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Chapter 43- The Seadragon's Roar (Gifts, Sails, and Sales)
🕑 Added 2025-11-07 21:51:08 +0000 UTCIgneel’s new carrier was about the same size as the ship that used to be my father’s flagship. In a couple of years, it would be too big, I thought with no small amount of pride as I watched him settle down on the wood. We had improved the design of the carriers with time. Now there were several braziers underneath the deck that would be maintained by the sailors that had volunteered to sail with him. His meals would also be roasted and prepared for him even during transit, thanks to a special furnace made for his use.
The old carrier design had been utilitarian, focused on only getting him from point A to point B as efficiently as possible. This new one was designed to act as a mobile home for him in much the same way aircraft carriers in my past life functioned for the aircraft that called them home. It also meant I would not have to stable him at the Dragonpit while I was within King’s Landing. The risk of him being locked away from me was remote as we had little conflict with the royal family to speak of, but it was best I set the precedent now that relations were good so that it would not seem out of place when I used it when relations were less... good.
“You have truly outdone yourself with this one, Rhaenos,” I said, giving him the praise he deserved.
“This one is pleased to have been of service, my lord. This one also must add that without my lord’s drawings and notes, this one would not have been able to make this possible,” he said, and I nodded. Speaking of my notes, though.
“How is the progress on my new flagship?” I asked.
“The final finishes and furnishings are in progress now, my lord. In a matter of weeks, I shall present her to you properly,” he said.
“And there were no complications with Driftmark?”
“No, my Lord. The builders there produced exactly according to specifications. To be completely honest, I fear that they are our betters in most parts of the process, my lord.”
“That is normal. They have been working together for much longer, building ships according to my designs. For almost as long, and have access to better tools and labour. It is just the way of things for now. But I would be surprised to find them being your brothers by the end of the decade,” I said, giving the explanation and praise with ease. Because in truth, Rhaenos was impressive. I did not allow it show as often, but he was one of those that were far exceeding the expectations I’d placed on him. I would never have expected to be on pace to begin building whole ships from hull to sail here in Bloodstone by the end of next year, but that was what we were on pace for, impressively enough.
“Thank you, my lord.”
“But I do have a question. What do you think about the suggestion to move the shipyard off of Bloodstone and to somewhere else, like Grey Gallows or Torturer’s Deep?” I asked. It was a suggestion Vaemond had made some moons ago, and I had been considering it since then. Of course, I knew he would make a play for one of his sons to be given the Lordship once I did so, but the suggestion was not borne purely out of self-interest.
It was best to spread development across as many places as possible. Bloodstone did not have enough space for our entire population; besides, we would not want it that way even if it could be.
It would be a beautiful capital in time, the center of industry, but more things needed to be offshored to give the other islands a chance to shine, and shipbuilding was one of the industries being considered. Glass and cement had been suggested, but I was far from keen to allow my two major cash cows to leave my immediate circle of influence. The mess with Stevron and the limestone was still in my mind, after all.
“I will do your will, my lord.”
“I have no doubt you will, Rhaenos, but I asked for your opinion for a reason.”
“I— I think the men, I think the men like being close to the city. They can spend their pay with their families, and they work harder for it. More things to buy, to use their pay on, more reason to work then. Bloodstone is the only city that has this— the market to shop so much at,” he said.
“I see. That is a consideration I had not considered. Having things to buy with pay probably incentivizes them to work for longer, and to work harder. Gold means more with things to spend it on, and much less in the middle of nowhere,” I said.
“Not saying the gold is the only reason why the men do the work, my lord, of course,” Rhaenos said, and I scoffed.
“Of course. But how many of them would come if I stopped paying?” I asked. He went silent.
“That is a good thing, Rhaenos. It is how free men must live. Live for yourselves more than you live for me. Because I am not your master. I am nothing but a tool for you to get what you want. Just as you are all tools for me to get what I want. While I love each and every one of you as my people, and hope you will all come to love me as your Lord, we cannot ignore the basic terms of the social contract that binds us. I will see your needs met, I will destroy all who threaten you, and in return, you will do my will. Not for my benefit, in truth, but for the benefit of us all. You will trust me to know what is best for us all as a people because I am your Lord. And I will trust you all to do your jobs, because you are my people,” I said, basically laying down what I thought about governance. It was not an approach that would be popular among my fellow Lords, but what could I say about it? Maybe it was my modern sensibilities making an arse of me. Maybe not. Only time would tell in the end.
