Chapter 318

At the very edge of the outer city, separated by a two-meter-high wall from other districts, was the industrial zone—an independent and self-contained area. Here, a sprawling mass of towering, earth-constructed kilns and furnaces filled the landscape, dominating the view.

Aegor came from a modern world with highly advanced civilization and intricate societal divisions of labor. Though his previous work had touched on metallurgy, he had little direct knowledge of the foundational process of smelting. Fortunately, while Westeros was technologically backward compared to his old world, it wasn’t primitive. The process of extracting metal from ore was already well-understood and had been refined over centuries. As long as there were craftsmen with some experience, they could establish and operate the smelting district without his input.

Though the teams sent to survey the mountains for mineral deposits had yet to return, part of Crown's Rest’s industrial zone was already operational. Before smelting could begin, the key material for the process—charcoal—needed to be produced in large quantities.
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The craftsmen of Westeros had long recognized that charcoal yielded higher-quality metal in smelting compared to alternatives like wood or peat. Thus, even before the smelting process began, the preparation of charcoal was already providing livelihoods for countless new settlers in the Gift.

The Gift lacked the vast forests of the Wolfswood or the Haunted Forest, but it had plenty of small, scattered woodlands. While there was enough wood to meet demand, collecting it was no small task.

To address this, the administrators of Crown's Rest issued a “Wood-Gathering Order,” mobilizing idle settlers to collect firewood and deliver it to the town. There, workers weighed the wood, sorted it by moisture content and type, and paid the gatherers accordingly. Though the work was exhausting and poorly paid compared to other jobs, it required no specialized skills, allowing anyone—young or old, male or female—to participate. This arrangement not only ensured a steady supply of wood but also provided a means of livelihood for many, making it a beneficial policy overall.

Once the wood arrived, it was sorted by length and thickness, then stacked into hollow piles. These piles were covered with clay to form earthen kilns, which were then set alight. Using the “sealed kiln method,” workers allowed the fire to burn for a set period before sealing all openings, extinguishing the flames, and allowing the kiln to cool naturally. When the clay covering was removed, the finished charcoal lay within.

The process was simple and repetitive, with the most time-consuming step being the wait for each batch to finish. But the Gift had no shortage of space. Workers could move on to new areas and build more kilns as soon as one was sealed. This was why the industrial zone now featured an expanse of towering earthen kilns, with workers constantly transporting wood and charcoal in crude carts.

Among the laborers were supervisors and foremen, easily distinguished by their commanding presence. Small groups of hillfolk vendors wandered through the area, selling bowls of coarse grain porridge and rough bread. The steaming food and faint aroma of cooking filled the cold air.

This wasn’t a staged performance for Aegor. The natural rhythm of work, with its seamless coordination and division of labor, demonstrated that as soon as copper ore arrived, the area would spring to life as a metal-producing powerhouse.
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“My lord, here’s the finished charcoal,” Yarm said, holding out a piece of the blackened material. Ideally, he would have presented a gleaming copper ingot, but with no ore available, charcoal would have to suffice.

“Hmm.” Aegor accepted the piece, examining it with feigned expertise. He squeezed and prodded it before nodding. “Much better than firewood, peat, or coal for burning. This is what’s keeping your room warm at night.”

Arya rolled her eyes. “Is this supposed to be interesting?”

Aegor chuckled. “Fair point. No, this isn’t very exciting.” He turned to Yarm. “What about the master craftsman overseeing the smelting and forging? Take me to him.”
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As it happened, the craftsman—brought from Lannisport—had connections to the Lannisters through Yarm, whose family had once managed mines for the Westerlands. The craftsman, a stocky man in his fifties with bronzed skin and a robust physique, exuded the competence of someone who had spent his life working metal.

