Oldtown, the Citadel.
The capital of wisdom in Westeros, a beacon of knowledge.
No king's banners flew here, only the hurried yet quiet footsteps of gray-robed maesters.
The air held the stale scent of parchment and the smell of ink that had lingered for centuries.
Atop the Hightower, inside the private chamber of the Conclave, the Citadel's highest governing body, the atmosphere was far less peaceful than outside.
"The red comet..."
Grand Maester Ibrose stood before the enormous floor-to-ceiling window.
His wrinkled face was filled with an anxiety that belied his age.
He gazed at the ominous streak of blood-red hanging in the twilight sky, the burning star reflected in his clouded eyes.
"The ancient texts of Valyria record that when the first red comet crossed the heavens, the shepherds of Valyria discovered dragons among the Fourteen Flames."
"They became dragonlords and conquered the entire world with dragonfire."
The speaker was Maester Walin, who oversaw the Citadel's oldest and most obscure texts.
His voice was dry, as though he were reciting a history forgotten for a thousand years.
"That is merely a legend, Walin."
Another maester, his neck draped with links of different metals, objected with a scholar's rigor and stubbornness.
"A poet's fantasy. A story the Valyrians invented to deify their own bloodline."
"But dragons have indeed appeared."
Maester Walin's words silenced the entire chamber.
"Just when this red comet reappeared not long ago."
"Two true dragons awakened beside Lynn, the King in the North."
"Now that the red comet has returned again, might more dragons awaken?"
"That is merely a coincidence!" someone objected.
"What sort of coincidence could bring a species extinct for over a hundred years back into the world?"
"What sort of coincidence could give an unknown young man the power to summon the dead and