Skyrim System In Westeros

The Rose Road, connecting Highgarden to King's Landing, took at least ten days to traverse on horseback. Along the way, inns dotted the roadside, offering travelers a chance to rest and dine before continuing their journey the next day.

Seating arrangements during meals followed an unspoken hierarchy. Soldiers dined together, knights at another table, while Lords and their ladies shared a separate table. The Tyrells of Highgarden, as the highest-ranking nobles present, occupied their own table. As the younger brother of the King of the Seven Kingdoms and the newly appointed Lord of Antlers Keep, Wright had no choice but to join them.

During one dinner, Olenna Tyrell, vexed by Wright deliberate avoidance of her, decided to provoke the boy. She elegantly cut a piece of meat and placed it on his plate.

"I've heard you're betrothed to a bastard girl? You'd better eat more now, as there might not be much meat on your plate after the wedding," she remarked.

Ten-year-old Willas and the chubby Garlan sensed danger and quickly buried their heads in their meals, hoping to avoid drawing Olenna's ire.

Wright looked at Olenna, puzzled. What's that supposed to mean?

"Don't worry f\~ck, T\~A isn't a bastard daughter anymore." he replied, deliberately mumbling and letting his missing front teeth show, making it clear he couldn't speak properly. With a mischievous grin, he quickly followed the Tyrell brothers' example, focusing on his food and planning his escape.

Unbothered, Olenna continued. "And what about Robert? Did he send you off to become a maester?"

"I'm oo study for a time," Wright replied, his speech still slurred. "Isn't that what many nobles do?"

Olenna raised an eyebrow. Initially dismissing Wright as an ordinary six-year-old, she now began to notice something different about him. During the royal wedding, he had remained silent, but now she sensed a sharper mind at work.

As Olenna prepared to probe further, Wright hastily finished his meal, muttered, "Apologies, toothache," and bolted from the inn.

"He's still just a child, no matter how noble. Just receive him politely. What's the point of talking so much with him?" Mace Tyrell commented between mouthfuls of food, clearly unimpressed by his mother's interest in Wright.

"That boy is already at the Citadel at six," Olenna retorted, her tone sharp. "And you, Mace, how many letters could you write at that age? All you did was eat like a bottomless pit."

Willas and Garlan exchanged glances, struggling to suppress their laughter. They knew their grandmother's temperament all too well. No one escaped her barbs, though they also knew her sharp tongue concealed a deep love for her family.

Mace Tyrell's arrogance, shortsightedness, and lack of political cunning made Olenna the true power behind Highgarden. Her extensive network kept her better informed than her son, but as his mother, she felt compelled to offer advice.

"There's a rumor in King's Landing that the original betrothal was for Renly, but Wright insisted it be changed to himself. I've also noticed the books he reads are written in Valyrian. The boy is sharp, but Robert hasn't mentioned this at all, which suggests he's deliberately protecting him."

Turning to her grandsons, Olenna added, "You two should seize any opportunity to build a good relationship with him."

"Yes, grandmother," they replied in unison, knowing better than to disagree.

---

After parting ways with the Tyrells at Highgarden, Wright' entourage continued along the Rose Road until they reached their destination: Oldtown. Despite its name, Oldtown was the largest city in all of Westeros.

Situated at the mouth of the Honeywine river, the city's most striking feature was the towering Hightower. Serving both as a lighthouse and as the seat of House Hightower, Wright estimated it to be nearly 300 meters tall, almost rivaling the Oriental Pearl Tower of his former world. However, the Hightower was far sturdier, befitting its purpose as a military stronghold.

Legend attributed its construction to Brandon the Builder, who had also raised the Wall in the North. Some claimed it was built by a different Brandon of the same name. Regardless of its origins, the Hightower remained an awe-inspiring sight.

The other prominent structure in Oldtown was the Starry Sept, the former seat of the High Septon of the Faith of the Seven. However, that seat had been moved to the Great Sept of Baelor in King's Landing. The Citadel, in contrast, lacked a singular grand structure. Instead, it resembled a cluster of buildings much like a university campus in the modern world.

Oldtown stood in stark contrast to King's Landing. While the capital was notoriously filthy and chaotic, Oldtown was clean and well-organized, with numerous canals crisscrossing the city, allowing merchant ships to sail directly into its heart.

Wright first stop in Oldtown was the Hightower, the seat of House Hightower. House Hightower was the most powerful house in the Reach. Its current head, Lord Leyton Hightower, had previously attended tournaments at Storm's End and was a familiar face. Lord Leyton's third daughter, Alerie, was married to Mace Tyrell, making her the mother of Willas, Garlan, Loras, and Margaery. Building a good relationship with the Hightowers was a logical first step, given Wright plan to stay in Oldtown for several years.

Though Lord Leyton remained in King's Landing, his heir, Ser Baelor Hightower, welcomed Wright warmly and even hosted a small banquet in his honor. The following day, Baelor assigned his younger brother, Gunthor Hightower, the ninth-born of the family, to escort Wright to the Citadel. Gunthor was also studying there, making him a suitable guide.

Lord Leyton's remarkable fertility was a well-known topic. Gunthor, i his seven ten or eight ten name day, was born to Leyton's fourth wife. The family even had a tenth-born sibling. Unlike Walder Frey, who focused on sheer numbers regardless of quality, the Hightower siblings were renowned for their good looks. Their handsome sons and beautiful daughters were a stark contrast to the infamous unattractiveness of Frey offspring, a fact widely acknowledged by the nobility.