“Truly, my Lord. I will do better to make the men loyal to more than just gold regardless. They must work for a greater purpose,” he swore.
“And indeed they will. I have no doubts about your ability to make that happen, Rhaenos. Thank you,” I said in reply, leaning over and placing my hand on his shoulder. He nodded, taken in by the gesture. I turned to leave, because the ships were only part of my assignment for today.
Next, I had to look into gifts. And gifts were a difficult thing to arrange for someone in my situation. I needed to get something for the newborn, the mother, the Prince who had grown old enough to no longer need to suckle at his Mother’s teat, perhaps the King himself, and then for Rhaenyra, Mother, and Laena. I needed to get Rhaenyra something worthy of a Princess to avoid being seen as cheap or less than, but at the same time, for more... personal reasons, I had to get Laena a better gift than whatever I bought Rhaenyra.
Well, bought might have been the wrong word, because I wasn’t going to be paying for this. It was actually going to make me money in the long term rather than lose me money, to be honest, because this was going to be an advertisement for my products. I was going to create Westeros’ first influencer marketing campaign.
“Is that mine, Thoren?” I asked, spotting the project being given pride of place in the center of the workshop. It was a tall, full-body mirror. The glass was perfect, clean and clear in a way that Myr could not replicate. It was a straight slab, cut into an oval, and encased in an ebony frame that had been hand-engraved by some of the best artisans all the way from Braavos. Unfortunately, I hadn’t been able to tempt them to stay, but their work was impeccable. Dragons were carved into the wood all over, matching the family’s obsession with having them everywhere in view.
And the ebony had been matched with a crap ton of Summer Island bloodwood that, all things considered, had ended up costing almost its whole weight in gold. Well, that was only if one included the lost gold from having a ship sent all the way to the Summer Isles specifically with the goal of buying it, and then having to pay a shit ton for it because of its relatively low supply, the fact that the amount we needed would cause a scarcity in the market, and the fact that we were foreigners—could never forget the good ol’ alien tax, could we?
So the mirror had a black and red wooden frame with dragons carved into it. It was beautiful by every estimation, and rare was not even beginning to cut it. She would have the best mirror in all the Seven Kingdoms, and it wasn’t even close. Of course, that was if you didn’t include the Stepstones or Driftmark. I’d shipped dozens of mirrors for stocking High Tide in the months since our major orders for glass dried up and we had extra capacity to work with. Of course, the extra capacity would hopefully be coming to an end today, but that was for later on.
“And the other thing?” I asked.
“Ready as well, my lord,” he said, moving to a drawer and opening it up to reveal a hand mirror. One of the first of its kind in this world. This was the main product I would be selling. Because I had little illusions that any house without the last name Lannister, Hightower, or Targaryen could comfortably afford the luxury that was a full-length mirror. The mirror was the hero product that would draw all the attention when I presented it, having them paying attention so I could then come out with the hand mirror.
It would still be expensive— a luxury only the richest or vainest of nobles would stomach, but the good thing about court was that it was filled with the vain. Every Lord would want his daughter to have one once the Princess was seen with one. My goal here was to turn my mirrors into the kind of status symbols that everyone wanted and somehow managed to remain valuable even with some modicum of mass supply. Their inherent utility would ensure that, at the very least.
“Good. I will be coming with the Lord Lannister later today. Polish the mirror before then. We won’t be selling to him, but best we get him interested nice and early,” I said. Thoren nodded. Rhaenos understood ships, Parvella understood numbers, and what made Thoren good at his job was that he understood people. I hadn’t promoted him because of his glassmaking experience. The differences between my process and Myr’s were so numerous as to make it night and day. And that wasn’t even considering the fact that he hadn’t been all that far along in his training in the first place.
“Keep up the good work,” I said, ending my visit as abruptly as it began and making my way to my third destination for the day.
“Oh Parvella, you have outdone yourself,” I said as I looked at the scale model. It was perfectly in line with my drawings. Well, not my drawings in truth. My copy of the drawings I’d been able to procure from a certain resourceful Braavosi. The alliance with the Sealord was producing dividends I hadn’t been able to even foresee. The man was resourceful in a way few could imagine, and even fewer could match.
Braavos was the trade capital of the world, and if there was something to be found, it would be found there. So a complete map of Valyria— not just the city like what most had, but the entirety of the empire itself wasn’t too surprising a find. My shock had come from the speed at which he had been able to procure it. A casual mention in the middle of conversation, and the next time the Sealord’s representative had made port at Bloodstone, the drawings had been underarm. Given as a gift, not even as a trade.