After a brief exchange of greetings, Aegor asked about the progress of preparations. He quickly realized that in terms of metallurgy, this world wasn’t so primitive that he, as an amateur, could offer meaningful improvements.
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“What does my lord intend to do with the copper once it’s smelted?” the craftsman asked. “Copper’s worth a bit, sure, but in times like these, good steel for weapons is what’s truly in demand. Besides, the Gift’s so far north—by the time you haul anything south to sell, you’ll barely make a profit. But if you could find tin, I could help you make bronze. Not as good as steel, but it’s decent enough.”

“Tin would be ideal, but buying it would drive up costs. We’ll take our time with that. For now, I plan to use the first batch of copper for minting coins. After all, coins don’t need to be durable or strong.”

“Coins?” The craftsman looked incredulous. “Sure, you could mint copper coins, but isn’t that something only the king can authorize? Do you have permission?”

“Not yet,” Aegor admitted, “but I’ll handle that. For now, these coins will be called tokens. They’ll only be used to pay the settlers and Night’s Watch brothers for their work, with no intention of circulating outside the Gift. The value will match the weight of copper in each coin. Can you handle the molds and minting?”

“I’ve never made anything that small,” the craftsman admitted with a wry smile. “But it shouldn’t be too hard. Give me the tools and some time, and I’ll figure it out.”

“What about the design? Will the tokens bear a sigil or someone’s face?”

If anyone’s face were to be on the coins, Aegor thought wryly, it would be his own. But such arrogance and heresy were out of the question. “Discuss that with the logistics officers. Keep it simple and easy to mint. We’re only minting copper coins; we’ll still use silver stags and gold dragons for higher denominations.”

“Understood.”

“One more thing, master,” Aegor added, softening his tone. “I didn’t bring you to the Gift just to oversee smelting. When you have time, I’d like you to teach your craft to the apprentices and assistants assigned to you. Don’t worry—they won’t compete with you in the South. And rest assured, I’ll compensate you generously.”

The craftsman studied Aegor thoughtfully. This so-called “White Walker Slayer” seemed to have no shortage of ideas. Though he didn’t immediately agree, he nodded noncommittally.

Aegor wasn’t expecting immediate compliance. With enough money and control, he would ensure the man cooperated in time.
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After inspecting the industrial zone, Aegor crossed the inner city to a small island in the middle of the lake—the heavily guarded laboratory where he had stationed his alchemists.
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If there was one piece of knowledge that could give Aegor an unfair advantage in this world, it was gunpowder.

That was why he had started preparing and gathering talent for it early on.

And now, after two years of recruiting, manipulating, and securing loyalty from the Alchemists’ Guild, he had finally succeeded.

He now controlled a fully obedient, private group of alchemists—one that was completely his.

Only now, with that power firmly in his hands, could he begin introducing this devastating weapon to the world—without immediately losing control of it.

......

The alchemists had been in the Gift for nearly two years.

At first, they had grumbled endlessly about the climate, but after being granted the highest-tier privileges in Crown’s Rest, they had gradually adjusted.

Now, they no longer talked about leaving.

Their daily work had consisted mainly of refining and storing wildfire.

But under Aegor’s secret orders, they had already begun preparations for something far more important—

Gunpowder production.

......

Aegor stepped into a high-security, water-locked tower—the most restricted site in Crown’s Rest.

Inside, in a laboratory filled with flasks, jars, and alchemical tools, he met with the alchemists he had not seen in some time.

Having spent two years living in comfort and respect, these former exiles—once treated like rats after the fall of House Targaryen—had visibly recovered.

Some had even grown their hair back.

"Good afternoon, wise men," Aegor greeted them with a smile. "Have you prepared what I asked for?"

"It’s done," replied Harlon the Wise.

"The only challenge was saltpeter—everything else, we can produce in unlimited quantities."

Saltpeter.

Charcoal, sulfur, and saltpeter—the three key ingredients for making the simplest form of black powder.

Charcoal was easy—they just ground down the high-quality blackwood charcoal from the industrial zone.

Sulfur was even easier—it was everywhere on Dragonstone’s volcanic slopes.

They had already been importing it, melting, filtering, and distilling it for purification.

