Game of Thrones: Paladin of Old Gods

POV: Tywin Lannister;

Lord's Solarium, Casterly Rock.

Seconds after a plan began to be exposed....

"Deception & Distraction?" asked Gerion anticipating his brother.

"Basically, yes. Hehe. The Titan's greatest weakness is greed and the curse of World Primacy.

From what I've understood so far, the Iron Bank has held the primacy since about a century before the Valyria Disaster.

Oldtown and Carcosa have struggled mightily between first and second place for three thousand years. The Braavosians have taken advantage of the conflict between the two factions by doing what they still do best, financing and taking advantage of both sides.

In the shadows, the Titan of Braavos slipped past the two factions without even entering directly into the fray.

Carcosa and Oldtown signed the peace treaty mainly to prevent the giant from acquiring other resources, influence and territories.

This created a relationship of extreme distrust between the three cities, making it almost impossible to form a solid alliance.

We will use these swirling relationships to our advantage." Tywin began to comprehend the first introductory section.

It was as if The Titan, The Lighthouse, and The Magic Tower were three separate kingdoms. Each was waiting for the other two forces to be at each other's throats, thus providing a golden opportunity for the previously neutral third rival faction in strength to destroy or absorb some of the enemy power on the cheap.

The Titan did not want to be ousted from his throne. And the way Bloody Snow had described the situation, the difference in power between Braavos and Oldtown was subtle.

Carcosa, though powerful, would be able to intervene in Westeros to a small degree. After all, the power of the Wizarding Confederacy was more than six thousand miles east of Casterly Rock. But what about Central Essos?

The Titan wasn't powerful enough to attack Westeros at full force while simultaneously defending its domains to the east against Carcosa.

The boy continued.

"The North will draw the full attention of the Titan and Oldtown, at least for the first three years, thus allowing the West and Dorne to grow 'relatively' undisturbed.

The First Men have fortified themselves enough to withstand a few skirmishes. But more importantly, we have the means to irritate the Iron Bank considerably. Ahah."

It was pointless to cast further looks laden with irritation and admonishment-that boy was laughing and throwing out jokes on par with Gerion.

At such a delicate moment, Tywin could do nothing but arm himself with great patience.

"You are putting it too simply, Hero of the North. By what means do you think you can force Oldtown and Braavos to a stalemate while their neighbours, within sight and earshot, increase their defences and armaments undisturbed?" Tywin realized a plausible hypothesis at the exact moment he finished his sentence.

'The Iron Throne! The conflict between the Crown and Dorne!

Of course... It would be complex and full of pitfalls, but it could work.' Thought the Lord of Casterly Rock.

'Perhaps you have already arrived at much of the solution yourself, my Lord. The conflict between Aegon VI and Robert Baratheon is an excellent motive for a more than legitimate race for resources and weapons. But it won't be just that...

Allow me to show you the gifts of the North that House Tallhart has in store for the House that has been kind enough to host it."

End POV.

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POV: The Smiling Lion;

Lord's Solarium, Casterly Rock.

Seconds after the Tallhart boy approached the case...

"Oops. I beg your pardon. Yes, thank you. It's a bit bulky... Here we go." Gerion helped the struggling boy place the long case on the table occupied by rolls of papers and various items.

"Please. You do the honours, Lord Tywin." Duncan stepped aside, and his brother took his place in front of the gold and crimson lacquered wooden case, opening it.

Gerion stood at his side with eyes sparkling with curiosity.

A blade and a case stood out at first glance...

'That one! No, it's not really Valyrian Steel!!!' thought Gerion instinctively before being enchanted by the artefact.

Long Two-Handed Ceremonial Broadsword. Solid gold knob worked in a riot of goldsmith craftsmanship. The most finished solid gold Lion's head he had ever seen in thirty-four of his years living surrounded by jewels, tapestries, and gold statues depicting the Lannister crest...

Lion's eyes had been adorned with tiny emerald green gems.

The long red leather handle bevelled in detail to accommodate ten fingers and hatched in nine golden threads.

