The kitchens of New Castle were a sprawling maze of stone and fire, filled with the scents of roasting meat and fresh bread. It was a place of controlled chaos—cooks barking orders, servants rushing to and fro with trays of food, and the ever-present heat of the great hearth.
Wylis moved through it with purpose, scanning the barrels and jugs stacked in the corner. Ale, mead, and wine—traditional, familiar, and utterly lacking in what he needed.
"Analysis: Current alcohol selection is low-proof and inefficient. Market opportunity: high."
That was an understatement. Westerosi alcohol was weak. Mead was cloyingly sweet, ale spoiled quickly, and wine—while profitable—was dominated by the Reach and the Arbor. There was no room for White Harbor to compete in the wine trade.
But spirits?
No one had mastered true distillation. And that meant opportunity.
He found Boro, the castle's brewmaster, rolling a barrel into place. The man had been brewing ale and mead for decades, his hands stained with the scent of hops and honey.
"My lord?" Boro grunted as Wylis approached.
"I have a question for you," Wylis said. "How do you make the strongest drink possible?"
Boro wiped his hands on his apron and smirked. "You let the mead sit longer, add more honey, and pray to the gods."
Wylis chuckled but shook his head. "I mean stronger than mead. Something that burns like fire and keeps longer than ale."
Boro frowned. "That's not brewing, my lord. That's alchemy."
Not quite. But close enough.
"I want to try something new," Wylis said carefully. "A method called distillation. Have you ever heard of it?"
Boro scratched his chin. "Aye… the maesters and alchemists use something like that for perfumes and medicine. But no one drinks that stuff."
"They will," Wylis promised. "I need your help. And a skilled smith to make the equipment."
Boro hesitated. "What kind of equipment?"
"A large copper pot, a coiled pipe, and a collecting vessel. I'll explain more when we start."
Boro exhaled, shaking his head. "This sounds like madness."
"Madness," Wylis said with a smirk, "is just another word for opportunity."
Over the Next Few Weeks…
The process wasn't easy. The first challenge was building the still. Wylis convinced a local coppersmith to shape the pot and coil under the guise of an "experiment for the maesters." The secrecy was necessary—no one would trust a drink they thought was made by alchemists.
Then came the brewing. Wylis and Boro experimented with different grains—barley, wheat, and even potatoes. Fermentation took time, and several batches were ruined before they found the right balance.
The first attempts at distillation were rough. The alcohol burned too harshly, leaving an unpleasant aftertaste. Some batches were too weak; others too strong. Wylis refined the method with Odin's guidance, improving the process bit by bit.
It took patience. Weeks of trial and error. But when Boro took a sip of the latest batch and let out a slow, satisfied exhale, Wylis knew they had succeeded.
"Seven hells," Boro muttered. "This is something else."
Wylis grinned. "Now, we make history."