graying hair, and a face lined by years of work.
He spoke gently to the ravens as he fed them.
“Grover, this one’s yours.
Catch.”
A strip of meat sailed through the air.
“Carl, here’s your share…
Shanna, heads up…”
He seemed to know every single raven by name.
“Archmaester Walgrave?”
Gawen approached quietly.
“Yes, that’s me.”
The old man looked up in mild surprise.
“And you must be one of the new novices?”
“I am, Archmaester.”
Gawen gave a respectful bow.
“I’d like to learn how to care for ravens.
I hope you won’t refuse.”
“Refuse?”
Walgrave chuckled before turning to the raven perched on his shoulder.
“What do you think, Wool?”
“Caw!
Caw!
Caw!” You are reading on g.com, the official source.
The raven answered with a series of cheerful cries.
“There, you heard him.”
“I agree.”
“Caring for ravens is a noble pursuit—and a useful one.”
“Now then…”
“What’s your name, young man?”
“Gawen Rowan.”
“Excellent.”
“We’ll begin with something simple.”
He handed Gawen a bucket filled with fresh rabbit meat.
“Feed our feathered friends.”
“Today’s menu is rabbit.”
“Take a piece and feed each one.”
“So…”
“Feeding birds.”
“The basics.”
Gawen sighed inwardly as he lifted the bucket.
A gentle pulse of natural energy spread from his body.
The nearby ravens immediately responded.
Within moments, dozens fluttered down to gather around him.
[Wild Affinity Proficiency +3]
Walgrave’s eyes widened.
“Oh!”
“You’ve got talent, young man.”
“Very impressive.”
He looked at the gathering flock with obvious approval.
“I simply use…
a special approach.”
Gawen replied with a faint smile.
Among all birds, ravens were unmatched in loyalty.
They were arguably the finest animal companions a mage could ask for.
Seagulls, on the other hand…
Absolutely insufferable creatures.
Bold.
Greedy.
Shameless thieves.
And Oldtown, being a coastal city…
Had far too many of them.
As he continued feeding the birds, Gawen quietly observed them.
The first thing he noticed was their size.
They were noticeably larger than the ravens from Earth.
Broader.
Stronger.
Northern corvid species on Earth could also grow quite large because of harsher climates…
But these birds were larger still.
As he worked, he silently examined them through Druidic magic.
It didn’t take long to notice something unusual.
These ravens possessed far more magical energy than ordinary birds should.
Gawen silently attributed that to the influence of the Three-Eyed Raven.
Their feathers were jet black.
Their beaks were thick and powerful, curving slightly downward at the tip.
“Ravens are birds with personalities.”
Walgrave explained patiently.
“The first lesson is learning how to get along with them.”
“Though…”
He smiled approvingly as one raven landed comfortably on Gawen’s shoulder.
“…you seem to have already mastered that.”
“Nora likes you.”
“I don’t mind.”
Gawen gently stroked the raven’s beak.
The bird tilted its head and let out a puzzled caw.
“I’ve always wondered…”
“How do they know where they’re supposed to fly?”
He already understood how magic could guide birds toward a destination or call them back.
What he didn’t know…
Was how ordinary people managed the same feat.
“Oh, that’s actually quite simple.”
Walgrave immediately brightened.
He clearly enjoyed discussing the subject.
“Messenger ravens date back to the Age of Heroes.”
“Perhaps even earlier.”
“It all began with skinchangers.”
“There were many more of them in those days, especially in the North.”
“They began raising ravens and teaching them routes from one castle to another.”
“The birds memorized those paths because they were fed at both ends.”
“Generation after generation, those routes became instinct.”
“Only specially bred birds raised in castle rookeries or here at the Citadel can do that.”
“So…”
“You mean selective breeding created these messenger ravens?”
Gawen frowned thoughtfully.
“But that still doesn’t explain everything.”
“How does a raven know to fly to this castle instead of another?”
“There are hundreds of castles across Westeros.”
“Wouldn’t every bird need to memorize thousands of different routes?”
Walgrave smiled knowingly.
“And so…”
“We return to skinchangers.”
He raised a single finger.
“Magic.”
“Many people here dislike that answer.”
“We have no shortage of skeptics.”
“But even after the dragons disappeared, magic never truly vanished.”
“Especially where ravens are concerned.”
“About ten years ago, Archmaester Marwyn and I conducted several studies.”
“Ravens are noticeably more intelligent than other birds.”
“And they possess a much stronger connection to magic…
and to mysteries.”
“I agree.”
Gawen fell silent, deep in thought.
Could it really be…
Has the Three-Eyed Raven been acting as Westeros’s unseen postmaster all this time?
Coordinating the movements of every messenger raven…
ensuring every letter reached its proper destination?
The theory made an unsettling amount of sense.
The Three-Eyed Raven was no longer truly human.
He had become something fused with the weirwoods themselves.
A mind like that…
Could process information on a scale no ordinary person ever could.
But linking every raven into a single communication network…
That would require the power of the Greenseeing.
Gawen’s thoughts raced.
More than ever, he wanted a Heart Tree of his own.
With one…
Many mysteries would become far easier to unravel.
The only question was…
Where should he plant it?
He still hadn’t found the place he intended to call home.
“That’s enough for today.”
Walgrave waved him over.
Picking up the now-empty feed bucket, the two walked back toward the fortress, returning the equipment to an novice working in the nearby kitchens.
“Oh, one more thing.”
“The ravens’ diet is extremely important.”
The old Archmaester seamlessly began the next lesson.
“They’re omnivores.”
“In difficult times, they’ll even eat carrion.”
“But if you want them to remain healthy…”
“They need a balanced diet.”
“Archmaester Ebrose and I ran a number of feeding trials.”
“If their nutrition is even slightly off, their feathers deteriorate…
or their bones become weak.”
“So I eventually developed what I believe to be the ideal diet.”
“Meat.”
“Fruit.”
“Berries.”
“And occasionally vegetables.”
Gawen suddenly asked,
“Have you ever tried mixing all of those ingredients together into a single prepared feed?”
“Hmm…”
Walgrave stopped walking.
His eyes lit up with interest.
“That’s…
an intriguing suggestion.”
“It could certainly be tested.”
“We’d simply need to determine the proper proportions.”
“Exactly, Archmaester.”
Gawen smiled with satisfaction.
This…
Was exactly what he had been searching for.
And to his own surprise, he realized just how much he had enjoyed the past few hours.
Send those stones my way—the more, the merrier.