The hilt is perpendicular to the gold lacquered steel blade, just under a foot long. The tips of both ends appear to be made of bone... No fangs... Tips of Lion's tusk curved slightly upward. Set in the centre of the hilt was a large red ruby in the shape of a rhombus, protected by two joined lions outlined to symmetrically surround the jewel. And then...the blade.

Two and a half inches thick at the base, four feet and a palm long. Patterns and ripples of different shades of grey, similar to Valyria steel, all over the bottom of the blade are characterized by red hues.

A masterpiece of craftsmanship.

Tywin maintained his usual rigid face, devoid of telltale signs, but the eyes... His brother's eyes did not lie, nor could they hide the awe and wonder he felt at that moment.

"The eighteenth masterpiece of Gran Master blacksmith, Tobho Mott.

His best work to date, in my opinion. The man improves after each completed work...

No, my lords. If you are wondering, it is not Valyrian Steel, but I assure you it is very close to the ancient Valyrian master smiths...

It has not yet been baptized; I will leave that honour to you.

Fresh from the forge, tempered for three days and nights in Gauntlgrym's most acceptable forge.

The First Damascus Steel Sword of the West." So finished presenting Bloody Snow with a tone of pride.

'Damascus Steel? Never heard of it... Wait, don't tell me...' Gerion turned his head sharply towards Lord Duncan.

Gerion thought back to the rumours of Great Jon Umber's incredible broadsword and Lord Eddard Stark's supposed new bastard sword of Valyrian steel...

The smug look and the sly grin plastered on his lips were worth more than a thousand answers.

'House Tallhart had a monopoly on a new formula for working steel!!!' Though Gerion.

If the quality of the steel sung was really on a higher level than the metal worked in the forges of Westeros and Essos of today, a wave would have appeared that would have swept the whole market of weapons and war in all the Continents!

Mountains of gold, armies, intrigue and conflict of all kinds... All the world forces would move toward whatever entity had custody of such a treasure...

Even Gerion, who in his heart would never have wanted to hurt that boy, sensed a voracious and instinctive need within him that kept roaring at him to grab that individual in his claws, squeeze him hard, and force him to spit out the secret of Damascus Steel!

Tywin showed far more decorum and demeanour than he had imagined.

The Lion of Casterly Rock grabbed the broadsword with both hands and scrutinized it in detail from the foundation to the top. He tapped the edge of the blade with his fingertips and, after carefully assessing the quality of the work, handed the sword to Gerion.

It took the smiling Lion a minute to come to similar, if not identical, conclusions to what Tywin thought...

It was a steel lighter, more flexible, and stronger than the best metal the forges of Casterly Rock could spit out.

Suitable for both lunging and cutting.

Gerion rubbed his fingertip parallel to the wire to judge its quality. It was on a whole other level than his longsword forged by the best blacksmith in Lannisport!

On a scale of 1 to 10, where a rusty sword made of poorly crafted iron would have been "1" and Valyrian steel "10", Damascus steel could have quickly earned an "8", surpassing by a good margin the "6" that the best forges in the West or the Iron Islands could generate.

"In this particular blade, minor spells were also infused. A personal touch from the only Forgemaster present north of the pasting. Certainly not yet up to the standards of those in the Lost Art of Valyria, but still remarkable and rare.

The blade's edge should last pretty longer than a basic Damascus sword, and, at least until the next fifty years, according to Master Mott, the metal will be immune to rust and much harder to break. So you could use even cold hammer it for a day straight without creating the slightest crack.

What you have clutched in your hands, my lords, is, in fact, a magical object." So heir of Torrhen's Square elegantly concluded.

Tywin Lannister proffered himself:

"A regal gift and immensely appreciated, Lord Duncan.

I, Tywin son of Tytos, Lord of Casterly Rock, Protector of the West and Patriarch of House Lannister, give thanks to you and your noble House, offering friendship and everlasting gratitude, Duncan of House Tallhart."

The thanks were followed by a deep obsequious noble bow.

House Tallhart had hit the nail on the head. It had been decades since Tywin had tried to deal with all the nobles and families of Westeros and the free cities to get a weapon worthy of his dynasty that he could pass down through his family.

