ตอน 3: Chapter 3 : Making a Quill
Here, the re-filled quill leaves me with doubts whether we can make such an item by hand.
Drawing inspiration from the familiar concept of the fountain pen, I drew up components of my Re-quill—A small barrel for ink flow, customized ink, and specialized tip.
"Interesting concept. I am sure about two of the parts." Teacher Hoster explained the ins and outs of the current skill level of Oldtown, "The canal is no problem. I saw some jewel smiths, making such small canals as a part of the design of various accessories. Even the ink is fine. Let's just say that ink is the most tortured concept in Citadel, with its long history. Take the Herlind powder. It is red in water but pink with oil....."
------------------------------------
This is the result.
[Re QUILL
1] Barrel : The Blacksmiths can make one. Still, the material is unknown, considering the lack of rubber and plastic in this era.
2] Ink: Possible after referencing the tons of books about herbs and their dyes. Citadel, with an 8000-year history, is scary. They thoroughly explored simple concepts like ink.
3] Tip: ???? Depends on forging the right material, say only a blacksmith can answer.]
---===Oldtown====---
NEIGH
NEIGH
The next day was all about hitting the streets of Oldtown to enquiring about the Re-quill's tip. I am with the escort of Maester Clinton Raventree and Stevon Emberfell. These Riverlands guys were former apprentices of Teacher Hoster and firmly in his camp.
What do you think? That Maester won't have their groups and politics.
Teacher Hoster is a famous figure for the Riverland maesters, just based on the virtue of his surname and his past as a virtuous regent. Combined with his competence as a healer, Teacher Hoster has many underlings who are ready to do as he commands.
Gods, I got lucky with getting such an awesome teacher.
History Brandon, our city expert, played tour guide and kept showing off the city at its best, "This here is a 3000-year-old street of silk, famed for the brothel mistresses that were scorned by the Maidens...."
History Buffs are the same everywhere. He got off on the history rather than the whores.
".....and here we are. The Street of Smith."
CLANG
CLANG
CRACKLE
The area gave off smoke, and sounds of the constant work being done. According to history Brandon, over 70 % of Oldtown's Goldsmiths, Blacksmiths, and Jewel crafters had set up shop here.
WHOOSH
CLANG
The market was buzzing with activity. Hammers were banging on anvils, making a racket that mixed with the sounds of jewellery being crafted. There was this smell of hot metal in the air, and the shops were displaying some seriously cool stuff like swords, spears and armour.
Brandon guided us through the busy streets. "Look out. Maesters walking here! "
He gave a wink to me and but kept dodging people while pointing out the good stuff, "That shop has the best earrings for women and that is the best thing that ever happened to men."
MOAN
AHH
MOAN
[AI Profile: History Brandon.
Luck brought a northern orphan to Citadel. Making most of the cards dealt by fate, He becomes a lover of history from the name Brandon. He works as a part-time guide to merchants or Sellswords new to the city.]
He joked with me he wasn't charging anything and that he usually expects at least a silver for his troubles.
---===Garhammer's Fine smith===----
KREAK KREAK
As we entered through the creaky door, I saw what I was expecting.
Goldsmiths were flaunting their gold bars being melted into shapes, Blacksmiths were banging away at their anvils, Jewel crafters were turning rocks into sparkly pieces, and one of them had intricate silver earrings that caught the sunlight.
"Garhammer, I got you customers."
BANG
"HUH!"
The head blacksmith, Garhammer, was a burly guy with a bushy black beard that matched his name.
Maester Clinton Raventree, a wiry man with a sharp gaze and a collection of wrinkles and Stevon Emberfell, a broad-shouldered fellow with a shaved head, did their explanations to the skilled craftsmen and asked him about the possibility of Tip, per our requirements.
Meanwhile, I was checking out the showcases.
The result of inspection is that the re-filled quill idea seemed doable with these talented smiths around. Still, it makes me wonder how they made such precise handcraft.
"Hmm," Garhammer, the head blacksmith, had a gruff voice that matched his figure and laughed aloud after listening to the Maester duo's explanation, " HAHa, you folk always give some interesting tasks. That's the reason I like Hoster. The man has the Smith's mind."
[Reference translation: Smith's mind → creative]
CLANG CLANG
CLANG
CLANG
Among the noisy sounds of the forges and the air filled with sweat and heat, Garhammer ended his contemplation and declared, "I can do this. Both the Barrel and Tip."
I felt a mixture of relief, excitement, and a hint of disbelief. Such precision skill by hand is unimaginable to me.
Though it got controlled as he said, "But, it ultimately depends on the ink. I then need to find the right alloys or metals for the barrel and tip. With the right material, ink can be properly stored and used."
CLING CLING
I couldn't hold back my excitement any longer, especially when my imagination was running toward the sounds of golden dragons raining. "There is no problem with the ink. I can give you multiple types of ink. As my teacher says, ink is the most tortured concept in the Citadel. So, we have no problem."
