Chapter 34: Stolen Fire
110 AC, King’s Landing
No one had ever said that being a member of a dying order would have been easy. Wisdom Hallyne might be a member of the Alchemist’s guild, but there was no doubt on the truth of his statement. The guild had been in decline ever since the Doom of Valyria, both its power and its influence. In truth, Magic had been in decline ever since, the arts becoming more imprecise, until they became nought but shadows of what they once were.
The grey rats who called themselves Maesters had come out victorious, their influence over the Seven Kingdoms outstripping theirs by a very large margin, and there was little that the Alchemist’s guild could do to stop that, nothing more than attempt to regain their former glory.
Hallyne walked forward, perfectly knowing the twists and turns within the Guildhall of the Alchemists, his shoes tapping on the black marble used to create it. It was not often that the guild reconvened like this. There were not many of them, a clear sign of the decline of their order, and even then, most Wisdoms preferred to focus on their own research, their own recreations of what once was, though most failed quite horribly, and so a great assembly was not exactly common, or even desired.
Alas, needs must, and Hallyne quickly walked and sat in his seat, likely having been the last one to arrive. He had been in the middle of the city when an Acolyte found him and gave him a message, urging him to return as quickly as he could, and so. He would admit to being curious and perhaps slightly apprehensive as to what warranted this sudden summons.
With his arrival, the rest of the Wisdoms turned silent, likely having begun to discuss the issue amongst themselves, though not in an official manner. He spoke up loudly, “May I ask why we are gathering, especially so late at night? The message I received was… vague.”
His fellow Alchemists looked at one another until Wisdom Symond simply walked forward and silently handed him what seemed to be an official letter.
As he read its content, he felt himself becoming paler, and his hands trembling in rage and indignation.
Hallyne was no fool. He knew that their guild had lost much in terms of power and standing in recent decades. Yet, he had expected some measure of respect for the ability that their ancestors held, for their guild’s alliance with Aegon the Conqueror, having been granted leave to set up their Guildhall in the Capital that he was building.
However, it seemed that he had been mistaken, greatly so.
For the letter in his hand had been one that expelled their guild from the Capital, claiming that their experiments were too dangerous and presented a great risk to its residents.
It was complete and utter shit, of course. The Guildhall had existed since King’s Landing was born, and yet, there had been no major incident, certainly not one that spilt outside its halls.
But without a doubt, this would ruin them. Every single Wisdom knew that the guild was holding on by a thread, and now that thread would be cut without a hint of mercy. The next few days could very well be the last ones of an organisation that had existed before the Conquest, before the Doom of Valyria.
He turned to Wisdom Symond, his eyes wide and asked, “Is it true?”
The older man nodded sadly, “It bears the King’s Seal, and the handwriting is the Hand’s; we compared it to some of his previous missives.”
Hallyne looked at the seal in question and recognised it as the King’s Seal. The sight would likely haunt him until his dying day, as what little hope he held that this had been false was completely and utterly dashed.
One of the Wisdoms scoffed, “King’s Seal. We might as well call it the Hand’s Seal now. This is the work of the rats, I tell you. It is no coincidence that this only happens when a Hightower is the Hand of the King.”
Sadly, as much as he would have wished to deny it, Hallyne had to agree with the man. Their guild had been quietly targeted since the man took his post, with an increase in taxation on the tonics that they still sold and accounted for a great part of their income.
The Citadel’s puppet was all but ruling the Realm now, and their guild suffered for it. Truthfully, they had begun to suffer since the damned day Viserys Targaryen came out victorious in the Great Council. A woman on the throne would have been better than this foolishness.
Of course, the mere mention of Otto Hightower and the Maesters had started another argument, as the rest of the Wisdoms began to argue amongst themselves.
Hallyne spoke up loudly, interrupting them all, “Wisdoms… The situation is dire, indeed, for our guild is in danger. It is not the time for us to assign blame to anyone, but instead to focus on what comes next. How can the Guild of the Alchemists survive this blatant attack?”
