Edgerran, whose ring and rod and mask were silver, looked upon my squalling face and announced that I might prove of use. The course of my life was set that day, when I was found by an acolyte who took me to the Seneschal of that year, Archmaester Edgerran. I was a foundling from my birth in the tenth year of the reign of the last Targaryen king, left on a morning in an empty stall in the Scribes Hearth, where acolytes practiced the art of letters for those who had need. Now I, Maester Yandel, take my turn as mason, carving what I know to place one more stone in the great bastion of knowledge that has been built over the centuries both within and without the confines of the Citadel-a bastion raised by countless hands that came before, and which will, no doubt, continue to rise with the aid of countless hands yet to come. What one of them does not know is known to another, and little remains truly unknown if one seeks far enough. IT IS SAID with truth that every building is constructed stone by stone, and the same may be said of knowledge, extracted and compiled by many learned men, each of whom builds upon the works of those who preceded him. The World of Ice & Fire: The Untold History of Westeros and the Game of Thrones by George R.
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