Guess it was a good thing that I didn’t burn the arsenal for the crime of selling ships to the Triarchy like Laena would have preferred. Because it meant we had started off our relationship with the Sealord wanting to compensate for picking the wrong side in the war, and his compensation had proven to be nothing short of... generous.
The base of the scale model was made with cement, cast into varying shapes to match the islands themselves. The scale model buildings were made of cement as well for the most part. Where it was possible to cast them with cement we did, and we used wood or other materials where it was not. It was a beautiful thing. And even more importantly, it was significant. It was the kind of gift that I hoped Viserys would not be forgetting about for a long, long time.
I’d need that goodwill for when I fucked up marrying his daughter, at the very least. With that gift secured, it was now time for the last two. For young Aemond, the choice had been simple. A crib. What else did babies need? And since I knew that basically everyone and their mother would be getting one for the new prince, it was my duty to make sure mine was the chosen one. How? Carvings of dragons, of course. Every Targaryen bar one was obsessed with them— and Aegon the Dragonbane had a lot fucked up about him so even mentioning him here felt unfair to some extent. And beyond the carvings, I’d gone to great extents to secure the same ebony and Summer Island bloodwood combination to make his crib an enchanting mix of black and red.
It was easily the most beautiful crib I’d ever laid my eyes on, and everyone I asked for their opinion said the same. For the other members of the royal family, the gifts were more... standard.
For the young Prince Aegon, a wooden training sword made of ebony for his sword practice, and a young palfrey bred from Yronwood’s stock— Dornish sandsteeds were known for their endurance and surefootedness. And for the Queen, well the answer was jewellery. An expensive necklace adorned with so many emeralds that it gave off an enchanting green glow in whatever room it was placed in. And I then matched it with a pair of earrings. I had strong hopes that no one would beat me when it came to gifts for the royal family.
But that was only half of what was necessary for making an impression during the tourney. The other half would be winning the damn thing. I turned my attention to Ben behind me, considering suggesting that we head out for a joust, but the arrival of a messenger tossed that from my mind.
“Lannister ships, my lord,” he said. I nodded. That was good. According to the raven from Casterly Rock, they had left basically a moon ago, right down to the day, so they were right on time.
“I will welcome Lord Lannister myself. Send word to the castle to make preparations,” I said.
XXXXX
After a feast that had run well into the night with the Lannister contingent seemingly dead set on drinking me out of house and home, I had honestly expected that our business would have been postponed until past noon at the very least.
Instead, bright and early, a runner had come up to inform me of Tyland Lannister’s desire to get things over with now. And that was what had us riding into the city of Bloodstone, heading to the warehouse I had set aside for displaying the glass.
“I have heard good things about the glass you supplied to the Sealord,” he said, seeming to be trying to bring up some sort of small talk.
“Indeed. The Sealord was pleased with his order,” I said.
“A whole palace with glass walls that stretch from the ceiling to the ground I have heard it described as. Is such a thing even possible?”
“Velaryon glass is the best in the world, Ser Tyland. I assure you that if you want something done, my people would see to it that you have it,” I said.
“Hmm. People. Slaves purchased from Myr, yes? Strange that Myr seems unable to compete with your glass,” he said. I noted the subtle insinuation, but kept my smile in place.
“I bought no slaves, Ser Tyland. You know trading in flesh is forbidden by the Seven. The Triarchy forfeited those they had enslaved as part of the peace agreement, and I set them free the second they arrived here,” I said.
“Indeed. Of course, I never meant to insinuate otherwise.”
“And to answer your question, the Myrish cannot compete because Velaryon glass is fundamentally different from theirs,” I said.
“But how so?” he asked, eyes narrowed and telling of a deep curiosity.
“Such boring matters are not for lords like us. We shall leave it to the artisans to worry about. Come, come see what I have available for your brother’s project,” I said, spurring my horse faster, neatly avoiding the probe.
“He has told you what he desires, I trust,” he said, spurring his own horse on.
“He says he would see a Sept built to celebrate his son’s seventh nameday, to honour the Seven for their mercies,” I said.
“He wants something that nothing in the world can compare to.”
“Then he sent you to the right place. You see, we recently developed a new form of glass—specifically stained glass to create a beautiful pattern of choice,” I said, watching his eyes widen as we walked into the warehouse.
A/N: Salesman Laenor makes a brief appearance as we move on and forward.
