Stepstones
Robert groaned.
He hated how long this journey was taking. They barely made it to the Stepstones, and he was at his wit's end.
A canal was definitely necessary, especially for trade, since the Ironborn wouldn't be around for much longer.
Even the usually pirate-infested islands were clear, and he didn't have a place to vent his boredom.
Still, Robert at least had his flight suit.
Unhooking himself from the saddle, Robert rolled his shoulders before he ran up Obelisk's head and jumped. Feeling the wind in his face, he quickly pulled the straps, gliding next to his dragons. They had slowed down to match his speed and were on both sides of Robert, still not used to the idea their father could fly.
It felt refreshing.
Having nothing else to do, he flew over the ships, waving at his men.
—
"Ser Davos, ship ahead. It's Dornish; they are hailing us."
"Slow us down; let's hear what they want."
"Ahoy there. I am Captain Orren, in service to Prince Doran Martell, Lord of Sunspear and Prince of Dorne."
"Hail, Captain Orren. I am Ser Davos, Captain of Lord Robert's fleets."
"Prince Doran thought Lord Robert might cross these waters and invited him to Sunspear should he be seen."
—
Wondering what the Dornish ship wanted, Robert dived at the Pioneer, safely landing on the deck to the men's sounds of awe.
"Davos, what is it?"
"Prince Doran invites you to Sunspear, my lord."
"Doran, eh? Guess there is no harm in seeing him."
—
Next Day
Sunspear
As they crossed into the Dornish waters, Robert sent Slifer with the fleet, taking Obelisk to Sunspear for a brief visit.
He first toured over the keep, giving them time to prepare, before hovering over the shaded courtyard beneath the Tower of the Sun. Obelisk could not land without breaking something, so Robert jumped, landing on the wall before making his way down.
"Lord Robert, I see that my ship sent word to you." Doran Martell was still bound to a wheelchair, but he looked healthier compared to his show counterpart.
The benefits of having a sister with medical knowledge that is centuries ahead of what is available in Westeros.
"We were passing through the Stepstones when your captain hailed my small fleet." He replied, taking the offered bread and salt.
"Welcome to Sunspear; please, take a seat while refreshments are brought."
"Much obliged, Prince Doran."
"If it isn't the Father of Dragons." The voice of a certain desert snake came from the doorway as Oberyn walked into the courtyard with his paramour, Ellaria, though she stayed back.
"The Red Viper himself. Here I thought you would be too busy sleeping with someone you should not have to be here." Robert winked. That was why Oberyn had been sent to Essos in the first place.
Oberyn laughed, not insulted at all.
"I can't stay for long, so I'll get to the point. Why did you want to meet?" Because he didn't think Doran was the type of person to intercept Robert's fleet on the Stepstones, only to invite him to a tea party.
Or wine in this case.
"In part, to get a measure of you myself, and Dorne as a whole enjoys trade, while Asgard brings new opportunities." Ah, so it was a courtesy call mixed with business.
"Ah, on that we can agree."
—
Time was too short to reach a proper agreement, but both Doran and Robert agreed that further talks would be necessary and profitable. Enjoying some Dornish wine in the meanwhile, Robert left as the blazing sun began to set, once more flying over his fleet.
—
Asgard
"Lord Stannis, thank you for coming." The dwarf greeted him at the docks, looking relieved.
"Lord Tyrion. You said Asgard needed more hands?" Stannis wasn't sure about having a Lannister, a house that his brother had more enemies than friends in, under his employ, but wouldn't question his brother's choices.
"Indeed, my lord. With Lord Robert off to war and Ser Davos with him, more learned hands are necessary to manage the work he has left."
"Very well, I shall do my utmost."
—
The first time Stannis sighted a giant, he hesitated. Mag the Mighty, as this particular giant was called, leaned close to Stannis, looking at him strangely before turning to the Children of the Forest next to him, saying something in his guttural tongue.
"I am Leaf. Mag the Mighty wishes to know your relation to Lord Robert." The small effeminate creature said, acting as an interpreter for the giant.