The silence that followed his words was almost deafening, as every Wisdom looked at one another, trying to find a way out, just as they should have since the moment that cursed letter came to their halls.
One of the younger Wisdoms spoke up, “We could appeal in Court, try to find support from the Lords and Ladies of the realm to convince the King to take back his orders.”
Someone scoffed at that, “A King will never undo his command. And convincing the King matters very little, for he has banished his own brother under the influence of Hightower. Do you perchance believe that King Viserys would accept our word when he disbelieved that of the Rogue Prince, himself? No, we will find no justice in the Red Keep.”
Unfortunately, Hallyne could only agree with this. The politics of King’s Landing rarely held any justice or fairness, and an enemy of the Citadel, and thus, the Hightowers, would not receive either.
And thus, the meeting continued, with each suggestion becoming as far-reaching as the one before, trying to accomplish the impossible, which was to save their guild, which had been a crucial part of the history of this continent, a legacy that spanned thousands of years.
And each suggestion had been shot down, some being more harshly than others, but with each one, Hallyne could feel the hope seep out from the very spirit of every Alchemist, each one coming to the realisation that this would be the end.
It was halfway through Wisdom Othor’s rather descriptive and, honestly, mad suggestion to ‘show their might’ through the use of Wildfire and set up a new Guild in the Stepstones under the Rogue Prince, that someone knocked on the doors rather loudly, silencing them all.
Everyone looked at the door, and they knocked once more, this time more strongly.
It was peculiar; they had precisely asked the Acolytes not to be disturbed, not by anyone. It was only when a Wisdom opened the door that they saw a hooded figure standing there, looking at them.
The figure walked forward, standing in the middle of the circle of Wisdoms, and it was Wisdom Symond who spoke up, “Who are you, intruder? How did you come here, and why?”
The figure silently removed his hood, and the entire room gaped as they saw the Valyrian Features on his face. Hallyne had been especially familiar with these features, having seen them before a few days back.
For it was Laenor Velaryon, heir to Driftmark and son of the Sea Snake, who was standing before them. After all, Hallyne had the privilege of witnessing one of his performances in the streets of King’s Landing, and it had been one of the most beautiful performances he had ever witnessed.
Nevertheless, it has been some time since a nobleman has ever come to visit the Guildhall. Their order had fallen so greatly that this was the sad truth. And this young man was no ordinary nobleman either.
He spoke up loudly, his voice as smooth as silk as he spoke up, “I apologise for coming unannounced. I have always been fascinated by your order and wished to visit it when I could. I wish I could have done it earlier, but I thought it prudent to keep my presence here a secret, or at least, not publicise it. Oh, though if I may offer a small piece of advice: you should probably pay your Acolytes better. It took surprisingly little to convince them to take me to you.”
Hallyne blushed at that statement, and he knew that some others did as well. Truthfully, their order’s fall had strained their power greatly, and that included their coffers. Though even if they had an abundance of gold, Hallyne was sure that the Acolytes would likely see very little of it, and that the Wisdoms would keep it to themselves. He certainly would have.
Thankfully, they quickly recollected themselves at the presence of their guest, “You are welcome within our halls, my lord. May we ask the reason for such a visit?”
“Right to it then. I respect direct people instead of the constant flowery nonsense of the Court. The truth is that I wish to invest in your Order.”
Mutters echoed all across the room, and he spoke up, “Before you refuse me, please let me at least try to say my piece. My main goal, should the Gods grant me, is for Driftmark to prosper. I have spent much of my time and effort working on turning it into something new, an isle of progress, if you would. And out of respect to the Alchemist’s Guild and its storied legacy, I wished to see your participation in such a movement, specifically, by creating a new Guildhall in Driftmark.”
