I should rest, Maester Cressen told himself.

I should have everything that is in me become dull. My hands should not shake, nor should my mental fortitude. It is shocking what I do, yet it should be finished. In the event that there are divine beings, they will doubtlessly excuse me. He had rested so inadequately of late. A rest would revive him for the difficulties ahead. Tediously, he swayed off to his bed. However, when he shut his eyes, he might as yet see the illumination of the comet, red and blazing and strikingly alive in the midst of the murkiness of his fantasies. Maybe it is my comet, he thought sleepily, not long before rest took him. A sign of blood, predicting murder... indeed... At the point when he woke, it was full dark, his bedroom was dark, and each joint in his body hurt. Cressen propelled himself up, his head pulsating. Grasping for his stick, he rose temperamentally to his feet. So late, he thought. They didn't bring me. He was constantly brought to feasts, situated nearby the salt, near Master Stannis. His master's face swam up before him, not the man. He was nevertheless the kid he had been, standing cold in the shadows while the sun gleamed on his senior sibling. Anything that he did, Robert had done first, and better. He's an unfortunate kid... he should hustle for his wellbeing of he.The maester found the precious stones where he had left them, and scooped the material off. Cressen claimed no empty rings. For example, the poisoners of Lys were said to lean toward, yet a bunch of pockets were sewn inside the free sleeves of his robe. He discharged the stranglerseeds in one of them, opened up his entryway, and called, "Pylos? Where are you? " When he heard no answer, he called once more, louder. "Pylos, I want assistance." Still, there was no response. That was strange; the youthful maester had his cell just a half turn down the step, inside simple earshot. Eventually, Cressen needed to yell for the workers. "Make a flurry," he told them. "I have slept excessively long. They will eat at this point, drinking water. I ought to have been woken. " What had befallen Maester Pylos? Genuinely, he didn't have the foggiest idea. Again, he needed to cross the long display. A night wind murmured through the extraordinary windows, sharp with the smell of the ocean. Lights gleamed along the walls of Dragonstone, and he could see many cookfires consuming in the camp past, as if a field of stars had fallen to the earth. The comedic blasted red and vindictive over. I'm excessively old and astute to dread things like this,the maester told himself.