Chapter 113: ' The Skinner Merchant & The Greedy Wolf ' Part I
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Chapter 113: ' The Skinner Merchant & The Greedy Wolf ' Part I
POV: Tywin Lannister;
Lord's Solarium, Casterly Rock.
Seconds after a plan began to be exposed....
"Deception & Distraction?" asked Gerion anticipating his brother.
"Basically, yes. Hehe. The Titan's greatest weakness is greed and the curse of World Primacy.
From what I've understood so far, the Iron Bank has held the primacy since about a century before the Valyria Disaster.
Oldtown and Carcosa have struggled mightily between first and second place for three thousand years. The Braavosians have taken advantage of the conflict between the two factions by doing what they still do best, financing and taking advantage of both sides.
In the shadows, the Titan of Braavos slipped past the two factions without even entering directly into the fray.
Carcosa and Oldtown signed the peace treaty mainly to prevent the giant from acquiring other resources, influence and territories.
This created a relationship of extreme distrust between the three cities, making it almost impossible to form a solid alliance.
We will use these swirling relationships to our advantage." Tywin began to comprehend the first introductory section.
It was as if The Titan, The Lighthouse, and The Magic Tower were three separate kingdoms. Each was waiting for the other two forces to be at each other's throats, thus providing a golden opportunity for the previously neutral third rival faction in strength to destroy or absorb some of the enemy power on the cheap.
The Titan did not want to be ousted from his throne. And the way Bloody Snow had described the situation, the difference in power between Braavos and Oldtown was subtle.
Carcosa, though powerful, would be able to intervene in Westeros to a small degree. After all, the power of the Wizarding Confederacy was more than six thousand miles east of Casterly Rock. But what about Central Essos?
The Titan wasn't powerful enough to attack Westeros at full force while simultaneously defending its domains to the east against Carcosa.
The boy continued.
"The North will draw the full attention of the Titan and Oldtown, at least for the first three years, thus allowing the West and Dorne to grow 'relatively' undisturbed.
The First Men have fortified themselves enough to withstand a few skirmishes. But more importantly, we have the means to irritate the Iron Bank considerably. Ahah."
It was pointless to cast further looks laden with irritation and admonishment-that boy was laughing and throwing out jokes on par with Gerion.
At such a delicate moment, Tywin could do nothing but arm himself with great patience.
"You are putting it too simply, Hero of the North. By what means do you think you can force Oldtown and Braavos to a stalemate while their neighbours, within sight and earshot, increase their defences and armaments undisturbed?" Tywin realized a plausible hypothesis at the exact moment he finished his sentence.
'The Iron Throne! The conflict between the Crown and Dorne!
Of course... It would be complex and full of pitfalls, but it could work.' Thought the Lord of Casterly Rock.
'Perhaps you have already arrived at much of the solution yourself, my Lord. The conflict between Aegon VI and Robert Baratheon is an excellent motive for a more than legitimate race for resources and weapons. But it won't be just that...
Allow me to show you the gifts of the North that House Tallhart has in store for the House that has been kind enough to host it."
End POV.
------------------------------------
POV: The Smiling Lion;
Lord's Solarium, Casterly Rock.
Seconds after the Tallhart boy approached the case...
"Oops. I beg your pardon. Yes, thank you. It's a bit bulky... Here we go." Gerion helped the struggling boy place the long case on the table occupied by rolls of papers and various items.
"Please. You do the honours, Lord Tywin." Duncan stepped aside, and his brother took his place in front of the gold and crimson lacquered wooden case, opening it.
Gerion stood at his side with eyes sparkling with curiosity.
A blade and a case stood out at first glance...
'That one! No, it's not really Valyrian Steel!!!' thought Gerion instinctively before being enchanted by the artefact.
Long Two-Handed Ceremonial Broadsword. Solid gold knob worked in a riot of goldsmith craftsmanship. The most finished solid gold Lion's head he had ever seen in thirty-four of his years living surrounded by jewels, tapestries, and gold statues depicting the Lannister crest...
Lion's eyes had been adorned with tiny emerald green gems.
The long red leather handle bevelled in detail to accommodate ten fingers and hatched in nine golden threads.
The hilt is perpendicular to the gold lacquered steel blade, just under a foot long. The tips of both ends appear to be made of bone... No fangs... Tips of Lion's tusk curved slightly upward. Set in the centre of the hilt was a large red ruby in the shape of a rhombus, protected by two joined lions outlined to symmetrically surround the jewel. And then...the blade.
Two and a half inches thick at the base, four feet and a palm long. Patterns and ripples of different shades of grey, similar to Valyria steel, all over the bottom of the blade are characterized by red hues.
A masterpiece of craftsmanship.
Tywin maintained his usual rigid face, devoid of telltale signs, but the eyes... His brother's eyes did not lie, nor could they hide the awe and wonder he felt at that moment.
"The eighteenth masterpiece of Gran Master blacksmith, Tobho Mott.
His best work to date, in my opinion. The man improves after each completed work...
No, my lords. If you are wondering, it is not Valyrian Steel, but I assure you it is very close to the ancient Valyrian master smiths...
It has not yet been baptized; I will leave that honour to you.
Fresh from the forge, tempered for three days and nights in Gauntlgrym's most acceptable forge.
