Game of Thrones: Paladin of Old Gods

Chapter 9: ' Soap...Utility...Prices...War...and Messages...'

Sorry for this second small barrier in a row. Since last night I have been asking myself the same question and I hope you can help me. The question I ask myself is:

In case I've been captured and don't have a chance to escape or commit suicide... "Ramsay Snow or Qyburn?"

Thank you all and happy reading.

POV: Maester Golbarth

Year: 281 AC 1th day of th 11 moon (2 weeks before the tournament in Harrenhal)

'These are the seven hells?' Thought the poor man, no longer able to reason properly.

'Clipk Clipk,...Gnnhiik...' A lock rattling was heard, followed by a door creaking.

'No! No! It hasn't been a day yet! IT HASN'T PASSED YET!!! It can't have passed already!!!' Indeed Golbarth was right it had only been 22 hours since the last resumption of the 'procedure'.

"Maester Golbarth, good morning! I apologise my friend for waking you up earlier. Unfortunately, today is going to be a very busy day and as you well know, I hate being late for work..." said Qyburn politely.

"Today I bring good news and bad news." Qyburn.

"The good is that we can double the dose of milk of the poppy...Alas, the bad is that we've got to the part where, we're going to study the effects of this rare and fascinating disease on the nerve bundle sections...Unfortunately, even with the additional dose I'm going to have to attach a few extra straps, to make sure you don't move." He said with a sorry tone and face as he tightened 4 more leather straps.

"ghuu!!!! Nhughgg!!!! gUgh!ugh!" Golbarth had lost track of the meaning of the word 'despair'.

"Up! Up! Maester there is no need to waste unnecessary energy and fluids, you know we will need them for our long journey. I apologise again. I was very sorry to have to remove your tongue, but it was necessary. We can't risk ruining the restful sleep of the good people upstairs." Said Qyburn, wiping away the watery discharge with a handkerchief.

"As always, wash your hands carefully before starting work. I do believe this soap will be a great success at the citadel. Its properties go far beyond hygiene, outperforming our alcohol-based solutions in more ways than one." Qyburn said with a smile.

"Fear not my friend, in all likelihood you will be able to hold out long enough to know the answer to the raven I sent to the citadel. Let's just hope the messaging office doesn't file the request on the 'not-urgent' section. Officially you're already dead, but I made sure to point out in the letter 'that we were forced to burn your body'. After all, I don't know about this disease, not 'officially' at least." Qyburn finished washing his hands, put on protective leather gloves, an apron and a mask. He walked over to the instrument table. He grabbed the previously disinfected scalpel and walked slowly towards Golbarth.

'The milk of the poppy! Milk of the poppy! Milk of the poppy!!! You said it! YOU SAID IT!!!!!!' Golbarth tried as hard as he could to turn his head pinned by the strap, towards the flask less than 2 feet from him.

"'Ghu!ghU! ghu! Ghu! Ghu! Ghu!" the maester blinked repeatedly, trying to send the message to Qyburn in any way.

"Don't worry maester, I know exactly what you want. I have long since learned the body language of my 'subjects'. It will only take a minute I promise. I will just have to measure your pain tolerance to calculate and quantify the effects of the milk on the procedure." Said the new knight trying to reassure the 'patient'.

"As always Torrhen's Square thanks you for your sacrifice maester. This data will be very useful should the citadel agents decide to use their 'weapons'."

And the work began again...

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POV Lady Melessa Tarly;

Horn Hill, that same evening...

Lady Tarly had had a very tiring day.

She prepared to head for the halls of her personal baths, her trusted handmaiden Katia Flowers led the way.

The handmaiden was to help her young, and for just over a year married, Lady Tarly dry and change her robes after the woman's customary evening bath.

Horn Hill did not have the usual baths, it had an entire pool of fine marble about 20 feet wide on each side. A luxury her ancestral home did not have.

Melessa noticed that the water emitting vapours was clearer than normal and that the normal bath oils were not in their usual place.

But there was an exquisite closed brown wooden box, on the lid three green pines were adorned with a well-crafted carving.

He looked curiously at Katia raising a frown.

''My lady a gift from House Tallhart. It seems that all castles from Last Hearth to Salt Coast have received such gifts." The handmaiden answered quickly.

Melessa carefully opened the box, intrigued by the news.

Inside she found five strange objects of equal size and rounded shape.

At first glance they looked like exotic stones.

"Why 5 different colours? And above all, what are they, Katia?" the lady asked confused.

"The strange object is called 'soap' my lady it is an incredible beauty product, much better than common bath oils and salts. Each colour represents a different fragrance. Of course I and the other handmaids made sure of that before we let you try it my lady." The handmaiden replied confidently and full of expectation.

"Have you tried it? Did House Tallhart send more boxes of this workmanship as gifts?" Melessa.

"O no my lady that box is unique, we handmaidens have tried the so called 'superior soap' for the high class merchants. That my lady is 'supreme' qualities of a higher rank. In fact..." Katia.

"What Katia? Go ahead and finish the speech, more than once you leave a sentence in the middle, keeping me in doubt for hours!" Melessa.

