章 9: Soap... Utility... Pricing... War... and Messages.
POV: Maester Golbarth
Year 281, the first day of the eleventh moon (two weeks until the tourney at Harrenhal).
"Are these the seven hells?" Thought the unfortunate lab rat who could no longer think straight...
*Clink, Clink... Creaaak...* A lock rattling was heard, followed by a squeak of a door.
"No! No! It hasn't been a day yet! IT HASN'T PASSED YET! It can't be!" Indeed, Golbarth was right: it had only been twenty-two hours since the last resumption of the "procedure."
"Maester Golbarth, good morning! I apologize, my friend, for waking you up earlier. Unfortunately, today is going to be a very busy day and as you well know, I hate being late for work..." said Qyburn politely.
"I bring good news and bad news today." The man reached over and untied the linen blindfold that covered Golbarth's eyes. The torchlight dazzled the subject's one still pristine eye. The former maester of Torrhen's Square was no longer afraid of the dark... indeed, darkness and gloom became his allies. It was the light he was afraid of... That illusory specter showed Golbarth all the horrors of that hall of horrors.
"The good news is that we can double the dose of poppy milk... Alas, the bad news is that we've reached the part where we're going to study the effects of this rare and fascinating disease on nerve fascicles...
Unfortunately, even with the additional dose, I'll have to secure a few more straps to make sure you don't move." Explained Qyburn with an apologetic tone and face as he tightened four more leather straps.
The sadistic, soulless bastard liked to explain every single step of the procedure to his subject during the operation.
"Ghuu! Ughgg! Gugh! Ugh! Ugh!" Golbarth had lost the meaning of the word despair.
"Come on, Maester, no need to waste unnecessary energy and fluids. You know very well that we will need them for our long journey.
I beg your pardon again. I was very sorry to have to remove your tongue, but it was necessary.
We can't risk ruining the good people's restful sleep upstairs." Qyburn wiped the watery discharge under the guinea pig's good eye with a handkerchief.
"As always, we wash our hands carefully before starting work. You know maester, I do believe this soap will find great success in the citadel.
Its properties go far beyond hygiene, outperforming our alcohol-based solutions in many ways." Said Qyburn with a smile.
"Fear not my friend, in all likelihood, you will be able to hold out long enough to know the response of the raven I sent to the citadel. Let's just hope the messaging office doesn't file the request as 'not urgent'.
Officially you are already dead, but I made sure to point out in the letter that we were forced to burn your body.
After all, I don't know about this disease, not officially at least." Qyburn finished washing his hands, wore protective leather gloves, an apron, and a mask. He walked over to the instrument table. He grabbed the already disinfected scalpel and walked at a slow pace toward Golbarth.
" Poppy milk! Poppy milk! Poppy milk! You said it! YOU SAID IT!!!" Golbarth tried as hard as he could to turn his strap-locked head toward the flask less than two feet from him.
"Ghu! GhU! Ghu! Ghu!" the maester blinked repeatedly, trying to create any sound or body gesture he could that would help Qyburn understand the message.
"Don't worry maester, I know exactly what you want. I have long since learned the body language of my 'subjects'. It will only take a minute, I promise. I'll just have to measure your pain tolerance to calculate and quantify the effects of the milk on the procedure." Said the new knight trying to reassure the "patient".
"As always, Torrhen's Square thanks you for your sacrifice, O 'noble knight of the mind'. This data will be very useful in case the citadel agents decide to use their 'weapons' against my new masters."
And the work began again...
-------------------------
POV Lady Melessa Tarly
Horn Hill.
That very evening...
Lady Tarly had spent a very tiring day.
Melessa prepared to head for the halls of her own personal baths. Her trusted handmaiden, Katia Flowers, led the way.
Katia was to help her young and, just over a year, married, Lady Tarly, dry and change her robes after the woman's customary evening bath.
Horn Hill did not have any ordinary baths: there was an entire pool of fine marble, about twenty feet wide on each side. A luxury her ancestral household did not have.
Melessa noticed that the water, which poured out steam, was clearer than normal, and that the usual bath oils were not in their usual place.
But there was a refined brown wooden box closed, the lid was adorned with three green pines with a well-crafted engraving.
She looked curiously at Katia raising a frown.
"My lady, a gift from House Tallhart. It seems that all castles from Last Hearth to Salt Coast have received such gifts." Explained the handmaiden with promptness.
