The Street of the Sisters was more than just a road that connected Rhaenys' Hill and Visenya's Hill together. This street was also home to another place of interest that Rhaegal intended to pay a visit to on this day, only that this site was located closer to Visenya's Hill.
Rhaegar walked by his side as Ser Barristan trailed after them, ever watchful of the people around them.
Rhaegal was tempted to stop for a quick bite somewhere but thought better of it. He could grab a snack after they returned to the Red Keep. The less attention that they attracted the better.
Rhaegal could sense his brother's curiosity when he made a turn toward one of the buildings near the foot of the hill. There was no sign of activity on this part of the street, almost as if people knew to stay away.
"Brother, what is this place?"
Rather than answering Rhaegar, Rhaegal decided to show him as he led them inside the building. There, they were greeted by a long chamber, which was otherwise empty save for columns of fire surrounded by black metal columns.
Barristan's breath hitched at the sight of the fire.
"Wildfire."
So he knew what it was? Rhaegal was surprised.
"You're well-informed, visitor."
It wasn't Rhaegal who made the observation, but rather it was spoken by an older voice. It belonged to a sickly looking man who stepped out from the shadows. He was dressed in striped black and scarlet robes.
"Many in King's Landing have forgotten of our presence…and our purpose."
Barristan's hand came to rest on his sword, but Rhaegal raised his hand toward the man. Rhaegar watched on in silence, unsure of what was happening.
"Peace, Ser Barristan. I'm sure this man means us no harm. Not when there is a potential customer before him."
"Customer, you say?" The man's eyes gleamed with interest. "And why would a little lording such as yourself require the services of the Alchemists' Guild?"
Seeing no point in hiding his identity, not with his purpose in coming here, Rhaegal removed his hood, revealing his features to the man. Rhaegar quickly did the same.
"Ah." Understanding flashed on the man's face. "I see. Another Targaryen graces us with his presence. It's been a few years since we last did work with one of your family."
Rhaegal didn't need to ask to know whom he was speaking of.
"I suppose you are referring to my great grandfather, King Aegon V."
The man wheezed out a laugh. "You're well-informed, my prince. I had imagined that all traces of our presence at Summerhall had vanished."
"Wildfire is hard to miss, pyromancer. And only your order deals with it these days."
"Hmm, I wonder how many know the truth of that day," the man mused.
"Do you know?"
"I was but an acolyte during your great grandfather's reign, my prince. Only recently did I become a wisdom. Most in my order who knew the truth of that event perished in the fire alongside the king. The rest have already died through natural means. Such is the passage of time."
How unfortunate, but a history lesson wasn't the reason for Rhaegal's presence here.
"I am here to enlist your services, wisdom."
The man smiled openly at him, his yellow teeth faintly visible in the darkness.
"I see. I'm assuming that you require the use of the substance."
Rhaegal quickly shook his head. "No. I care not for wildfire."
At least, not right now.
"Oh?" The man appeared confused. "If you have no interest in the substance, then what services would you require of us?"
"You don't have to pretend. Wildfire is but one substance that you specialize in. Or are all your boasts nothing but lies?"
Rhaegal's words caused the man to go quiet as he stared down at him. There was no sound in the chamber for a few moments save for the soft hissing from the flames all around them.
"Wildfire is indeed but one of the dreaded secrets of our ancient order," he responded at last. "The guild has existed for a very long time. We were known to transmute metals as well."
Known, yes. But did they currently have the capacity to? Based on the man's demeanor, Rhaegal doubted it very much. The Alchemists' Guild had been losing ground for centuries now. The maesters at the Citadel had supplanted their place in Westeros. Whatever knowledge they once had was probably long gone.
Another setback for him, but no matter. What he sought was a form of lost knowledge as well. He hadn't expected to find it right away.
"Then I task you with finding a new dreaded secret for me. A knowledge long forgotten in the destruction of Valyria."
The man looked more than a little interested now.
"And what secret is that?"
"Dragonstone."
And Rhaegal wasn't referring to the ancient fortress, but rather what it was made out of.
The man understood. "You seek to recreate the building might of the empire of old…."
Dragonstone and black stone were thought to be different, but they shared similar characteristics. Similar to black stone, dragonstone was a building material that was stronger than iron, steel, granite, or diamond. And similar to black stone, its method of forging was long lost, gone as with the rest of Valyria during the Doom.
Rhaegal wanted to bring it back.
The man was laughing again. "None of your ancestors have ever asked such a thing of us! They only ever seemed interested in the substance!"
Probably because that was the only thing of note that the guild could provide. But things were different now.
"Dragonstone is said to be created with the use of magic, and you have your own methods of tapping into that, don't you?"
It was how wildfire was created, after all.
"Indeed. For the past few years, it has been easier to create new batches of wildfire. It seems like your birth heralds the dawn of a new age, my prince."
When the last of the dragons died, magic became practically nonexistent in the world. Or rather, it became a lot more difficult to conjure.
Or so the stories go.
'My birth has changed that?'
How fascinating. Rhaegal had not thought of that, but maybe he should have expected it. He had been prepared to work closely with the guild, to use his flames in order to aid them in recreating dragonstone. But if the guild's own magical abilities, however limited they might be, had been strengthened just because of his birth, then he couldn't have asked for anything better.
"We have our own ideas on how to proceed," the man said, leaning forward. "Assuming you have the coin to support our efforts."
Rhaegal had a pretty good understanding of where the man's head was at. They were probably going to use the wildfire as a substitute for his fire.
How ironic. The substance that had caused the death of so many in his family might prove to be useful in other ways that didn't involve death and destruction.
If there were gods out there, then they were probably laughing right now.