"Yes my Lady!.... yes we handmaidens wanted to ask you if...if....We could try at least 1 of these 5 samples!!!" Said Katie, who immediately blushed for the indelicacy of her manner.

An hour later...

Melessa felt more relaxed than ever. Her skin was slippery in her silk nightgown. She felt clean and fresher than ever before.

Not only that, but the smell she gave off was sweeter and less pungent than the perfumes she usually used.

She was waiting for her husband Randyll to join her.

She had no expectations for this night.

Lord Tarly hardly ever lay with his wife after a hunting trip.

A noise interrupted the woman's thoughts.

Lord Tarly was a not very tall and handsome man, but his wife found him attractive from every aspect. In every gesture of the man she perceived a sense of security and protection.

"I apologize my dear for the late hour." Randyll began.

"Never mind Lord husband, come to bed now." Randyll nodded his head slightly.

"Do you really have to leave tomorrow?" Melessa.

"Yes my Lady, I already gave Lord Went confirmation for the tournament a month ago." Tarly.

Randyll stroked his wife's face to comfort her and after a moment's hesitation continued by sliding his hand down her neck.

He continued the hand movement several times, Lady Tarly had closed her eyes, savouring her husband's gentle caresses.

The man moved closer, with each caress, his lips touched his wife's neck. He was tempted by the feel of her skin and the pleasant fragrance the woman gave off.

That night there was one exception to an unspoken rule...

The next morning...

"Edgar!!! Edgar!! WHERE ARE YOU DAMMIT?! "Shouted Lady Tarly throughout the villa.

"Here I am my Lady! I'm coming!" Melessa noticed a man in his fifties, plump and fatigued from a long run. Edgar the Tarly's chief attendant.

"I beg your pardon my lady, we were making final preparations for..."

"It doesn't matter! Edgar from now on for bath products we will no longer buy oils and salts from Myr and Lys! We will have to buy this product! THE 'SUPREME SOAP' from House Tallhart!!!" said Melessa hurriedly.

"My lady I'm afraid we renewed the purchase contracts just the..." he was interrupted again.

"IT DOESN'T MATTER! You must act at once Edgar! Have the maester send a raven to ask House Tallarth for a large purchase for at least a year's worth of stock! Even if we have to pay double or triple. In fact, you must send a delegate to Torrehn Square to negotiate directly! We will also have to find suitable gifts to thank them!" Lady Tarly said as quickly as she could.

"My lady, I... I do not understand why... why the urgency?" asked Edgar visibly frightened and confused. This was the first time ever that the calm, sweet, gentle and shy Lady Florent/Tarly had shown such hysteria and violence in her manner.

"I'VE ONLY JUST HEARD THAT NOW EDGAR! DO YOU UNDERSTAND NOW?! This box had already arrived 8 days ago!!! Do you know what that means???? It means that those BLOODY ARPHEADS of House Tyrell, Lannister, Tully, Martell and all the other bloody Houses of Westeros have at least 8 DAYS ADVANTAGE ON US already!!! Look! SEE FOR YOURSELF WHAT IS WRITTEN IN THIS LETTER!" Lady Melessa Tarly cried out in despair, literally knocking the message into the hands of the poor chief attendant.

Similar events were happening in many castles and mansions all over Westeros...

End POV

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POV Helman Tallhart;

Four weeks after the hysterical outburst of a Lady...

The owner of Torrhen's Square was reading the sales reports for the umpteenth time. He was still in disbelief at the success. He knew the product was magnificent, but he certainly did not expect a second 'war on spices'.

'My Lady wife was right...The noble women of Westeros are literally grabbing their weapons and armour, and are ready to go to 'War'...'. Helman thought as he recalled how thrilled Myra was to personally take charge of writing the accompanying letter to all the ladies of Westeros, explaining in detail the uses and benefits of the product. She had, in an elegantly cruel way, pointed out (without going into specifics) ''how 'COMPLEX' and 'LONG' the process of making 'Supreme Quality Soap' was...''

At this rate we will be forced to reinvest the profits to, at a minimum, triple production and increase safety...'*

*Author's note [It is not true that only men in this world go to war. Women also fight, tooth and nail, but a different kind of war. In their warfare, the lords and knights mainly need: Forged steel (for weapons and armour), Military Training and Provisions (food, bandages and other healing and healing ingredients for weapons). For the noble (and not) Ladies of Westeros and Essos instead: Accessories (clothes and jewellery), Etiquette (courtesy, arts: in singing, dancing, seduction...etc etc...and...'Beauty Ingredients' (make-up, oils and bath salts, perfumes and skin creams). So yes, the race for 'soap' is literally an 'arms race'.

Sales Specifications: In a month of non-stop production, Tallhart had managed to bring to market:

-50 'Supreme Soap' Lots (1 Lot = 500 pieces)

-300 'Superior Soap' Lots

-5,000 Lots of 'Common Soap'.

*At the price of:

1'Soap Supreme' = 1 Silver Moon for piece (approx. 300$)

2'Superior Soap' = 1 Silver Stag for piece (approx. 43$)

3'Soap Common' = 5 Copper Penny for piece (approx. 4$)

(Review Ch: 5 'The Seventy-seventh' for the money system.