As Wright and Gunthor made their way through Oldtown, they chatted about the city, with Wright praising its urban planning. Hearing such compliments about the family's legacy filled Gunthor with pride.

"My brother mentioned you're studying Eastern languages. Do you know High Valyrian?" Wright inquired, curious about the subject.

"I'm currently studying the Summer Isles language," Gunthor replied. "I've never studied High Valyrian. At the Citadel, anything related to Valyria is looked down upon."

Realizing Gunthor wasn't knowledgeable about Valyrian, Wright shifted the conversation.

"I need to buy a small house in Oldtown. I'll stay at the Citadel, but my guards will need a place to live during these years. Do you know where I can find one?"

Gunthor thought for a moment. "I usually stay within the Citadel, so I'm not familiar with such matters. However, there's a merchant who deals in real estate and has close ties with our family. We can ask him."

"That sounds reliable. Let's go."

At the merchant's establishment, Gunthor exchanged pleasantries before Wright explained his needs. "I need a house near the Citadel that can accommodate my guards. Do you have anything suitable?"

The merchant, ever polite, immediately recognized Wright as a noble from his demeanor. Still, seeing such a young buyer gave him pause, as houses accommodating twenty people were no small investment. He looked to Gunthor for confirmation.

"I am Wright Baratheon, Lord of Antlers Keep and younger brother to King Robert of the Seven Kingdoms. I'll purchase the house myself, so you need not worry about the funds," Wright clarified.

"Ah, Lord Wright! I do have three suitable properties. Allow me to show them to you."

Wright brothers had each contributed to his expenses for his time at the Citadel. Renly, despite still being a child, had provided the most funds, as he was now the wealthiest of the siblings, holding the title of Lord of Storm's End. Robert, meanwhile, was still recovering from the lavish expenses of his coronation and wedding, while Stannis had already exhausted Dragonstone's meager resources.

After visiting the three properties, Wright purchased a three-story house by the water. With over ten rooms, it could easily house his guards two to a room, with extra space to spare. Wright planned to sell the property when he left the Citadel in a few years, confident he could turn a profit as long as Oldtown avoided war or plague. Renting, he reasoned, was a waste of money, and real estate investment was always a better option.

He reserved the largest room for himself for when he stayed outside the Citadel, leaving day-to-day management to his captain of the guard. The guards were tasked with organizing themselves.

Watching them work, Wright reflected on their role. These guards, handpicked by Robert, were loyal but lacked exceptional skills. At this stage, Wright didn't truly need protection; the only threats to him were poisons, dragons, or supernatural forces. In such cases, even the guards would be of little help—he might even end up protecting them instead. For now, they served more as attendants and symbols of his status as a royal noble.

After giving his final instructions to the captain of his guards, Wright set off with Gunthor towards the Citadel.

Under the current customs, once a noble reached ten-and-six name days, they could start gathering their retinue and building their own household. Wright, however, wasn't in a rush. He was focused on developing himself as a battle mage and had yet to fully master his own path.

The Citadel, located along the banks of the Honeywine river, served as both a place of learning for maesters and the administrative center for their order across the Seven Kingdoms. It bore a strong resemblance to a modern university.

As they walked, Gunthor explained the Citadel's structure.

"The Citadel only accepts men. New arrivals are called novices. Once they choose a discipline, they become acolytes. There are more than a dozen fields of study here. Acolytes forge links of the corresponding metals to form their chains. Once they complete their chain and swear to forsake their family name, forgo marriage, and vow not to father children, they are granted the title of maester."

This world already had three professions that required individuals to renounce their identities: the Night's Watch, the Kingsguard, and the maesters. Wright couldn't help but reflect on this system. It was clearly designed by the noble houses to curb any potential power these groups could amass. Ultimately, it was a consequence of the world's lagging productivity.

As a traveler from another world, Wright felt both resigned and reflective as he considered this. Even in the most advanced societies, inheritance often brought strife—disputes over property or shares were common enough. In a place as feudal and underdeveloped as Westeros, such issues were even more pronounced.

Gunthor continued his explanation.

"Once someone earns the title of maester, they can be dispatched to serve a lord. The Citadel maintains permanent neutrality, so maesters rarely participate directly in warfare. Lords pay for their services, which helps keep the Citadel running. Occasionally, a maester's significant contributions to a lord's cause result in large donations. Novices can also earn extra coin by doing tasks at the Scribe's Hearth."

By now, they had reached the gates of the Citadel. On either side stood statues of sphinxes.

Wright eyed the statues curiously. Sphinxes were clearly rooted in ancient Egyptian mythology, yet here they were in Westeros. The mysteries of this world continued to intrigue him.

Beyond the gates lay the Scribe's Hearth, a bustling area filled with stalls. Merchants and commoners alike came here to commission novices to draft wills, write letters, or send correspondence. Books and maps were also sold in abundance.

"A postal service," Wright mused. Though these transactions seemed modest, he understood that they collectively constituted a significant enterprise.

"We'll head to the Seneschal's Court first to register your chosen field of study," Gunthor said, "but be warned—any research related to magic is scorned here."

Materialists, Wright thought. Such an attitude might have been acceptable in his former world, but here, where magic and dragons were real, it seemed shortsighted. A true balance of magic and technology would yield far greater results than relying solely on the latter while suppressing the former.

Thus began Wright four-year journey at the Citadel. Four years—the same duration as a modern university degree, excluding medicine. He sighed. Four years here, four years there. He couldn't bear the thought of any more.