The First Damascus Steel Sword of the West." So finished presenting Bloody Snow with a tone of pride.
'Damascus Steel? Never heard of it... Wait, don't tell me...' Gerion turned his head sharply towards Lord Duncan.
Gerion thought back to the rumours of Great Jon Umber's incredible broadsword and Lord Eddard Stark's supposed new bastard sword of Valyrian steel...
The smug look and the sly grin plastered on his lips were worth more than a thousand answers.
'House Tallhart had a monopoly on a new formula for working steel!!!' Though Gerion.
If the quality of the steel sung was really on a higher level than the metal worked in the forges of Westeros and Essos of today, a wave would have appeared that would have swept the whole market of weapons and war in all the Continents!
Mountains of gold, armies, intrigue and conflict of all kinds... All the world forces would move toward whatever entity had custody of such a treasure...
Even Gerion, who in his heart would never have wanted to hurt that boy, sensed a voracious and instinctive need within him that kept roaring at him to grab that individual in his claws, squeeze him hard, and force him to spit out the secret of Damascus Steel!
Tywin showed far more decorum and demeanour than he had imagined.
The Lion of Casterly Rock grabbed the broadsword with both hands and scrutinized it in detail from the foundation to the top. He tapped the edge of the blade with his fingertips and, after carefully assessing the quality of the work, handed the sword to Gerion.
It took the smiling Lion a minute to come to similar, if not identical, conclusions to what Tywin thought...
It was a steel lighter, more flexible, and stronger than the best metal the forges of Casterly Rock could spit out.
Suitable for both lunging and cutting.
Gerion rubbed his fingertip parallel to the wire to judge its quality. It was on a whole other level than his longsword forged by the best blacksmith in Lannisport!
On a scale of 1 to 10, where a rusty sword made of poorly crafted iron would have been "1" and Valyrian steel "10", Damascus steel could have quickly earned an "8", surpassing by a good margin the "6" that the best forges in the West or the Iron Islands could generate.
"In this particular blade, minor spells were also infused. A personal touch from the only Forgemaster present north of the pasting. Certainly not yet up to the standards of those in the Lost Art of Valyria, but still remarkable and rare.
The blade's edge should last pretty longer than a basic Damascus sword, and, at least until the next fifty years, according to Master Mott, the metal will be immune to rust and much harder to break. So you could use even cold hammer it for a day straight without creating the slightest crack.
Fine Quality = 10 golden dragons per piece.
Elite Quality = 300 golden dragons per piece.
Royal Quality = 10,000 golden dragons per piece.
Recommended retail price:
Standard Quality = 5 golden dragons per piece.
Premium Quality = 60 golden dragons per piece.
Elite Quality = 2,000 golden dragons per piece.
Royal Quality = 75,000 golden dragons per piece}.
There was a price list for every known type of weapon. Even Dothraki Arakhs, Dornian-style wavy spears, or scorpion points.
House Bolton would soon receive a monopoly on all Damascus steel blades and points.
He could only request one piece of work per month at most from Grand Master Forger Thobo Mott. And, essentially, the desired amount of any other quality of steel.
Domeric was only to 'take advice' from House Tallhart and the Future Queen of the Silk Road on which customers to prioritize.
Basically, sales were forbidden to anyone who decided not to avail themselves of the custodial and management services of the promising new Never Winter Bank...
And for those who would prove to be 'confident' customers and investors of the new Northern institution (those who would pull the most gold out of their pockets), a priority on the sale and a percentage discount.
For all the Great Lords of the North and his esteemed fellow knights of the Green Council, very favourable and facilitated terms have already been agreed upon.
The strategy used in the past by House Tallhart of rendering commercial favours and profitable opportunities was and still is thriving.
If any foreigner from the South or the East had tried to move a single finger towards the benefactors from the North, even the old infirm farmers of all the villages from Moat Cailin to Last Hearth would have armed themselves with torches, pitchforks and stones to drink the blood of the invaders and feast on their flesh.
If all went as planned, soon, House Bolton would rise among the twenty richest and most powerful Houses in Westeros.
He also had to prepare for the flood of marriage proposals that would most likely flood in as soon as the news spread.
His Aunt Barbrey was instructing him personally on 'How to gallantly reject a sincerely in love noble maiden of marriageable age'.
To his deep but concealed sadness, his future bride had already been determined. In a few days, the fate would be sealed with words, ink and sealing wax.
But Domeric had only one bride gently haunting his dreams and thoughts... A maiden already betrothed.
The young lord tried to drown those thoughts in his duties.
Domeric worked all afternoon on papers to study and documents sent by his mother, the Lady Regent of Dreadfort, that demanded his attention. Then came a knock at the door...
The Lady of Barrowton entered without even being declared by the captain of his guard, Locke.
"Auntie! Forgive my unseemly state. I did not think I would receive the gift and favour of your visit," Domeric said, snapping on the spot.
The boy had always been respectful and cordial to his only Aunt, who had always treated him as a loving nephew to be pampered and favoured from an early age.
After the new Lord of Dreadfort understood the enormity of the power hidden in the shadows of the Widow of Barrowton, friendliness and respect could only increase exponentially.
A new verse of the song will sound in Westeros... One that will tarnish the famous {Tywin Lannister Shit Gold}.