"I am his younger brother, Stannis." Mag laughed once the words were relayed to him, pleased to see a family of Robert.
"He asks if you are a warrior as great as him."
Stannis shook his head, and the giant must have picked it up, because he suddenly did not look so interested. "I am afraid not; Robert is one of a kind."
"Good day to you, Stannis Baratheon." Leaf bid him farewell and left with Mag the Mighty.
Stannis sniffed, feeling insulted, but at the same time, not.
There were stories of men who had defeated giants in combat, and Stannis did not care if he was not held in the same esteem as Robert by Mag the Mighty or anyone else.
—
His wife, who had insisted on coming with him to visit Asgard again, was helping in managing Valhalla itself, ensuring that her good-brother's pantries were well stocked.
She had also thought it would be a good idea to meet with the project manager—Stannis did not know what that exactly meant—a Braavosi woman named Thyrene, to add gardens to Valhalla.
He did not see any reason to deny it. She was from the Reach and knew gardens better than anyone else in Storm's End.
As he was busy signing papers in Robert's name, Stannis realized something. Asgard was growing too fast but did not reap enough crops to make up for it.
His brother had to find more farmland to feed his people, or he would have to buy it, and even Asgard's coffers weren't endless.
—
"A garden, my lady?" There wasn't one in Casterly Rock, owing to the fact that it was a keep built into a mountain, but Tyrion thought it might actually liven up the keep.
"Indeed. Valhalla is a grand keep, but it could certainly use a woman's touch."
Tyrion could not disagree with that. Lord Robert did not have a wife, nor any other female relative present in the castle to take responsibility for tasks usually left to the lady of the keep. "I shall allocate the necessary coin to you if you can make a list of what you need. I am sure Lady Thyrene can assist you with everything else."
"I have already spoken to her. She agreed as long as the coin was supplied." Busy as she was, Lady Thyrene was willing to spend time to assist her, if only to have an outdoor place to rest.
"Then we leave the matter of the garden in your care."
—
"May we try some?" Leaf, having finished her daily task of acting as the middleman between the giants and the men, was returning to her new home to rest among the weirwood saplings when an earthly smell caught her attention.
She had found human females crushing brown beans to a paste, mixing it with other substances.
"Uhhh, here." She hesitantly handed her a piece. Leaf looked at it, smelling the sweet brown, before taking a tentative lick.
Her eyes widened, and Leaf threw the piece in her mouth, chewing as pleasure flooded her whole body. It was nothing like anything she had eaten before, and Leaf felt more alive than she had ever been.
"What is this?" She asked, her tongue scraping for the pieces stuck in her mouth.
"Chocolate. It's made with cocoa beans brought from the Summer Isles."
She did not know of the Summer Isles, but it must be a great place if they had these cocoa beans. "It is delicious. How do we get more?"
"Ask the lord. It's his business." Tysha did not know what in the name of the Seven was happening and decided to leave it to her husband, Lord Robert's regent.
—
"You want chocolate?" Tyrion looked at the overeager child of the forest.
Her eyes shone at the thought of having more of the brown goodness. "Yes, I can feel it invigorating me. It is nothing like we have ever consumed before."
"It might be the sugar." Lord Robert had warned that overconsumption of chocolate was not good for the human body, though Tyrion didn't know if the same applied to a different race.
"It's not the sweetness, but the earthy flavor of it." She had eaten sweet things before, as had all her sisters, yet none had given them life such as the chocolate.
If all they wanted was chocolate, Lord Robert would not deny it. "The supply is limited, but I'll have some set aside for you."
"We are grateful."
"Since you are here, there is another matter I wished to ask. How does teaching the common tongue to the giants go?" There were a dozen children of the forest and over five hundred giants. They simply could not be everywhere at once, and work that required able, strong bodies had quickly hired the giants.
"Slow. They don't wish to speak the tongue of the men." They had been chased beyond the Wall thousands of years ago by men, and the giants did not forget it.
Neither did the Children of the Forest.
Tyrion's hand combed through his hair, feeling the weight of his station. "Do remind them it is Chief Robert's orders."
