Chapter 27: Chapter 27
11th Month 261AC
Fresh of the assembly line, the ship had that new car smell.
Okay, maybe that was just a tiny bit of an exaggeration. The boat didn't have that new car smell, but it probably had a corresponding smell. Like pine or oak or something. Actually, what was it made out of?
Smaller than I thought it would be compared to the war galleys and most ships that I had seen plying their trade at the docks, but from the looks of it, it seemed far closer to what I had drawn this type of ship should look like. I'm not going to lie, I was no sailing or ship expert, everything I knew about this particular type of ship had been based on the bare minimum I could remember from trawling the internet.
I mean, most of the measurements and dimensions around the schematics I had drawn were more than likely going to be joined by a question mark signifying my own lack of knowledge in the area. Partly the reason why it had mostly been trial and error when it came to building this particular ship.
All I know is that clippers were the fastest sailing ship of their time because it had something to do with the total sail area, angular design and the ability to sail closer to the wind...whatever that meant.
So yeah, this was a risk on my part, but the guy in charge of this particular project seemed rather pleased with himself at the results. So I took that as a good sign.
"Well, it can float at the very least." I remarked as I took one final glance of the very first clipper built in the entirety of planetos, Quicksilver. Yes, I had named it after a Targaryen dragon. I was going to be naming a lot of things after Targaryen symbolism.
Like I said, building a cult of personality wasn't easy or cheap.
Bryce the head shipwright of the shipyard and the man who had overseen the building of the Silverwing grunted. "But can it move as fast as you said it could, Your Grace?"
I shrugged. "That's something we will have to test out." My eyes panned over the body of the ship once more and I decided that a couple of changes had to be made. "Dye the sails black and see if you can have the three headed dragon of the Targaryens placed prominently on one or all of the sails. I want it big and to be seen." I then pointed towards the bow of the ship. "And in white paint or something, mark it as HMS Quicksilver. For identification purposes."
"Considering the cuts you are making to the Arsenal, is that truly wise? Dyes cost money."
Man had a point, I couldn't deny that. "I was able to work it out with our master of coin to give us enough funding to build a moderate sized squadron of twenty-one ships."
In truth, Lord Rowan would have far preferred it if I didn't spend so much money. I wanted forty-nine, because of the holy double of 7x7 but he had balked at the costs of building such a number of experimental ships that have never been tested out before. He had made sounds about them sinking or being unfeasible or something.
Speaking of which, is twenty-one to big of a number for a squadron? Would it be more appropriate to call it a fleet then? Man, the little details were rather annoying to work out.
"We'll need to take her out for a trial run first, your grace." Bryce advised, rubbing a large hand on his jaw. "Got to be sure that everything is running as smoothly as possible before we make anymore. No point in spending so much coin on a ship that doesn't live up to expectations."
I nodded. "I'll find a crew for you, Bryce. I'll have them come down from King's Landing as soon as possible. In fact, I'll do it the moment I get back to the city."
The shipwright gave a grunt as confirmation. And once again, I marvelled over the clipper and hoped to the gods that it wouldn't abjectly fail when it faces the open seas. That would be rather embarrassing.
Lord Rowan had been clamouring after me for so long about keeping costs down, that all he needed was one mishap or disaster for him to go Egg and ask him to intervene. I know the man was doing his job and I had even gone out of my way to try and lower as much of the cost as I could when it comes to everything that I was doing. I was even trying to make up some of it with some enterprise on the side.
I was having the Dragon Pit demolished because seriously, we have no dragons. Why no-one had demolished that thing years ago was beyond me. The thousands of thousands of tonnes of materials that we could recycle from it's rubble would go a long way to lower down the rebuilding costs of King's Landing.
My own particular prejudice and motives left to the side, I already had other plans for Rhaenys' Hill and that particular building was in the way. That, and fact that thing was just hideous to look upon on the city sky line in it's current state.
Done with another admiring view of the Quicksilver, I placed a strong, comforting hand on the shoulder of the shipwright and tried to wave away any doubts that he was having. "I want this to succeed as much as you, Bryce. I know you and your people put a lot on the line on this, and I want to return the trust you put into following me."
