In the outermost part of the planned outer city, separated from the other areas by a two-meter-high wall and operating independently, lay the industrial zone.

A large number of enormous earthen kilns and furnaces filled the view.

Aegor came from a highly developed civilization with an extremely detailed division of labor. Therefore, despite working with metal materials, he knew little about the very first step, smelting. Fortunately, while this world was backward, it was not primitive. Simple operations like reducing metal from ore had long been mastered and refined to a competent level. Any experienced artisan could oversee the construction of a smelting area.

The team sent to explore the ore-producing areas in the mountains had not yet returned, but part of Crown City’s industrial zone had already started work: producing charcoal, the second-largest material required for smelting besides ore.

Artisans in Westeros had long concluded that charcoal smelting produced higher quality results. Thus, even before formal work began, this preparation alone had already provided livelihoods for countless New Gift people. The Gift lacked large-scale forests like the Wolfswood or Haunted Forest, but there were plenty of scattered groves. When the population was smaller, the supply of wood was enough, though collecting it was troublesome.

The officials in Crown Town adopted a “wood collection order,” allowing idle folk everywhere to gather firewood and bring it to Crown Town, where receivers would weigh it, classify it by dryness, wetness, and wood type, then calculate payment. Compared to other official labor or jobs, the work was tiring and paid little, but anyone—men, women, old, and young—could participate. It meant Crown Town never lacked wood and could legitimately support many people.

Once the wood was delivered, workers sorted it by length and thickness, stacked it into tall, hollow piles, and covered the outside with clay to form an earthen kiln. They lit the inside, and after the fire burned to a certain stage, all openings were sealed to smother the fire. Once cooled naturally, they broke open the clay to reveal the finished black charcoal.

It was simple, repetitive work, with the most time-consuming part being the wait. But The Gift had space in abundance. After sealing one charcoal pile, workers could immediately move to another site and repeat the process. This was why so many large earthen kilns now filled the area.

Workers bustled about everywhere, hauling firewood and finished charcoal with simple carts. In addition to the frontline laborers, there were supervisors and managers, as well as several Mountain Men peddlers selling meals. The coarse bread and mixed grain porridge they carried steamed in the cold air, releasing a faint aroma.

This was no staged display for Aegor. The division of labor and cooperation moved so smoothly and naturally that it was entirely believable that, once copper ore arrived, this place could instantly become an industrial beast producing metal.

“My Lord, this is the finished charcoal.” Logically, they should have shown smelted copper ingots, but there were none yet, so Yam handed him a piece of black charcoal instead.

“Hm.” Aegor had no problem burning charcoal for warmth. As for judging its quality, that was beyond him. Pretending to examine the light black block in his hand, he nodded and changed the subject. “Look, this burns much better than firewood, peat, or coal. You should use this for heating in your room at night.”

Arya rolled her eyes. “Hmph, where’s the fun in that?”

“Heh, indeed, this isn’t fun.” Aegor nodded. “Where is the master you invited to oversee smelting and casting? Take me to him.”

—

Coincidentally, perhaps because Yam’s family had once managed Lannister mines and his contacts were all in the Westerlands, this artisan—skilled in smelting, casting, and forging—had also been brought from Lannisport. In his forties or fifties, with bronze skin and a sturdy build, he looked every bit a man of his trade.

After greeting him and asking about preparations, Aegor was both regretful and relieved to find that Westerosi metallurgy was not so backward that he, an outsider, could offer improvements.

“What does my Lord plan to do with the copper once it’s smelted?” the artisan asked casually. “Copper’s worth something, but with war and chaos, what’s most needed is good steel for weapons. And The Gift is too far from the South. Selling copper there wouldn’t be worth the trouble. If you could find tin, I could make bronze. It’s serviceable, not much worse than iron.”

“If tin can be found, that would be ideal, but the cost is too high,” Aegor said. “That can wait. I plan to use the first batch of copper for minting coins. After all, coinage doesn’t require much in the way of strength or hardness.”

“What? Pure copper could work, yes…” The artisan’s eyes widened. “But minting coins isn’t a material issue. You need the King’s approval. Have you obtained it?”

“Not yet, but I will handle it. Only copper coins will be minted here, called tokens. They’ll be used mainly for wages and stipends for The Gift’s residents and the Night’s Watch. They won’t circulate outside The Gift, and their value will match their copper content. In that case, how much copper is needed per coin, and can you handle the casting?”

“I must admit, I’ve never made such small copper pieces.” The man’s relaxed expression faded. “But it shouldn’t be difficult. Give me the tools and time, and after a few trials, I’ll manage.”

He hesitated, then asked, “What pattern and text should be on the token? Does the Night’s Watch have a sigil, or perhaps someone’s face?”

If any face were to appear on the coin, it would be Aegor’s, but such treasonous thoughts were best left unspoken. “Discuss it with the head of the Logistics Department. Just show me the final plan. Keep it simple and easy to cast. We will only mint copper coins; silver stags and golden dragons will still serve for larger denominations.”

“Understood.”