The alchemists, who were already skilled in distillation for their wildfire production, handled the process effortlessly.

But saltpeter?

That was the problem.

Unlike sulfur and charcoal, it was completely unknown in Westeros.

There were no alchemists, herbalists, or apothecaries who had ever worked with it.

"We’ve confirmed," Harlon continued, "that stables, latrine walls, some cellars, and caves produce this substance naturally.

"Extraction is simple—just dissolve it in hot water, then filter it out."

"The problem is—there isn’t enough. Not even remotely."

"We can’t even come close to mass production with these sources alone."

Aegor frowned.

"What about saltpeter mines?"

The alchemist shook his head.

"No one has ever heard of such a thing. If mines exist, we don’t know what they look like, where they would be found, or how to identify them."

Aegor grimaced, rubbing his temples.

Of course, he had no idea either—he wasn’t a geologist, nor had he ever expected to need this knowledge in his past life.

Just knowing the formula for gunpowder was not enough.

Producing it at scale?

That was an entirely different challenge.

"What, am I supposed to send men across the Seven Kingdoms to buy up random stable waste?" he muttered.

"For now, that might be our only option," Harlon admitted.

"But," he added, "we still don’t understand how these three substances repel White Walkers."

"We’ve tested them individually—they burn, yes, but there’s no trace of magic in them."

"And besides, don’t we already have wildfire?"

......

Aegor’s "White Walker weakness" explanation had always been a cover story.

Eventually, he planned to use it as an excuse to buy up saltpeter all across Westeros.

But his real goal was to create a new kind of weapon—

Black powder mixed with obsidian fragments, packed into explosive dragon-glass grenades.

And if he could one day produce cannons?

Then, at last, Westeros would enter the gunpowder age.

......

"Where are the materials?" he asked.

Hallyne the Wise stepped forward, carrying three large jars.

"This one holds charcoal. This one, sulfur. And this…"

He tapped the third jar, only half-filled.

"This is the saltpeter we scraped from the Alchemists’ Guild’s cellars in King’s Landing. Even after purification, this is all we could collect.

"If this really is the key to killing White Walkers, you’d better use it sparingly."

Aegor weighed the half-full jar in his hands.

It was a decent amount—several pounds at least.

But considering how massive the Alchemists’ Guild’s halls were, the fact that they had only managed this much proved how rare it truly was.

If he used it for artillery, it would be gone in a single shot.

For now, the war against the White Walkers and the dead would have to rely on wildfire.

......

Aegor took small samples of each material, wrapping them in a piece of parchment before leaving the smoke-free lab.

"Here, Arya—this is what I promised you," he said with a grin.

The group followed him to a separate room, where he folded the parchment into a small pouch and shook it.

Then, with a casual toss, he threw it into the fireplace.

There was a sharp pop, followed by a sudden burst of flame—

The fire flared up, glowing with unnatural intensity, briefly surging out of the hearth and throwing sparks across the room.

Arya, along with the alchemists and Yarm, jumped back in shock.

"What the—what the hell was that?!" Arya forgot all about her bad mood, her eyes widening in excitement.

She had never seen anything like it before.

While Arya was simply fascinated, the alchemists were stunned.

For months, they had experimented with these materials in a strictly controlled environment, never allowing open flames near them.

They had never thought to mix them together and ignite them.

They had seen fire.

They had seen wildfire explosions.

But this?

This was a solid material.

Stable, safe, and easily transported—until it met fire.

At that moment, every single alchemist had the same realization.

This was what they had spent centuries seeking—a weaponizable chemical compound.

If the southern lords and kings learned of this…

Then the Alchemists’ Guild’s golden age was about to begin.

......

"Thank you all for your hard work over these two years," Aegor said smoothly.

"Starting tomorrow, Crown’s Rest will be placed under even stricter security measures."

He glanced at the alchemists, making sure they understood.

"This compound, known as ‘firepowder,’ will remain a Night’s Watch secret until the war is over."

......