Game of Thrones: I became a crown prince for a day.

Chapter 472 Sorry, You Moved!

About half an hour later, the group visited part of the scenery of the Academy City and finally entered the Scholar's Tower.

During the visit, I visited the long-famous clerical desk in the lobby.

The university city claims to be the people's servant, so it is natural that it will do some work that benefits the people.

The clerical desk is where assistant maesters in the city provide writing services to the public.

There is a clerical desk right at the entrance of the academy, which lowers the threshold for common people to seek help.

Scholars Tower.

The skinny old man kept his word and personally registered in the General Manager's Pavilion and notified other doctors of the visit.

Rhaegar watched the entire process and was familiar with the internal rules of the Citadel.

Lord Leonor once studied in the Citadel and obtained six scholar necklaces of different categories. He often said that life in the Citadel was fulfilling and tiring.

Listen to that guy Emond.

Lord Leonor complained privately that becoming the Prime Minister was more tiring than studying in the Citadel.

Just thinking about it made Rhaegar happy.

Some people dream of becoming prime minister to pursue personal gain, while others find the King's Hand on their chest too heavy.

Half a quarter of an hour later, the thin old man led everyone up the tower and rested in a spacious reception room.

The Citadel is not a castle and does not have a hall for banquets.

As Rhaegar walked along, he saw neat wooden doors on both sides of the corridor, behind which were small rooms where scholars lived.

There are also special wards for patients, with iron fences outside the doors.

Rhaegar nodded secretly, acknowledging the Citadel's attitude towards academic research.

Although it is too extreme, it is very rule-abiding.

Rhaegar and his two younger brothers sat down and waited patiently at a scarred oval conference table.

Mondra pulled the old man with dead eyes out and whispered.

A dozen knights were guarding outside the door, and only Count Bulwer entered the reception room.

In a blink of an eye, a quarter of an hour passed.

Aegon became impatient and lay down on the conference table, kicking the stool back and forth with his feet.

Rhaegar looked around and started the conversation: "Guess how long it will take for the Cardinal to arrive?"

"Who knows? They are just a bunch of old bastards who have never tasted a woman."

Aegon curled his lips, his voice full of disgust.

Women are not allowed to enter the academy, and scholars inside are forbidden from falling in love and are required to devote themselves to academic research.

To Aegon, it was simply a monk's temple.

Rhaegar smiled and ignored his second brother who was controlling his big head with his small head.

Aemond groaned and said, "You killed Dr. Fisher. The Citadel must be very afraid of you."

"Why do you think so?" Rhaegar asked.

Aemond frowned and said, "You have dragons, but the Citadel doesn't."

“That makes sense, but not much.”

Rhaegar shook his head and warned, "Don't underestimate the Citadel. These maesters are so obsessed with their studies that they forget to eat and sleep, and even see marriage as an obstacle."

"A bunch of people who have abandoned their desires are all mentally unstable."

Aemond frowned even deeper and emphasized, "We have dragons."

Rhaegar shrugged and said casually, "Rather than being afraid of dragons, the Citadel should be more interested in observing dragons up close."

Aemond didn't understand and lowered his head to play with his fingers.

To him, dragons are everything.

As long as a sheep thief is around, he will dare to break into any den, even the most dangerous.

Anyone who dares to provoke will be unable to escape the dragon flame.

Rhaegar smiled and said nothing, not wanting to change someone's opinion easily.

Aegon and Aemond had too little contact with the Citadel, and it was hard to say for sure whether it was the old dog Meros or not.

He knows the Citadel too well.

When they were young, if the Dragon's Lair Scholar had not done something behind the scenes, Helena would not have been able to tame Dreamfire.

And there was the former Grand Maester Melos, who was not a kind old man.

To put it in a higher level, the structure of the continent of Westeros.

Every castle with a name must have a scholar serving to manage the fiefdom for the castle's lord.

The late Borros Baratheon was a typical illiterate who relied entirely on his scholars to write and read letters and take care of Storm's End inside and outside.

This kind of thing is unheard of in Essos.

The more Rhaegar compared the two, the more he felt that the Citadel was an extremely deformed institution, like a tumor on a towering tree.

