William gave a wry shake of his head. If it had been something else—say, that badge—he could have let Malora walk off with it. But this rune was meant for Marwyn's study, and William had no intention of leaving the notebook behind because of her.
While he was still weighing how to get the paper back, William walked up to Malora. She seemed to sense his gaze, turning her eyes toward him, a disturbing light glimmering within them. Crossing her hands slowly, she flipped the page so the rune faced him.
"Magic Knight!" Malora chuckled darkly, a half-smile curling her lips. "Even a beast that dwells among men will one day remember its fangs and claws."
That was pointed…
"Ahem. This is homework Maester Marwyn gave me. I was just on my way to deliver it," William replied—truthfully enough, and without guilt.
"The illusion of balance, once broken, unleashes a raging force that will tear everything apart!" Malora suddenly flung her arms wide, like a beast ready to pounce, her voice shrill. "You're meddling with something terrible!"
At least she didn't tear me in two, William thought with relief, watching her wave the paper in her right hand. He shrugged. "Sorry, my lady. I've no idea what you're talking about. I told you—it's just homework."
Malora burst into giggles again. "Marwyn would never design such runes! He's nothing more than a watchdog, meant to keep the sheep safe in their pen."
She clearly knew something about runes. William's interest stirred—he knew almost nothing himself, and the more perspectives he had, the better. Only, this Mad Maid wasn't exactly easy to deal with.
After a moment's hesitation, William boldly opened his satchel, pulling out all the sketches he had. "Don't believe me? Look—I drew plenty more."
Malora flinched back half a step as if frightened. "You—what else do you carry in that bag?"
Can she sense what's in the box? Impossible. Even I can't, through the casing. William kept his expression neutral and shut the satchel. "Nothing. Just books and notes."
Suddenly, Malora lunged for the rune sketches in his hand. William instinctively stepped back, wary.
She came up empty and only laughed harder, shrill and manic. After a beat of thought, William handed her the papers anyway. Marwyn had seen them already; what harm in one more pair of eyes?
Malora fell silent, staring at the drawings as though spellbound. She stood frozen long enough that William began to feel awkward. Then, abruptly, she darted forward again, this time reaching for the notebook itself. The urgency in her eyes was unmistakable.
Do I give it to her or not? That was the question.
Did Marwyn recognize the runes in the notebook? William thought he must know at least something, but he had not said as much—waiting, it seemed, for William to confess first. And if the Citadel truly had the power to orchestrate the dragons' extinction, why would it still tolerate someone like Marwyn in its ranks? Perhaps the maester studied sorcery only as an act of "know thy enemy"—and in the end, his aims aligned with the Citadel's. Watchdogs may be dogs, but their loyalty lies with the sheep, and against other dogs, they are sworn enemies.
William thought of Qyburn again. Since Qyburn was on good terms with Marwyn, William had often seen him there. With his kindly brows and genial, grandfatherly demeanor, Qyburn had always seemed harmless, and no rumors of misconduct had ever circulated about him—a sign of how deeply he had hidden himself. But if that was the case, with his wit and caution, how had he suddenly been exposed? Could it be that Marwyn's discord with the other maesters was nothing more than a façade, a ruse for entrapment?
Although that strange assault had taken place, when it came to magic, both Malora and Lord Leyton could actually be considered potential allies. They might act as if magic were taboo now, but once news of dragons was confirmed, they would not hesitate to let rumors spread that "the Old Man of Oldtown and the Mad Maid are studying magic in the Hightower." That alone showed where their loyalties lay. The only concern for William was that inscrutable, unknown presence.
In a flash, a thought crossed his mind: That mysterious presence may have tried to invade my consciousness, but it wasn't necessarily seeking to harm me. Perhaps it only wanted to communicate?
"Swish!" Malora snatched the notebook and turned her back on William, striding off a few paces before stopping to flip through it with frantic urgency.
Uneasy, William crept closer, wary that the Mad Maid might suddenly go mad and make off with his notebook. Instead, he found her utterly absorbed in its pages, and from her he felt… tranquility.
Possessed again? He started in alarm, quickly focusing to sense her magical fluctuations—nothing unusual. No, it's still Malora. Then what is this? A split personality?
Suddenly, she snapped the notebook shut, though she did not hand it back. Instead, she clenched it tightly in her hand and walked over to the line of runes to study them. "Heh… look at these runes. Only a lunatic would create something like this."
Hearing the Mad Maid call someone else insane, William couldn't help but smirk inwardly. Don't you know that's your nickname?
Malora whirled around, her gaze fixed on William. "I know they call you the Magic Knight. Such a fitting title, don't you think?" Her eyes were clear, without a trace of madness.
Something's wrong! Every hair on William's body stood on end. His nerves tightened like a bowstring as he swallowed hard. "Heh… don't believe such rumors. It's like how they call you the Mad Maid, but you're not mad at all."
"Mad Maid?" Malora froze, then began to laugh softly, like silver bells ringing. Yet to William, it was chilling, dread creeping into his heart. That's not Malora. That is absolutely not Malora!
She let the laughter fade. "Enough, Magic Knight. Since you've obtained the notebook, then you must also have the rune-disc, yes?"
So the patterns on that disc in the box are runes too? William slowly nodded, every sense heightened, magic surging within him. He was certain that whoever—or whatever—stood before him could not harm him physically. But battles of the mind were treacherous and unpredictable, and he had little experience there. All he could do was brace with everything he had.
"Good. Return it to where it belongs, then infuse it with magic. That way, Harrenhal will know peace for a few more years."
At the mention of Harrenhal, it was as if thunder roared in William's skull. His heart hammered. Who is she, really?
Malora seemed to sigh, her gaze tinged with melancholy, her voice carrying a note of regret. "But that alone is not enough. Don't you wish to bring Harrenhal eternal peace?"
William nodded numbly.
"If that's so…" Malora pointed to the diagrams spread across the railing, her eyes gradually turning wild. "Then seize what you desire with your own hands. Anyone who stands in your way—send them all to hell. Hahaha…"
"…Hahaha…"
Her frenzied laughter echoed, but William gradually relaxed. The familiar Malora had returned.
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