Chapitre 24: Maester Vaelar I
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The sound of a quill scratching at parchment silently echoed in the chamber. Vaelar Flowers sat at the maester's tower of Dragonstone, a cosy space, it was filled with leather covered books, scattered scrolls and unfinished trinkets, yet each and every object was in order.
Vaelar ceases writing for a moment, flexing his arm and fingers to relieve stiffness and tension. "My arms are to fall out at this point."
Maester Vaelar found himself with an increasing amount of duties, the Prince's new position at the capital meant that he had to take Robert Quince and most of his subordinates in order to assure other in the city.
However, by no means did they leave them dry, the matters of administration in the island are so streamlined that the skeleton crew left by his grace was more than enough to handle it, and with the raised literacy due to the increase of educated slave refugees, there was more than enough loyal, skilled scribes and stewards capable of filling any gaps to be filled.
Additionally, Ser Alfred Broome took over as the new castellan, the now much mellower knight was an excellent master of arms, and he directed the military assets within the fief with admirable skills, leaving all administrative and logistical matters for the actual experts. He was actually happy for once, which was logical, Vaelar couldn't imagine the stereotypical Westerosi vassal being happy fulfilling those tasks.
No, the actual reason for his tired expression wasn't such trivialities; it was actually due to the prince's desire for progress in terms of useful innovations. The Dragonslayer's mind for useful applications and his eye for hidden yet obvious breakthroughs were as astounding as ever, causing the success rates of their experiments to be much more successful than expected.
Some failed, of course. Like the so called "black powder" of Yi-Ti which turned out to be but a hoax, it certainly created enough hot air to match what Maesters were able to gauge out of a wildfire explosion, yet it was just flammable enough to reach the threshold of speed of combustion needed to create an explosion without reaching it.
The Prince had thought to test it even more thoroughly, expecting that with the right ratio of ingredients than the substance would succeed, yet it never did. He strangely seemed both gladdened and disappointed with the results.
"I had so many things in mind for this black powder, were it to work. Yet maybe it is for the best that it didn't." He had commented.
There were some other failures, like gold plating through –strangely enough- dipping gold in an acid and attaching it with copper wire. He didn't know how, but their initial experiments worked, unfortunately though, there was something queer going about the process, as it seemed to cause the coated object to quickly fall apart from the inside.
Yet for every failure, there were many more successes, new farming methods, new methods to create dyes, spirits that have been dubbed as "firewater" by sailors for its ability to get you drunk with a cup (very useful in cleansing wounds and preventing infection), liquid-rock, blast furnaces, the compass! All of these brought untold riches to the Targaryen prince, their exact nature hidden as secret knowledge, never to be shared.
Unfortunately for Vaelar, a huge amount of those riches gets reinvested by Baelon for even more experiments, increasing both he and his acolyte's workload to great lengths.
Speaking of acolytes, one of them, with a decent sized chain composed of a majority of pale steel (Smithing) links alongside some brass(History), copper(History), gold(General knowledge), and black iron (Ravenry or Communication) in one and twos, entered his room.
It was enough to be promoted to a Maester, certainly, yet the Citadel is in truth a deeply political institute, causing many knowledgeable and exceptional acolytes to be left behind.
Vaelar had enough backing –or the illusion of one- that he was promoted at the young age of six and ten, while he was considered very knowledgeable for his age at the time, his links were but the bare minimum needed for a promotion.
So when the Prince sent him a raven telling him about his assignment as Lord of Dragonstone, urging him to be his castle's Maester while dragging along as many promising acolytes as ever, Vaelar ecstatically did so, bringing with him a gaggle of skilled –but unmotivated- acolytes, who had their path upwards cut off by too much passion or unfortunate circumstances.
Now that their discoveries, directed by the prince's wisdom, are slowly getting disseminated through the Crownlands and into the world, many of them who went through the same experiences saw an opportunity for something better, causing their number of educated subordinates to see a great increase in manpower.
Let us not talk of the skilled artisans freed from slavery, the expensive yet immensely knowledgeable Braavosi shipwrights, and all sorts of expert scholars and learned people looking for greener pastures.
All of these people, coming under his jurisdiction, all proud intellectuals stubborn in their old ways, demanding more funds for projects and arguing with each other over the slightest slights.
The sad thing about this situation is that it wasn't his proximity to the prince that accorded him this position, but simply the fact that he was most suitable for the role.
As a young man Vaelar came to a singular conclusion in his studies, knowledge is only useful if it CAN be used, no matter its origin. A not so rare perspective, but one that caused him to diversify in his studies, gathering links in most fields available even including Valyrian steel.
The Prince had a neat expression for it, a jack of all trades, he said. That made him capable of at least holding a conversation with learned men of most fields, economics, medicine, engineering, and smithing were his forte, perfect for managing all different projects in wildly different fields.
"Maester." The acolyte spoke. "Ships with Targaryen banners have been sighted over the horizon, with Sunfyre –Prince Aegon's dragon- circling them."
The reason why he was informed for something like the arrival of these ships was because they were expected for different reasons.
The first reason for the anticipation is related to Prince Baelon's recent presence in Kingslanding, after weeks and weeks of negotiating, his grace has managed to convince the Alchemist guild to be annexed under his banner, to receive his direct patronage but also follow his instructions.
At first, they firmly opposed the decision, but blinded by the prospect of a prominent sponsor –a superior version of Peremore the Twisted- they not only did so, but they also conceded to the prince –and therefore Vaelar's- complete authority.
Threats of dragonfire may or may not have been used.
