The hall still smelled of roasted meat, fresh bread, and spilled ale. Servants moved between the tables, clearing the remnants of the feast. The laughter and song had faded, leaving only the low murmur of drunken conversation.
Wylis leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming against the wooden armrest. Across from him, Ser Barth Whitesmile was laughing heartily with a group of knights, while Maester Theomor carefully refilled his goblet with watered-down wine.
White Fire had been a resounding success.
Merchants whispered of its smoothness, nobles of its strength, and sailors of its value in the cold Northern nights.
"They are drunk on more than liquor," Odin murmured in his mind. "They taste opportunity. This is the moment to act."
Wylis took a slow sip of his own drink, letting his gaze drift across the hall. Yes. Odin was right.
The feast had been a celebration—but now, the real work began.
A Private Conversation
An hour later, as the last of the guests staggered out of the hall, Wylis motioned for Maester Theomor and Barth to follow him.
The three made their way through the dimly lit corridors of New Castle, eventually arriving at Wylis's private study.
Tolric, the master blacksmith, was already waiting inside.
Theomor, ever cautious, adjusted his robes as he took a seat. "I assume this meeting is not about more White Fire?"
"No," Wylis said, settling behind his desk. "It's about something far more important."
He placed a thick stack of parchment onto the table—blueprints.
Tolric frowned as he flipped through them, his brows knitting together. "This… this isn't a standard forge."
"No," Wylis confirmed. "It's something new."
He leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "Gentlemen, we're going to change the North. We're going to make steel better, faster, and stronger than any Southron smith ever could."
Odin's Guidance
"Explain carefully," Odin advised. "Give them just enough to believe in the vision."
Wylis nodded subtly before speaking.
"This design," he gestured to the parchment, "is a new kind of furnace—one that burns hotter and more efficiently. It will allow us to produce purer steel, which means stronger weapons, better tools, and—eventually—better ships."
Tolric still looked skeptical. "Stronger, I can believe. But cheaper? Faster? We'd need more ore, more fuel, more—"
"—a better process," Wylis interrupted. "And that's exactly what we're creating."
Barth, ever the practical one, leaned back. "And who will pay for all of this?"
Wylis smirked. "White Fire has already lined our pockets. And once the first batch of this new steel is ready, the Starks will fund the rest."
A silence settled over the room.
Then Theomor exhaled. "If you can prove it works… then you'll have changed the game entirely."
Wylis met his gaze. "I don't intend to prove anything."
He pushed the final design forward.
"I intend to built it"