Game of Thrones: Paladin of Old Gods - Chapter 153: Damascus Steel (III)
POV: Duncan
Never Winter Bank
Soon after the Warden of the North finished reworking the critical points of a plan…
The straw log test had not been set up haphazardly. On the contrary, that was the standard test approved by the few Forgemasters loyal to the Iron Bank (the organisation that held a monopoly on Valyrian Steel) for the qualitative measurement of blades forged from Dragon Steel.
The techniques and enchantments required to forge a blade or armour from Valyrian Steel were classified into five known grades.
Five levels of Forgemaster technique to which I added a minor personal modification on the (still rough) classification.
-Basic: Weapon [+1] (Cutting 3 feet thick of straw).
-Medium: Weapon [+2] (4 feet).
-Advanced: Weapon [+2] + 1 additional minor magical perpetual property.
-Master: Weapon [+3] (5 feet); or [+2] + 1 additional major or up to 3 minor magical properties.
-Great Master: Weapon [+3] + 1 additional superior magical property or up to 3 major ones.
The classification for crafting magic items was more or less similar. A true Forgemaster was not simply a blacksmith capable of working on magic swords and armour but an authentic spellcaster capable of crafting and enchanting multiple items.
Oldtown had access to less than three or four low and mid-level Forgemasters.
Braavos of the triple, but (occasionally and at exorbitant prices) obtained the services of the House of Black and White.
The Gentle Man, a Master Forgemaster, was currently in charge of four Advanced Forgemasters, all servants of the Many-Faced Gods.
Carcosa was the only city to have more than ten Advanced Grade Forgemasters.
Among the multitude of titles and merits achieved over eight centuries, Chai Dug also possessed the honour of Master Forgemaster. And if that were not enough, the Confederation of Mages occasionally enjoyed the services of the Guardian of Magic, the only known living Grand Forgemaster.
Even before the Disaster of Valirya, the former pupil, friend and companion of the legend who bore the name of Valgudryel Targaryen retained primacy over that art. Whether or not it was considered ‘Failure’ or ‘Success’ by the Guardian of Magic, each of his works was still more unique than a rare treasure in the world market.
On the day of Zick’s appointment as the new Guardian of Love, my master was invested with a priceless gift…
A Crafting Grade Artifact [Grand Master]. A magical object forged through the collaboration of the three Guardians: the Green King, the Gentle Man and Lo Tho.
There was a ‘sixth’ level not properly certified but nevertheless recognised and immolated in legend…
Grade: [Legendary Forgemaster]
Currently, only five artefacts in the world are classified as [Legendary] grade. Of these, three were forged by the first Guardian of Love, Valgudryel Targaryen:
-{Keeper of Knowledge}, the most powerful Steel Armour of Valyria ever created, bound to the Hightower dynasty.
-{Valunday G’ho Ras}, the arcane staff bound to the God-On-Earth dynasty and only usable by Archwizard rank spellcasters.
And the most powerful of the three…
-{Brightroar}, the lost ancestral sword of the progenitor of the Lannister dynasty.
It was eerie to think that, so long ago, House Lannister possessed ‘two’ of the five legendary artefacts in existence, because:
{The Crimson Cloak of the Triad}, the piece of cloth used as an ornamental adornment in the master’s hall at Casterly Rock, is, in fact, one among them…
The reserves of Valyrian ingots were the most significant treasure kept in the ancient mines of Braavos. No one knew exactly how much metal remained. The information was jealously guarded by the highest offices of the Titan Council…
Ronan of House Atreides, soon to be ‘Ser’ Ronan*, worked for months on the information shortages and tampered with documents that the Spider Queen managed to provide.
In the opinion of the most brilliant mathematical mind in the North, the Iron Bank, before the disaster of Valyria, must have managed to get its hands on between one hundred and sixty thousand pounds of Dragon Steel and, again, according to his modest statistical-accounting study, after four hundred years of small injections of the magical metal onto the World market, the Titan should currently be cramming in no more than a quarter of the initial total sum.
This information is invaluable and crucial to our plan.
That genius Mott had improved and increased the magical strength in the original complete formula I provided him with…
The Damascus Steelwork of the Grand Master Blacksmith reached the Base quality standard. An outstanding achievement, for although still in limited quantities, Gauntlgrym was able to forge swords, spears, arrows, shields and armour of [+1] quality. An achievement that only the metal of Valyria could surpass.