'Not a continent's leaf will move on the tree without Barbrey's will.' Thought the boy inwardly, wisely choosing not to want to be the author of a deadly verse that will be up to some hapless, drunken tavern minstrel to write sooner or later.
"Nothing to forgive, Domeric. This is your private room, you're a guest, and I'm just a humble, meddlesome lady who wanted to sneak up on her beloved nephew." So said the Aunt, approaching after closing the door.
Aunt Barbrey was also not lacking in exaggerated elegance. Although decorous, the Barrowton lady wore a nightdress and kept her hair in a loose tail. But, on the other hand, the woman's face looked relaxed and sunny.
The love affair with her Bear seemed to be only on a momentary hiatus.
"Isn't there anything you'd like to confess to your favourite Aunt before 'any evidence' accidentally slips from my sleeve?" asked Barbrey Dustin in a sarcasm laced with affection.
Domeric was caught off guard. His Aunt could only refer to one topic specifically... The boy's face blushed.
"Emm...," Domeric sighed and lowered his cheap mask. "How did you find out?"
"My dear, using a Frost Blade as a private messenger and relay might seem like a good idea, but... in my city?
Those sneaky thieving spies in Torrhen's Square can't set foot inside my domains without my express consent.
And then two walks down the same alley for two days in a row?
If you wanted secret correspondence, well, first, you had to make sure it was confidential. Ahaha."
'Not a single leaf...' Domeric inwardly admonished himself with embarrassment.
Barbrey smiled lovingly at that compassionate scene.
"The message will reach the 'recipient' intact. So don't worry; I certainly won't be the one to betray your trust.
I had only come here to reassure myself that you are well aware of what you, she, and the entire North are about to face...
You know well that the alliance with House Lannister will be crucial to the good of us all, Domeric.
And you know well who will be visiting us in a few days, 'Merchant Skinner'." So admonished Barbrey, quoting the nickname he jokingly bestowed upon him a short time ago.
"Yes, I know, Auntie. I didn't mean to... It's just that she's leaving for The Water Gardens after the tournament, and I don't know... I don't know if I'll ever have a chance to write to her again, let alone see her again." Domeric explained, looking up from the ground for the first time.
"At the tournament, if done right, you will have a chance to show your qualities and convey the affection of this 'friendship'." Granted Barbrey.
Little did Domeric know that his Aunt's diabolical mind was working out another possible subtle means of subtly slapping two Northern individuals of his acquaintance in the face.
"But if you didn't even give me permission to enter me into the tournament pool. How will I be able to show my affection?" Domeric asked with brazenness and a subtle hint of frustration.
Barbrey Dustin, with the support of her sister, had categorically forbidden Domeric from participating in the jousting and strumming of the upcoming tournament.
He could have tried his hand at archery...too bad Domeric was a mediocre shooter, to say the least.
Not even Jorah, the groom and future Lord of Barrowton, had received permission!
The Maiden's angry cries and the Bear's howls of outrage on the first day were mainly for this reason.
With those tones, it was impossible for any deaf ear not to pick up the contents...
"There are not only spears, shields, and swords, my dear...
Starting tomorrow, you will begin taking lessons of dance, singing, and poetry."
*[Author Note: The Price of a steel longsword (standard soldier equipment) fresh from the forge is around 15-20 silver stags, about $600-900. (1 golden dragon = 210 silver stags)
Steel forged at Casterly Rock, Pyke and other iron islands is renowned for being the best in Westeros after the steel of Valyria. However, their price would be around 35-40 silver stags.
Heartwater, a sword owned by Joffrey Baratheon after losing Lion's Tooth, is a work of excellent craftsmanship and adorned with the finest materials; it is worth around 100-150 golden dragons.]
End Part I
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Chapter 113: ' The Skinner Merchant & The Greedy Wolf ' Part I
POV: Tywin Lannister;
Lord's Solarium, Casterly Rock.
Seconds after a plan began to be exposed....
"Deception & Distraction?" asked Gerion anticipating his brother.
"Basically, yes. Hehe. The Titan's greatest weakness is greed and the curse of World Primacy.
From what I've understood so far, the Iron Bank has held the primacy since about a century before the Valyria Disaster.
Oldtown and Carcosa have struggled mightily between first and second place for three thousand years. The Braavosians have taken advantage of the conflict between the two factions by doing what they still do best, financing and taking advantage of both sides.
In the shadows, the Titan of Braavos slipped past the two factions without even entering directly into the fray.
Carcosa and Oldtown signed the peace treaty mainly to prevent the giant from acquiring other resources, influence and territories.
This created a relationship of extreme distrust between the three cities, making it almost impossible to form a solid alliance.
We will use these swirling relationships to our advantage." Tywin began to comprehend the first introductory section.
It was as if The Titan, The Lighthouse, and The Magic Tower were three separate kingdoms. Each was waiting for the other two forces to be at each other's throats, thus providing a golden opportunity for the previously neutral third rival faction in strength to destroy or absorb some of the enemy power on the cheap.
The Titan did not want to be ousted from his throne. And the way Bloody Snow had described the situation, the difference in power between Braavos and Oldtown was subtle.
Carcosa, though powerful, would be able to intervene in Westeros to a small degree. After all, the power of the Wizarding Confederacy was more than six thousand miles east of Casterly Rock. But what about Central Essos?