Dark, beady eyes glanced at me and looked over my force. I didn't shy away from the look and eventually, the shipwright nodded as he looked away, suddenly finding whatever he had been looking for. "I'll hold you to that, your grace."
I merely nodded my head.
Bryce and the shipwrights that he had been able to convince to come with him when I approached whatever was left of the Shipwrights' Guild had pretty much placed their entire lives in my hands. When I had first approached the guild after the fire about establishing the Westeros answer to the Arsenal of Braavos, they had been interested, until I shared my ideas of how to achieve that.
They had not reacted as well as I had thought to some of my proposals to how we could get an Arsenal up and running. They weren't particularly receptive to my idea of the crown owning the entirety of the Arsenal by itself without giving them a share of the business or the profit produced.
They didn't like it when my rather innovative ideas went against tradition. Of how a guild worked and of how they accepted new members into their guild.
In fact, I considered it rather lucky for me to even get a master shipwright and several journeymen and a couple of dozen of apprentices to join up. I had lost a few of those journeymen to some underhanded (read: knife in the back) to the Shipwrights' Guild, but after sic'ing the goldcloaks on them, they got the idea to play nice or get the fuck out.
Some decided to place nice, others, the traditionalists just decided to get the fuck out. From what I learned, some have gone to Duskendale were Lord Darklyn was accepting them with open arms. Others all the way to Oldtown in the Reach or closer to home to the Maidenpool and Saltpans in the riverlands.
Going around pissing of guilds probably wasn't a very good public relations I'll admit that, but really, I think I had offered more than enough benefits for them to see my way. Some just happened to be too far stuck in the past and tradition to see the more profitable venture I was offering them.
Now then, explaining what assembly line production and division of labour was and implementing it considering the sheer fact that I only had at best several dozen people to impart their knowledge of shipbuilding to dozens, then hundreds, then thousands, no wonder it took so long to get the first ship out of the production line.
Thankfully, it seemed Bryce was sure that give it another year, they'll have more than enough trained personnel to spread the burden of training among more employees to the point that eventually, we'll be able to match Braavos in ship production.
And the clipper was the only thing they had been concentrating on, nothing else.
I picked up a bottle of arbor red, and although the Quicksilver hadn't been launched yet, I still tossed the bottle to smash against the hull of the clipper. Bryce looked at me with a raised eyebrow at the strange action.
I shrugged. "For good luck."
Because I really hoped this thing would work out for me.
The Arsenal was located a few miles upriver from King's Landing. In fact, from the walls of the Red Keep, you could probably notice it with good enough eyesight, barring that, a telescope would do. Around the Arsenal, a town was slowly developing to house all the workers and their families.
I had mostly been interested in my workers having a place to sleep in, but some enterprising souls had been quick to set up other businesses. Taverns, inns, brothels which were seemingly a necessity in any large scale town or village among various other things.
I think I even saw the signs of the beginning of a supermarket at work in one of the buildings that had been rented out by a wealthy merchant from King's Landing. A general goods shop, he called it. I had flashbacks to my Runescape days when he had said that.
Ah, those were the days.
The Arsenal wasn't the only source of industry though. Across the Blackwater, just outside the boundaries of the kingswood, a saw mill supplied the Arsenal with the needed wood for ship production. Of course, other factories had sprang up as well because not only was my Arsenal a shipyard, it was also very much an armoury as well as a foundry.
Although the armoury and the foundry were in a work in progress, along with the steel mill that supplied the foundry with the metal that I was going to need later on. Most of my attentions had been concentrated on getting the shipyard part of the arsenal up and running first compared to the other two.
That, and the fact that unlike the Shipwrights' that had been devastated, the Blacksmiths were still very much a unified force and I needed to deal with them to get them to come work for mills and foundries. That was going to be annoying.
So very annoying.
Then there was also the logistical crap I had to deal with to make sure that enough ores were being supplied to the steel mills. Thankfully, the stormlands were close enough and had reasonable enough mountains that probably held ores and it just so happened the Lord Paramount was my cousin and one of my best friends, so there was probably some good old nepotism would come in useful to working out some kind of deal.
If not that, then I had other plans in mind to get me my ores.
