Game of Thrones: I Created the Magic Web

Chapter 94: Sam and the Research Department

“The day after tomorrow is Sunday, Sam. Please put in a little more effort.” Qyburn encouraged softly.

Samwell Tarly looked up from the ground covered in ancient books and faintly glowing glass. The old man in front of him had an earnest look in his eyes, like a grandfather expecting his junior to grow.

Sam forced a smile. “I understand.”

Qyburn left with satisfaction.

Only when the old man's back had completely disappeared did Sam finally breathe a sigh of relief. He touched his neck; it was so slippery and wet that he was already sweating.

Fortunately, he probably hadn't been discovered.

Sam lowered his head. The light from the glass on his lap had completely disappeared, and the surface was reflecting his own image.

Staring at the eyes on the screen that belonged to him, Sam stared blankly.

He was a little tired.

From the heir of the Tarly family to the apprentice of a maester, and now to this, Sam's expectations had almost never become a reality.

He knew that his father didn't like his fat, cowardly self, and his younger brother Dickon would be the heir sooner or later, so he wasn't too resistant to the new life in King's Landing. At least he could continue to read and study to become a knowledgeable maester without worrying about his livelihood.

The beginning was stable, even beautiful.

The Red Keep had countless books, some of which were extremely rare and could not be seen outside. With the permission of Grand Maester Pycelle, he spent days and nights buried in the books, like a greedy little mouse, desperately gnawing at the tempting knowledge in each book.

Every biography wrote about a person's life, every history depicted scenes of events that had happened, and every ballad sang of people's innermost praise or complaints.

There was also countless delicious food, harps and music, and maesters who were equally dedicated to knowledge. It was almost perfect, except for the lack of friends.

Sam thought that such days would last for a long, long time. As everyone discussed, the Crown Prince was probably just having a whim when he asked for him. In the end, wasn't he just an inconspicuous apprentice under Pycelle?

But the changes in the Red Keep were so violent and abrupt.

In just one morning, two important members of the Small Council were reduced to prisoners suspected of treason. The Gold Cloaks were stationed in teams, looking particularly fierce, as if trying to kill everyone with their eyes.

Did this have anything to do with everyone in the Red Keep? Sam wanted to say it didn't, but everyone obviously didn't think so.

The Grand Maester became busy and idle.

To the outside world, the Grand Maester was unwell, and his daily work had been reduced to almost non-existent.

Internally, Sam personally saw the Grand Maester writing letter after letter at his desk. Some were burned directly, some were sent out by people, and some were personally tied to ravens, and he would only feel relieved after watching the ravens take off.

There was also the popular Steward Hannah, who was busy calling the servants of the Red Keep to reprimand them all day long.

Sam didn't know the inside story. He only saw people leaving worriedly and coming out with serious faces, or never being seen again.

Those things made Sam realize that a living person could disappear so quietly.

Sam could only silently miss the previous life he had gradually adapted to, adapting to the new cook, new faces, new rules, and new atmosphere.

But these new balances were quickly broken.

The news of King Robert's death spread back to the city. That day, the city's bells were roaring madly, making people's ears hurt. When he went to bed, he still occasionally suspected that the bells were still ringing.

That night, Sam couldn't see clearly, but something must have changed in the Red Keep again. It was an indescribable feeling, but it made people uneasy even when reading.

After the night of the bells, people gradually advised him to have more contact with the outside world, and the Grand Maester also began to take him out more frequently. Sam vaguely guessed that it was because of the Crown Prince he hadn't met yet.

This feeling seemed good. Sam began to look forward to the appearance of the new king.

Until the Master of Laws, Renly, disappeared, the Knight of Flowers, Loras, and the Redwyne twins became inexplicably low-key, people turned the Red Keep into an uncomfortable place again.

Sam still couldn't see the truth, but he sensed the unrest in the future.

He just didn't expect the change to come so quickly.

He was suddenly appointed as a full-time historian, responsible for recording the proceedings of the Small Council meetings.

Sam was a little excited at first, but after only one Small Council meeting, his heart was filled with deep confusion and panic.

Every word of the king was shocking, as if he couldn't wait to completely overturn the Seven Kingdoms.

Duke Tywin sat proudly opposite the king. A single look could affect half of the Small Council, and every word he uttered was neither humble nor arrogant, and well-founded.

Lord Eddard almost opposed all the proposals. Honor and tradition were the most frequent words in his mouth.

Queen Regent Cersei sometimes helped Duke Tywin, sometimes agreed with the king, sometimes satirized Lord Eddard, and sometimes cursed someone who was not present or was present arbitrarily.

And his master, Grand Maester Pycelle, was inconspicuous among the participating ministers, and almost only echoed Tywin's statements.

This is the Small Council meeting I'm going to record?

Sam quietly shrank in the corner, daring to move the pen in his hand only quietly and carefully, for fear that too much movement would attract the attention of any minister.

Sam was quite keenly aware that the ministers would not like the records under his historian's pen. The more real and detailed, the more they would hate it. But a little cover-up? The king would obviously not agree.

Sam endured the days uneasily like this until a few days ago.

For some reason, after Duke Tywin left King's Landing, the king sent him to the Research Department, saying it was a “temporary transfer.”

Sam had been trapped in this room ever since, unable to escape.

His tasks were quite complicated.

At first, it was to sort out ancient books and scrolls and find specific words and phrases;

Later, it was to screen and input the content in a fixed format into the “database,” which was the scattered glowing glass on the ground;

And then there was the testing of the performance and effectiveness of various “divine grace modules,” scoring the user experience, trying to give suggestions, and making improvements;

When doing this kind of task, you only need to take different divine grace modules to easily get dozens or hundreds of slightly different divine grace light screens, and there are many changes that can be made to the light screens. And what he had to do was choose the best one.

So this is the secret of divine grace. So mortals can also touch such a great miracle. At that time, Sam couldn't help but secretly excited.

Unfortunately, the work of the Research Department is not just these.

The kind-smiling old man was actually responsible for the most critical and darkest “work” of the Research Department. All experiments that required consuming materials were under the control of the old man.

Sam never thought that the suggestions like “the sound is a bit harsh,” “the vibration is too weak,” and “the pattern is a bit awkward after looking at it for a long time” would eventually consume five lives and create two lunatics with mental disorders.

No wonder the old man was expelled from the Citadel and his chain symbolizing the status of a maester was taken back.

Sam sighed and clicked on the “workbench” on his lap. The glass screen lit up, displaying the tasks he had not completed today.

The tasks on the workbench were counting down.

Before the end of tomorrow, he had to divide half of King's Landing into four hundred small blocks with roughly equal populations for easy blockade and control, and also mark all the passages.

Drawing lines is fine, although it's tiring, at least no one will die, right?

Sam comforted himself.

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