As the young knight spoke, Hallyne couldn’t help but feel spellbound by his words, almost enchanted by the dream that he spoke of, but most of all, he felt hope rising in his chest, especially as he continued, “I already have a location in mind by the sea. It would be quite far away from any inhabitants, so you need not worry overly much about it. I am willing to fund its creation, of course, and secure any materials that you might need for your work.”
Truthfully, it sounded too good to be true, and in Hallyne’s experience, that meant that it usually was. “And what is it you expect in return for your generosity, Ser Laenor?”
The heir to Driftmark nodded, as if expecting this question, “Wildfire. Your substance is unlike anything that I have seen before. I will not ask you for your Guild’s secret, of course, for they are your own, but I have faith in the substance and its potential for the future. And so, I wish to ensure that Driftmark has a steady supply of it, or at the very least, the ability to make such a supply. It will not be freely given, of course; I will personally purchase it from you, of course.”
That was somewhat troubling, but not greatly so. The use of Wildfire by lordlings very rarely ended well, but then again, it surely was better than the Guild being disbanded.
Still, before anyone could say anything, the young lord spoke up, “I know that this is a big decision, one that should be discussed amongst yourselves before you go through with it. The offer is a standing one, and even after I depart from King’s Landing, you may come to Castle Driftmark should you wish to agree to my offer. We may then talk of the details of your new Guildhall. I rather think that you would prefer having a say in it, especially given the likely security measures you have in place to avoid any accidents.”
And so, Laenor Velaryon put his hood back and walked out of the room, leaving the alchemists amongst themselves.
Truthfully, Hallyne suspected the timing, greatly so. It was surely no coincidence that Laenor Velaryon came to them, just as the Guild needed him most, just as Otto Hightower dealt them a great blow.
He was not blaming him for their troubles, of course; the blame was obviously laid at the feet of Otto Hightower, and only a simpleton would ever believe that Laenor Velaryon would work with the Hand for anything. After all, the rivalry between Ser Otto and Lord Corlys was well-known, even to them.
Whether Ser Laenor had known of the Hand's missive before coming to King's Landing or he was simply taking advantage of it after the fact, Hallyne could not say. However, he did not think that he knew of the extent of the Hightower's orders, else he would not have been so generous with his terms.
Still, he had succeeded, for every Wisdom felt a certain gratitude to the Velaryon. The fact that the heir to Driftmark himself had come to them, believing that they could help him strengthen his House, one of the most powerful ones at that, was very flattering and certainly vindicating. That alone had earned him the loyalty of many of the Wisdoms, Hallyne included.
Though in the end, all of this mattered very little, for the guild had very little choice in the matter. And so, it was a few days later that they met Laenor Velaryon once more and agreed to his offer. In fact, they did better and decided to move all of the Guild out of King’s Landing and to Driftmark entirely. The young lord had been quite surprised by this and was visibly honoured by their faith in him and his family.
The mood had been surprisingly jovial, and despite knowing better, Hallyne felt hopeful that this was not the end of a chapter, but a new beginning of their order, one that would see them thrive in a way that they did not during their time in King’s Landing.
And they would show the Crown, the Hightowers, what mistake they did by banishing them, by slighting them so, for the Guild of the Alchemists would rise again, mightier and stronger than ever, and it would do so standing hand in hand with House Velaryon.
AN: This story is still relatively new, so if you'd like me to continue it, please let me know in the comments what you think of the rewrite so far.
Well, you saw a bit of Laenor's plans here, essentially using the King's Seal to pressure the Alchemists to move to Driftmark, without them knowing it was him, using the King's Seal. They'd be grateful to Laenor, not realising that Otto had done nothing, and the Crown wouldn't even notice, since they didn't care about the Alchemists all that much.
As I said before, I am planning on uploading more of this story (outside of normal uploads). I have a bit of a backlog of chapter drafts for this story that I’ll try to go through when I can. As usual, I don’t mind rewriting this chapter depending on your feedback, so please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.