"I do not believe mere words will sway them. He must intervene in person."
"We'll have to wait until he returns then."
—
"How is our prisoner?" It might have been dragons that Tyrion had desired to see so long ago, but having a White Walker as a prisoner made something evident.
Accepting Lord Robert's offer had been the best decision of his life.
"Shackled, and not going anywhere, my lord. Studies have revealed so much already." Marwyn said, putting down two pages on the desk.
Tyrion put them in the drawer to read later. "I am sure Lord Robert will be very interested in them. Anything of importance?"
"Besides fire, they are also weak to sound too low for human ears. It causes great pain to them." He had been trying to find out why steel quaked when it met the touch of a White Walker.
Using the previous studies on dogs, where it was believed there were noises that human ears could not hear, but hounds could, Marwyn had done the same to the White Walker.
The silent noise had cracked the Other's skin as if it was glass, causing it great pain, not just in flesh, but in her ears too.
"Splendid news."
"I came here for another request, my lord."
"If it's in my power." Marwyn wouldn't be foolish enough to insist on taking parts from the demon, at least Tyrion hoped so.
"Glass candles. I have, after great toil, managed to light a glass candle once, but the Citadel forbade any further work. If you can give me a glass candle, I may be able to use one and talk to Lord Robert from here." Of course, Marwyn wanted it for the sake of succeeding in something not done for centuries, but the idea of talking to Lord Robert would be what convinced Lord Tyrion.
"Won't that take time from your work on the White Walker?"
"We can't push her too much, lest the one specimen we have die." It was frustrating, making sure not to overtax the White Walker.
"Very well, seeing as how valuable this could be, I'll give you exactly one candle, but you will keep me abreast of how it goes." Tyrion was sure the mage's request wasn't out of a genuine desire to talk to Lord Robert, but if he could actually succeed, then Asgard would have something that put them way ahead of any kingdom.
"That goes without saying, my lord. Thank you."
—
There was one growing business in Asgard that no outsider, or many of the city's citizens, would expect.
Silk.
With Robert's lead, several weavers had been brought into the workshop, sworn into secrecy, and paid handsomely—a place heavily guarded at all times—to make use of the mulberry silkmoth cocoons to produce silk.
A lot of trial and error later, they had produced a single piece of fabric from the remaining cocoons, one that was fit to use as a handkerchief.
It was sent to Lord Robert's room.
The fabric was rough and dull compared to the silk bought from Essos, but now that they knew how to make silk, the weavers could perfect it.
After the silkmoths left behind new cocoons, of course. Not to stay idle, they planted new mulberry trees to increase the yield.
—
Guilds existed everywhere, but Asgard, under Robert Baratheon's orders, turned them into something more. Each guild had a head that reported to the Master of Guilds in Valhalla, speaking of their woes and successes.
Rules on the quality and the price of their produce were detailed very carefully, and if any member of a guild sold a faulty item, whether it be a loaf of bread or a sword, the Master of Guilds, or someone of his designation, would step in to judge the situation.
If the artisan was found guilty, there would be hefty fines, both on the person and the guild as a whole for not keeping to the determined expectation.
The apprentice system was overhauled as well, and if the guilds took orphans with talents as apprentices, rather than just their sons and daughters, they were rewarded for it.
In that same vein, the station of the Master of Workers had been created to find people work, especially widows, orphans, and other destitute smallfolk that arrived in Asgard.
Guesthouses were built to give them a place to sleep until they could rise to their feet.
When questioned why Robert would spend so much coin on smallfolk of no value, his response was that each person deserved the right to live with their heads held high, not looking to anyone for their basic needs.
Most believed it to be the fancies of a noble but changed their mind as the idea actually gave fruit. Not used to the lifeline offered to them—not merely food and clothing given by their lord to survive, but the chance to live their lives—these destitute people did not let this opportunity pass.
That is why Asgard did not have beggars, except for the odd one or two who preferred it to working, and whorehouses actually had trouble finding girls to work since orphans and such chose to be apprentices rather than sell their bodies.
The city was proving to be a true home, rather than just a place to live.