The Titan wasn't powerful enough to attack Westeros at full force while simultaneously defending its domains to the east against Carcosa.
The boy continued.
"The North will draw the full attention of the Titan and Oldtown, at least for the first three years, thus allowing the West and Dorne to grow 'relatively' undisturbed.
The First Men have fortified themselves enough to withstand a few skirmishes. But more importantly, we have the means to irritate the Iron Bank considerably. Ahah."
It was pointless to cast further looks laden with irritation and admonishment-that boy was laughing and throwing out jokes on par with Gerion.
At such a delicate moment, Tywin could do nothing but arm himself with great patience.
"You are putting it too simply, Hero of the North. By what means do you think you can force Oldtown and Braavos to a stalemate while their neighbours, within sight and earshot, increase their defences and armaments undisturbed?" Tywin realized a plausible hypothesis at the exact moment he finished his sentence.
'The Iron Throne! The conflict between the Crown and Dorne!
Of course... It would be complex and full of pitfalls, but it could work.' Thought the Lord of Casterly Rock.
'Perhaps you have already arrived at much of the solution yourself, my Lord. The conflict between Aegon VI and Robert Baratheon is an excellent motive for a more than legitimate race for resources and weapons. But it won't be just that...
Allow me to show you the gifts of the North that House Tallhart has in store for the House that has been kind enough to host it."
End POV.
------------------------------------
POV: The Smiling Lion;
Lord's Solarium, Casterly Rock.
Seconds after the Tallhart boy approached the case...
"Oops. I beg your pardon. Yes, thank you. It's a bit bulky... Here we go." Gerion helped the struggling boy place the long case on the table occupied by rolls of papers and various items.
"Please. You do the honours, Lord Tywin." Duncan stepped aside, and his brother took his place in front of the gold and crimson lacquered wooden case, opening it.
Gerion stood at his side with eyes sparkling with curiosity.
A blade and a case stood out at first glance...
'That one! No, it's not really Valyrian Steel!!!' thought Gerion instinctively before being enchanted by the artefact.
Long Two-Handed Ceremonial Broadsword. Solid gold knob worked in a riot of goldsmith craftsmanship. The most finished solid gold Lion's head he had ever seen in thirty-four of his years living surrounded by jewels, tapestries, and gold statues depicting the Lannister crest...
Lion's eyes had been adorned with tiny emerald green gems.
The long red leather handle bevelled in detail to accommodate ten fingers and hatched in nine golden threads.
The hilt is perpendicular to the gold lacquered steel blade, just under a foot long. The tips of both ends appear to be made of bone... No fangs... Tips of Lion's tusk curved slightly upward. Set in the centre of the hilt was a large red ruby in the shape of a rhombus, protected by two joined lions outlined to symmetrically surround the jewel. And then...the blade.
Two and a half inches thick at the base, four feet and a palm long. Patterns and ripples of different shades of grey, similar to Valyria steel, all over the bottom of the blade are characterized by red hues.
A masterpiece of craftsmanship.
Tywin maintained his usual rigid face, devoid of telltale signs, but the eyes... His brother's eyes did not lie, nor could they hide the awe and wonder he felt at that moment.
"The eighteenth masterpiece of Gran Master blacksmith, Tobho Mott.
His best work to date, in my opinion. The man improves after each completed work...
No, my lords. If you are wondering, it is not Valyrian Steel, but I assure you it is very close to the ancient Valyrian master smiths...
It has not yet been baptized; I will leave that honour to you.
Fresh from the forge, tempered for three days and nights in Gauntlgrym's most acceptable forge.
The First Damascus Steel Sword of the West." So finished presenting Bloody Snow with a tone of pride.
'Damascus Steel? Never heard of it... Wait, don't tell me...' Gerion turned his head sharply towards Lord Duncan.
Gerion thought back to the rumours of Great Jon Umber's incredible broadsword and Lord Eddard Stark's supposed new bastard sword of Valyrian steel...
The smug look and the sly grin plastered on his lips were worth more than a thousand answers.
'House Tallhart had a monopoly on a new formula for working steel!!!' Though Gerion.
If the quality of the steel sung was really on a higher level than the metal worked in the forges of Westeros and Essos of today, a wave would have appeared that would have swept the whole market of weapons and war in all the Continents!
Mountains of gold, armies, intrigue and conflict of all kinds... All the world forces would move toward whatever entity had custody of such a treasure...
Even Gerion, who in his heart would never have wanted to hurt that boy, sensed a voracious and instinctive need within him that kept roaring at him to grab that individual in his claws, squeeze him hard, and force him to spit out the secret of Damascus Steel!
Tywin showed far more decorum and demeanour than he had imagined.
The Lion of Casterly Rock grabbed the broadsword with both hands and scrutinized it in detail from the foundation to the top. He tapped the edge of the blade with his fingertips and, after carefully assessing the quality of the work, handed the sword to Gerion.
It took the smiling Lion a minute to come to similar, if not identical, conclusions to what Tywin thought...
It was a steel lighter, more flexible, and stronger than the best metal the forges of Casterly Rock could spit out.
Suitable for both lunging and cutting.
Gerion rubbed his fingertip parallel to the wire to judge its quality. It was on a whole other level than his longsword forged by the best blacksmith in Lannisport!