Outside the Arsenal, the budding town was blanketed in white as a fearsome snow storm had struck the crownlands that had made trouble rather difficult since you could only see nothing but white in front of you. I had planned on touring the Arsenal and town earlier, but unfortunately, the storm had made me change my plans.
"Why do you have to be such a child?"
And the first thing I hear coming out of the Arsenal, tugging my furs closer to my body to keep warm, was Ryam standing over Harry.
My younger squire was in the process of making a snowman, but the snow sculpture happened to be missing eyes, a mouth and a nose. Probably because there seemed to be a lack of stones and a carrot not in sight.
"I don't see how making a snowman makes me a child." Harry replied as he smoothed down some rough edges. "And if you haven't realised, we are children."
The rest of my company that had escorted me to Aegondale looked on at the two young men argue amongst themselves in amusement.
"We are squires for a prince and here you are, acting like a child. I'm embarrassed for you."
Harry snorted. "Then be as embarrassed as much as you want. I'm still making my snowman."
I shook my head as I looked over at Jon Tides, the closest thing that I had a mayor who oversaw the town. "How long have they been going at his?"
Jon Tides bowed at my presence before standing up straight. "The moment you stepped inside, your grace." His eyes drifted to the entrance of the great work house before coming back to rest on me. "Is everything as you expected?"
I smiled. "Better than I expected."
Tides smiled widely at that and bowed again. "I promise on my name that I will continue to be diligent in the duties that you have given me, your grace."
When I had been in search of someone to oversee the daily running of Aegondale, Duncan had directed me towards this man. Lean and homely, there was nothing really eye catching or remarkable about the man, but Duncan had informed me that the man had been working for him for more than a decade and was more than capable enough.
The Tides were minor nobility in King's Landing with the only land that they had to their name being the land that their manse was built upon. Apparently, they could trace their lineage all the way back to Driftmark, which probably meant that they had Valyrian heritage from the Velaryons or something like that.
In that regard, they had set up shop in King's Landing when Aegon the Conqueror built the city in the hopes of greater wealth that they couldn't probably find on Driftmark. In the past three hundred years, they had built themselves a steady reputation of being diligent workers in the royal bureaucracy.
He didn't actually need to escort me around town, but he had insisted on the matter and I didn't have the heart to turn him down.
"I would expect nothing more of it, Jon. The storm must have put some difficulty on your daily operations."
Jon frowned. "Some difficulty, but we overcame them easily enough. Although if the storm had continued on for any longer, we might have been in trouble."
"One can only hope that this winter isn't a long one and that spring comes quickly." Fuck Westeros and it's fucking weird weather. I turned towards Gwayne my eternal shadow and gave him a signal to get the men ready to leave. I had seen enough.
Before we left or before I had even gotten on my horse, two guardsmen made their approach towards me, escorting a man between the two of them. They bowed when they came close. "Your grace, apparently, this man wishes to speak with you." One of them said, and I think his name was Wilks if I remembered correctly.
Jon narrowed his eyes somewhat on the man. "On what subject?"
"We asked, but he kept saying something about it being a matter of urgency and that the prince knows him." Wilks replied before his eyes narrowed on the man. "Me and Wal thought he was talking nonsense, but he wouldn't go away. We searched him and he wasn't armed so we decided to bring him here to you, keeping an eye on him of course in case he tries any nonsense."
"I don't know this man." Jon admitted turning on me. "I may not know all of the inhabitants of the town, but I have yet to receive any reports of any homeless. There's enough housing in the town for every worker and we still have spare room, so I can certainly voucher that he is not from Aegondale."
The town steward seemed pretty sure of himself, but looking over the man, there was some familiarity about him that I just couldn't place.
The fact that half of his gaunt face seemed to be covered with a bushy beard wasn't really helping me come to identify him in the slightest. From the slight narrowing of Gwayne's eyes that I could see, I think he felt the same as me on the familiarity.
I cocked my head slightly to the side. "I feel like I should know you. Perhaps we have come across each other before? Even for a moment."
"Your grace, it's me." His voice was hoarse and definitely familiar but I still couldn't put a face to a name.
"I'm going to need more than that." I told the man.
