GOT/ASOIAF: Ruler Beyond The Ice

"You must have heard of pyromancers and wildfire," Tyrion replied with a shrug. Seeing Aegor pull the reins to halt his horse, Tyrion sighed and stopped as well, along with his two guards, Jack and Maurice. "What's wrong? That doesn't sound fun?"

Aegor turned back, curiosity piqued. "If I wanted to visit, could I go inside?"

"Of course. It's not hard to get in," Tyrion said. "Pyromancers were once the favorites of the Targaryens, but now they've fallen so low that anyone with a bit of coin can walk in and sneer at them. If it weren't for all the wildfire stockpiled underground, this building would have been torn down long ago. The people inside, though… Well, they're half crazy, maybe half pitiful. Imagine falling from the heavens straight into hell. That's what their lives are like."

"Let's go take a look," Aegor decided.

Tyrion frowned, puzzled by the sudden interest, but he was already used to Aegor's unpredictable nature. Without further questions, he climbed down from his special saddle with some difficulty, standing beside Aegor along with the two servants.

…

"How do we get inside?"

"Through the main door," Tyrion answered matter-of-factly.

Aegor rolled his eyes. "The door's shut."

"Then knock," Tyrion said flatly.

Was it really that simple? Maurice stayed behind to watch the horses while the other three ascended the steps and knocked on the wooden door, which looked as though it hadn't been opened in decades.

To their surprise, the response was almost immediate. Far faster than expected, the door creaked open, revealing an old man with a shifty demeanor, his face lined with suspicion. He looked even more disreputable than Will.

"What do you want? Buying that substance?"

Tyrion patted his purse, letting the golden dragons and silver stags inside jingle audibly.

Hearing this, the old man opened the door wider. "Come in, then. What are you doing wearing so little?"

What was that supposed to mean? Aegor frowned but refrained from asking, trusting Tyrion's confidence as they followed the old man inside. However, he soon realized something was off—they weren't going upstairs, as he expected, but descending into the lower levels.

"What's your name?" Tyrion asked their guide.

"Call me Wisdom Hallyne," the old man said proudly. "How much do you want?"

"Ask my friend here," Tyrion said, gesturing to Aegor. "He's curious about wildfire."

How much does it cost? Aegor's mind was a whirlwind. Who was he? Where was he? And what was he doing?

Right—he was now Aegor West, Chief Logistics Officer of the Night's Watch, standing in the hall of the Alchemists' Guild, trying to learn about wildfire.

Yet the casual tone of their conversation unsettled him. Something as dangerous as wildfire—explosives, essentially—was being discussed as if it were a fine wine available for casual purchase.

"Ah, wearing black, I see. Someone in your family died? It's a good idea to use this stuff to cremate the body," Hallyne said with a morbid grin.

Aegor's face darkened. "I'm a Night's Watchman. That's none of your business. Just explain this 'substance' to me."

"Fine, fine. You curious squirrels always have so many questions," Hallyne muttered, before turning his attention back to Tyrion. "But if I explain, you must buy at least ten silver stags' worth."

"Do you know who I am?" Tyrion asked, raising an eyebrow. "My family has enough gold to buy the entire Alchemists' Guild."

Hallyne stared at Tyrion for a long moment, visibly unsure. From his reaction, Aegor could tell the old man genuinely didn't recognize Tyrion—or the Lannister name.

Still, Tyrion's confidence and commanding aura seemed to intimidate him enough. Without further complaints, Hallyne grabbed an oil lamp from the wall and began leading them down a dark, narrow staircase.

"Do you know about dragons?" Hallyne began dramatically as they descended. "Those terrifying creatures with wings that darken the sky, able to burn the world with their breath. Do you know where their fire comes from?"

"Magic?" Aegor guessed.

"No. It's an organ in their chest," Hallyne said, shaking his head. "This organ secretes a mystical liquid. When the dragon breathes fire, the liquid is compressed, sprayed out, and ignited by a small spark of magic. That's how dragonfire is made."

"What does this have to do with wildfire? Is it the same substance, harvested from dragons?" Aegor asked, frowning. A grim thought crossed his mind: Was the Alchemists' Guild responsible for the extinction of dragons, harvesting them for wildfire production?

Of course, the idea was absurd. Even if dragons produced such a substance, humans would have found a more sustainable way to extract it, like milking a bear for bile.

His real concern was something else: how could such a dangerous and vital military weapon be treated so casually, sold like common merchandise? Judging by Hallyne's humble demeanor, wildfire wasn't even in high demand.

…

"No, no," Hallyne replied. "It's not harvested from dragons. It was inspired by them. With a combination of magic and technology, we managed to create it ourselves."

"Then just call it wildfire," Aegor snapped, growing irritated. "Why all this cryptic talk about 'that substance'? It's ridiculous."

"Wildfire is a name used by laymen!" Hallyne huffed indignantly. "It's not wild—it can be controlled. With proper safety precautions and mastery of fire magic—"

"You know fire magic?" Tyrion interrupted, his tone dripping with skepticism. "If wildfire were truly controllable, the Targaryens would still sit on the Iron Throne. Instead, your 'substance' has been devalued to the point that no one wants it."

Hallyne faltered, stammering a weak response. He fell silent and continued leading them deeper underground.

The temperature dropped sharply as they descended. By the time they reached the bottom, Aegor was shivering. It felt as though the outside temperature of thirty degrees had plummeted to ten in the damp, stone-walled cellar. The walls were coated with saltpeter, and the only light came from the sealed iron-bar oil lamp Dake carried.

Finally, they arrived at a heavy, reinforced door. Handing the lamp to Aegor, Hallyne produced a key and unlocked it.

"Don't come inside!" Hallyne warned sharply. "Stay by the door. The light and temperature could destabilize the substance."

Aegor froze, carefully holding the oil lamp at arm's length. He was beginning to understand why wildfire wasn't widely used, if it was this volatile, how could anyone handle it safely?

Peering inside, he saw rows of shelves lined with bright red ceramic jars, each shaped like a plump grapefruit.

"Come help me," Hallyne called, motioning for the group to approach.

Aegor passed the lamp to Jack and cautiously stepped forward. Taking a jar from the shelf, Hallyne poured its contents into a small vial. Under the faint light, the liquid appeared dark green, with a texture resembling thick honey.

"Don't touch it. Even your body heat could destabilize it."

"Body heat can ignite it?" Aegor nearly dropped the jar in alarm.

"Not quite… At least, there are no recorded cases of that happening," Hallyne admitted sheepishly. "But the older it gets, the more unstable it becomes. Better safe than sorry."

…

Before long, the small vial, slightly larger than a bottle of ale was filled. Hallyne insisted the amount was worth more than ten silver stags but claimed the extra was a "gift." After paying, Aegor carefully stored the vial according to Hallyne's instructions.

"I'm very interested in this," Aegor said as he handed Hallyne a card. "If you're free, visit me at the Night's Watch office in the next two days. It's across from the East Camp of the King's Landing Garrison. We can discuss a larger deal."

***

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