On a scale of 1 to 10, where a rusty sword made of poorly crafted iron would have been "1" and Valyrian steel "10", Damascus steel could have quickly earned an "8", surpassing by a good margin the "6" that the best forges in the West or the Iron Islands could generate.
"In this particular blade, minor spells were also infused. A personal touch from the only Forgemaster present north of the pasting. Certainly not yet up to the standards of those in the Lost Art of Valyria, but still remarkable and rare.
The blade's edge should last pretty longer than a basic Damascus sword, and, at least until the next fifty years, according to Master Mott, the metal will be immune to rust and much harder to break. So you could use even cold hammer it for a day straight without creating the slightest crack.
Fine Quality = 10 golden dragons per piece.
Elite Quality = 300 golden dragons per piece.
Royal Quality = 10,000 golden dragons per piece.
Recommended retail price:
Standard Quality = 5 golden dragons per piece.
Premium Quality = 60 golden dragons per piece.
Elite Quality = 2,000 golden dragons per piece.
Royal Quality = 75,000 golden dragons per piece}.
There was a price list for every known type of weapon. Even Dothraki Arakhs, Dornian-style wavy spears, or scorpion points.
House Bolton would soon receive a monopoly on all Damascus steel blades and points.
He could only request one piece of work per month at most from Grand Master Forger Thobo Mott. And, essentially, the desired amount of any other quality of steel.
Domeric was only to 'take advice' from House Tallhart and the Future Queen of the Silk Road on which customers to prioritize.
Basically, sales were forbidden to anyone who decided not to avail themselves of the custodial and management services of the promising new Never Winter Bank...
And for those who would prove to be 'confident' customers and investors of the new Northern institution (those who would pull the most gold out of their pockets), a priority on the sale and a percentage discount.
For all the Great Lords of the North and his esteemed fellow knights of the Green Council, very favourable and facilitated terms have already been agreed upon.
The strategy used in the past by House Tallhart of rendering commercial favours and profitable opportunities was and still is thriving.
If any foreigner from the South or the East had tried to move a single finger towards the benefactors from the North, even the old infirm farmers of all the villages from Moat Cailin to Last Hearth would have armed themselves with torches, pitchforks and stones to drink the blood of the invaders and feast on their flesh.
If all went as planned, soon, House Bolton would rise among the twenty richest and most powerful Houses in Westeros.
He also had to prepare for the flood of marriage proposals that would most likely flood in as soon as the news spread.
His Aunt Barbrey was instructing him personally on 'How to gallantly reject a sincerely in love noble maiden of marriageable age'.
To his deep but concealed sadness, his future bride had already been determined. In a few days, the fate would be sealed with words, ink and sealing wax.
But Domeric had only one bride gently haunting his dreams and thoughts... A maiden already betrothed.
The young lord tried to drown those thoughts in his duties.
Domeric worked all afternoon on papers to study and documents sent by his mother, the Lady Regent of Dreadfort, that demanded his attention. Then came a knock at the door...
The Lady of Barrowton entered without even being declared by the captain of his guard, Locke.
"Auntie! Forgive my unseemly state. I did not think I would receive the gift and favour of your visit," Domeric said, snapping on the spot.
The boy had always been respectful and cordial to his only Aunt, who had always treated him as a loving nephew to be pampered and favoured from an early age.
After the new Lord of Dreadfort understood the enormity of the power hidden in the shadows of the Widow of Barrowton, friendliness and respect could only increase exponentially.
A new verse of the song will sound in Westeros... One that will tarnish the famous {Tywin Lannister Shit Gold}.
'Not a continent's leaf will move on the tree without Barbrey's will.' Thought the boy inwardly, wisely choosing not to want to be the author of a deadly verse that will be up to some hapless, drunken tavern minstrel to write sooner or later.
"Nothing to forgive, Domeric. This is your private room, you're a guest, and I'm just a humble, meddlesome lady who wanted to sneak up on her beloved nephew." So said the Aunt, approaching after closing the door.
Aunt Barbrey was also not lacking in exaggerated elegance. Although decorous, the Barrowton lady wore a nightdress and kept her hair in a loose tail. But, on the other hand, the woman's face looked relaxed and sunny.
The love affair with her Bear seemed to be only on a momentary hiatus.
"Isn't there anything you'd like to confess to your favourite Aunt before 'any evidence' accidentally slips from my sleeve?" asked Barbrey Dustin in a sarcasm laced with affection.
Domeric was caught off guard. His Aunt could only refer to one topic specifically... The boy's face blushed.
"Emm...," Domeric sighed and lowered his cheap mask. "How did you find out?"
"My dear, using a Frost Blade as a private messenger and relay might seem like a good idea, but... in my city?
Those sneaky thieving spies in Torrhen's Square can't set foot inside my domains without my express consent.
And then two walks down the same alley for two days in a row?
If you wanted secret correspondence, well, first, you had to make sure it was confidential. Ahaha."
'Not a single leaf...' Domeric inwardly admonished himself with embarrassment.
Barbrey smiled lovingly at that compassionate scene.
"The message will reach the 'recipient' intact. So don't worry; I certainly won't be the one to betray your trust.
I had only come here to reassure myself that you are well aware of what you, she, and the entire North are about to face...
You know well that the alliance with House Lannister will be crucial to the good of us all, Domeric.