In addition, the North could supply the Wizard Confederation with ingots of conductive magical steel, suitable for supporting the conductive stress of magics up to the second circle.
Tobho would supply House Tallhart with a relatively small amount of Arcane Damascus Ingots. Approximately one hundred pounds per month until other apprentices, smiths or masters reached the required quality standard.
An event that would require at least two or three years of training…
Barbrey and Ronan estimated a minimum profit of 25,000 gold dragons per bar (bar=10 pounds). House Tallhart’s second* most profitable business to date.
I glanced at Master Zick, and, to my relief, he nodded twice…
Warden Tycho, Leyton Hightower and Chai Duq had been taken aback by the first demonstration. So I arranged with the master for The Watcher to scan every slightest expressive signal from the faces I was most interested in keeping an eye on.
-One approving nod meant they were sufficiently taken aback, and the interest in Damascus Steel was considerable, to the point of reworking all the moves and countermoves pondered so far.
-Two nods signified a contemplative earthquake of the Tower, the cornered Titan and intense lust for the new metal on Carcosa’s part.
‘The sword was a success; now it’s the shield’s turn…’ I thought, throwing a double signal to Barbrey and Eddard.
The Managing Director of the Never Winter Bank took the floor:
“The surprises are not over, my lords and ladies!
We have had the honour of witnessing the great new blades of House Bolton, but the presentation is not over… The magnificent masterpieces of the noblest and ancient House of the North are missing.
I would like another generous round of applause for Lord Eddard Stark! The man who made it all possible!”
*Clap! Clap! Clap!* “Hurray, Lord Eddard!”, “Honour to House Stark!”
The Lord of Winterfell bowed to the avalanche of cringing applause and undeserved ovations, concealing a slight embarrassment at the blatant exaggeration infused by Barbrey.
‘Poor, Ned. Not even a year ago, that man lived a much more carefree life, with less responsibility and devoid of disturbing truths.’ The poor man did not even know what or where the Silk Road was being built before he left for war.
Since that fateful evening when I revealed to Ned the true face of this World, the man had been using Essence of Dreams and Desires like it was coffee sweetener…
‘Blessed Ignorance, Ned,’ I thought before the true Hero of the North made his debut…
“Many good and loyal Northmen have died in this tragic and futile war.
Sons of Winterfell, fathers of Barrowton, friends of Bear Island, loyal comrades of Last Hearth…
This is the second time I have asked the people of the North, whom my House promised to protect, to follow me into war.” The fake jovial laughter on the faces of the audience died down, indulging the more respectful bearing that noble social etiquette dictated.
“In the course of my life, I have had the misfortune to witness the deaths of hundreds of young men from the North.
Young men forced by me to go to war. People who longed for peace in their warm, loving family hearths…
Poorly trained soldiers, unprepared for each battle’s countless pitfalls, but above all… ‘Ill-equipped’.
Peasants, potters, ranchers, innkeepers or fishermen with nothing but rusty pikes in their hands, shields made of rotten wood, worn helmets, and a creased jacket of boiled leather that we called ‘Life-Saving Armour’…
I pray to the Old Gods every morning that the day will never come when I will be forced to ask my people again for this dreadful sacrifice…
But should that ominous day come, I swear on my own name that no other… ‘No Other’ young, adult or old whom I ask to follow me will face that hell without equipment worthy of facing any war’s dangers!”
I was among the first to applaud amidst cheering for the newly declared promise.
‘Not bad… Not bad indeed, my King,’ I thought as I exchanged a look of shared surprise with Barbrey.
“Thank you all for witnessing my promise. I will now leave the demonstration of these claims to the person best placed to illustrate it.
…The floor is yours, Master Mott.” Ned retreated a step.
“Thank you, my Lord Stark…
Shields and Armour! The works upon which I, and my valued associates, have shed countless bitter tears, rivers of sweat and depressing sleepless nights due to our thousands of failures over the past year.
But today… my lords and ladies, thanks to the merit of all the lessons that each failure holds, Gauntlgrym is proud to present to all of you the future innovative armour of House Stark that every knight in Westeros will yearn for!
We welcome our third noble volunteer for this demonstration: Lord Jon Umber of Last Hearth!”