The aristocracy relies too much on the Citadel, so it's no wonder that their thoughts are corrupt.

On the other hand, culture is prevalent on the continent of Essos, competition among the powerful and wealthy is fierce, and there is never a lack of fresh blood.

Another half hour passed.

Finally, a sound of unhurried footsteps was heard in the corridor.

Rhaegar turned his chair, making a harsh creaking sound as it rubbed against the floor, and looked out the door.

Six scholars of different ages wearing bachelor's robes and a bunch of bachelor's chains hanging on their chests.

Three of them were very old, two were middle-aged with extraordinary bearing, and the last one looked very young.

As the six scholars entered the room, they picked out three Targaryen princes with striking hair colors and greeted them collectively: "Welcome Targaryen princes to visit Oldtown. May the Seven Gods always protect you."

The stubby old man pointed at the oldest man and introduced him, "This is Dr. Levin, the most knowledgeable scholar in the city."

Dr. Levin has white hair and beard and a ruddy complexion. He is a short and fat old man with good spirits.

The skinny old man was about to continue his introduction, but was interrupted by Rega's wave of his hand.

"Everyone, let's get straight to the point."

Dr. Levin put his hands in his sleeves and said seriously, "Prince Targaryen, what brings you to the Citadel?"

He did not kowtow like Archbishop Qyburn of the Faith of the Seven.

To the Citadel, it makes no difference who is the king; they are just a bunch of useless scholars.

The only use of value is to provide academic management for the nobles of the kingdom.

The rest of the time was spent studying hard in the academy.

Adhering to the professional ethics of "I am a waste, so I will not interfere with anyone", most of the bachelors in the academy are very stubborn.

Rhaegar knew this and said directly: "Before I say anything, I want to ask what the purpose of the Citadel is?"

Dr. Levin frowned and said seriously, "Explore unknown knowledge, cultivate available talents, and provide a learning opportunity for anyone on the continent who is eager for knowledge."

The Citadel has relied on these three points to stand firm in Westeros for many years.

"well said!"

Rhaegar praised it and chuckled, "I admire the Citadel's spirit of exploration very much. I hope to establish a royal academy in King's Landing to recruit noble children to study and learn to read. I hope the academy can lend a helping hand." The foundation of the Citadel's existence lies in the lack of attention from the nobles, which has led to the monopoly of knowledge.

The way to destroy the academic city is to break the inherent ideas and prevent the continuation of monopoly.

Hearing this, Dr. Levin thought deeply and said, "Establishing a new city is a good thing. If you are willing, I would like to send scholars to stay there and teach the students."

Smart people speak with little effort.

He saw that Rhaegar had ulterior motives and was trying to maintain his monopoly in another way.

Scholars assigned to castles in various places also have the responsibility of teaching the children of nobles, and there is no difference whether they are stationed in the so-called royal academy.

I am afraid that the nobles will not feel confident in entrusting their children to me, and that my teaching will be in name only.

Rega was well prepared and said solemnly: "There is no need to send scholars. I will recruit scholars on my own. I just need to open the library of the academy and move the books to fill the Royal Academy."

He didn't dare to use people from the Citadel, so Tru secretly recruited dozens of people.

The Royal Academy followed the Protestant replacement strategy and replaced the Old Town Academy.

Moreover, not only will the children of nobles be recruited, but it will also be open to civilians to an appropriate extent.

The idea came to him during his three years of seclusion in Harrenhal.

At that time, Harrenhal was in ruins and although the nobles respected him, they would not send their children to help him develop the territory.

There were quite a few soldiers, but none of them could read or write.

Tru, the only remaining expelled scholar who can also create wildfire, becomes a treasure.

Now that he is the regent, he has more nobles under him and many available scholars.

But it lacks the feeling of being able to do whatever one wants.

Nobles are nobility after all. They can be Targaryen's henchmen, but they are not running dogs that can be summoned and dismissed at will.

Rhaegar has dragons, so he has no shortage of helpful lackeys.

He wants an obedient lackey!
Dr. Levin was not sure what he was thinking, but he focused on opening the library and expressed his attitude: "The City of Learning keeps many lost and unique books. If they are ordinary books, we can provide them, but we are sorry that we can't do anything about precious books."

