In Westeros, maesters were all trained by the Citadel, and once they completed their studies, they went to serve lords in castles.
Qyburn was an oddity among maesters. His research into "vivisection" was forbidden by the Faith of the Seven, so he was expelled from the Citadel. Not only could he no longer serve a lord, even the maester's chain he had already earned was taken back.
As a maester, Qyburn had no other trade to make a living by. Coupled with his obsession with human anatomy and structure, he joined a mercenary company.
There, he could earn a meal with his skill at treating external wounds while frequently obtaining fresh "materials."
At that moment, Qyburn looked at the several banners approaching from ahead. In the center was the crimson Flayed Man. The banners on either side looked somewhat similar, both black, but one bore a smiling sun while the other bore a white Direwolf.
And impaled atop the black Direwolf banner was a huge head with its mouth slightly open.
That should be the Mountain's head. Qyburn looked at the head, whose color had long since turned gray and lifeless, and felt a little regretful. If the Mountain were still alive, perhaps I could study the secret of his strength.
But when he spotted an obviously younger commander, his eyes lit up again.
He rode a gray mare, with an almost pure-white Direwolf at his side.
His slightly curly black hair was tied behind his head. He had the characteristic long face and bright gray eyes of a Stark, a gray cloak over gleaming silver armor, and a lean, powerful build that gave him an agile air.
"Jon Snow," Qyburn murmured inwardly. He had always heard that Jon had personally killed the Mountain. He knew such rumors had to