Game of Thrones: StormBorn

291 AC

'It's surprising how quickly things change.' Gerald Frey glanced down at the cheering families crowding along the shore to greet the return of the Great Stag to Dragonstone. The enormous ship had been spotted ten minutes ago, and it seemed the entire population of the port had been drawn into the celebration of its successful maiden voyage.

It all struck the alchemist as fairly amusing from where he watched on the castle walls. When he had first arrived the people of Dragonstone had held a distrust bordering on outright hatred for their ruling house. But only a few years later and now they greeted the return of their Lady and prince (And he was indeed a prince, at least on Dragonstone) as if they were conquering heroes, rather than a couple of nobles who had gone off to the prince's nameday party.

Part of it was the success of the Galleon, it was true, the Great Stag had successfully returned home after sailing across the open sea for the first time, but it was also more than that, there was an adoration there that he had not seen even for King Robert at his prime.

There were many reasons of course, for the change of heart by the people of the island. The Young Lord spent money like water, filling their coffers and hiring hundreds of them to work his shipyards, docks, offices, and the ever-growing gun-mills.

He gave both them and their children an education free of charge, and while that act itself might earn him some goodwill, his control over the materials of their education had been subtly turned to paint history in a way that favored House Baratheon. No outright lies, of course, just a very distinct perspective.

And the Newspaper made sure that everyone got access to that same perspective whether they were in education or not.

That was why they had an adoring crowd when they got off the boat, just as large as the crowd when it had departed, and it followed them right up to the castle gates, cheering them all the way.

Truly, the young Lord was powerful in his own way, entirely separate from their mutual study of magic, he had an understanding of the rabble that Gerald had to admit he would have never thought of himself.

Still, he could be proud of his own achievements, and as his lord dismounted just inside the gate he smiled, moving to greet him while his mother and her retinue went into the drum proper.

"Gerald, how are you."

Ah, he always led off that way. It would be a lie to say that he didn't appreciate it, but perhaps that was part of the Young Lord's charm. "I am quite alright my lord, how was your trip to Kings Landing?"

The boy's immediate shuddering was all the answer necessary. "It was… Not horrific, but I am not suited to the court, I did get the chance to meet my Uncles though, which was interesting."

"Ah, I understand, I tried to avoid the red keep as much as I could as well." Gerald nodded in understanding, still, he smiled brightly as he continued. "But we have made a breakthrough while you were gone."

"Yes?" Arthur looked up at him, a questioning light in his gaze, and Gerald couldn't help but feel proud.

"It's the contact powder lord Arthur. We've found one that's suitable for mass production."

He knew the manic grin that crossed the young Lord's face was matched on his own. So much of what they had built up over the past two years had been leading to this one invention. They had known it was possible, tip-top towards it a step at a time, experimented with cartridges with the small production runs that they had managed they had even imbued magic into it, all to no avail. Until two days ago when the first large batch of primer was completed.

Ultimately it had proven simple, the dehydrated wildfire had always worked, but been too unpredictable and ludicrously dangerous to handle. It had simply come to him one night that it might be diluted, spread over a greater mass of a less volatile compound before the dehydration occurred.

And now it was done, since the success he had converted a full third of the powder-makers to its production, they had enough wildfire stored to make thousands of vats worth, and they could always make more of that.

"Have you got a working prototype to test it with?" His Lord asked, his grin running from ear to ear still.

"Yes."

"Then what are we waiting for?" The Stag gestured to the Dragonmont where the craters of cannon fire had leveled a wide swath of the slope "let's get shooting."