Garhammer searched for my voice above my height, and after a second, he seemed to realize that I was short. So, he bent his head to see me and gave a dismissive snort with a gruff look at Stevon.
"He is a child."
WHOOSH
In a moment, Garhammer lifted me and was about to throw me out, said, "It is dangerous here, kid. Play outside. May 7 bless the stupid children."
Thankfully, Stevon came to the rescue. "Wow, wait a minute, Garhammer. He is teacher Hoster's new apprentice."
SNORT
Garhammer pointed at me and said, "Then he can show his authority in the Citadel. In my forge, I am the authority and children are the accidents about to happen in any forge."
Rude.
But, Acceptable when remembering the things children do. They have very low survival IQ, meaning they are in the phase of hammering the concept of fire burns and water-drowns.
Clinton showed he is the smarter one among the duo in my books by coming to my support. "He is the main mind behind the concept we have given you."
THUD
He dropped me because of those words, "Oh, He is a smith blessed one. You should have said so from the start."
Yep, Oldtown is the only place in the world that encounters a child genius once in a generation. So, they have a reference for it.
"A freak."
"Other's child."
-
-
That reference and the harsh insults from the jealous small folk.
At least Oldtown has progressed to the point of interacting with geniuses and smart minds with no death and pain. I am talking about the small folk, from the servants to the peasants. Being the knowledge centre of the known world for 8000 years does that to a city.
Garhammer has then dropped the equivalent of a bomb on me—the bill.
"Alright, then we will deduct the money from this month's research order."
[Research order: A dream contract for Oldtown craftsmen. It is essentially the orders from researching maesters who want to try out new things which the Citadel pays out from its wealth. It is a dream come true for them because the payment will be done, since Citadel's honour is at stake.
Most importantly, it is an official relation with the citadel.]
Yes, research occurs in Citadel, but it is in a narrow field of choices.
COUGH
Stevon mentioned to Garhammer, "For now, Maester Bracken wants it to be noted under his name rather than Citadel at large."
Guilt punched me in the gut. The Citadel restricted funds for research. Especially for Maester Bracken, because of his frequent clashes with the Archmaester council.
I couldn't dwell on it, though, as Garhammer pointed at me and said, "I want the brat here every day in the morning till the next full moon."
Steven wasn't having it, protesting, "We have already explained the designs."
But Garhammer didn't have it any other way. He threw two swords in front of me. " Hey child. Can you tell the difference?"
WHOOSH
I looked at the swords stabbing the ground in front of me. I noticed they were sharp. And that's it.
What do you expect? I have been concentrating on other fields when including the books in the Database. Once I leave here, I am going to fill the database with at least the basics of each field. Especially the Smith side.
I shrugged and said, "no".
The crazy old blacksmith then turned to Stevon, who explained Northern techniques to me, "The sword on the right. The sword on the left by the Quarth methods. You can recognise the cold tempering on the right....."
After some long talk Garhammer nodded with a grunt and snorted, "You, Maester couldn't bother to lift a hammer but seem to know everything."
Clinton retorted, "Yes, we do, so you can make a living."
CHUCKLE
Garhammer, after taking the joke lightheartedly, gave his judgement to Stevon, "The genius brat might not know about forging, but you sure don't know the ins and outs of these metal quills. So, get out."
Before Stevon could protest against the rude order, Clinton dragged him out.
SLAM
I gulped down as Garhammer slammed a parchment on the table, "So, genius child, do you have any preliminary ideas about the materials? Might as well start with them."
It took me a second to process the question and take out my parchment. "Well, I thought about Sunshine Wood because of its waterproof nature. You see, we don't want the material to suck the ink and be working against the corrosion. The others I thought about are gold, Bronze..."
--===A moon cycle later===---
CRACKLE CRACKLE
CLANG CLANG
The workshop was a chaotic blend of heat and hammering, a symphony of creation that I never thought I'd be a part of. Garhammer has been knee-deep in the process of bringing the re-filled quill to life.
No wonder he is friends with Teacher Hoster. Both of them are comparatively progressive and have a similar passion for work. I guess I chose the right circle of relation to join by accepting the teacher's apprenticeship offer.
SLURRR
I stared wide-eyed as the metal changed into a white liquid under the searing heat of burning coal.
COUGH COUGH
"Little Kerith, wrap a cloth when you are around the smoke."
I took the advice seriously. The air was thick with the scent of hot metal, and the noise from the hammering made me feel like a fish out of water.
" 1, 2, 3. And lift."
I helped supervise the sludge being taken to Garhammer, who screamed at me, " Brat, ensure the mould competency before filling it. Especially if you want to keep your legs."
I groaned and bent down to inspect the mould. You must have realized what's happening, right?
