Game of Thrones: StormBorn

289 AC

"And what then, is five multiplied by ten?"

"Yes, Aerys."

"Fifty"

"Very good. Aerys, please sit back down."

Maester Cressen sat on a bench looking over the repurposed dining area, now filled with the forty-some children over five that could be found in the port of Dragonstone. Below, Jakob, an acolyte from oldtown, taught from the book in his lap and occasionally etched chalk markings into a large table set behind him.

It was an odd thing to see, Children learning mathematics so young, but he supposed that was simply one of the changes that young Arthur seemed to be hell-bent on making.

He smiled at the thought, indeed, the desks, the tablet, the books themselves. The young lordling of Dragonstone was nothing if not industrious, though he worried at times if the boy was perhaps moving too fast.

Hearing footsteps, the old man turned towards the right, where the boy's father, his Lord, approached.

"Hello, Maester Cressen." The tall man greeted, so tall nowadays, Cressen had been taller than him when they first came to Dragonstone he was sure, spoke up in careful greeting.

"Stannis." Cressen greeted, perhaps one of the few in the whole of the Seven Kingdoms who could speak to the man without his title. "Keep your voice down, the children are learning below."

The Lord glanced over the balcony, raising an eyebrow before turning back to the old man. "Another of my son's designs? Is that why he wanted the spare maesters?"

"Yes, though he only got Acolytes in the end, the Citadel wasn't sure of the value of his press."

"I recall. He had me sign off on the deal in our correspondence." Stannis nodded, closing his eyes in thought for a moment.

"Do you think he's a normal child?" the man finally said, his gaze turning again towards the classroom. "Not odd in the way that I was, but this… motivation. Ever since he learned to speak it's been a constant stream of projects like this. I thought the first few were childish fancies, an alchemist, a ship to call his own, a stable of horses to have bred. But it's simply gone and on. And now he wants me to use his "cannons" to fight Ironborn. I love him dearly, but it just seems… wrong, for a boy of nine to be pursuing all of this."

Cressen thought for a moment, rocking back and forth on his posterior at the idea. He had already found his own answer, of course, Providence. That and a surely inherited sense of duty that seemed to keep the child active at every waking moment.

Still, as with all things Stannis, it had to be handled carefully.

"I would say that he is abnormal to some extent your grace, he is pursuing what he sees as the good of his lands far before the age a normal man would grasp such contexts." It was the honest truth, and Stannis would appreciate it, but before he could digest it, he needed to be given more. "But that is not an evil thing. Young Arthur does display understanding beyond his years, but it is perhaps because of your own example that he does so, did you not take command of a siege at fourteen. You were not as young as he, true, but the difference is not so great."

"I did not know what I was doing, a fool boy. I would hazard that my son has known his will since the day he was born, or shortly thereafter." Cressen held back a grimace, he had heard Stannis speak the same about his brother the King more than once.

"Do not sell yourself short Stannis." Cressen smiled at his son in all but name. "He is not Robert, for one thing, he cares for more than himself, and at another he neither drinks nor whores."

"Yet." Stannis pointed out.

"Yet." Cressen conceded but quickly followed up. "But can you seriously imagine him doing either? No, your son is abnormal certainly, but he is neither mad nor selfish, I think. and you will not find a person in this castle who testifies differently."

Stannis matched his gaze a long time after that, before nodding sharply, the only concession of having persuaded the man that Cressen was likely to get.

His lord turned back to the room below, where the arithmetic lesson was wrapping up with the onset of evening, his lips drawn in a tight line. "You are aware of all of his... projects and their outcomes yes?"

Cressen thought over the question before nodding. "I am at least tangentially aware of them, though for his work with the smiths and his "chemistry" you would need to speak to Wisdom Frey for more details."

"Good, tell me about them."

What followed was a long and drawn out conversation going over the lordlings myriad projects, from his night classes intended to improve literacy in the adults of Dragonstone to his current attempts to start his own "newspaper" using the presses, to his quiet hiring of accountants and merchants from Essos to both teach him, and help his mother when it came to administering taxes and tariffs across the wider island. Towards his more military projects, he knew little, though he had assisted the boy in finding sources what he called a military "Doctrine" in the model of the faith of the Seven. He also had a grasp on what the thundering ballistic the boy called cannons were supposed to do, that being hurl lead balls at high speeds towards the enemy, but not much of how they did it beyond using some sort of fire-powder that he had made in great quantities and stored in barrels buried in a field far away from the castle.

When he finished Lord Stannis looked back down towards the now-empty hall, his hand running carefully along the edge of his jaw.

"I see," he said, after an uncomfortably long silence. "He has done more than even I thought, though I can see now why he asked me for certain permissions. Where does he get his money?"

"He asked his mother for it at first, but from his correspondence, it seems he has since made investments in Braavos that have let him retain his staff. The ship you gave him on his eight nameday is also used for trade I hear."

"Hah," Stannis let out a single, biting laugh. "My son has become a penny pincher in my absence, well, there are worse things to be. Perhaps someday we will have a Master of Coin who isn't a whoremonger." the Lord stood up, offering a hand to Cressen, who gladly took it. "I presume you have kept his more… innovative designs in Dragonstone, barring the one he traded with the Citadel?"

"Yes, and I have been keeping track of Wisdom Frey's correspondence as well. While his grandfather has tried to pressure him for details on several occasions he has not yet shown any sign of breaking loyalty. He seems to be your son's man through and through."

"Good, see to it that he is rewarded presuming that stays true."

"Yes sir, though your son seems intent on rewarding him anyhow."

Stannis smiled at that, a small, thin smile, but one nonetheless. "As is his duty. Now, where can I find this weasel, I would at least see what my son has him working on ere' I depart."

The wizened maester nodded at that. "Your son has had his workshop moved up onto the Dragonmont behind the castle so that he can work in relative secrecy, well, aside from the thunder that the cannons make."

"Then I shall find him before he departs for the evening."