The Grand Maester touched the chain of office around his neck, the dozen metal links swaying lightly. Smiling, he said, "Ser Kevan, you've been away from the Westerlands lately, so you likely haven't heard about the strange and remarkable changes in Ser Gregor."
"…What other startling changes could the Mountain possibly have gone through?"
"Well, strictly speaking, it all began about a month ago, triggered by a particularly violent headache."
"I know. He's always had migraines. He used to drink large quantities of poppy milk to deal with them."
Tywin interjected, "Too much poppy milk is dangerous. I know that Eddard Stark in the North almost never touches it, even when injured or ill."
"That's true." the Maester nodded. "Poppy milk can treat illness, help sleep, and dull pain, but in excess, it causes dependency and harms the body."
"So what happened with Gregor's headache?" Kevan asked.
"He fell into a coma, and his fever wouldn't break." said the Maester.
"I thought he was going to die. I even began making funeral arrangements." Tywin waved a hand, signaling a servant to take away the bowl of overly bitter bacon soup.
"But the Mountain's still alive and well!" Kevan exclaimed.
"Yes. He woke up three days later. After a few days of rest and recovery, it was as if something had changed in him. He became quiet, withdrawn, even when the Lord spoke to him, he barely responded. Then one day, he suddenly asked to return to Clegane's Keep, saying he wanted to rest and recover. The Lord, worried something might happen to him, sent Maester Pycelle with him, along with three of Gregor's most loyal officers."
"Raff, Dunsen, and Polliver." Kevan listed off without pause.
"Yes, those three accompanied him, along with the young Maester Pycelle. According to Pycelle, once Gregor returned to Clegane's Keep, he stopped drinking poppy milk and tied himself to a stone bed to forcefully break the addiction. Two days later, he got up from that stone slab, and from that moment on, it was as if something in him had awakened. He suddenly became… wise."
"Wise? The Mountain? That's absurd." Kevan frowned. He didn't like hearing the word "wise" used to describe Gregor.
Tywin cut in, "Gregor claimed it was the Seven. He even had a sept built. Said he'd been touched by the light of the Seven, and that it opened his eyes to knowledge he'd never known before."
"The Father judges. The Mother nurtures. The Warrior fights. The Maiden is purity. The Smith works. The Stranger is death. Only the Crone symbolizes wisdom. So if he was enlightened, it wasn't by the Seven, but by the Crone alone, not all of them." Kevan argued skeptically.
"I believe he truly was touched by the Seven." Tywin said flatly.
Kevan opened his mouth to argue but froze. He stared, speechless for a moment, then finally muttered, "Very well. I believe he was touched by the Seven."
"You should." the Grand Maester chuckled, raising his eyebrows. "Because Gregor's also made some remarkable innovations in the realm of warfare."
"Military inventions?"
"Let's not get into his war bugles yet. Bring up the noodles." Tywin ordered.
"Yes, my lord." Three servants waiting at the side quickly stepped forward with bowls of noodles already prepared.
The noodles were thick, short, and slippery, like eels, very different from the smooth, uniform white noodles from Kevan's memory of the more refined dishes of civilized Essos. These were more akin to thick, unevenly shaped hand-cut noodles, except they hadn't been sliced with a knife, but handmade, so each was unique in shape and size.
Kevan noticed the servants placed small, flat wooden boxes beside the Maester and Lord, each intricately carved and about the length of a dagger, while his own bowl came with the usual knife and fork.
"You don't have cutlery?" Kevan asked, puzzled.
Traditionally, noodles weren't served at this stage of a meal. And no meats, breads, lettuces, honey, fruits, wine, pastries, or desserts had been brought out either, violating every rule of proper dining order and etiquette.
"We're using what's in the box." the Maester said with a smile.
Tywin and the Maester opened their boxes and pulled out two small, identical wooden sticks. Each stick was wrapped in shimmering silver silk, and the pair were tied together with a red ribbon in the shape of a butterfly.
Kevan's eyes widened.
"What are those?" Even he could hear the odd tone in his own voice.
They were utterly unfamiliar. The delicate silk wrapping suggested something newly imported, perhaps from across the Narrow Sea, from the Free Cities.
"Chopsticks." the Maester said.
"Gregor invented them. He made this pair personally as a gift for me." Tywin added, not looking up as he began eating his noodles with the chopsticks.
Kevan's jaw dropped open.
Fifty-three years he'd lived, and never had he seen or heard of "chopsticks." He looked at his own bowl, and lightly tapped the edge with his fork and knife, ding ding, as if doubting their adequacy.
The Maester also began eating with his chopsticks.
Kevan now understood why no other dishes had been brought out, Tywin clearly wanted him to witness firsthand how chopsticks were used to eat noodles.
"Are there any more?" Kevan asked.
"There are, but don't let their convenience fool you." the Maester said with a chuckle. "If it's your first time, you'll likely fumble. You'll drop them. You'll find it frustrating and be tempted to go back to your knife and fork. But stick with it. Give it a try. Once you get the hang of it, you'll find it ten times better than eating noodles with Western utensils."
"They're also great for picking up vegetables and meat in soup." Tywin added. "Because they're wooden, they don't conduct heat, and won't burn your fingers." He looked up at Kevan. "When I saw how easily Gregor used them, I decided to try them myself. It was awkward at first, I dropped mine a few times, but I got the hang of it."
Kevan understood perfectly: with Tywin's pride, there was no way he would allow himself to be outdone by Gregor. Of course he mastered the chopsticks quickly, and even grew fond of them.
"But how do we know these are truly Gregor's invention? Couldn't they be from the Orient, across the Narrow Sea?"
"Gregor wouldn't lie to me." Tywin said sharply, eyeing Kevan. "And if chopsticks were already in use across the Narrow Sea, I would have heard of them before he did."
"Yes, my lord." Kevan nodded quickly. He had never doubted Tywin, he had just found it hard to believe anything remarkable could come from Gregor.
Tywin and the Maester ate their noodles swiftly and skillfully with their chopsticks. Kevan, by contrast, only managed to finish half his bowl with his knife and fork. Though he was used to it, he couldn't deny how clumsy and inefficient it now seemed.
"From now on, House Lannister will dine with chopsticks." Tywin declared. "This is the wisdom of the Crone. No other house in the Seven Kingdoms knows of chopsticks, not the royal family, nor even the oldest and noblest bloodlines. But House Lannister will lead the way."
"But how does one cut roast meat with chopsticks?" Kevan raised a practical concern.
"Gregor never cuts his own meat." Tywin replied. "He has a foster daughter named Julie who cuts the roasted and boiled meat for him. And chefs can pre-slice meat in the kitchen before serving it at the table."
"Yes, my lord." Kevan responded, realizing that Tywin must have seen Gregor demonstrating his new eating style firsthand.
"House Lannister will set the trend." Maester Pycelle sang as if proclaiming prophecy. "The other noble houses will scramble to imitate us."
Hearing those words, Kevan suddenly understood everything.
So that's why Tywin had summoned him back. That's why noodles were served first. If this truly sparked a new trend among the nobility, the Westerlands would gain cultural prestige to rival, or even surpass, the other six kingdoms, not just in gold, but in influence and sophistication. And that, more than anything, was what Tywin had always sought.
And there was the snow salt, utterly unique. Once noble palates tasted it, they would never turn back. And that snow salt came from the Westerlands.
------------
Note: If you guys want to read up to 50+ chapters in advance of the current story, you can support me on Patreon. You can read up to chapter 101 there! patreon.com/vynthor