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Chapter 180: Red Guard Keep & Black Cave
🕑 Added 2025-03-01 12:35:24 +0000 UTCAs the Karatz released the falcon to deliver crucial information to the castle in Summerhall, the Red Watch Castle, situated in the upper reaches of the Red Watch River, ushered in its third bountiful harvest of the year.
Carriages laden with grain clogged Red Watch Avenue, while hundreds of Red Watch Castle guards worked tirelessly to direct the flow, ensuring the streets remained passable as swiftly as possible. Amidst the endless carts overflowing with grain, a dozen or so stood out—these were not carrying grain but rather bundles of firewood bound with rope, sacks filled with various weeds, and some unsettling dried insects.
Because of the strange cargo, the other carts instinctively steered clear of the convoy, their drivers casting wary glances at Vickon, the man leading it, as if he were some kind of oddity.
Vickon was a native of Slayne. Unlike many of his people, who had left the Red Watch Valley in search of new settlements, he had chosen to stay and continue farming. It wasn’t that he had a deep passion for agriculture—his only family member had been killed by his fiancée’s father in a conflict fueled by greed. Unable to face his fiancée and her father, he had opted to remain behind.
At first, he grew wheat, soybeans, and corn as he always had. Then, one day, an official from Red Watch Castle approached him with a proposition: would he be interested in cultivating herbs?
Vickon had never heard of planting herbs before. They were typically foraged in the mountains, not grown in fields. Curious about the idea, and already weary of traditional farming, he agreed.
It didn’t take long for him to realize that growing herbs was far more complicated than he had anticipated. It was nothing like growing food. He needed to hire workers to tend the herb garden and keep meticulous records of each plant’s growth. Every ten days, several Maesters would visit to inspect the herbs, immediately instructing him to adjust his planting methods if they detected any issues.
His inexperience meant the first harvest was meager, and after paying his workers, he had barely anything left. Fortunately, Red Watch Castle acknowledged his struggles and granted him a one-year tax exemption. They also provided him with an interest-free loan with no fixed repayment deadline, allowing him to continue his efforts.
Armed with newfound knowledge, his second harvest was significantly better. He began making a profit and soon realized that cultivating herbs was far more lucrative than growing staple crops. A single decent harvest was enough to recoup his earlier losses and generate earnings.
Later, he took on the additional task of raising worms, which cemented his reputation as an eccentric in the Red Watch Valley. Every time he delivered harvested herbs and dried insects to the castle, he encountered the same reaction—people keeping their distance, eyeing him with curiosity and unease. By now, he was used to it.
As he leaned back in his cart, dozing while waiting for the food convoy ahead to move, a group of castle guards approached him. The captain, a man Vickon had dealt with before, addressed him.
"Vickon, a lord wants to see you. He has some questions for you. Come with me—my men will take care of your cargo."
Perplexed, Vickon followed the guard captain toward the castle.
Red Watch Castle was built atop a hill. Aside from the main keep, which was constructed from stone, the rest of the structures were made of wood. A wall of wooden stakes encircled the hillside, dividing it into various districts. To reach the castle from the base of the hill, one had to wind through at least four separate districts, giving the fortress a sprawling, layered appearance.
Instead of heading to the main keep, Vickon was led to a small two-story building in the second district. He recognized it—it belonged to the silent holy man of the Redemption Sept.
The Silent Men were a unique order of holy man. Those who joined shaved the tops of their heads, wore simple monk’s robes, and took a lifelong vow of silence. They embraced a life of asceticism and hard labor, believing that true devotion was best shown through work.
Although their daily necessities were provided by the Church of the Faith of the Seven, the silent men insisted on working every day. They maintained a plot of land in the Red Watch Valley, dedicated to growing the vegetables they consumed. This small two-story building served as housing for the monks responsible for managing the farmland.
Vickon had always respected the Silent Men. Once they finished their own work, they would often help others without expecting anything in return. They carried out their tasks in silence, and before leaving, they always took the time to clean the farm tools they had used.
Vickon had really wanted to hire a group of Silent Men to handle the task for him, but unfortunately, the Silent Men never accepted employment. They only assisted those in need with the work they were already determined to do.
The captain of the guards led Vickon to a small building and gestured for him to enter alone, waiting by the door.
Inside, the building was filled with priests diligently working, yet the atmosphere remained eerily quiet. There was no conversation, and even the sound of footsteps was hushed.
A priest noticed Vickon’s arrival and approached him, using hand gestures to ask what he needed.
Vickon explained that he had been sent here, and the priest, looking relieved, led him to a room on the second floor.
Inside the room, two men were already seated. One was an elderly Silent Man with a stern expression, while the other was an older man who appeared kindly. At first glance, the latter seemed like a harmless old man, but he wore a set of red chains—the kind used to imprison criminals.
In Summerhall, everyone knew that those bound in red chains were considered highly dangerous.
Sensing Vickon’s unease at the sight of the chains, the old man gave a warm smile and said, “You needn’t worry. This is merely a punishment from my lord for a mistake I made—nothing more than a necklace, really. I’m not some vicious criminal, just a curious Maester. Ah, I haven't introduced myself. You may call me Maester Qyburn.”
Vickon felt slightly reassured by the old man’s words, though he remained puzzled.
“Maester Qyburn, is there something you wish to ask me?”
Qyburn reached into his pocket and produced an insect specimen. “Do you recognize this insect?”
Vickon immediately did. It was a very unusual insect, one he had captured not long ago.
In Redemption Town, a Maester had a habit of collecting all kinds of insects and paid high prices for rare specimens. Many farmers in Red Watch Valley spent their spare time catching insects to sell, and Vickon was no exception.
He had first encountered this particular insect one night while returning home from the apothecary's garden. Several of them had been glowing with a silvery light, leaving behind drifting points of light like falling snowflakes as they flew. It had been an enchanting sight.
Using the tools he had on hand, he managed to catch them all and placed them in a cage. Later, he sold them to the Maester who regularly visited the village to purchase rare specimens.
Without hesitation, Vickon nodded, confirming his memory of the insect. Before Qyburn could ask further, he took the initiative to recount the entire story—from the moment he found the insect to the point where he sold it.
Qyburn listened intently, then frowned. “Have you seen this insect again since then?”
“No,” Vickon answered, shaking his head. “I don’t think this species is native to the Red Mountains. My people have lived here for generations, and we’ve never seen anything like it. I suspect it may have come from the Rainwood in the Stormlands.”
“Rainwood?” Qyburn murmured, briefly lost in thought. Then, he looked at Vickon and said, “If you ever come across this insect again, capture it immediately and bring it here. Inform any of the Silent Men that it is needed by the Black Cave, and you will be paid handsomely.”
“Yes, Maester,” Vickon replied with a nod.
Qyburn wasted no time and rose from his seat. At the same moment, the elderly Silent Man stood as well, following closely behind him. His gaze remained fixed on Qyburn, as if afraid that if he so much as blinked, the Maester might vanish.
Qyburn paid no mind to the old priest’s scrutiny. He walked directly through the castle to the shortcut leading through the Red Mountains.
The once-narrow path, which had only been wide enough for a single person, had since been expanded to accommodate three people walking side by side. A wooden railing had been installed along the outer edge to prevent accidents on the steep cliffs.
However, instead of taking the path, Qyburn headed for the elevator built into the pound wall beside it. Once the old priest stepped in as well, Qyburn reached for the bell inside and rang it.
After a while, the elevator slowly ascended and soon reached an intermediate platform. From there, they transferred to another elevator and continued upward. In total, they switched elevators seven times before finally setting out on foot along a long mountain trail. Along the way, they paused at small guard posts to rest before continuing their journey. By the time they reached the end of the trail and entered a mountain canyon, the sky had already begun to darken.