And you know well who will be visiting us in a few days, 'Merchant Skinner'." So admonished Barbrey, quoting the nickname he jokingly bestowed upon him a short time ago.
"Yes, I know, Auntie. I didn't mean to... It's just that she's leaving for The Water Gardens after the tournament, and I don't know... I don't know if I'll ever have a chance to write to her again, let alone see her again." Domeric explained, looking up from the ground for the first time.
"At the tournament, if done right, you will have a chance to show your qualities and convey the affection of this 'friendship'." Granted Barbrey.
Little did Domeric know that his Aunt's diabolical mind was working out another possible subtle means of subtly slapping two Northern individuals of his acquaintance in the face.
"But if you didn't even give me permission to enter me into the tournament pool. How will I be able to show my affection?" Domeric asked with brazenness and a subtle hint of frustration.
Barbrey Dustin, with the support of her sister, had categorically forbidden Domeric from participating in the jousting and strumming of the upcoming tournament.
He could have tried his hand at archery...too bad Domeric was a mediocre shooter, to say the least.
Not even Jorah, the groom and future Lord of Barrowton, had received permission!
The Maiden's angry cries and the Bear's howls of outrage on the first day were mainly for this reason.
With those tones, it was impossible for any deaf ear not to pick up the contents...
"There are not only spears, shields, and swords, my dear...
Starting tomorrow, you will begin taking lessons of dance, singing, and poetry."
*[Author Note: The Price of a steel longsword (standard soldier equipment) fresh from the forge is around 15-20 silver stags, about $600-900. (1 golden dragon = 210 silver stags)
Steel forged at Casterly Rock, Pyke and other iron islands is renowned for being the best in Westeros after the steel of Valyria. However, their price would be around 35-40 silver stags.
Heartwater, a sword owned by Joffrey Baratheon after losing Lion's Tooth, is a work of excellent craftsmanship and adorned with the finest materials; it is worth around 100-150 golden dragons.]
End Part I
****If you have a chance and desire to support me.
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Chapter 113: ' The Skinner Merchant & The Greedy Wolf ' Part IPOV: Tywin Lannister; Lord's Solarium, Casterly Rock. Seconds after a plan began to be exposed.... "Deception & Distraction?" asked Gerion anticipating his brother. "Basically, yes. Hehe. The Titan's greatest weakness is greed and the curse of World Primacy. From what I've understood so far, the Iron Bank has held the primacy since about a century before the Valyria Disaster. Oldtown and Carcosa have struggled mightily between first and second place for three thousand years. The Braavosians have taken advantage of the conflict between the two factions by doing what they still do best, financing and taking advantage of both sides. In the shadows, the Titan of Braavos slipped past the two factions without even entering directly into the fray. Carcosa and Oldtown signed the peace treaty mainly to prevent the giant from acquiring other resources, influence and territories. This created a relationship of extreme distrust between the three cities, making it almost impossible to form a solid alliance. We will use these swirling relationships to our advantage." Tywin began to comprehend the first introductory section. It was as if The Titan, The Lighthouse, and The Magic Tower were three separate kingdoms. Each was waiting for the other two forces to be at each other's throats, thus providing a golden opportunity for the previously neutral third rival faction in strength to destroy or absorb some of the enemy power on the cheap. The Titan did not want to be ousted from his throne. And the way Bloody Snow had described the situation, the difference in power between Braavos and Oldtown was subtle. Carcosa, though powerful, would be able to intervene in Westeros to a small degree. After all, the power of the Wizarding Confederacy was more than six thousand miles east of Casterly Rock. But what about Central Essos? The Titan wasn't powerful enough to attack Westeros at full force while simultaneously defending its domains to the east against Carcosa. The boy continued. "The North will draw the full attention of the Titan and Oldtown, at least for the first three years, thus allowing the West and Dorne to grow 'relatively' undisturbed. The First Men have fortified themselves enough to withstand a few skirmishes. But more importantly, we have the means to irritate the Iron Bank considerably. Ahah." It was pointless to cast further looks laden with irritation and admonishment-that boy was laughing and throwing out jokes on par with Gerion. At such a delicate moment, Tywin could do nothing but arm himself with great patience. "You are putting it too simply, Hero of the North. By what means do you think you can force Oldtown and Braavos to a stalemate while their neighbours, within sight and earshot, increase their defences and armaments undisturbed?" Tywin realized a plausible hypothesis at the exact moment he finished his sentence. 'The Iron Throne! The conflict between the Crown and Dorne! Of course... It would be complex and full of pitfalls, but it could work.' Thought the Lord of Casterly Rock. 'Perhaps you have already arrived at much of the solution yourself, my Lord. The conflict between Aegon VI and Robert Baratheon is an excellent motive for a more than legitimate race for resources and weapons. But it won't be just that... Allow me to show you the gifts of the North that House Tallhart has in store for the House that has been kind enough to host it." End POV. ------------------------------------ POV: The Smiling Lion; Lord's Solarium, Casterly Rock. Seconds after the Tallhart boy approached the case... "Oops. I beg your pardon. Yes, thank you. It's a bit bulky... Here we go." Gerion helped the struggling boy place the long case on the table occupied by rolls of papers and various items. "Please. You do the honours, Lord Tywin." Duncan stepped aside, and his brother took his place in front of the gold and crimson lacquered wooden case, opening it. Gerion stood at his side with eyes sparkling with curiosity. A blade and a case stood out at first glance... 