Garhammer, with his no-nonsense attitude, showed me how to fill the moulds for the metal tips. The liquid copper flowed like a river, solidifying into molds as it cooled. The end product was a sleek tip with a flawlessly crafted slit, all set to be paired with the ink barrel.
So, I did the only thing I could do, give more work for my future self.
[Investigation task # 5: The higher skill of blacksmiths when compared to Earth's counterpart. I mean, on average the skill level in Westeros is higher.]
Finally, we finished the prototype tip #7.
At least, it is the last one because 7 prototypes are for good omens. Good thought.
Might as well consider everything is possible, including omens. Especially when I am the example.
The ink samples were done and selected. Ink barrels were the last ones to be done.
THUMP THUMP
And speaking of ink barrels, that was Clinton's domain. He is washing the barrel dipped in the various inks to see if their feasibility is .
"Maester Clinton. Here is the sunshine wooden barrel."
Meanwhile, in history, Brandon had shown an unexpected interest in wood craftsmanship.
It ended with Cranky Garhammer, giving me a glare that could melt steel, making sure I wasn't getting off easily. So, I ended up getting my hands covered in soot and sweat, doing my best to contribute to the creation.
That, along with the fact that I was bored out of my mind in the forge, contributed to my decision to move my body. There was only so much knowledge I could learn from the database before I moved my body.
--===Workshop closed for night===--
Chatter filled the workshop as we circled the table, examining the quills we had just crafted.
SCRIBBLE SCRIBBLE
Clinton, always the meticulous one, started breaking down the results of our testing phase, which lasted weeks.
It was like a quill shop, considering the sheer amount of prototypes in the workshop, each having its unique strengths and quirks.
"So, Clinton, what do you think?"
Clinton adjusted his chains, a habit he had when about to delve into something serious.
A smile came to my face because of my progress in reading people, at least the ones with whom I interact every day. Mentally, I gave another thank you to behaviour studies and my AI profiling habits.
"Well, my friends, after all the trials, we have two winners. For everyday use, the steel broad tip fitted on a steel barrel is better. It's reliable and cheap.."
Walder, who got on to the project with the approval of teacher bracken, nodded in approval. "Good for the masses, then. We don't want them breaking the bank for a quill."
Brandon, the history buff, chimed in, "But what about the ones fit for kings and nobles? You know, the ones that make a statement?"
Clinton cracked a smile at the point and said with a whistle, "Ah, you have a taste for the finer things, Brandon. The golden tip paired with a copper inner-plated steel barrel is our masterpiece. It is more like a work of art than a quill. Of course, it comes with a price that might make your eyes water—50 times the basic model."
WHISTLE WHISTLE
I whistled. "Now, that's what I call a luxury item. Perfect for gifts or flaunting your status."
With that, I turned towards Walder for his opinion. His opinion is vital since he is only one other than the teacher who had exposure to Westeros nobility.
Walder grinned. "It is easy to imagine the lords and ladies signing their parchments with one of those golden beauties."
I nodded back in agreement and gave an idea. "We can even make custom orders. Each of them can be unique, based on the customer's House sigil and even wealth. Just think about it, a Quill fitted with rubies for a Lannister. I am sure it won't be a problem for the great lords."
As we continued bantering about the quills, I couldn't shake off the feeling of accomplishment. After all, it is my first achievement in the world.
"Hey, Clinton."
"Hmm."
"Can I keep these prototypes?"
Clinton rubbed his chin and said, "Sure, it's fine. Since we already have success, it wouldn't be a problem to make more."
It is more of a childish desire to collect and store them, imagining them to be put in a museum hundreds of years later.
---===Citadel===----
Teacher Hoster told me to write a presentation about Re.
Since it's a formal proposal to the citadel, I needed multiple names on it. Considering the expected success, it is better to use the people in my circle. Ensuring credit rightfully stayed with the inventor.
Hence, I enlisted Walder, the Frey bastard, in the demonstration. For that, I brought him closer.
Instead of solely dictating the presentation, I had him write a parchment outlining the benefits of the re-filled quill. The emphasis was on how it could serve as a source of income and prestige for the Citadel. I can see that he has a mind for money. No wonder he is pursuing the gold link.
To further support our case, I brought in History Brandon. Tasked with citing examples of inventions throughout history, he subtly stroked the egos of the conservative maesters who held the power within the Citadel.
All in all, this presentation aims to position the re-quill as an innovation capable of bridging the gap between tradition and modernity. Which is a must for the traditional old guys.
"...and the Oldtown blacksmiths are skilled enough to make this item. And not to forget the blessings from the citadel's vast history and its glorious traditions, the 5000 ink compositions. Of course, we can just make it a private business of our own."
The last point is stupid, but I just kept it to see what Maester Bracken would make of it.
"Hmm."
