reincarnated in GOT with a down graded Cheat engine.

The old Maester had not moved from his seat since the Reed envoy left. His eyes, half-shadowed by the flickering light of a small oil lamp, remained fixed on Levi even as the door creaked shut behind the departing rider.

"You've done more in this little time than many lords has spent years," the Old Maester said finally, voice low and tired. "Yet still I worry."

Levi stood with his hands clasped, unsure whether to be proud or ashamed.

"I can already tell," the old man continued, "you have a dream one not far from what the noble houses would call the pursuit of station. You build homes, feed mouths, raise walls. You are kind, and just at least for now. But that will not be enough."

The old man leaned forward, eyes sharp. "You do not know the words of the great houses. You do not know their banners, their rivalries, their alliances. You might read and write, perhaps even count coin and build trade... but taxes? Tariffs? Oaths?"

Levi remained silent.

The Old Maester gave a small, bitter smile. Then he turned toward the open door and called out, "Tolen! Come here, lad."

A boy no older than twelve shuffled into the room, with worn out boots, face shy. His hair was dark and matted, and his tunic hung loosely on his thin frame.

"This boy lost his mother in the last raid," the Old Maester said. "She died protecting him with nothing but a kitchen knife in hand."

Levi's expression stiffened.

"I took him in after that. For the past month, while you laid stones, I taught him numbers, letters, stories from the Reach to the Wall. And I've found in him a fire most boys never show, even those from noble halls."

The boy kept his eyes low but stood straighter at those words.

"I would like to send him to Oldtown. To the Citadel."

Levi blinked. "The citadel? A place for Maesters?"

"Very," the Old Maester nodded. "Normally, a lord pays for such a thing. But I can send word his place will be accepted. Whether he returns to serve you, well… that is for fate to decide. But if you are to build what I think you dream of, one day you'll need a Maester of your own. Better one who remembers why he went."

He turned to the boy. "Go on, Tolen. Back to your books."

The boy gave Levi a final look—nervous, curious—and then turned and left.

"You've now met him," the Old Maester said. "And he's met you. He'll remember."

Levi nodded solemnly. "If he's worthy of your recommendation, then yes. I'd have sent him anyway."

The old Maester gave a rare smile. "Good. Now… what we were meant to talk about."

Levi leaned in.

"You can't choose who House Reed sends as bailiff. That is beyond you. But" He raised a finger. "You can make a request or two. Do not squander this."

Levi listened intently.

"Ask for a teacher. Someone who knows arms. Not just for yourself through the sword, the spear, the shield, and the bow would all serve you well but this also meant for the guards. For the ones you'll need in your caravans and for the defense of this town you're so determined to build."

He stood slowly, joints cracking. "Say this to them: that you have accepted all their terms. That you will pay the tax, house the bailiff, keep no tolls. But for all you've given… let them give a little in return. As for whether you heed to this advise is up to u."

Levi's brow furrowed, then eased into something like understanding. "That… makes sense. Thank you. This means a lot."

He turned to leave, but the Old Maester's voice stopped him once more.

"One more thing."

Levi looked back.

"You must return here. From time to time."

The old man's eyes were like cold iron now. "You've already skipped much of what a young noble learns history, etiquette, lineage, treaties, laws. If you are to lead, truly lead, you must not do it with ambition alone."

A quiet beat passed between them.

"I'll come," Levi said softly. "I'll listen."

"Then go," the Old Maester said, turning to extinguish the lamp. "Before you start learning too late."