Melessa carefully opened the box, intrigued by the news.
She found inside five strange objects of equal size and round in shape.
At first glance, they looked like exotic stones.
"Why five different colors? And above all, what are they Katia?" The Lady asked confused.
"It's called 'Soap', my lady. It is an amazing new beauty product. Much more effective than ordinary oils and bath salts. Each color represents a different fragrance. Of course, the other handmaids and I made sure of that before we let you try it, my Lady." Replied the handmaiden confidently and full of hope.
Melessa noticed that the case inside was specially designed for only five pieces... there seemed to be none missing from the roll call.
"Have you tried it on? Did House Tallhart send multiple boxes of this workmanship as gifts?" Melessa asked in amazement. She was not an expert artisan, but she was certain that the craftsmanship of the box alone could be worth a gold coin or two.
"O no, my lady. That box is unique.
We handmaidens have tried the so-called 'Superior Soap' for high-class merchants. That one my lady is 'Supreme Quality', with higher quality and value than ours. Actually... " Katia froze not knowing how to continue the sentence.
"What Katia? Go ahead and finish your sentence!
Time after time you drop a sentence in the middle, keeping me in suspense for hours!"
"Yes, my Lady! Yes... yes we handmaidens wanted to ask you if... WE COULD try at least one of these five samples!" Said Katia blurting, who immediately blushed at the callousness of her manner.
An hour later…
Melessa felt relaxed and pure as a maiden... Her skin was gliding in her silk robe. She felt cleaner and fresher than ever before.
Not only that, but the smell she gave off was sweeter and less pungent than the perfumes she normally used.
She was waiting for her husband Randyll to join her.
She had no expectations for this night.
Lord Tarly hardly ever lay with his wife after a hunting trip.
A noise interrupted the woman's thoughts. A man of average height, young with slight signs of balding, fully dressed and ready for bed, entered the matrimonial room.
Lord Tarly was a not very tall and handsome man, but his wife found him attractive in every way. In every one of his gestures, she sensed a sense of safety and security.
"I apologize for the late hour, my dear."
"Never mind, Lord husband. Come to bed now." Randyll nodded his head slightly.
"Do you really have to leave tomorrow?" Melessa.
"Yes, my Lady. I already gave Lord Went my acceptance of participation in his tournament a month ago." Randyll stroked his wife's face for comfort and, after a moment's hesitation, continued by sliding his hand down her neck.
He continued the movement of his hand several times, Lady Tarly had closed her eyes and was savoring her husband's gentle caresses with intense pleasure.
The man moved closer, with each caress, his lips touched his wife's neck. Randyll seemed intoxicated by the unexpected sensation he felt from her skin and the pleasant fragrance that emanated from the woman.
That night there was an exception to an unspoken rule...
The next morning...
"Edgar! Edgar! Where are you damn it?!" Lady Tarly shrieked inside the estate.
"Here I am, my Lady! I'm coming!" Melessa noticed a man in his fifties, plump and fatigued from a long run. It was Edgar, the chief attendant of House Tarly.
"I beg your pardon, my Lady. We were making final preparations for..." Edgar was interrupted.
"It doesn't matter! Edgar, from now on for bath products we will no longer purchase the oils and salts from Myr and Lys! We will have to purchase this product! "The Supreme Soap from House Tallhart!!!" Said Melessa hurriedly.
"My lady, I'm afraid we've renewed the purchase contracts just the..." Edgar was interrupted again.
"IT DOESN'T MATTER! You must act now Edgar! Have the maester send a raven to ask House Tallhart for a large purchase of supplies! Stocks for at least a year! Even if we were to cost double or triple. In fact, you must send a delegate to Torrehn Square to negotiate directly! You will also need to find suitable gifts to thank them!" Lady Tarly listed the instructions as quickly as she could.
"My Lady I...I do not understand. Why? Why such urgency?" Edgar asked visibly frightened and confused. This was the first time ever that the calm, sweet, gentle and shy Lady Florent/Tarly had shown such hysteria and violence in her manner.
"I just heard about it now, Edgar! DO YOU UNDERSTAND NOW!? This box had already arrived eight days ago!!! Do you know what that means?? It means that those BLOODY ARPS of Tyrell house, Lannister, Tully, Martell and all the other damned houses of Westeros have at least eight days of a lead on us already!!!
