The classroom in the Pentos hub was silent, save for the scratching of charcoal on slate. Twenty students—former urchins and the children of freed slaves—stared at a Galvanic Cell (a primitive battery) on the instructor's desk.
"Observe," said the teacher, a woman who had once been a camp follower but was now a Targaryen Educator. She touched two wires together. A bright, blue spark jumped between them.
The students gasped. One boy, Gendry—a quick-witted smith's apprentice—raised his hand. "Teacher? If the spark comes from the acid and the metal, then... it's not the Storm God's wrath?"
"It is energy, Gendry," the teacher replied, quoting Viserys's own Manifesto of Natural Law. "It is a force that can be measured, captured, and put to work. A man who understands the spark does not need to fear the storm."
Outside, Daenerys watched through the window, her heart swelling with a new kind of pride. She saw the way the students looked at the world—not with the dull eyes of cattle, but with the sharp, hungry gaze of Engineers.
"They aren't looking for a King anymore, Viserys," she whispered to her brother, who was checking the pressure gauges on the nearby steam-mill.
"Good," Viserys replied, his eyes following a blue notification from his System.
[SOCIAL PROGRESS METRIC: LITERACY RATE 15% (CRITICAL MASS)]
Current Status: Foundation of Republic laid.
Warning: The Citadel has noticed. Archmaesters are labeling your schools as 'Heretical Alchemy.'
"They don't need a King," Viserys continued, looking toward the sunset and the distant shores of Westeros. "They need a Constitution. And once they can read it, the Lords of the Seven Kingdoms are already dead. They just don't know it yet."
The Maesters of Oldtown have held a monopoly on knowledge for thousands of years. Now, they see "Targaryen Pamphlets" appearing in every port. These pamphlets don't talk about dragons; they talk about Crop Rotation, Steam Pressure, and the Rights of the Individual.
The Smallfolk are starting to ask: "If a machine can pump water, why do we need a Lord to rule the well?"
The Great Hall of Winterfell was cold, but the book on Ned Stark's table felt like a hot coal. It was bound in simple blue cloth, titled The Common Man's Guide to Hygiene and Harvest.
"It came from a merchant in White Harbor, Ned," Catelyn Stark said, her voice hushed. "They're saying the Targaryen boy doesn't want the throne. He wants to build 'Schools' in the Riverlands."
Ned opened the book. Instead of genealogies of lords, he saw diagrams of Water Filtration Systems and the Chemical Composition of Soil.
"He's not fighting with dragons, Cat," Ned sighed, rubbing his face. "He's fighting with Ideas. He's giving the smallfolk the one thing we never could: a life without hunger. How am I supposed to call him a 'Usurper' when he's sent enough fertilizer to the Gift to feed the Night's Watch for a decade?"
"The Maesters call it heresy," she reminded him.
"The Maesters are afraid," Ned countered, looking at his daughter Sansa, who was fascinated by the Optical Glass spectacles the merchant had also brought. "They're afraid because this boy has made the 'Natural Law' more powerful than the 'King's Justice'."
[NOTIFICATION: CULTURAL INFILTRATION SUCCESSFUL]Northern Loyalty Shift: 12% toward Enlightenment.Tech Points Unlocked: 5,000.New Project: The Telegraph Line (Instant link between Essos and the North).
The first locomotive, the Winter's Breath, hissed steam into the frigid air of White Harbor's docks. Ned Stark stood on the platform, his hand resting on the pommel of Ice, watching as a crane lowered a crate of Antiseptic Serums onto a flatcar.
"It feels like magic, Ned," Catelyn whispered, pulling her furs tighter. "A horse made of iron that never tires."
"It's not magic, Cat," Ned replied, his eyes fixed on the "Natural Law" pamphlet clutched by a young Northern stoker. "It's a machine. And it's the only reason our people will survive the next five years. The Targaryen boy didn't give us a crown; he gave us a Future."
[NOTIFICATION: NORTHERN ALLIANCE SECURED]Current Status: Industrial Protectorate.Tech Points Unlocked: 10,000.New Invention Available: The Internal Combustion Engine or Long-Range Telegraphy.
The air in the Braavosi industrial sector no longer smelled of salt and sea; it smelled of Cutting Oil and hot, shaven iron. Inside the massive stone warehouse Viserys had reclaimed with his first "Optical Shop" profits, the rhythmic thump-hiss of the steam-driven bellows provided the heartbeat for a new era.
Viserys stood over a heavy iron Lathe, his System-enhanced eyes tracking the microscopic shavings of steel.
"Steady, Morello," Viserys commanded. The master smith, now transformed into a master machinist, adjusted the lead screw. "We are not making a sword that requires a hero to wield it. We are making a Standardized Tool."
On the workbench lay the prototype of the Targaryen Pattern-1. It was a Percussion-lock Rifle, a leap forward from the clumsy matchlocks of history. Viserys had spent 4,000 Tech Points to unlock the secrets of Fulminate of Mercury for the blasting caps. No more slow-burning matches that went out in the rain; this weapon would roar whenever the trigger was pulled.
"This is the death of the knight, isn't it?" Morello whispered, staring at the spiral grooves—the Rifling—inside the barrel.
"No," Viserys replied, his voice cold and precise. "It is the birth of the Citizen. A knight requires twenty years of training and a mountain of gold. A citizen requires two weeks and a box of lead."