The old man took over the conversation: "Prince, how many books do you need?"

"Half." That's what Rhaegar was waiting for.

"How many?"

The skinny old man was stunned when he heard this, thinking he had heard wrongly.

Rhaegar held up a finger and said considerately, "Half!"

Since we want to break the cultural monopoly of the academy, it is reasonable to ask for half of the books.

"impossible!"

Before Dr. Levin could speak, a middle-aged doctor who was accompanying him shouted indignantly: "The Citadel contains millions of books. Even the royal family cannot seize half of them."

"uh-huh?"

Rhaegar's lips curled up slightly and he looked at the other person.

Even though I was robbing, it would be rude of you to say it out loud.

Dr. Levin took a deep breath, stopped the middle-aged doctor from speaking, and said in silence: "Prince, we are only representatives of the Citadel, but we do not own the Citadel."

"Your conditions are too harsh. I'm sorry that we can't obey your orders on behalf of millions of scholars."

First state the reason, then refuse, and finally apply pressure secretly.

Lei Jia listened carefully and thought to himself that he was indeed a scholar, as he spoke one thing after another.

But they understood one thing wrong.

Rega still looked at the middle-aged doctor and sighed softly: "Dr. Levin is old, but he doesn't see things as clearly as you do."

I robbed it and you still want to reason with me.

I have been living in comfort for too long and I am ignorant!
As soon as these words were spoken, the atmosphere in the reception room changed and everyone understood the deeper meaning behind them.

Aegon's eyes lit up, and he climbed up from the table like a salted fish turning over, looking like he was going to watch the fun.

Aemond was always ready. He took out the one-eyed dagger from his waist and fiddled with it in his hand.

Rhaegar turned his head to look at Mond at the door and waved, "Lord Mond, please close the door."

Mond smiled awkwardly, stepped out of the reception room and closed the door.

Suddenly, only the Rhaegar brothers, Cardinal Doctor of Opportunity, and Count Bulwer were left guarding the door in the room.

“Just the right number.”

Rhaegar inspected the nine doctors and said with a smile, "Let's play a game, one, two, three, statue."

Dr. Levin protested with a sour face: "Prince, we can't agree to your request. Please don't make it difficult for me."

"If you have no objection, I will take it as your consent."

Rhaegar turned a deaf ear to him, stood up and stretched out a white hand as white as jade.

Dr. Levin and others took a step back, their eyes alert.

Rega's eyes gradually turned cold, and the fire magic in his blood surged, running along a special route.

Shila-

Sparks flew out, and the tips of the five fingers glowed red.

In the blink of an eye, a faint red light emerged from the second knuckle of the index finger and the center point of the palm.

Rega had a blank expression on his face, his body didn't move at all, and the hem of his clothes moved without wind.

Dr. Levin's pupils shrank sharply and he exclaimed, "This is magic!"

"That's right, it's something you have been studying for thousands of years." Rega replied.

next second.

Seven sparks exploded in the palm of his hand, as if kerosene was poured on it, expanding at a speed visible to the naked eye.

Rumbling--

Seven sparks flew out of his palm and instantly transformed into seven crimson fireballs the size of washbasins.

Rhaegar's eyes flashed, and seven fireballs followed a curved trajectory, hanging beside the nine doctors, bursting with scorching heat.

"Prince, what are you going to do!"

The thin old man was frightened and fell to the ground in shock and fear.

Rhaegar glanced at it and said regretfully, "Sorry, you moved."

With a slight tap of his right index finger, a fireball, like a puppet, hit the skinny old man's head head-on.

puff--

The head burst open and flames engulfed the area above the collarbone.

Immediately, the fireball broke into sparks like bubbles, sprinkled on the headless corpse, and burned into ashes bit by bit.

Witnessing this scene, the eight people, including Dr. Levin, were horrified and almost frightened out of their wits.

Rega said calmly, "I have just learned a new fire magic. It consumes a lot of mana, but it is easy to control."

After all,

He glanced at the eight doctors and asked, "There are six fireballs left. Who will come?"

(End of this chapter)