The other reason, and one that didn't really concern him much, is that with the Targaryen's official ownership of the Stepstones getting announced, two modest fleets were to be built or gathered for their defense.
The first will be under the leadership of the Rogue Prince, leading offensive actions against pirates, slavers, and all kinds of evil doers composed of Velaryon captains and sailors, their ships rented from the Seasnake by the royal family for a respectable sum and a portion of the loot.
This decision was made due to the close relationship between Prince Daemon and House Velaryon, through his former marriage to their late daughter (and the subsequent marriage of their daughter in law), in addition, the prince and the Velaryon navy were familiar with each other thanks to the war on the Stepstones.
That same strategy cannot be used for the second fleet, since they were to be put under the Lord Governor of the Stepstones, and with that nominally being Prince Aegon, neither him and his family nor the Velaryons would appreciate such a notion.
There was a proposal, however, of using his motherly backing to imitate the other fleets formation, but that strategy was used in order to prioritize speed and lower costs, Prince Daemon's mission is predicted to be a temporary measure in order to break enemy morale, whilst the Lord Governor's was to be used on a more permanent basis as a force of stability for the region.
The plan is for the Rogue Prince to decimate the pirates still plaguing the Stepstones while the second fleet of ships was leisurely getting built and sailors were being trained. Naturally, they needed to do so in a place in close proximity to the narrow sea, whilst having great loyalty to the Targaryen family.
Kingslanding's ports are still getting renovated, and the recent surge in trade caused whatever is useable to be filled to the brim with merchant ships and the royal navy's fleet. And with Dragonstone's recent capability to build naval vessels –warships or otherwise- it was the obvious choice.
Prince Aegon's presence wasn't expected however, while he was named Lord Governor of the Stepstones, everyone expected him to only actually hold the mantle until a few years later when he grows more skilled and familiar with the position.
Vaelar turns to the Acolyte. "Thank you, Weston." He dismisses him as he leaves, swiftly heading to the castle's exist into the commonly named "Dragon's Path", the gigantic road that leads from the docks straight to the gates of the city, it is the most traveled roan in Dragonstone, like the trunk of a tree that connects the roots to the branches.
Once he reached the docks he found a dour faced man in full plate armor standing before a contingent of purple cloaks, when he noticed Vaelar's approach, the man nodded in greetings. "Maester." He said.
"Ser Broome."
They weren't close, Broome and Vaelar, they shared a common goal in their loyalty to their liege, yes, but they didn't have anything in common, causing them to have quite a considerable distance between them.
So they stayed quiet, waiting for the guests to arrive.
Before the ships were in sight, a great shadow covered the sun's rays all throughout the Dragon's path and toward the towering Dragonmont, Sunfyre –Prince Aegon's dragon- was the most beautiful dragon Vaelar laid eyes on, it had gleaming scales that shone like beaten gold in the cover of the sun, while his pink membranes were a nice contrast to the shining color, giving an air of elegance.
He squints his eyes, trying to take a gander at its back; his untrained eyes were barely able to sense the absence of its rider, indicating that the Prince is to be with the ships.
It wasn't long before the ships followed; they were some fifteen ships, a mix of cogs and galleys, disembarking in the port at the same time.
The biggest and most intimidating one was a familiar sight to the Maester's eyes, the "Brave Heart" was a ship captained by one of Dragonstones earliest sailor recruits and one of their best, a loyal man tasked with leading important trade missions and defending merchant ships in the area from pirates.
The Prince Aegon seemed sickly from the sea travel, the last time he saw him leaving a ship he was also vomiting, yet at the time he wagered it was more from excess of drink rather than a lack of affinity with the sea.
The Aegon of the year of the Red Spring was no more, however, the prince was still thin and lanky, yet his skin tone was no longer pale and his eyes lacked the permanent shade that gave him a lethargic appearance.
Most importantly however, was the way he comported himself, with measured movements, confident steps and a tall posture, the boy prince was a boy no more, holding eye contact with a menacing knight like Ser Alfred Broome with ease, and Vaelar actually saw him make a squire wet his pants with a glare once.
The receiving party naturally bowed to royalty. ""Your Grace!"" They echoed.
"No need for formalities, here." Aegon said. "Please stand."
"Your grace, unfortunately we weren't aware of your arrival, if we had we would have prepared a more appropriate reception."
"I prefer it this way, actually." His eyes scanned the crowd before finally settling on Vaelar. "Maester Vaelar, was it?"
"Yes, your grace?" He responded.
"I hear you will be deeply involved with the building of what is to be my fleet." The Prince says. "I would deeply enjoy getting familiar with the process." He turned toward the sailors working at the deck of the ship. "I'd also like to observe their training, to get familiar with them."
Vaelar hesitated to speak. "Excuse me for my uncouth remarks, my prince." He says. "But isn't your grace supposed to stay in Kingslanding for the foreseeable future? One would assume you to be too young and inexperienced to take charge of your position."
The surrounding men tensed in surprise, Vaelar was right, his words were incredibly presumptuous, and his question very inappropriate.
Yet the Prince simply waved it off. "I agree." He said. "I am to learn, yes. But to do so optimally I need to be present in the thick of it, observing more experienced administrators and diplomats should prove to be an incredible opportunity to gather experience."
"I know my limits; my Uncle is the one undergoing the hard work." He finished with a light note, putting the men more at ease.
'He definitely changed for the better.' That was a thought that echoed through the spectators' heads, especially those who were present two years ago.
"I am about to receive the Alchemist Guild, your grace." He said. "How about accompanying them on a tour of the facilities?"
The prince nodded with a smile.
"That would be most wonderful."
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone