Early in the morning, a few little birds chirped as they flew past the main tower of Harrenhal. Dew on the grass at the foot of the steps sparkled under the sunlight.
At the front gate, Lady Shelle and William touched cheeks. "Be careful, William," she whispered, her voice barely audible but full of concern. After hearing the full story, Shelle also believed that the bear's appearance was no coincidence. The process of returning the rune disk to the secret chamber today could very well be dangerous, though, facing such an unimaginable enemy, no one could predict how an attack might come.
Patting his mother on the back, William gave a confident smile, then waved to Minisa on the side before following Walter down the steps. Shelle's voice came from behind: "Minisa, let's get ready—Lady Wold will be visiting today."
"Yes, Mother."
Looking up into the distance, William saw a thick column of black smoke rising from behind the West Tower, a symbol of industrial power. He felt a deep sense of pride—this was the greatest gift he had brought to Westeros.
Walking and talking with Walter, they soon arrived at the West Tower. Approaching it, faint mechanical noises could be heard. Inside the hall, the sound was even louder, though the thick walls of Harrenhal muffled the noise from the workshops, so it wasn't deafening.
When the lord and his son came to inspect, the managers of the West Tower hurried to greet them, nervous and respectful. Most were meeting William for the first time and introduced themselves with ingratiating smiles. To William's surprise, he heard familiar names—Wes, Harata, Emabel, and others—and upon reflection, he understood.
In the original records, these were second-tier managers rarely entrusted with responsibilities. When Shelle left Harrenhal, she naturally took her trusted aides with her, leaving the rest to rise to prominence and remain loyal to Lannister.
Now, with several workshops operating in Harrenhal, hundreds more people needed management, so it was natural that these managers moved up. Someone like Wes, who had made second-hand clerks toil desperately, would have been punished in the past, but as their boss, William was very satisfied.
To avoid seeming strange, William patiently toured the textile and forging workshops again with Walter. Any minor displeasure quickly dissipated, replaced by amazement at the advanced technology. "So the Citadel hasn't wasted all these millennia—so many amazing inventions! Why hide them instead of promoting them?"
In the textile workshop, many workers were visibly from across the Narrow Sea. Seeing William observing the busy, bald-headed workers, Walter explained that they were skilled textile slaves bought from Novros, though Westeros had no slaves now—they were all considered civilians under the Whent family. In fact, buying slaves had been William's suggestion; when Walter wrote saying he had no workers, William hadn't expected him to go to the trouble of buying specialized ones.
During the visit, they encountered Archmaester Mollos busy at a machine, surrounded by several gray-robed apprentices handing him tools or parts. Though curious, other workers dared not crowd around. Walter lamented that too few wanted to become apprentices, leaving Mollos to work hands-on daily. William thought again of the Citadel's technological restrictions: "If you want to build a scientifically governed world, shouldn't you promote a technological revolution? How many ambitious youths are scared off just because they can't marry and have children…" He could not comprehend the Maester' mindset.
After the tour, William said he wanted to inspect the steam engine. He politely declined the managers' offers to help and headed alone to the tower top.
Unlike the bright, vibrant first floor, the second floor seemed worn. Newly hired workers lived here; walls and windows had minimal repairs, the floor was hastily cleaned, and many items were stacked about. Noise from downstairs gave the space some liveliness. Going higher, the West Tower's true state became clear: dust covered the floors and windowsills, many areas were decayed, furniture was haphazardly piled, and the machinery's noise faded to a whisper, only the wind whistling through broken window panes.
Climbing the stairs, just as he reached the top floor, a startled flock of black bats swooped past. William bent down to avoid these family symbols. When he looked up again, he finally saw the scene ahead.
The long corridor was spotless; the polished floor reflected almost like a mirror. He stepped onto it, hearing a crisp "click" from his shoes. Walking along, he observed the floor, walls, ceiling, and a series of identical wooden doors. Everything seemed increasingly familiar.
William stopped in front of one door. The nameplate read 702—his office door number.
The moment he was about to open the door, he finally realized where that strange sense of familiarity came from—this was the office building he had once worked in… Heh!
"Sorry, I'm not working today!"
Suddenly, everything before his eyes shattered like a struck mirror with a deafening "crash," revealing the real world: a desolate, ruined corridor just like the other floors, ceilings filled with bat nests, the floor covered in a black carpet of bat droppings mixed with dirt. At the end of the corridor, the windowsill was inexplicably broken, leaving a gap large enough to pass through. Wind poured in violently, shrieking through the broken opening.
Pale and sweating profusely, William stood at the edge of the broken windowsill. His clothes flapped in the wind, and one more step forward would send him plummeting into endless darkness.
He stared blankly ahead. Through the gap, he could see water tanks slowly emerging from the base of the city wall, rising higher and higher. Once they surpassed the wall, they would tip over, pouring water from the Seer Lake into a trough. The water would then flow into a massive water tower atop the West Tower, falling to generate tremendous energy that powered the tower's machinery, before slowly returning through a dedicated drain back to Gods Eyes.
A perfect cycle! William laughed.
Sweat on his forehead dried in the wind, and his racing heart began to calm. He turned back, stepping carefully. "Just a few days, and I've already almost died twice—Westeros is too dangerous…"
As he walked, he tried to recall the feeling from the last moment. At High Tower, his magic had gone out of control the instant he was seized, then automatically stabilized. Today, in the illusion, his magic hadn't lost control; only at the last moment, when he consciously mobilized it, was he able to shatter the illusion and save his life. It had truly been a close call.
Could he always allow a little magic to go uncontrolled, making himself immune to these insidious mind-control spells? It seemed difficult—like trying to deliberately not control a finger. As long as you think about it, you can't stop controlling it.
He walked all the way to the candelabra the Warlocks had mentioned, and nothing unusual happened. Perhaps the presence could only attack once, or was waiting for a better moment—either way, William could only proceed passively.
Following the Warlocks' instructions, he twisted the candelabra three times left, three times right. With a low rumbling, dust rose from the nearby wall as it slowly moved aside, revealing a secret chamber within the wall.
This time, William was no longer reckless. He carefully surveyed the room before stepping in. The once-dark chamber suddenly lit up, as if a sensor had been triggered, though no visible source of light could be seen. It was as if countless light sources surrounded him from every direction.
"Glop never mentioned this," William exclaimed. The Warlocks had said he would need to light the room himself. Then he felt his magic slowly draining—so slowly that he might not notice without paying attention. Following the flow of his magic, he looked up at the ceiling. At its center was a carved rune. He relaxed. "It must be this rune channeling some kind of illumination magic."
Using the light, William scanned the secret chamber. Everything else matched what Glop had described. The chamber was small and simply furnished, with only a small stone table. On the wall beside it were intricate patterns. Malora had said the rune disk's influence was insufficient to cover Harrenhal, so she suspected there was an auxiliary amplification rune. This circular wall rune was likely that amplification rune, and at its center was a round recess just the size of the rune disk.
Without hesitation, William carried the box to the rune-covered wall, placing it carefully on the stone table. He carefully took out the rune disk, which had been charged with magic during his return trip. Turning, he set the disk into the recessed center, then placed his right hand on it, feeling the wall's rune. Channeling his magic, he felt the world tremble slightly.
The next moment, that cold sensation once again enveloped Harrenhal—but this time, William felt that this cold was strangely warm.
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