Chapter IX: Samwell I – The Citadel
To King Brandon, First of his Name,
The Citadel does not approve of the decision to appoint an acolyte to the position of Grand Maester. We will send an emissary to inform you of our own choice in the matter.
That scroll had arrived by raven four weeks ago. Now, Samwell Tarly, temporary Grand Maester by the appointment of the king, nervously paced in the king’s solar while they awaited the arrival of the emissary. King Bran had declined to hold any public meetings today, and now Sam knew why. He wanted to resolve this privately. Why he wanted Sam to be present for it was more of a mystery.
Ser Brienne led the emissary inside, and Sam wanted to hide behind a shelf. Unfortunately there weren’t any shelves in the solar large enough to hide his bulk, and so he had no choice but to gulp, and greet the man.
“Maester Ebrose,” he said. “Welcome to King’s Landing.”
Ebrose grave him a withering glare, then turned to Bran, sitting in his chair behind the desk. “Your Grace, the Conclave have appointed me to the position of Grand Maester.”
Bran just stared at him serenely. “I’m aware.”
“Are you? Have they sent another raven confirming my appointment?”
Sam tried to suppress a chuckle. Ser Brienne, who stood behind Ebrose’s back, didn’t bother to hide her smile.
“No.”
“Then how—”
“The fact of the matter is this, Maester Ebrose. I do not accept their decision. Maester Samwell is more qualified for the position than you are. You are welcome to stay in the Keep, but you will not have a seat on my council.”
“That is absurd!” Ebrose cried. “The Grand Maester is chosen by the Conclave. This man is a mere acolyte. He hasn’t finished any of his links! He stole from the Citadel!”
The last accusation made Sam flinch, but Ebrose didn’t notice. “I had a good reason for that,” muttered Sam.
“You stole from the Citadel,” Ebrose repeated, staring at Sam.
Sam straightened his spine and stared back. He had faced wights and White Walkers, he reminded himself. Ebrose was just an old man.
“He did so for a cause greater than your order, Maester,” Bran said calmly. When Sam turned towards him, his eyes had a faraway look to them. “This kingdom needs men who can look past their own shadows and preconceived notions to do what is best. You are not that man, and neither is anyone else your order might send. You proved that. Sam may finish his studies, if he wishes, but even if he does not, the seat is his, not yours.”
“But—”
“This is a new age. It is time for change, not just in this city, but also in your Citadel,” Bran told him, and suddenly his eyes became sharp as they bored into Ebrose’s. “I suggest you get started, before time catches up with you and leaves you behind.”
Fin