After a thoughtful pause, Maester Bracken shared his thoughts. "The proposal is good. But the problem with private business is that we need enough influence and strength to protect it. So, no. The Citadel-owned business is the best way."
He then got to his feet and said, "The biggest problem in that path is for the benefits to reach us. Each of the old guys has the backing of their houses. So, each of them is more and more hungry for power and wealth."
His clear disdain for the nobles and their insatiable cravings hinted at a personal history, which I didn't want to pry into now.
Shaking off his momentary distraction, Maester Bracken said about the practical challenges. "The problem is whether it is possible to make it workable enough to show profits to the Citadel. This parchment on the trade is nice; I could see your influence, Kerith. The words 'demand' and 'production' confirm it."
Addressing Walder, he offered a surprising piece of advice that came out of nowhere: "Always do the opposite of your father. Then you would succeed in life."
A sudden comment that left Walder wide-eyed, and even I couldn't help but chuckle at the blunt honesty.
"Emmon Frey is the biggest cunt I've seen in my life," me and Walder heard Maester Bracken's murmur.
I gave a wink to the surprised Walder and a heavy smack, "Teacher Hoster used to be the former Regent of House Bracken, so he must have known your cunt, father."
COUGH
Teacher gave me a pointed look but didn't scold me, " I will start with old man Harwyn..."
--===Archmaester council, Citadel===--
The whole re-filled quill thing was a real game-changer for me, but the true show came later.
The teacher's art of playing politics in the background.
You know, the kind where they grease the wheels with the Archmaester council using bribes? It was like seeing a drama online, with all the behind-the-scenes manoeuvring.
Bracken, with his serious face, got in the centre of the chamber. "Gentlemen, we've got a 7 blessed project on our hands. The re-filled quill is our proof of Citadel's progress, but we need to settle the terms."
Archmaester Gerald raised an eyebrow. "Terms? The Citadel has always been the sole beneficiary of its projects."
Bracken nodded. "True, but this one's different. My disciple made it on his own, with no input from Citadel resources."
Then I heard a voice filled with mockery, "You mean a 7-year-old has funds to do such research."
"Yes, he took the loan from me and did so with a daring heart, most importantly, without my input. Though he is foolish in that, I must say, He is the epitome of Citadel's quest for knowledge."
I saw the teacher lying blindly and couldn't help but wonder. Perhaps he already erased the records from the citadel. Classic corruption. But this time, I liked it.
That talk convinced them, and the negotiations kicked off. It wasn't a smooth ride when the talks got to the profit share.
Archmaester Harwyn, the eldest among them, crossed his arms. "Why should we give a share to those Braavosi?"
Bracken countered, "It's a safety net. Ensuring financial stability and longevity for our venture. We can't afford to be stupid and childish. I'd give it a year before the imitations sprung up. So, it is better to give a partial share of 5% to the Iron Bank to guard our interests. Most businesses practised it to ensure profits."
Archmaester Gerald leaned back with his sceptical response. "But it's an abnormal method. We can't share profits with foreign bank."
Bracken stood his ground. "This project needs it. The stability and security it provides will benefit us in the long run."
Archmaester Harwyn thundered, "Unacceptable! This isn't acceptable. It complicates matters unnecessarily."
Bracken, unyielding, held his ground. "It's non-negotiable. The Iron Bank ensures the stability and independence of our financial backing. Without it, the project's success is at risk."
Damn, it is the same repetition with all the Archmaesters. It is like they are giving token resistance to the concept of dealing with Iron Bank.
SCRIBBLE SCRIBBLE
Looking at the scribe in the corner, writing the conversations with, I understand that this is the medieval equivalent of public debate. Their arguments are for the sake of avoiding blame if the Old king got pissed with the deal.
Not that he will, but it is a safety measure. Smart.
The negotiations went through the same cycle of losing control and deviating from the established norms of a proud Westerosi.
-
-
-
-
YAWN
Finally, the topic moved forward.
Teacher Bracken, remarkably persistent, finally argued, "Maesters, we are learned men. Besides, would you rather choose to get 5 Golden Dragons for each sale for a mere 100 Quills, or make 3 Gold each from thousands of Quills?"
After a series of impassioned exchanges and a fair share of compromises, a tentative agreement emerged. "Fine," Archmaester Gerald conceded, "but Citadel demands 40% of the shares."
My eyebrows twitched at that. One for simply endorsing the quill took away 40%, and the other took away 5% for simply storing the gold.
God, medieval shares are a loss-making business for inventors. To do profitable business, one must get squeezed by a power.
Iron bank and Citadel's backing better be good, or I might start preparing for revenge.
Bracken, although not entirely pleased, agreed. "It's a compromise. We can proceed under these terms. Anyway, I would like to have my student forge his first link. Also, I put forward the term for ownership under his name, and the Citadel will help in publicizing his achievements."
That is the squeeze from our side.
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