Look! SEE FOR YOURSELF WHAT IS WRITTEN IN THIS LETTER!" Lady Melessa Tarly shouted desperately, literally slamming the message into the hands of the poor chief attendant.
Similar events were happening in many castles and mansions throughout Westeros...
End POV
---------------------------
POV Helman Tallhart
Torrhen's Square.
Four weeks after a Lady's hysterical outburst...
The owner of Torrhen's Square was reading the sales reports for the umpteenth time. He was still in disbelief at the success he had seen. He knew the product was magnificent, but he certainly wasn't expecting a second "war on spice".
"My lady was right... The noblewomen of Westeros are literally grabbing their weapons and armor, and are ready to go to war..." Helman thought, remembering how thrilled Myra was to personally take on the task of writing, to all the ladies of Westeros, the accompanying letter explaining in detail the uses and benefits of the product. She had, in an elegantly cruel way, emphasized -without going into specifics- how "Complex" and "Long" the production process of "Supreme Quality Soap" was.
"At this rate, we will be forced to reinvest the profits, at a minimum, triple production and increase safety... "*
It was his wife Myra who explained an untold truth to the men of Westeros.
In short, it was not true that only men in this world go to war. Women fight to, tooth and nail, but a different kind of war.
In their warfare, lords and knights primarily had necessities: forged steel (for weapons and armor), military training, and supplies (food, bandages, and other healing and maintenance supplies for weapons). For the noble (and not) ladies of Westeros and Essos, on the other hand: accessories (clothes and jewelry), etiquette (courtesy, arts: in song, dance, seduction... etc.), and "Beauty Ingredients": makeup, oils and bath salts, perfumes and skin creams. So yes, the race for Soap would most likely become an arms race.
'And what a war... We're even getting marriage proposals from the houses of Dorne. Leobald warned me that even Lord Rickard would come in person to thank us... Damn it if he was right!' House Tallhart normally managed to save an average of about two thousand gold dragons in a year. From the first batch alone, they had almost managed to scrape together one thousand nine hundred gold coins of profits... A flow of golden dragons never seen in Helman's memory.
In this first month and for the next five, Leobald and Qyburn had advised the Lord of Torrhen's Square to sell these lots only to Northern households. All Northern houses would have the opportunity and license to resell their lots to Southern houses.
Lord Rickard Stark and all the Northern Lords had personally come to thank the Tallhart family a short time ago. To thank their ally for giving the North some real help in recovering from the harsh winter that had just passed.
The Tallhart's placed only one condition: the 'Common Soap' could not be resold, to the people or to other houses and merchants, at a price higher than two copper stars (no exceptions).
And a small request regarding the lands of The Reach (optional).
There were no complaints about both…
Economics and Politics were two sides of the same coin.
A noise interrupted Helman's thoughts.
There was a knock on the door...
"Maester Qyburn, my Lord," said a guard.
"Let him come in." He replied swiftly. Qyburn entered.
"Greetings my Lord, I hope I'm not disturbing your work." Qyburn bowed respectfully holding small rolls of parchment in his hands. Those were probably the most urgent messages out of the hundreds received in the last few days.
"No problem maester, let's get right to it. Tell me everything." Helman said.
"Of course, I'd like to start with the fact that we're constantly getting crows from everywhere. That poor kid Ronan (Tom's son) works diligently day and night to help me with the task. I have tried to reward him with a few coins but...he has always politely declined.
I would suggest, if possible, rewarding him with some rare citadel texts on topics he is most interested in. Perhaps, if possible, and if you have time, you could give him a few words of recognition for his efforts."
"An excellent suggestion, I'll see to it in the morning. As for books, you are at liberty to provide the boy with any text you deem worthy." Qyburn nodded with a small smile at the compliment and kind concessions.
"Our mutual friend, unfortunately, will be of no use to us now. I assure you, my Lord, he has been of incredible help to House Tallhart. Just this morning I finally received a reply from the citadel*." Said Qyburn.
"I see... What did Oldtown reply?"
"The citadel regrets the tragic passing of Maester Golbarth and wishes me well in my work here in the North. They extend their warmest regards and best wishes to you," Qyburn reported with an amused smirk.