Ps. Here I have to admit that 'Big George' threw a good hammer on our heads).

Each piece of 'Supreme Soap' is sufficient according to the styles of the nobles for 1 or Max two uses to person.

For 'Superior' or 'Common' four or five (for common people's washing styles)

House net profit to month

1= 5 Stags and 3 Copper Stars x 500 x 50 = approx. 646 Golden Dragon

2= 5 Copper Stars and 5 Penny x 500 x 300 = about 574 Golden Dragon

3= 3 Penny x 500 x 5000 = approx. 637 Golden Dragon

Tot = about 1857 Golden Dragon in one month.

*The average Tallhart house normally manages to save about 2,000 G.D. in a year. This first month and for the next five, Leobald and Qyburn, have advised the Lord to sell these lots only to Northern families. All Northern houses have the option of reselling their lots to Southern houses. Lord Rickard Stark and all the Northern Lords came personally to thank the Tallarth family a short time ago. To thank their ally for giving the North some real help in recovering from the harsh winter that had just passed. The Tallarths have only set one condition: the 'Soap Common' cannot be resold, to the people or to other houses and merchants, at a price higher than 2 copper stars (without exceptions). And a small request regarding the lands of the Highland (Optional).

There were no complaints about this.

Economy and Politics are two sides of the same coin...]

-Fine Author's Note;

A knock was heard on the door....

"Maester Qyburn, my Lord," said a guard.

"Let him come in." He answered quickly. Qyburn entered making a respectful bow.

"Greetings my Lord, I hope I'm not disturbing your work." Qyburn.

"No problem maester, let's get straight to the point. Tell me everything." Helman.

"Of course, I'd like to start with the fact that we are constantly getting crows from everywhere. That poor boy Ronan (Tom's son), works diligently day and night to help me with the task. I have tried to reward him with a few coins but he has always refused. I would suggest, if possible, rewarding him with some rare texts from the citadel on subjects he is most interested in. Perhaps, if possible and if you have time, give him a few words of recognition for his efforts." Qyburn.

"An excellent suggestion, I will see to it in the morning. As for the books, I leave you free to act maester." Qyburn nodded with a small smile.

"Our mutual friend, sadly will be of no further use to us now. I assure you my Lord, he has been of incredible help to House Tallhart. Just this morning I finally received a reply from the citadel.*" Qyburn continued:

*Author's note: [Qyburn had set himself the 'personal goal' of making his 'work' with Maester Golbarth last until the Citadel had sent a reply to his raven. Unfortunately, the message had been filed in the 'not-urgent' section until the Old City received the shipment of 'Soap' as a gift from House Tallarth. The next day the raven had been sent.

"Poor Golbarth....."]

End Author's Note.

"The Citadel regrets the tragic passing of Maester Golbarth and wishes me well in my work here in the North. They extend their warmest regards and best wishes to you." Said Qyburn with an amused smirk.

"Also my Lord, the most 'urgent' messages that require attention are those sent from Casterly Rock and the free cities of Lys and Myr. They ask us, in a subtle tone of threat, to create a future business partnership with them. How should we respond?" Qyburn asked.

"Respond by politely refusing their request. Tell them that unfortunately we have already made and signed agreements with the 'Iron Bank' and that they can try asking them in the future. You have my permission to tread on the letters of the name of our 'Business Partner' as you write your reply." Helman replied in an angry tone. Qyburn nodded.

"I am pleased to inform you that Paul returned a short while ago from his long trip to High Garden. He reports that the debt has been settled and that our tribute has been given in the proper manner." Qyburn smiled reporting it. Helman nodded in satisfaction. *

*Author's note [ Helman although he finds Qyburn frightening, trusts him blindly since Duncan told him that with his 'ability', he feels the same feeling of trust that Tom exudes. Furthermore Helman applies a philosophy of life ' If they throw a stone at you you respond by throwing a flower...but never, ever forget the 'Vase' while doing so.']

"All the houses of the Reach are flooding us with crows and emissaries with gifts of all kinds. We respond with the same message of 'You may address your complaints to your protector.' ". Qyburn

"And finally my lord, a message from White Harbor that I'm pretty sure you'd like to read for yourself." Qyburn handed small scroll to his lord with a smile. Helman took the message, scrutinised it and said exultantly... "Tom is back!!!".

End POV

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POV Olenna Tyrell;

That same day...

The 'Queen of Thorns' sat again pondering and contemplating for a solution to her enormous 'headache'. She was constantly staring at a small scented object with the symbol of House Tallhart on it. A knock on the door awakened her from her thoughts.

"Come in." A very familiar attendant entered with a lowered head and a worried face.

"Well? Any news?" Olenna already knew the answer to this silly question she had just asked.

"No my lady Olenna. Unfortunately it is the same answer from all the Northern Lords. We continue to receive missives from our allied houses..." the boy said fearing the worst. Olenna sighed massaging her forehead with her left hand.

"House Tallhart?" Another stupid question. The boy handed over the small scroll with the exact same message inside. Olenna, used to it by now, opened it without thinking. It read...

'The North Remembers.'

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