GrandMaesterPycelle

Introduction The dim candlelight flickered across Grand Maester Pycelle’s face, accentuating the wrinkles etched deep by time and, perhaps, by the secrets he held. “The realm bleeds, Your Grace,” he croaked, his voice a rasp that belied the sharpness of his mind. Pycelle, seemingly a frail relic of a bygone era, was a fixture of…