'That one! No, it's not really Valyrian Steel!!!' thought Gerion instinctively before being enchanted by the artefact. Long Two-Handed Ceremonial Broadsword. Solid gold knob worked in a riot of goldsmith craftsmanship. The most finished solid gold Lion's head he had ever seen in thirty-four of his years living surrounded by jewels, tapestries, and gold statues depicting the Lannister crest... Lion's eyes had been adorned with tiny emerald green gems. The long red leather handle bevelled in detail to accommodate ten fingers and hatched in nine golden threads. The hilt is perpendicular to the gold lacquered steel blade, just under a foot long. The tips of both ends appear to be made of bone... No fangs... Tips of Lion's tusk curved slightly upward. Set in the centre of the hilt was a large red ruby in the shape of a rhombus, protected by two joined lions outlined to symmetrically surround the jewel. And then...the blade. Two and a half inches thick at the base, four feet and a palm long. Patterns and ripples of different shades of grey, similar to Valyria steel, all over the bottom of the blade are characterized by red hues. A masterpiece of craftsmanship. Tywin maintained his usual rigid face, devoid of telltale signs, but the eyes... His brother's eyes did not lie, nor could they hide the awe and wonder he felt at that moment. "The eighteenth masterpiece of Gran Master blacksmith, Tobho Mott. His best work to date, in my opinion. The man improves after each completed work... No, my lords. If you are wondering, it is not Valyrian Steel, but I assure you it is very close to the ancient Valyrian master smiths... It has not yet been baptized; I will leave that honour to you. Fresh from the forge, tempered for three days and nights in Gauntlgrym's most acceptable forge. The First Damascus Steel Sword of the West." So finished presenting Bloody Snow with a tone of pride. 'Damascus Steel? Never heard of it... Wait, don't tell me...' Gerion turned his head sharply towards Lord Duncan. Gerion thought back to the rumours of Great Jon Umber's incredible broadsword and Lord Eddard Stark's supposed new bastard sword of Valyrian steel... The smug look and the sly grin plastered on his lips were worth more than a thousand answers. 'House Tallhart had a monopoly on a new formula for working steel!!!' Though Gerion. If the quality of the steel sung was really on a higher level than the metal worked in the forges of Westeros and Essos of today, a wave would have appeared that would have swept the whole market of weapons and war in all the Continents! Mountains of gold, armies, intrigue and conflict of all kinds... All the world forces would move toward whatever entity had custody of such a treasure... Even Gerion, who in his heart would never have wanted to hurt that boy, sensed a voracious and instinctive need within him that kept roaring at him to grab that individual in his claws, squeeze him hard, and force him to spit out the secret of Damascus Steel! Tywin showed far more decorum and demeanour than he had imagined. The Lion of Casterly Rock grabbed the broadsword with both hands and scrutinized it in detail from the foundation to the top. He tapped the edge of the blade with his fingertips and, after carefully assessing the quality of the work, handed the sword to Gerion. It took the smiling Lion a minute to come to similar, if not identical, conclusions to what Tywin thought... It was a steel lighter, more flexible, and stronger than the best metal the forges of Casterly Rock could spit out. Suitable for both lunging and cutting. Gerion rubbed his fingertip parallel to the wire to judge its quality. It was on a whole other level than his longsword forged by the best blacksmith in Lannisport! On a scale of 1 to 10, where a rusty sword made of poorly crafted iron would have been "1" and Valyrian steel "10", Damascus steel could have quickly earned an "8", surpassing by a good margin the "6" that the best forges in the West or the Iron Islands could generate. "In this particular blade, minor spells were also infused. A personal touch from the only Forgemaster present north of the pasting. Certainly not yet up to the standards of those in the Lost Art of Valyria, but still remarkable and rare. The blade's edge should last pretty longer than a basic Damascus sword, and, at least until the next fifty years, according to Master Mott, the metal will be immune to rust and much harder to break. So you could use even cold hammer it for a day straight without creating the slightest crack. Fine Quality = 10 golden dragons per piece. Elite Quality = 300 golden dragons per piece. Royal Quality = 10,000 golden dragons per piece. Recommended retail price: Standard Quality = 5 golden dragons per piece. Premium Quality = 60 golden dragons per piece. Elite Quality = 2,000 golden dragons per piece. Royal Quality = 75,000 golden dragons per piece}. There was a price list for every known type of weapon. Even Dothraki Arakhs, Dornian-style wavy spears, or scorpion points. House Bolton would soon receive a monopoly on all Damascus steel blades and points. He could only request one piece of work per month at most from Grand Master Forger Thobo Mott. And, essentially, the desired amount of any other quality of steel. Domeric was only to 'take advice' from House Tallhart and the Future Queen of the Silk Road on which customers to prioritize. Basically, sales were forbidden to anyone who decided not to avail themselves of the custodial and management services of the promising new Never Winter Bank... And for those who would prove to be 'confident' customers and investors of the new Northern institution those who would pull the most gold out of their pockets, a priority on the sale and a percentage discount. For all the Great Lords of the North and his esteemed fellow knights of the Green Council, very favourable and facilitated terms have already been agreed upon. The strategy used in the past by House Tallhart of rendering commercial