AN :
In the Game of Stones, you either win or you wait. The more Power Stones you offer, the faster the chapters come.
...
"Oh, I certainly understand." the boy nodded. "But I'm not interested in stealing your recipe for the substance, or anything of the sort. What I'd like to learn is how it interacts with other materials. Iron, steel, various types of wood, and paper. Sand and stone. Is that something you're able to share?"
Hallyne mulled it over, pressing a hand to his chin. "Well… I suppose we could share it with a customer…"
...
Quick as a flash, the boy pulled a purse from the side of his doublet and began to count out gold dragons. Hallyne's eyes widened. That was an awful lot of money for a young boy to be carrying around.
"Ten Gold Dragons, five for the guild and five for you, and you give me access to the library except for anything detailing the recipe for the substance for the duration of time I'm in King's Landing, make me an associate member or something, I don't care how you justify it. I will not remove any of the books from the premises, but I want the right to take notes and bring those with me. I want to know exactly how and what I can apply wildfire for."
One gold dragon was worth about as much as a common man in King's Landing would make in a year.
Hallyne weighed it strongly, but after a moment, he decided to shake his head. "Were I a Wisdom and not an acolyte, I could take your deal, but-"
"I'll also organize a purchase of 100 jars worth of the substance from the guild. I will want a variety of ages, to be transported to the Westerlands in let's say, 3 months." the boy stared up at him sharply. "Understand this, I am Tywin Lannister's second son. Money is of limited issue."
For the fourth time now, Hallyne recalibrated his brain, glancing up at the knight next to the boy who had said nothing. The brown-haired man nodded shortly. "Young Callum speaks true." Ser Clegane confirmed. "Lord Tywin has ordered me here as his bodyguard while we are in King's Landing."
The Alchemist swallowed… this was… he could get into trouble for this, allowing someone else even limited access to their library, but he could get into even greater trouble if he denied the guild a customer so closely associated with the Lord Hand, a man who, it was said, could shit gold.
"I believe… an associate membership is workable…" he swallowed. The guild had been visited by Alchemists from the Far East before. From Qarth and Yi-Ti and Asshai. They too had sought use of the library, and some of them, if they'd offered enough in turn, had been allowed in. This was just something like that, he decided. "I'll show you to the library now."
"I'm glad we could make an arrangement." the child smiled, but there was something threatening behind it, which settled in on Hallyne's shoulders as he remembered the other thing that Tywin Lannister was famous for.
Hallyne led the frightening lordling back into the depths of the guild, down a long stone spiral staircase, and then down a long hallway that took them to the far opposite side of the guild from the vaults, and lower also. The idea was that if a disaster ever occurred and the vaults exploded into fire, the library would survive. It was a sensible precaution, across the Guild's history the Vaults had nearly exploded twice.
The library was a heavily reinforced room where the walls were lined with books and tomes collected and written by Alchemists, Pyromancers, and disciples of other mystic traditions that shared their history. It was quiet today, most of his fellow alchemists were in the cells, working, and the place was lit by the flickering of normal candlelight from chandeliers and the sunlight filtering down through 3 mirrored shafts that ran out of the top of the guildhouse. Along each wall above the tops of the bookshelves, there were 3 great paintings.
One showed an image of the Wall in the North, the great bastion of ice three hundred miles long, another showed the island of Dragonstone, resplendent with a dragon cresting overhead. The third mural showed an eastern city of domes and great stone towers, which Hallyne had heard was Qarth in the Far East. He didn't know for certain, however, as he had never traveled much outside of King's Landing, much less Westeros.
The boy behind him sighted the paintings almost immediately, staring up at them sharply. "What… Hallyne, do you happen to know how those were made?" he pointed up at the painting on the wall. "The detail is very fine, and I've never seen their like."
"Hmm?" Hallyne paused, having thought the boy would have been more interested in the books than the paintings. "I… don't believe I do, though I suppose I could ask around the guild and see if any of my fellow Acolytes or the Wisdoms do. I know that they are very old though, near as old as the Guildhall itself, some three centuries."
"If… yes if you could. I have some inkling seeing them and I'd like to know if I'm right… or if it was just a painter with a very fine hand indeed." Callum shook his head. "That's for tomorrow though, for today, if you would just show me any tomes you know of recording how the substance interacts with various sorts of materials. I'd especially like to know about how it is stored. I've heard you use ceramics?"