While that gift was not equivalent to Valyrian steel, it was still a sword worthy of Kings.

Only Gerion, Genna, and Kevan knew how deeply their brother valued that gift.

"Lord Tywin, House Tallhart would be honoured to take all the credit, but this was a joint gift from all the great lords of the North.

It was commissioned by us, it is true, but all the Lords of the North were willing to contribute to such a work, especially Lady Barbrey Dustin and Lord Jorah Mormont.

This is in thanks for helping us during the Ironborn raiders' attack on Bear Island.

The North Remembers, my Lords." The bow was directed more toward Gerion, earning another look of praise from his brother.

"Lord Duncan. So House Tallhart is capable of mass-producing weapons and armour of this magnitude?" Gerion asked next.

"Of such workmanship? Not yet. It will take time to obtain more masters of Thobo Mott's calibre...

However, Gauntlgrym currently boasts twelve master blacksmiths in addition to Grandmaster Mott. As a result, we have been able to get our hands on the best craftsmen from the cities of Volantis, Qohor, and Tyrosh.

These twelve masters can replicate work of excellent workmanship, worthy of any High Knight or Noble of Westeros.

We have chosen to call that work 'Elite Quality'.

In addition to these masters, we have forty-two blacksmith artisans working on 'Fine Steel' and nearly two hundred apprentice blacksmiths skilled in forging Standard Damascus weaponry. There are four levels of workmanship and quality, but all significantly superior to the steel commonly distributed to regular armies.

The fidelity and safety of every craftsman in the service of House Tallhart are absolutely guaranteed.

It took time, countless fittings, the best architects and engineers, but above all, rivers of gold, sweat and blood to build Gauntlgrym... the largest forge in Westeros in living memory.

A structure that can boast even more excellent defence and inaccessibility than The Eyrie.

As for armour, again, it will take some time for mass creation, but Grandmaster Mott is confident of launching a new type of plate armour, spit armor and chain armour before the start of the Barrowton Tournament.

That is, within the next two moons from today." Explained the wonder boy.

Tywin made no bones about offering himself as the first customer:

"Casterly Rock would be honoured and well disposed of in being able to negotiate a more than fair future trade agreement with Torrhen's Square, Lord Duncan."

He thundered decisively but elegantly to the most prosperous Lord in the West with a shining undertone: {Castle Lannister has no shortage of gold}.

"And Torrhen's Square would have been well disposed to welcome such a request; however, my Lord, I am heartened to inform you that House Tallhart does indeed own Gauntlgrym and the staff in its service, but we have long since ceded exclusive sales rights on the weapons and armour produced there to two Great Houses of the North.

It will be to them that you must offer such an honourable and profitable arrangement." Gerion was more confused than ever.

Why give up such a means of pressure and power? Why cede the selling rights to other Northern Houses?

Tywin seemed more intuitive than his brother on the matter. His face conveyed understanding and praise.

"And the Houses would be?" asked the Great Lion calmly.

"House Bolton and House Stark."

End POV.

-----------------------------------

POV: Domeric Bolton

Guest Room, Barrowhall.

Year 289 A.C., the 26th day of the ninth moon.

Some seven days after the names of two Great Houses of the North were pronounced at Casterly Rock...

This was already the fifth day that Domeric stayed as a guest of his Aunt Barbrey.

He and Ser Jorah travelled together all the way from Waterdeep to Barrowton.

Jorah and Domeric did not have much in common. They were over twenty years apart and had different tastes and favourite foods. He preferred light ale, and Jorah preferred dark...

Poor Bear put a lot of effort into forming a bond with the future nephew. In addition, Domeric greatly appreciated the fencing lessons and sparring exercises offered by Lord Jorah.

The Bear was an excellent fencer and an excellent teacher.

But it was when they arrived in Barrowton, that the bond between the two began to solidify.

Domeric realized that he and his future Uncle had a lot in common.

They were both Green Knights and part of the same council.

They were both Lords of two Great Houses of the North.

Soon they would become one big family.