"Also, my Lord, the most urgent messages that require attention are those sent from Casterly Rock and the free cities of Lys and Myr. They ask us, in a subtle tone of threat, to create a future business partnership with them. How should we respond?" asked Qyburn in a more serious tone.
"Respond by politely refusing their request. Tell them that unfortunately we have already made and signed agreements with the 'Iron Bank' and that they can try asking them in the future… You have my permission to tread on the letters of our business partner's name." Replied Helman in a not-so-angry tone. Qyburn nodded.
"I am pleased to inform you that Paul returned a short while ago from his long trip to Highgarden. He reports that the debt has been settled and our tribute has been given in the proper manner." Qyburn smiled back reporting this. Helman nodded in satisfaction.
Helman, though he found Qyburn frightening, trusted him since Duncan had told him that he felt the same sense of confidence with his "ability" that Tom exuded.
Helman applied a philosophy of life taught to him by his father... [If they throw a stone at you you respond by throwing a flower... but never, ever forget the "Vase" while doing it.]
"All the houses on the Reach are flooding us with crows and envoys with gifts of all kinds. We are responding with the same message: " You can reverse the messages and ask for appropriate clarification to your Lord Protector."
And finally, my lord, a message from White Harbor, which I'm pretty sure you'd like to read for yourself." Qyburn handed a small scroll to his Lord with the most spontaneous smile he could muster. Helman took the message. He peered at it and said joyfully...
"Tom's back!"
*Author's Note:
Sale Specifics: In a month of non-stop production, the House Tallarth had managed to put into the market:
- 50 lots of "Supreme Soap" (1 Lot = 500 pieces);
- 300 lots of "Superior Soap";
- 5,000 lots of "Common Soap".
*Priced at:
1st "Supreme Soap" = 1 Silver Moon per piece (approximately $300);
2nd "Superior Soap" = 1 Silver Stag per piece (approximately $43);
3rd "Common Soap" = 5 Copper Pennies per piece (approximately $4).
(Review Chap: 5 'The Septuagint' for the monetary system.
Ps. Here I must admit that "Big George" had thrown a good hammer at our heads).
Each piece of "Supreme Soap" was sufficient, according to the styles of the nobles, for one or maximum two uses per person.
By the likes of "Superior" or "Common" four or five (for the washing styles of the common people).
Net profit of the house per month
1°= 5 Stags and 3 Copper Stars x 500 x 50 = approximately 646 gold dragons;
2°= 5 Copper Stars and 5 Pennies x 500 x 300 = approximately 574 gold dragons;
3°= 3 Penny x 500 x 5000 = approximately 637 gold dragons;
Tot = about 1857 gold dragons in one month].
----
*[Author's Note: Qyburn had made it a "personal goal" to make his "work" with Maester Golbarth last until the citadel sent a reply to his raven. Unfortunately, the message had been filed in the "not urgent" section until the Oldtown received the shipment of Soap as a gift from House Tallhart. The next day, the raven had been sent.
Poor Golbarth...]
End POV
------------------
POV Olenna Tyrell
Highgarden.
That same day...
The Queen of Thorns sat again pondering and contemplating for a solution to her enormous 'headache'. She was constantly staring at a small scented object engraved with the symbol of House Tallhart.
'Such a small and seemingly insignificant object as a pebble. But even an insignificant pebble can generate avalanches...'
A knock on the door jolted her out of her thoughts.
"Come in." A very familiar attendant entered, his head lowered and a worried face.
"So, Any news?" Olenna already knew the answer to that silly question.
"No, my lady. Unfortunately, it's the same answer from all the gentlemen in the North. We continue to receive letters from our allied houses..." the boy said fearing the worst. Olenna sighed massaging her forehead with her left hand.
"Lady Melessa Tarly-" the attendant was interrupted.
"May the Seven save me! She will wait like all the others!
I don't want to hear the name of House Tarly or Florent again for at least the next two moons! Banish her from the manor by force if need be!"Olenna roared hysterically.
"Y-yes, my lady…" The boy was wise enough to know when the true ruler of House Tyrell should not be contradicted or taken too seriously.
"House Tallhart?" Olenna made another stupid question.
The boy handed over a small scroll with the exact same message inside. Olenna, accustomed by now, opened it without thinking.
For the umpteenth time, she rereads the three identical words that kept buzzing in her head for days...
{The North Remembers.}
End Chapter.
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