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Third Person Point of View

Over a dozen ships made their way past the Hightower. Anyone who could have stopped them was replaced by those who might not have known why they were there, but were nonetheless part of the plan. Several checkpoints were completely bypassed, and the few who could be bribed were, as they kept going deeper through the river that cut Oldtown in half, until they made it to the Citadel and began pouring out.

The Maesters had a very nice place in Oldtown, surprisingly never attacked, because if they had, they’d have easily been wiped out. Truth was, nobody in that time period viewed them as worth attacking. They had no idea the vast wealth and influence they really had compared to other families, houses that had to protect themselves constantly, while the Maesters were given free rein to do as they pleased, often scheming behind the men they wore oaths to serve.

The citadel housed approximately seven hundred Maesters, with three serving under houses as advisors or doctors, which allowed them to decide the fate of the kingdom. The entire 300-year span of Targaryen rule, they spent undermining, corrupting, and weakening their rule, killing off their dragons and poisoning them to push the insanity along even faster than before. 

A thousand Maesters, only a fraction of them, a small percent guiding the future of Westos from behind the scenes, while most were loyal, but they couldn’t continue to function the way they were. Not if the ruler to come after Robert wanted to ensure his legacy wasn’t also corrupted by them; that was why the entire Maester system needed to be done away with.

Many saw the boats stop, and even saw the armed men pour out of the boats, but no one thought that they were there to slay every single Maester inside while stealing everything of value before fleeing back to the sea. Thousands of armed men against hundreds of unarmed old men not expecting a fight, the army brutalized them, not going for killing blows, but some still died.

A man came through after everything was done, his army carting away books and treasure while he proceeded to do the dirty work, his dagger piercing the heart of every still breathing Maester, sucking their lifeforce inside. The man looked up and asked a question to anyone in earshot. “Is anyone else hungry? I could go for beef stew after this.”

Meanwhile, all across Westeros, similar acts of violence towards Maesters were going on. A Maester ate a bowl of soup, before he began coughing, wet coughs filled with blood, before he fell over. The chef is already fleeing the castle on a horse by the time anyone thinks to find who poisoned the Maester.

A whore, younger than anyone should ever be for that profession, made her way out of a room. The Maester was left inside dead, his throat slit, and the dagger that did it still embedded in his heart as she walked passed the guards. No one looked twice at a whore after all, especially when it wasn’t the first the Maester had in his room.

A Maester staunched the blood from the wound on his face as he screamed. “Get that boy!” His scream drew the attention of the guards nearby. Before the little orphan could escape, guards grabbed either side of the boy, holding him in place. They dragged him in front of the Maester, the evil glint in his eye a clear sign of what he really wanted to do as he ordered. “Emprison him for now. I’ll see why he attacked me later.” It wasn’t the Maester’s place to make such a command, especially with the lord of the house still right there at the table.

But everyone didn’t really notice as the boy began to shake, foam pouring out of his mouth as he collapsed in the guard's arms, dead. Some Maesters avoided their penalty, ones that stood out and weren’t part of the grand Maester conspiracy. The old man up north, still doing his best to help the Starks. Grand Maester Marwyn was dragged away and tied up. While one of the little boys(who turned out to be a girl) working to become a Maester in the future was led away.

In less than a day, a disease was excised from the continent. Thousands of books, five Valyrian steel swords, twenty pounds of metal, and millions of gold coins were also looted from the building. Every single weapon was one stolen from a noble house when the Maester could get away with it. All the gold was blood money earned from guiding houses to financial ruin or destruction so they could claim it.

The fallout of the sudden destruction of one of the main factions of Westeros wouldn’t be felt for years, most likely. The biggest fallout was the fact that Maester Pycelle was slain right in the castle, the whore managing to walk all the way out, and it was hours before what happened to him was found out. 

Robert bellowed out orders and threats, making sure the gold cloaks were punished, it was clear that the guard needed to be improved, and the short-lived commander of the city watch, Janos Slynt, was fired for how mediocre he was. Even Robert realized how bad he was that someone so important could be assassinated so easily, only a few rooms from his children.

It was the first sign of the cracks in his rule. Jon Arryn tried talking him into replacing him, but Robert thought he was loyal to him because he made Janos, but Janos wasn’t a good commander at all. It allowed Jon to put someone close to him in the position. 

The south, especially Dorne, had the least fallout from the Maester’s death; most of them had already been flushed out or killed years earlier. The north was the same; the Maesters didn’t deem it important enough to worry about, so only those who chose to travel north went without any motive to betray their lord. 

The Iron Islands viewed it as a sign of weakness; the plans to go to war were pushed forward as Balon wanted to bring back the iron price. The troops who wiped out the Maesters moved like the wind. One moment, they were at the citadel; the next, they were gone, already heading to their next destination.

The game of thrones would forever be changed as the biggest player, the one no one even knew was playing, was removed. If the Maesters ever recovered, they would never have the same power as they did before.

What happened even affected the hidden players behind the scenes, the ones who were playing a game through proxies, a war to end all wars fought throughout time. The war between the Night King and the three-eyed Raven.

What just happened nuked their plans. The problem when someone else did a big play like this, it made it much harder to predict the outcome of the next big event… The person wanted the Maesters dead, but ruining other people’s plans was just icing on the cake for him.

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