favours and profitable opportunities was and still is thriving. If any foreigner from the South or the East had tried to move a single finger towards the benefactors from the North, even the old infirm farmers of all the villages from Moat Cailin to Last Hearth would have armed themselves with torches, pitchforks and stones to drink the blood of the invaders and feast on their flesh. If all went as planned, soon, House Bolton would rise among the twenty richest and most powerful Houses in Westeros. He also had to prepare for the flood of marriage proposals that would most likely flood in as soon as the news spread. His Aunt Barbrey was instructing him personally on 'How to gallantly reject a sincerely in love noble maiden of marriageable age'. To his deep but concealed sadness, his future bride had already been determined. In a few days, the fate would be sealed with words, ink and sealing wax. But Domeric had only one bride gently haunting his dreams and thoughts... A maiden already betrothed. The young lord tried to drown those thoughts in his duties. Domeric worked all afternoon on papers to study and documents sent by his mother, the Lady Regent of Dreadfort, that demanded his attention. Then came a knock at the door... The Lady of Barrowton entered without even being declared by the captain of his guard, Locke. "Auntie! Forgive my unseemly state. I did not think I would receive the gift and favour of your visit," Domeric said, snapping on the spot. The boy had always been respectful and cordial to his only Aunt, who had always treated him as a loving nephew to be pampered and favoured from an early age. After the new Lord of Dreadfort understood the enormity of the power hidden in the shadows of the Widow of Barrowton, friendliness and respect could only increase exponentially. A new verse of the song will sound in Westeros... One that will tarnish the famous {Tywin Lannister Shit Gold}. 'Not a continent's leaf will move on the tree without Barbrey's will.' Thought the boy inwardly, wisely choosing not to want to be the author of a deadly verse that will be up to some hapless, drunken tavern minstrel to write sooner or later. "Nothing to forgive, Domeric. This is your private room, you're a guest, and I'm just a humble, meddlesome lady who wanted to sneak up on her beloved nephew." So said the Aunt, approaching after closing the door. Aunt Barbrey was also not lacking in exaggerated elegance. Although decorous, the Barrowton lady wore a nightdress and kept her hair in a loose tail. But, on the other hand, the woman's face looked relaxed and sunny. The love affair with her Bear seemed to be only on a momentary hiatus. "Isn't there anything you'd like to confess to your favourite Aunt before 'any evidence' accidentally slips from my sleeve?" asked Barbrey Dustin in a sarcasm laced with affection. Domeric was caught off guard. His Aunt could only refer to one topic specifically... The boy's face blushed. "Emm...," Domeric sighed and lowered his cheap mask. "How did you find out?" "My dear, using a Frost Blade as a private messenger and relay might seem like a good idea, but... in my city? Those sneaky thieving spies in Torrhen's Square can't set foot inside my domains without my express consent. And then two walks down the same alley for two days in a row? If you wanted secret correspondence, well, first, you had to make sure it was confidential. Ahaha." 'Not a single leaf...' Domeric inwardly admonished himself with embarrassment. Barbrey smiled lovingly at that compassionate scene. "The message will reach the 'recipient' intact. So don't worry; I certainly won't be the one to betray your trust. I had only come here to reassure myself that you are well aware of what you, she, and the entire North are about to face... You know well that the alliance with House Lannister will be crucial to the good of us all, Domeric. And you know well who will be visiting us in a few days, 'Merchant Skinner'." So admonished Barbrey, quoting the nickname he jokingly bestowed upon him a short time ago. "Yes, I know, Auntie. I didn't mean to... It's just that she's leaving for The Water Gardens after the tournament, and I don't know... I don't know if I'll ever have a chance to write to her again, let alone see her again." Domeric explained, looking up from the ground for the first time. "At the tournament, if done right, you will have a chance to show your qualities and convey the affection of this 'friendship'." Granted Barbrey. Little did Domeric know that his Aunt's diabolical mind was working out another possible subtle means of subtly slapping two Northern individuals of his acquaintance in the face. "But if you didn't even give me permission to enter me into the tournament pool. How will I be able to show my affection?" Domeric asked with brazenness and a subtle hint of frustration. Barbrey Dustin, with the support of her sister, had categorically forbidden Domeric from participating in the jousting and strumming of the upcoming tournament. He could have tried his hand at archery...too bad Domeric was a mediocre shooter, to say the least. Not even Jorah, the groom and future Lord of Barrowton, had received permission! The Maiden's angry cries and the Bear's howls of outrage on the first day were mainly for this reason. With those tones, it was impossible for any deaf ear not to pick up the contents... "There are not only spears, shields, and swords, my dear... Starting tomorrow, you will begin taking lessons of dance, singing, and poetry." *Author Note: The Price of a steel longsword standard soldier equipment fresh from the forge is around 15-20 silver stags, about $600-900. 1 golden dragon = 210 silver stags Steel forged at Casterly Rock, Pyke and other iron islands is renowned for being the best in Westeros after the steel of Valyria. However, their price would be around 35-40 silver stags. Heartwater, a sword owned by Joffrey Baratheon after losing Lion's Tooth, is a work of excellent craftsmanship and adorned with the finest materials; it is worth around 100-150 golden dragons. End Part I ****If you have a chance and desire to support me. 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