***
Four minutes of applause and preparations later…
Tobho explained the properties of the first type of Plate Armor worn by the volunteer, explaining its attributes, while two squires helped Greatjon put it on.
“Damascus Steel is excellent in attack with its unrivalled flexibility compacted into thin blades, but unfortunately weak when moulded into defensive plates.
It was not at all easy to modify the formula and find a suitable method to capture the properties of a ferrous mixture ideal for plates, rings and scales…
For this reason, unlike Damascus weapons, plate armour, half-plate armour, split armour, flake armour, chain mail and studded armour can currently only be forged in three qualitative types that can be worked by no more than ‘fifty’ craftsmen in total…”
Another subtle premise is thrown at the prosperous witnesses with sharp, hardened gazes at the almost certain future arms race. An arms race not so much decreed by time, but by the availability, generosity and demonstration of trust shown towards the Never Winter Bank…
Currently, there are only three qualitative types of shields and armour in Damascus: Fine, Elite and Royal.
At least in the first year, House Stark could not put more than ten thousand Fine Quality sets on the market.
Tobho continued:
“Unfortunately, we cannot require any willing person to participate in the first test; at least, not without causing considerable injury to the poor volunteer … Proceed.”
A small wooden ram, plated with round iron reinforcing studs and attached to a supporting swing with four chains, was accelerated over the sliding metal plate for some thirty feet by two strong-armed assistants. Violently impacted on the chest of the wooden mannequin of human features clad in a perfect reproduction of the plate armour provided by the Kingsguard.
The wooden pole supporting the dummy was snapped, and the sap thrashed disastrously backwards, along with a burst of splinters and severed wooden limbs.
The test was to reproduce the impact force of a war hammer wielded in a horseback charge. An impact more devastating than the hammer in the chest that killed the Last Dragon on the Trident…
“As you can see, the chest plate was folded back by the devastating impact, causing fractures and cracks in several places.
We see the effects of a second demonstration with {Fine Damascus Quality} armour, the most ‘affordable’ quality grade that the forges and smiths of Gauntlgrym can produce…”
***
About a minute later…
*Sdooong! Crash!* Apparently, the second dummy suffered similar fates to the first, moving away from the point of impact with three or four more feet of margin…
“As you can see, the dummy was thrown backwards with greater impetuosity… This is explained by the fact that the set worn weighs fifteen and a half pounds less than the first.” Several experienced jousters babbled amongst themselves.
I heard two knights rambling something like:
“Fifteen pounds less? Absurd… It must be a farce.
If it were true, those metal plates should be as thin as sheets of a parch-” The Knight of the Valley fell silent when a single minute attendant displayed the bruised remains of the breastplate to the front row of the audience.
“Yes, my lords and ladies… What you see is not an illusion. Although the plate is bruised by the force of the blow, no cracks have been reported. The slabs of Fine Damascus Quality are about a fifth thinner and lighter than the armour of the same make, ‘And’… 30% more resilient and flexible than the best-hardened steel in Westeros.” Many lords and knights passed between them the piece of metal offered as demonstrative evidence to be closely examined, tearing dozens of shocked faces and sealed jaws.
I perceived no more slander or denial of any kind coming from behind…
“Now… the fearless Lord Jon will sustain the same blow on the same spot, protected with simple padding and the {Damascus Elite Plate Armor!}.”
Hundreds of voices and groans of astonishment pervaded the hall.
It was understandable… Only a madman or an Umber would attempt such folly.
The mammoth Greatjon, clad from head to toe in dark steel plates, stood in the exact spot of the previous inanimate victim and thundered:
“Come on, girls! Move your asses! And don’t you dare linger on the shot!!!” The assistants promptly snapped on command.
*Sdoongh!!* “Uaaargghh!!!” A mighty three hundred and fifty pound humanoid of flesh, muscle, bone and steel, seven feet tall, was thrown backwards five feet.
The half-giant of House Umber managed to absorb the impact with an impressive display of tenacity and endurance.
Greatjon, though visibly shaken by the blow, had managed to remain to stand…
After a few moans, grunts and audible symptoms of shortness of breath, the masochist turned towards the audience, coaxing a fist to his chest.
“Urg… grrurarar! Urahahaha!!! Ahahahaha!