But most of all...they both felt ashamed of those underserved praises and glories offered by the crowd of Barrowton residents.

Neither had been able to face a single ironman in the entire military campaign. Even Jorah's twelve-year-old cousin, Dacey Mormont, had crossed arms against marauding Ironborn...

Jorah was furious and embarrassed by the despicable plot perpetrated by his bride-to-be and Bloody Snow.

Upon reaching the private halls of Barrowhall, Domeric heard his Uncles arguing vigorously. Noises of broken glass, screams, shattered china, women's cries... Then peace came.

Constant, harassing noises and love moans stormed the East Hall of Barrowhall. Domeric was even forced to be moved to another room further west, away from those noises.

It had been four consecutive days and nights since the betrothed had left the Lady of Barrowton's private chambers. And no servant or guard dared enter (unless explicitly called).

But it didn't matter; Domeric had many documents to study and work on.

Soon he would be harassed by hundreds of Lords, Knights, bankers, sellswords commanders, Magisters, Archons, and Princes...

House Bolton and House Stark would soon dominate the armament markets of Westeros and Essos.

Damascus steel was a double-edged sword. He now understood why Duncan wanted him to gain a monopoly on all blades, spearheads, arrowheads, and darts produced at Gauntelgrym.

The political pressure and risks on his person and lands were proportionate to the gains and benefits.

The 12-year-old studied the document drawn up by Ronan for the third time.

He reread the longswords section...

{Longswords.

*Purchase price Gauntelgrym:

Standard Quality = 1 golden dragon per piece.

Fine Quality = 10 golden dragons per piece.

Elite Quality = 300 golden dragons per piece.

Royal Quality = 10,000 golden dragons per piece.

Recommended retail price:

Standard Quality = 5 golden dragons per piece.

Premium Quality = 60 golden dragons per piece.

Elite Quality = 2,000 golden dragons per piece.

Royal Quality = 75,000 golden dragons per piece}.

There was a price list for every known type of weapon. Even Dothraki Arakhs, Dornian-style wavy spears, or scorpion points.

House Bolton would soon receive a monopoly on all Damascus steel blades and points.

He could only request one piece of work per month at most from Grand Master Forger Thobo Mott. And, essentially, the desired amount of any other quality of steel.

Domeric was only to 'take advice' from House Tallhart and the Future Queen of the Silk Road on which customers to prioritize.

Basically, sales were forbidden to anyone who decided not to avail themselves of the custodial and management services of the promising new Never Winter Bank...

And for those who would prove to be 'confident' customers and investors of the new Northern institution (those who would pull the most gold out of their pockets), a priority on the sale and a percentage discount.

For all the Great Lords of the North and his esteemed fellow knights of the Green Council, very favourable and facilitated terms have already been agreed upon.

The strategy used in the past by House Tallhart of rendering commercial favours and profitable opportunities was and still is thriving.

If any foreigner from the South or the East had tried to move a single finger towards the benefactors from the North, even the old infirm farmers of all the villages from Moat Cailin to Last Hearth would have armed themselves with torches, pitchforks and stones to drink the blood of the invaders and feast on their flesh.

If all went as planned, soon, House Bolton would rise among the twenty richest and most powerful Houses in Westeros.

He also had to prepare for the flood of marriage proposals that would most likely flood in as soon as the news spread.

His Aunt Barbrey was instructing him personally on 'How to gallantly reject a sincerely in love noble maiden of marriageable age'.

To his deep but concealed sadness, his future bride had already been determined. In a few days, the fate would be sealed with words, ink and sealing wax.

But Domeric had only one bride gently haunting his dreams and thoughts... A maiden already betrothed.

The young lord tried to drown those thoughts in his duties.

Domeric worked all afternoon on papers to study and documents sent by his mother, the Lady Regent of Dreadfort, that demanded his attention. Then came a knock at the door...

The Lady of Barrowton entered without even being declared by the captain of his guard, Locke.

"Auntie! Forgive my unseemly state. I did not think I would receive the gift and favour of your visit," Domeric said, snapping on the spot.