“One more thing, Master.” Aegor lowered his tone. “We brought you to The Gift at great expense not just to start smelting. When you have time, teach your skills to the apprentices we’ve assigned to you. Don’t worry, our people will never compete with you for work in the South, and if you teach them, I’ll see you’re paid enough here to last you a lifetime.”

The artisan looked at him in surprise, thinking this White Walker Slayer seemed to have many ideas. But such a deep request could not be agreed to immediately, so he simply nodded without committing.

Aegor hadn’t expected him to pass on his life’s skills after one conversation. As long as the pay was right, he would work. And now that he was in Aegor’s territory, if the soft approach failed, there were harder ones.

After some more talk, Aegor left the industrial zone, passed through the inner city gate, streets, and wooden bridge, and arrived at the small island in the lake’s center, where he had settled the Pyromancers brought from King’s Landing.

—

If there was any knowledge that could give him a great advantage here simply at the level of basic science, it was powder. For this, he had been gathering the necessary talent and knowledge for years. Two years after recruiting the Pyromancers through various means, he finally had a group fully under his control, ready to work without risk of losing the knowledge to others.

The Pyromancers had now been in The Gift for nearly two years. Enjoying the highest treatment in Crown Town, they had grown used to the climate and stopped longing to leave. In addition to producing wildfire, they had begun preparing to make powder under Aegor’s secret orders.

In this tower surrounded by water, the most secure and secret place in Crown Town, Aegor found several Pyromancers he had not seen for some time, in a room filled with bottles and jars like a laboratory.

After enjoying high treatment and respect for so long, these alchemists, who had lived like rats since the fall of House Targaryen, now showed more color in their faces, and two had even regrown hair.

“Good afternoon, Wisdoms,” Aegor greeted them. “Have the things I asked for been prepared?”

“They are ready,” said Wisdom Hallyne. “Except for the nitrate, which is troublesome, everything else can be had in any amount.”

The materials, of course, were charcoal, sulfur, and nitrate—the ingredients for primitive black powder.

Charcoal could be made by grinding the high-quality charcoal from the industrial zone.

Sulfur, conveniently and inevitably, could be found around the volcano on Dragonstone. Transporting it back, melting, filtering, and distilling it was simple for Pyromancers capable of refining light oil.

But nitrate was another matter. While sulfur and charcoal were known and used in Westeros long before Aegor’s arrival, nitrate was not. Westeros had neither herbalists nor alchemists who recognized it.

“We now know it can be found in stable corners, latrines, and the walls of some cellars and caves,” Hallyne said. “Purification is simple—soaking in hot water and filtering. The problem is that these sources are too few for mass production.”

“What about nitrate mines?”

“No one has heard of such a thing. Since you ask, what does the ore look like? Where is it found? Any hint would help.”

How would Aegor know? He was no geologist before crossing over, and never imagined he would one day need to make powder. He scratched his head, realizing that simply knowing the ingredients was far from enough to create firearms.

“What should we do then? Send people through the Seven Kingdoms to buy natural deposits from latrines and stables?”

“For now, that’s the only way. But we still don’t understand how these three things harm the White Walkers. They all burn, yes, but they contain no magic, and we already have wildfire.”

The “White Walkers’ bane” was simply Aegor’s cover story, one he would likely use as justification to buy nitrate in bulk. His true aim was to mix it with dragonglass shards to make shrapnel bombs, and eventually use it with copper cannons.

“Where are the things?”

Wisdom Dak brought out three large jars, each containing one raw material. “This nitrate was scraped from the Alchemists’ Guild Hall cellar wall by our assistant in King’s Landing. Even after purification, there’s only half a jar. If it truly is the White Walkers’ bane, you’ll have to use it sparingly.”

Half a jar weighed several catties. Considering it was all that could be scraped from such a large building, it was precious indeed. If used for a cannon, it would be gone in one shot.

It seemed that, for now, the war against the dead would still rely mainly on wildfire.

—

Aegor took a small pile of each ingredient on a piece of paper and left the flame-free laboratory.

“Here, the interesting thing I promised.”

They followed him to a lounge a few walls away. Aegor folded the paper into a ball and tossed it into the fireplace.

With a sharp pop, the fire flared several times brighter. The flames changed color, pushing heat and sparks out of the hearth, startling Yam, the Pyromancers, and Arya.

“What was that!” Arya exclaimed, her earlier sulking forgotten.

She was only excited, but the Pyromancers were shaken. For two months they had puzzled over how these three things could harm White Walkers, never suspecting they had to be mixed and lit.

They knew deflagration. They also knew that, in a confined space, it could explode. Wildfire could also explode, but its instability and difficulty of transport had long limited its military use. Now here was a solid, stable, lightweight substance that could be transported easily, and still produce a violent reaction. No one knew better than the Pyromancers what this meant. This was the very weapon they had pursued for centuries.

If the lords and kings of the South learned of it, the Pyromancers’ golden age would return.

“Thank you for your hard work these past two years. Starting tomorrow, Crown Town will restrict entry and exit more strictly.” Aegor knew better than any of them the changes this could bring. He had already prepared for secrecy. “I hope this powder remains a secret of the Night’s Watch until this war ends.”

(To be continued.)

***

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