A Dream of Steel, a Memory of Gold
Twenty-Seventh Day of the Twelfth Month 292 AC
As soon as you lay eyes on the great arcane steel smelter Lya had poured so much gold and effort into, you understand why she insisted that it be placed well away from the Deep. It was massive, a cylinder of fused grey stone fifteen feet high, tongues of sorcerous fire lapping from its open brim edged with black oily coal smoke. Around it in a ring stand smaller drums of stone ready to be filled with coal or flux for the making of steel, with shafts set between them to allow both to be poured into the molten metal. Beyond that stand the houses of the workers who would feed the ravenous belly of the smelter as well as the guardsmen charged with keeping order and protecting it against sabotage.
Lost 2000 Gold (Permanent Wall of Fire)
Lost 1140 Gold worth of Crafting materials (Control Ring + Aradia)
Catching the flash of crimson robes in the small crowd, you come to stand beside Malarys. "It lacks something of the elegance of the Freehold, I'm afraid," you admit.
"Elegance is a fine thing indeed, but of little use when the task set is not achieved in a timely manner," he replies politely. "I certainly do not begrudge Wisdom Lya the look of her work when she must do with but a handful of barely-trained assistants the task to which entire orders of old would have been set to, even if some of her decisions leave me uneasy..."
"About the smelter?" you ask, surprised.
"Her servitors," he replies with a shake of his head. "She gifts them the power of sorcery and makes them too willful by half. In her own image they may be now, but what of centuries from now? What if the forces that have been poured into their making shape them into something wholly unlike humankind?"
You shrug. "Did you meet the fey spirits who helped erect this smelter? They are not and never have been mortal, and yet I see no cause now or in the future why that would lead to treachery. Men are and they shall remain the most populous upon this world, but I see no reason not to share it with those others who would help us build a better future."
"If the spokes of the wheel are not aligned then it might yet fly apart on a long and swift journey..." He sighs, the thin lines of his face seeming to grow more pronounced for a moment. "Perhaps you are right and I but worry over nothing as an old man trying to recapture the past long since dead."
"Not all that died must needs be buried," you encourage him.
Before you can speak further, however, you spot your mother heading towards you and make your excuses. You do not imagine she is quite ready to hear Malarys' tale yet.
Rather than embrace you as she might have done in private your greetings are simple though warm and for a while you speak mostly of her doings and only a little of yours. Dany has been staying close to her most of the time to serve as a guide and adviser as well as simply getting to know her mother. Soon the conversation moves on to the matter of today's ceremony.
"It's very impressive," your mother admits, waving a hand at the smelter that had begin to belch far thicker smoke as the first batch of steel cooks in its innards. "But things would run much more smoothly at such times if those who now stand in its shadow were more... organized."
"What do you mean?" you ask. No one seems to be tripping over each other more than normal as various officials, minor functionaries, and delegates gape at the smelter.
"There is no order of precedence, so everyone just muddles along by guessing. Well enough for tens of people, even scores, but what of when there will be hundreds? It's all very well for you to settle matters, or those your place your personal trust, in but surely that is time better spent elsewhere."
She looks around as though seeking an example. "Take that girl there..." She subtly nods in the direction of Leila Hill. "Daenerys tells me she is a Lannister bastard who fell on hard times and you came to the aid of in your journeys. But what is her
place, really? She is not a personal confidant of the king, but neither is she one of the minor sorcerers you had been training to serve as armsmen. When Daenerys suggested that I have talismans of protection forged, the sheer cost was staggering. Far more wealth is passing through her hands than is seemly for a mere craftswoman. Only a royal seamstress might even hope to match it, and even that only..." She cuts herself off, likely stopping herself from mentioning something that might reveal her true identity.
What do you answer?
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OOC: I first realized the issue with Leila not getting paid when I was considering how Rhaella would see various people around your court so it's only fitting for her to be the one to mention it to Viserys.