The boy had always been respectful and cordial to his only Aunt, who had always treated him as a loving nephew to be pampered and favoured from an early age.

After the new Lord of Dreadfort understood the enormity of the power hidden in the shadows of the Widow of Barrowton, friendliness and respect could only increase exponentially.

A new verse of the song will sound in Westeros... One that will tarnish the famous {Tywin Lannister Shit Gold}.

'Not a continent's leaf will move on the tree without Barbrey's will.' Thought the boy inwardly, wisely choosing not to want to be the author of a deadly verse that will be up to some hapless, drunken tavern minstrel to write sooner or later.

"Nothing to forgive, Domeric. This is your private room, you're a guest, and I'm just a humble, meddlesome lady who wanted to sneak up on her beloved nephew." So said the Aunt, approaching after closing the door.

Aunt Barbrey was also not lacking in exaggerated elegance. Although decorous, the Barrowton lady wore a nightdress and kept her hair in a loose tail. But, on the other hand, the woman's face looked relaxed and sunny.

The love affair with her Bear seemed to be only on a momentary hiatus.

"Isn't there anything you'd like to confess to your favourite Aunt before 'any evidence' accidentally slips from my sleeve?" asked Barbrey Dustin in a sarcasm laced with affection.

Domeric was caught off guard. His Aunt could only refer to one topic specifically... The boy's face blushed.

"Emm...," Domeric sighed and lowered his cheap mask. "How did you find out?"

"My dear, using a Frost Blade as a private messenger and relay might seem like a good idea, but... in my city?

Those sneaky thieving spies in Torrhen's Square can't set foot inside my domains without my express consent.

And then two walks down the same alley for two days in a row?

If you wanted secret correspondence, well, first, you had to make sure it was confidential. Ahaha."

'Not a single leaf...' Domeric inwardly admonished himself with embarrassment.

Barbrey smiled lovingly at that compassionate scene.

"The message will reach the 'recipient' intact. So don't worry; I certainly won't be the one to betray your trust.

I had only come here to reassure myself that you are well aware of what you, she, and the entire North are about to face...

You know well that the alliance with House Lannister will be crucial to the good of us all, Domeric.

And you know well who will be visiting us in a few days, 'Merchant Skinner'." So admonished Barbrey, quoting the nickname he jokingly bestowed upon him a short time ago.

"Yes, I know, Auntie. I didn't mean to... It's just that she's leaving for The Water Gardens after the tournament, and I don't know... I don't know if I'll ever have a chance to write to her again, let alone see her again." Domeric explained, looking up from the ground for the first time.

"At the tournament, if done right, you will have a chance to show your qualities and convey the affection of this 'friendship'." Granted Barbrey.

Little did Domeric know that his Aunt's diabolical mind was working out another possible subtle means of subtly slapping two Northern individuals of his acquaintance in the face.

"But if you didn't even give me permission to enter me into the tournament pool. How will I be able to show my affection?" Domeric asked with brazenness and a subtle hint of frustration.

Barbrey Dustin, with the support of her sister, had categorically forbidden Domeric from participating in the jousting and strumming of the upcoming tournament.

He could have tried his hand at archery...too bad Domeric was a mediocre shooter, to say the least.

Not even Jorah, the groom and future Lord of Barrowton, had received permission!

The Maiden's angry cries and the Bear's howls of outrage on the first day were mainly for this reason.

With those tones, it was impossible for any deaf ear not to pick up the contents...

"There are not only spears, shields, and swords, my dear...

Starting tomorrow, you will begin taking lessons of dance, singing, and poetry."

*[Author Note: The Price of a steel longsword (standard soldier equipment) fresh from the forge is around 15-20 silver stags, about $600-900. (1 golden dragon = 210 silver stags)

Steel forged at Casterly Rock, Pyke and other iron islands is renowned for being the best in Westeros after the steel of Valyria. However, their price would be around 35-40 silver stags.

Heartwater, a sword owned by Joffrey Baratheon after losing Lion's Tooth, is a work of excellent craftsmanship and adorned with the finest materials; it is worth around 100-150 golden dragons.]

End Part I

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