IT TAKES MORE THAN THAT TO KNOCK DOWN AN UMBER!!! AHAHAH!!!” Only the nobles of the North who were already prepared for the exciting and cheerful spectacle joined in Greatjon’s big fat, thunderous laughter.
The other spectators remained silent, gazing at the visibly damaged ‘non’ breastplate of the mad and masochistic Umber.
Amidst the general confusion and the spectacle set up by Greatjon, Mott looked at me, seeking my approval, which he obtained.
I slowly shed my crimson cloak, shifting the cloth behind my shoulder straps to display the only ‘Damascus Royal Quality’ grade armour currently in existence but remaining still and genuinely concealed from the spectators’ attention.
***
After about twenty minutes of dozens of demonstrations on shields, chainmail and studded armour later…
“Thank you for your patience, my lords and ladies. It has been my honour to enjoy the privilege of your attention. Here I take my leave, I will leave your entertainment to-” Mott was interrupted by an authoritative, marked voice.
“One moment, Master Mott!” A tall male figure clad in full red and gold fabrics stepped from the King’s side and the front line two steps forward.
“Y-yes, Lord Tywin? What can I do for you, my lord?” Tobho asked in a slightly intimidated tone.
“At the beginning of the presentation, you mentioned a ‘Third’ category of armour. ‘The Royal Damascus Quality’, if I am not mistaken. Yet… no demonstration of such work was shown to the ‘King’ and all his loyal subjects.
Could you clear such a stain from the excellent and immaculate displays of ‘Gauntlgrym’?” Asked the intransigent protector of the West in a polite but fierce tone.
Tobho stiffened as he visibly began to sweat in the Old Lion’s intimidating presence.
A remarkable detail had just been pointed out by noticeably widening the small gash in the stage curtain.
“Well… there, milord… I-in fact y-you…” The artisan stammered, scrambling out the words.
“So? What is the Grand Master Blacksmith’s answer?” Inflected the lion, showing his well-audible disappointment in the tone of his voice.
“I can answer that, Lord Tywin.” Lady Barbrey Mormont descended to the defence of the poor Chief Craftsman, interposing herself between the two men.
“… Lady Mormont.” Tywin bowed his head condescendingly, respecting etiquette but showing no sign of intimidation or yielding ground.
“Master Tobho could not provide the answer you seek. He wavers on the duties and obligations that protect every customer of Gauntlgrym.” Barbrey declared aloud.
“Duties and obligations?… Please, my lady, could you clarify for us poor uncultured people what is evidently well known to you?” Tywin cast a piercing look of challenge.
“Well, ‘my lord’, it so happens that such armour, forged exclusively by the hand of the Grand Master Blacksmith himself, exists only one example at present, and it is bound by the rights of ownership of said client…” Barbrey retorted, responding in turn to the challenge issued.
“We shall all be eager to know the name of this mysterious and ‘privileged’ beneficiary of Master Thobo’s exclusive services, my lady.” Tywin.
“That is not yet possible, my lord. Lord Eddard and I have already attempted to request a demonstration from House Stark’s protected client. Still, he prefers to avail himself of the right of anonymity and the privilege of Gauntlgrym’s secrets for which he has already amply paid the price.” The Protector of the North arrived in support of the lady.
“Lady Mormont speaks the truth, Lord Tywin.
Master Mott requires considerable resources, manpower and time to recreate a Royal Quality Armour. Unfortunately, I could not persuade the purchaser of the only specimen for today’s demonstration.
However… He has promised to take part in tomorrow’s Great Melee.
The wait for said demonstration will end shortly.
House Stark apologises to his majesty and all his loyal vassals present here today and takes full responsibility for the displeasure caused.” Promulgated the Protector of the North, disarming with the words Tywin Lannister, now unable to insist on the subject.
The Old Lion withdrew dignifiedly with a sufficient respectful nod of dismissal.
I already sensed the presence of numerous accusing glances directed at me, but I did not give it any weight.
The play I had just witnessed captured my full attention at that moment.
‘The Steel Show is over. It’s time for the artist to collect the coinage from the spectators… Now, Barbrey!’
*****
End Chapter.
—————————-
*1) [Author’s note: Lord Eddard Stark had explicitly requested House Tallhart to award Ronan the knighthood in person].
*2) [Author’s Note: The first is undoubtedly the mine of Dragon’s Glass wrested for pennies from the hands of Stannis Baratheon.]
