Oldtown, Municipal Hall Guesthouse.
Evening. Arthur interviewed the old maester who had come from the Citadel.
He wore a simple but elegant robe of gold silk patterned with black, emblazoned with the large black bat sigil of House Whent—his personal emblem. At this moment he looked less like a fierce knight and more like a refined young nobleman.
Even after paying the gatekeeper of the Seneschal's Hall, only one man had shown up.
"So many muscular brutes?" Qyburn thought as he caught sight of Arthur's four armed guards outside the room. Each one was powerfully built and carried an aura of menace.
The heir to Harrenhal was young, yet he clearly had an excellent eye for talent.
But when he actually saw Arthur, Qyburn was surprised. He had expected a hulking brute, not this tall, handsome, and graceful young warrior.
Qyburn quickly hid his curiosity and began the interview properly.
Becoming a maester required both time and talent. Many acolytes in the Citadel remained chainless their entire lives. Even those who completed their studies could abandon their vows and flee before taking the final oaths.
Some were simply noble sons seeking knowledge—like the Red Viper or Gunthor Hightower.
Only the rare few who truly embraced the maester's oaths became candidates the Conclave could assign.
These men had their pride. Many had no desire to become a lowly household maester—especially not for the infamous Harrenhal—and preferred to wait for better postings.
Combined with Arthur's strict requirements, it was no surprise that few had come.
Yet one brave soul had answered the call: Maester Qyburn, learned in medicine, ravenry, and astronomy.
He was tall and slightly stooped, with prominent blue eyes surrounded by many fine wrinkles.
Arthur studied him. The chain around Qyburn's neck currently held links in astronomy, medicine, and ravenry.
"Maester Qyburn, specialist in medicine, ravenry, and celestial studies," Qyburn introduced himself.
At this point Qyburn had not yet begun his secret human experiments—only work on cats and dogs. However, his close association with Marwyn and his interest in the higher mysteries had already marginalized him within the Citadel.
"I honestly expected no one from the Citadel would come," Arthur said, looking at Qyburn. He gestured for a servant to pour the maester a cup of warm spiced wine.
"Most maesters are conservative by nature. That is only to be expected," Qyburn replied slowly. "But I am different. I am forever curious. Ordinary lords hold no interest for me. You, however, intrigue me greatly, Lord Arthur Whent. You are wealthy… and interesting."
"Why?"
"Harrenhal is a place of wonder. They say the ghosts of Black Harren and his descendants still walk its halls, and that no one can escape its curse. Yet from what I see, you seem quite different. A shining knight of great promise—the Bat Knight."
"Ordinary men fear curses," Arthur said thoughtfully. "Only the strong and the wise can see through such illusions, Maester."
"Before I become your household maester, however, I must ask you one question, young lord," Qyburn said with a mysterious smile. "Do you believe in souls?"
Arthur did not answer directly. Instead he looked at Qyburn and said, "Souls are difficult to speak of, but life is a moving flame."
"Exactly! Precisely so!" Qyburn's eyes widened with delight, as if he had found a kindred spirit. "A friend of mine once said the very same thing."
"Who?"
"Archmaester Marwyn. But he has already sailed east."
Arthur was not disappointed. The Citadel only had two or three true masters of the higher mysteries. Securing even one was already a success.
"One is sufficient," Arthur said, looking at Qyburn. "When the time comes, I will visit Archmaester Marwyn. But with your current status, will the Citadel allow you to leave?"
"Others might not be permitted to follow you, and the Citadel would never release them," Qyburn shrugged. "But I am different. My close friend is Marwyn. To the Conclave and the archmaesters, I am equally unwelcome. They would be delighted to see me gone."
"Very well. But I must be clear from the start," Arthur said seriously. "Every great tree has leaves that drink the sun and roots that never see daylight. Those roots must remain hidden. I do not want you causing me trouble."
Hiring a doctor of medicine was one thing. Hiring a budding necromancer was another. They were still in peacetime. Discovery could be disastrous.
"I understand. But if I work cleanly, no one will ever know," Qyburn's eyes gleamed.
"You are my man now. Your affairs are my affairs. Before you act, my people will assess the risk."
Qyburn nodded. He could accept those terms.
After years of dissecting cats, dogs, and corpses, he already harbored far bolder ideas. He wished to advance to living subjects and true necromancy—one of the main reasons he had come to Arthur.
"My lord, your eyes… that deep blue, almost purple. Quite rare. They remind me somewhat of Aegon the Fifth and Prince Rhaegar," Qyburn said carefully.
"I had a high fever as a child," Arthur replied calmly.
"I see," Qyburn nodded.
"Welcome to the company," Arthur said, extending his hand.
...
Dawn. The open sea.
The oars of the Summer Islander swan ship rose and fell, churning the brass-colored water into white foam.
They had already left Whispering Bay behind. In the distance Arthur could still see the fertile shores of the Arbor, the Redwyne family's stronghold.
The Arbor possessed its own fleet and several ports—Ryam's Port, Vine Town, and Starfish Harbor.
Time was short. They were sailing straight for Starfall.
"The seas are truly calm these days. Even the pirates have grown scarce," the Summer Islander sailors remarked.
Any pirates foolish enough to attack a swan ship would learn the hard way why their goldenheart longbows were feared across the world.
"The longships are returning home," Arthur thought. King Balon was gathering his strength for another great rebellion.
The Iron Islands were weak. Before any uprising, Balon needed to recall every ironborn captain currently raiding in the Stepstones, the Disputed Lands, and even Slaver's Bay.
The Iron Throne should have noticed the trend, but they probably simply dismissed Balon as a fool.
After all, Robert already had several children. The throne had never looked more secure. Who would be mad enough to challenge it?
Then again, no sane man could truly understand Balon Greyjoy's mind.
Arthur stood at the prow, sea wind whipping through his long hair like a true son of the waves.
The storm was coming. He would not waste this golden opportunity.
Behind him stood Ser Lucas Dayne, Maester Qyburn, squire Wylis, young Lucas, and big Rolly—arrayed like the spread wings of a great bird.
A short distance away were the hedge knights Lothor, Clarence, and Tristimont.
Arthur's company had been assembled from many sources, yet it was already formidable.
The original core of the Dark Knight Company had clear roles:
Ser Lucas was the master-at-arms and advisor.
The newly arrived Maester Qyburn was the scholar.
Wylis Wode handled intelligence and negotiation.
Young Lucas managed finances.
Tristimont served as a reserve naval commander.
Lothor, Clarence, and big Rolly provided raw muscle.
"What is your company called, my lord?" Qyburn asked Ser Lucas curiously.
"The Dark Knight Company," Ser Lucas answered, gazing out at the sea.
He was growing sentimental. They were nearing home, and he missed every stone and blade of grass in Starfall—especially now that House Dayne finally had a true heir in Edric.
"Dark Knight Company… an unusual name," Qyburn said with a grin. "Then I shall wish for it to become famous across Westeros."
Knightly orders were popular in Westeros. There had once been the Kingsguard, the Holy Hundred, the Green Hand knights…
The Holy Hundred had been disbanded. The Green Hand knights had been reduced to a single survivor.
The Manderlys, driven from the Reach and spared the fury of the dragons, still proudly called themselves the last of the Green Hand knights.
Today the most famous order remained the Kingsguard—the white cloaks.
"Not unusual at all," Arthur explained. "Even when standing in darkness, we fight for the light."
The Dark Knight Company would become famous, Arthur thought with a faint smile.
He would forge its name with blood and fire, death and terror.
Ahead of them, Starfall was finally in sight.