The canyon had been transformed into a fortress, with both entrances sealed off by imposing structures. The only way to pass through was via a central passageway built into the fortress. If an intruder attempted to force their way in, the gates would drop, trapping them inside.
Qyburn and the old priest made their way to the middle of the passageway and requested the nearby guards to open the fortress doors. After passing through a corridor, they emerged on the other side of the fortress, where the mountain wall loomed beside them.
They continued along the path running parallel to the mountain, making their way toward a perilous peak adjacent to the fortress. After traversing a sparse forest, they arrived at the entrance of a natural cave.
The cave’s entrance had been sealed with masonry, leaving only a single bronze door. At least fifty Chosen Guards, clad in septagram-adorned battle armor, stood guard before it. As soon as they spotted Qyburn approaching, they stepped forward and blocked his path.
The leader of the Chosen Ones spoke in a firm tone, "Maester Qyburn, by the Lord's decree, you are forbidden from conducting any experiments for the next six months and are not permitted to approach the Black Cave. Please do not make this difficult for us."
Qyburn did not argue. Instead, he lowered his voice and said, "I am well aware of the Lord’s prohibition. I have no intention of entering. However, could you send someone inside to fetch Lady Malora? Tell her that I have found a solution."
The Captain of the Chosen Ones was silent for a moment before nodding. Without delegating the task, he personally stepped into the Black Cave to locate Malora.
When Malora emerged from behind the door, she looked somewhat disheveled. Her hair was messy, and she had a tired expression, clearly indicating she had been struggling with some experimental dilemma.
Without hesitation, Qyburn took out the fluorescent insect and presented it. "My lady, would you consider this as a catalyst for the apotheosis potion?"
Malora's expression froze, and she regarded him with a cold stare. "A Ghostfire Beetle?" Her voice carried suspicion. "Why do you still have one in your possession? I distinctly remember using the last one."
Qyburn explained calmly, "This Ghostfire Beetle was already dead when it was delivered. I felt it was a pity to let it go to waste, so I made a specimen of it and kept it in my collection. It only occurred to me yesterday."
Though his explanation was given with apparent sincerity, Malora—who knew Qyburn all too well—did not believe a single word of it. However, she did not reject his offering. She took the Ghostfire Beetle specimen from him without another word, turned around, and re-entered the Black Cave to resume her unfinished experiment.
Qyburn remained unfazed by Malora’s cold response, maintaining his usual harmless smile. The surrounding Chosen Ones seemed slightly displeased on his behalf, but neither the Captain of the Chosen Ones nor the old priest who had been watching him ever reacted. They understood all too well what kind of man this seemingly harmless old Maester truly was.
Malora returned to her laboratory, carrying the specimen with her. However, she did not immediately begin working with it. Instead, she set it aside and resumed organizing the documents she had left unfinished earlier.
Two or three hours passed before she finally lifted her head from the mountain of papers. Reaching for the oil can on the table, she refilled the oil lamp, then carefully placed all the organized documents into an iron box, sealing it with wax.
Next, she walked over to the medicine shelf, where hundreds of prepared potions were stored. She selected seven or eight bottles and placed them in a specialized medicine box.
"You must deliver this to Lynd immediately. He is waiting for it. Do not use the front entrance; the secret back passage is faster," Malora instructed a Silent Man who had been standing motionless behind her like a statue. Handing him the iron box, she added with a grave tone, "Ensure that two teams of Chosen Ones handle the escort. The contents of this box are extremely important."
Upon hearing her instructions, the Silent Man’s expression, usually devoid of emotion, grew solemn. He accepted the two boxes in silence and departed without a word.
Almost the moment the first Silent Man left, another entered, taking up the same position as his predecessor and fixing his gaze on Malora.
Malora was long accustomed to the presence of these Silent Men and paid them no mind. She turned toward the workbench, set down the Ghostfire Beetle specimen, and resumed her failed apothecary experiment.