"Ah, yes, wait right here a moment." Hallyne nodded, going over to the shelf on one side and hunting for an old dusty journal he knew was there. He hurried to find one detailing the methods for properly sealing and transporting wildfire.
If the son of Lord Tywin Lannister wanted to invest in their order, Hallyne would do his best to keep the boy happy and interested. With the kind of income that would bring, he could be a Wisdom himself soon enough.
...
( Jaime Lannister POV )
The padded sword passed above the top of his head by mere inches as Jaime slipped under his opponent's slash, his larger foe unused to fighting boys his size. He grinned wickedly, as he brought his own arming sword upwards, a fierce thrust straight into the armpit of-
"Good try." Jaime grimaced as his uncle's hand shot up like a falcon in flight, grabbing the tip of his weapon and pulling Jaime forward, using his own momentum to drag Jaime under his elbow and promptly thwacking him on the bottom with the flat of his blade, sending Jaime stumbling to the ground of the training yard.
"That's not fair uncle!" Jaime protested, picking himself back up. "You can't just grab a sword like that in a battle!"
"There's a reason we wear Gauntlets Jaime." Uncle Tygett chuckled, though he relented a moment later. "Though I'll admit I doubt any of your opponents in the Prince's tourney will have the reflex for that little trick."
Jaime frowned at his uncle, feeling it quite unfair, but nonetheless choosing not to push the issue. Uncle Tygett could get mean if you annoyed him too much. "I would have gotten you if you didn't do that."
"Would haves don't count. You know that Jaime." his uncle teased, but let him get back into position to fight once more. Picking up his arming sword, Jaime assumed a ready position.
"Again," Jaime asked, and in but a moment he was striding forward once more against his uncle. He brought his blade forward in a strike down from his right shoulder to his left foot, which his uncle redirected with a flourish of his own. Then his uncle cut forward out of it towards Jaime, which Jaime avoided only by stepping back, rocking onto his heel before slashing across against Uncle Tygett's chest, a strike intended to create space while Jaime regained his footing.
Then they were back at it once again. Strike after strike they clashed, blow after blow, but Jaime only rarely felt that he could break his uncle's control, the veteran knight was simply too seasoned, and too talented in his own right. Whatever Jaime's immense natural talent gave him, his uncle Tygett had both similar talent and far more experience on his side. The best Jaime could do was avoid being hit as the man struck out relentlessly, driving him further and further back with each exchange. Jaime could feel the soft sand of the courtyard giving way to the hard-packed dirt near the edges and knew his back would soon be pressed against the pillars of the Red Keep if he didn't turn this spar around soon.
So he did the first thing that came to mind. Knocking his Uncle's sword to the side he used that same hard dirt to throw himself forward, crashing against his uncle, charging to tackle him to the ground with his shoulder.
Alas, his uncle, though letting out a noise of surprise at Jaime's technique, was simply too much heavier than him, the man was able to stop him dead with barely a waver.
"Hah!" Tygett laughed, wrapping his arm around Jaime. "Whatever possessed you to grapple with a man twice your weight lad?" He spun around and let Jaime go, throwing him to the sand of the inner courtyard. "Though I suppose that might have been clever against another boy your age."
"I thought you'd be surprised uncle." Jaime spat sand from his mouth as he pushed himself to his feet once again, swaying somewhat as he went to pick up his sword, still tasting the sand between his teeth.
"Feh, I've seen men do more foolish things in battle." Tygett waved him off. "You'd need to do something incredibly idiotic to surprise me." he grinned, his smile not as rare as Jaime's father's, but still quite unusual.
"I think we're done for today if you've decided tricks are the only way you can win. You're not wrong, but it's also not what we're here to practice." his uncle walked over and patted Jaime on the head with a sweaty mitt. "Best we don't injure you three days before your tournament."
"Aww…" Jaime sighed. He'd been enjoying their sparring even if he was spending far more time on the ground than he preferred. Oh well, it wasn't as if there was nothing to do in the Red Keep. "Alright Uncle, I'll return to our quarters then."
"You best." Uncle Tygett nodded, leaving to put their padded weapons back in the armory, as Jaime headed back up towards the Tower of the Hand.
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