The bearded man dropped to the floor straight onto his knees. That would have hurt on the cobbled street but thankfully, the snow had absorbed much of the impact.
The sudden random action of the man had caused the two guardsmen that had escorted him to put hands on their blades and Gwayne to take a step forward and place a hand in front of me, hand raised on the hilt of his own sword. The other guardsmen and my squires had also taken note and were looking at the situation with interest.
"It's me, your grace." He repeated again. "Serret."
I think me and Gwayne blinked at the same time. I walked around Gwayne and crouched down to get a good look on the man and holy crap, it was him. "...How are you still alive?" I asked after a moment of taking all this in. I had been working on the assumption that all the alchemists had died in the fire.
The wisdom licked at his cold lips, seemingly embarrassed about something. "Me and some of my colleagues were not at our guild hall at the time of the accident. We were out enjoying...delightful companionship."
"Whoring." I remarked dryly. I shook my head before standing up and pulling the alchemist to his feet. "You said you and your colleagues, how many of them are left?"
"Less than a dozen, your grace. It was only some of the more prominent acolytes and wisdoms." He answered. "There is only me left, your grace. The others worried about their very lives, sailed for the Free Cities."
"And you stayed?" Gwayne asked tautly from behind me.
Serret nodded his head slowly, his shoulders slumped as if he had the weight of the world upon his shoulders. "The guilt..." He said slowly.
I shook my head and looked towards Jon. "I hope you wouldn't mind if you gave us a spare horse do you? I know this man. And I would rather like to keep him close for now."
Jon looked away from Serret to me and nodded. "Of course your grace, I'll have someone fetch you one right now." He answered before quickly walking away towards one of his own staff that he had brought along with him.
"Your grace," Serret began quietly. "You should know..."
"Shh..." I cut him off. Eyes taking in my surroundings and the attention the guardsmen had placed on us. They had sworn oaths to serving House Targaryen, but this was Westeros, good, honest people were probably an endangered species. "Now is not the time nor the place."
Definitely not the time or the place to talk about the fire. The official story was that it was the Blackfyres and if I had anything to do with it, that as going to be the official story. I didn't need anybody lynching Serret if it was to be discovered that the alchemists had been involved in some way.
The man was useful and perhaps he had something of note to tell me. He could possibly tell me of anything strange or strange people that had been spotted before the accident. Something that could possibly give me a clue to where to start investigating about the instigators.
In truth, I didn't have much faith in finding anything out, even if Serret had information that I could use. By now, either the people directly involved in the plot were dead or long gone.
And I didn't have the benefit of CCTV or anything like that.
Harry walked up to me, Ryam beside him. The Wendwater youth seemed to be staring in the direction of the main road that led from Aegondale to the capital. "Your grace, I think I see a rider heading our way."
Turning my head, I could see a figure riding hard for us. "Most likely a royal messenger from the capital. He's certainly eager to get here as quickly as he can though. Never seen anyone ride so hard before. It's almost as if he believes the Stranger is right on his tail." Ryam noted.
And the Reyne squire had a point. The guy was riding awfully hard and did seem to be in something of a hurry. Gwayne ordered some of the guardsmen to move forward and stop the rider just in case.
The two guardsmen acknowledged their orders before making their way to block the path of the rider. as he neared one of them held out a hand, palm facing out to halt him. I was a bit worried that the guy was riding to quickly to stop, but thankfully, he was able to pull up his horse quick enough to slow down to a trot before stopping completely in front of the guardsmen.
"Who goes there?" One of the guardsmen asked.
The rider ignored him completely as he looked around the group looking for someone by the looks of it, his horse breathing heavily from the work it had done. "Where is Prince Aerys? I have a message from the king for his eyes only!"
"Right here." I announced myself as I made my way towards him. "Must be an important message then for you to be in such a hurry." The messenger searched for something in his pack before pulling out a letter for me. Taking the letter, I pried it open and began to read it through. "Oh bugger me sideways." I said after a moment.
"Your grace?" Gwayne asked after me.
I sighed as I crunched up the letter in my hand. "For what it's worth Ryam," I began slowly, dreading what would be the reaction to what I was about to tell him. "I'm sorry."
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