The Northern Tyrant [Game Of Thrones]

Sure enough, Qyburn had all of them, all but a tube. Wylis just made one out of a stick on the spot. Then, he showed a normal candle in a jar experiment. Telling him that the reason why the candle burns is due to oxygen in the air. And then, when the jar was put on, the fire burned through all the available oxygen and then got quenched.

Quickly after, he did the limewater test for carbon dioxide. He put water and lime made of limestone and wood ash into a jar, mixed it, and then using the tube, breathed into the jar of lime water. Soon, the solution turned cloudy, revealing that something new got mixed into the solution, something that changed the composition.

"We can test more if you like. Put a rat under a jar, it won't last long. Put a flower there, and it keeps on living. That part of air—the one that feeds flame—feeds us too. We are not so different from fire, Qyburn. We burn, slowly. That's why the breath quickens in fear, in fury. The fire inside wants more fuel."

The dishonored Maester fell into deep thoughts. He was more interested in anatomy, but still, the basic science regarding the body was too exciting for him.

"Then how can the fish breathe under the water?" asked Qyburn.

"Why can a bear claw, or a snake slither? Because that's what they're built for. Nature gives each beast its own trick—just like a fish breathes underwater with its gills. No magic to it, just good design."

Wylis went on to explain the germ theory to the man. Sure, it made no sense, but Qyburn wasn't religious. He was willing to take in new ideas, and when Wylis offered to prove it, there was no reason to refuse the germ theory.

In the end, Wylis said what he had come to say. "Look, I'm offering you a deal. I'll teach you everything I've learned—and gods know, that's a damn sight. Hell, I'll even let you try your tricks on live subjects. The King's ordered me to bring back a hundred bandit heads. What happens to them before I take the heads? Nobody's concern. It's a safer bet than roaming Essos, don't you think?"

Enticing, absolutely mouth-watering offer. Having the protection of a man like Wylis was better than roaming alone. Sure, Wylis was no knight or noble, but the fame spoke for itself. And more than that, he was interested in the germ theory, and how Wylis would prove it.

"But?" Qyburn looked at Wylis with some doubts. "Charity is a noble mask, though rarely worn for its own sake. I would know the face beneath it, if you please."

Wylis smiled as he stood up, liking the way Qyburn worded his question. "I share your vision. I want you to make it, to be the greatest surgeon in history. A man who can patch a leg torn clean, sew a heart that's been ripped out, and slice open a woman's belly to save her and the babe inside."

Seeing Qyburn still looking at him, Wylis resumed. "I'll be a knight in a few months, and in two years, I'll be a lord if it all works out. But that's not the prize I'm chasing. My dream? I want a brood. Dozens of sons and daughters, maybe hundreds if I'm lucky and stubborn. But childbirth kills more women than blades do, so I need someone who can keep mine alive. I want you to learn how to see them through it—cut them out if need be, stitch what needs stitching. Be my Maester, Qyburn. I'll teach you things no Citadel ever would. Even magic. Secrets born of blood."

With his pitch done, he dangled the final piece of candy.

Woosh!

All of a sudden, a pot made of clay sitting on the side of a shelf flew and landed in Wylis' hand. It defied logic and the basic principles of reality. You can't just catch things without them being thrown at you. It was a small taste of Earthbending or magic to the man.

If there was one thing Wylis knew, Qyburn was a twisted man, amoral, clever, but also loyal. By keeping the man hungry for knowledge, Wylis could have him forever. And the more children Qyburn helped him bring into the world safely, the more years he'd have to buy medical knowledge.

Qyburn's eyes threatened to fall out. He gulped, staring at the clay pot in Wylis' big hand. "H-How do you… possess all this… all this knowledge?"

Now, Wylis couldn't just tell him about his transmigrated soul or the Tyrant's Squire. So, a healthy amount of bullshit was suitable.

"I came into this world with empty hands, Qyburn. When you've got nothing, you'll trade it all for a shot at something greater." Wylis boastfully declared, keeping a mysterious but powerful air around himself. "Now, are you with me?"

Qyburn looked around the room, at the countless samples and materials he had collected. And then he looked at Wylis, a brute-like man who had no reason to be so intelligent. A commoner who shouldn't even know how to read knew the secrets of the body and nature.

Wylis looked like a door. A door to greater knowledge compared to which all he knew seemed nothing.

Qyburn nodded strongly and with no fear, stood up and gave Wylis a head bow, like what most Maesters did to their Lords. "Teach me."

That I will.

####

Winterfell,

"Robert will soon arrive in Winterfell to speak with you." Lord Rickard Stark sternly warned his only daughter. "You'll treat him with courtesy. He may lack polish, and courtly words are not his gift—but he's the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands and your match. You'll have fine halls, a southern sun, and a high place. That should be enough."

Lyanna, sullen, pale-faced, eyes dark from sleepless nights, spoke nothing. All that talk of being the cherished daughter of Lord Stark was a farce to her now. Being sold like some broodmare to a whoring oaf was anything but love. It was a mere transaction. An exchange of goods.

In silence, she eyed Brandon standing on the side, arms crossed, face frozen in anger. It seemed even Brandon didn't want her to be married to Robert.

Doesn't matter what I say now.

Already not feeling that well, Lyanna simply nodded. "I understand."

"Then see yourself properly dressed. No more riding horses and brooding in the stableboy's cabin. No more archery and strolls in the Godswood."

Might as well tie a noose around my neck.

She wondered what Wylis would have done if she were to tell him how she felt. If she told him she didn't want to marry Robert.

With another nod, Lyanna turned around and walked out of her father's solar. She heard loud arguments between her brother and father right away, but she ignored them, feeling light-headed for some reason.

Wanting to lie down, she rushed through the empty corridor, headed towards her bedchamber.

"Ugh…"

But suddenly, she felt a strange feeling coursing through her body, and her stomach churned. She gagged, and took support of the wall, taking deep breaths.

In the end, she couldn't hold it in.

"Uwaaaa-ugh…"

She vomited right on the spot, feeling the tight feeling inside. She panted, and without realizing it, her free hand cradled her belly. It was irrefutable at that time. It all made sense, all the dots connected.

Aye, I'm pregnant… Fuck, you've done it now, Wylis. You've fucking done it.

Concern marred her face as she looked behind her, the way she had come, the way to Lord Stark's solar. She shook her head, coming to a quick realization.

I can't… I can't stay here any longer. I'll find him myself.

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