"Coin is of no concern to me."
He wasn't a Lannister, who were sitting on multiple gold mines and could buy off the entire continent if they wanted to. But his earnings from Dragonstone were more than enough to fund a project like this.
"I'm sure you understand that this will probably take years…"
"You don't have to convince me." Rhaegal understood that well enough. Something as powerful as dragonstone couldn't just be replicated overnight. "Succeed on this, and we might discuss future work together."
The man flashed another smile at him. "How generous of you, my prince. I shall happily inform our grand master of our new…royal patronage. And please…call me Hallyne."
Several agreements were drawn up, in which Barristan would be the middle man for when Rhaegal was unable to come in person. This included future payments and the delivery of messages from now on. And of course, there was an agreement to grant access to Dragonstone as a means to study the fortress and its makeup.
There was also an additional clause: their findings would belong to Rhaegal and no one else. He was more than ready to burn the guild down if they dared try to sell the information to anyone else.
Hallyne had only laughed at the threat, assuring him that the guild would honor their word.
"There's no need for you turn your flames on us, I assure you."
Time would tell.
After all of that was concluded, the trio found themselves standing out on the street again.
Rhaegar was deep in thought, no doubt going over after everything that he had seen in his mind. Unlike Rhaegal, he hadn't known that the Alchemists' Guild existed. It wasn't surprising. For all of his intellect, Rhaegar was still a regular child. Rhaegal only knew because of his inborn knowledge, the source of which was still unknown to him.
This did not mean that he wasn't going to use it.
"My prince." Barristan broke the silence, his face full of apprehension. "When you referred to making new walls earlier…."
"Yes." Rhaegal saw no need to lie to the knight. The man was trustworthy, loyal to the royal family. "I plan to use dragonstone, a material so strong that only dragons could bring it down."
It was a vision that was going to take more than a few years to complete. Even if the material was secure, they were still going to need the coin to get the manpower to make the reconstruction a reality.
Today was merely a start to his ambitions.
"I promise you, Ser Barristan. By the time I leave this world, King's Landing will have become the most prosperous city on the continent...no, the world."
After all, he had come to love the city. It was only natural that he would want to see it prosper.
---
By the time they sneaked back into the Red Keep, it was well into the afternoon.
They were met by Monford Velaryon near the godswood inside the Red Keep.
"I finally found you guys!" the young Velaryon ran up to them as fast as he could. "I was trying to look for you guys all over the place! I thought we could play a game, but then you disappeared."
Smiling, Rhaegal ruffled the boy's hair, much to his annoyance. "Sorry about that. We had a very secret and dangerous mission to complete."
That had the boy perking up. "Dangerous mission? What was it!?"
"Maybe we'll tell you some day."
Monford whined. "That's not fair, Rhaegal! You guys are always leaving me out of stuff."
He shrugged. "Get older?"
"I'm four!"
"Exactly."
"Ugh."
Monford's shoulders sagged in defeat while Rhaegar shook his head and started to walk away.
"You guys are too loud for my tastes. I'm going to get something from the kitchens and then get back to my books."
"You'll never be popular if you stay this way, dear brother."
"Thankfully I don't have to be."
Rhaegal sighed in exasperation as his brother wandered off.
"Ser Barristan, make sure that my brother stays safe, won't you?"
"My prince, I-"
"Not to worry. I'll be heading to the throne room with Monford here. I'm sure one of the other Kingsguard can take your place for the rest of the day."
Barristan looked unsure for a moment before bowing his head.
"As you say, my prince."
He then walked off, following after his brother.
Monford's eyes lit up. "We're going to the throne room!?"
Typically, they weren't allowed to at this hour. His father was probably receiving petitioners for the day, but it wasn't like he had anything better to do.
Rhaegal just nodded and gestured for Monford to follow him.
The trek didn't take too long, and even before they reached the throne room the two ran into Ser Harlan Grandison, one of the other members of the Kingsguard. The man was also the oldest among the seven knights, but that did not make him any less dangerous if his practice sessions in the training yard were anything to go by.
The Kingsguard took Barristan's usual place and followed after them like another silent shadow.
Already knowing the layout of the castle by heart, Rhaegal led them to the gallery of the Great Hall.
Monford looked eager as they arrived, much to Rhaegal's private amusement. He knew why the younger boy was so excited. It wasn't because the king was listening to the troubles of his subjects. No, it was because he wanted to get a look at the Iron Throne. Rhaegal could not blame him.
He too had been enchanted the first time he had seen it.
Glancing down, Rhaegal saw that his father was where he was supposed to be, atop the throne. His posture was relaxed, his face bored as he listened to a man talk about his fishing rights near the city and how someone was intruding on his property.
Clearly, the duties of a king weren't always grand.
One day, that was going to be his throne. There had been times when Rhaegal felt compelled to sit upon it, but he hadn't dared tried. The closest he had gotten was when curiosity got the best of him and he tried to see if previous kings had etched their initials on it. Rhaegar told him that it was just a myth that many at the Red Keep believed, but Rhaegal had wanted to see for himself.
Turns out, Rhaegar had been correct. It really was just a myth. There were no initials anywhere. And for his troubles? Well, he nearly tripped when trying to come back down.
That would have been a terrible way to go out.
'Hmm, I take it back.'
The Iron Throne was just the ugliest chair in the world.
---
Aerys listened with a half an ear as the man droned on and on about how his family had lived in the same spot for generations now, and how fishermen from King's Landing were intruding on his land without permission.
'Whose idea was it to allow these people in?' he fought back a growl as he thought about his day so far.
He had been forced to get up early for an emergency session with the small council, which caused him to miss breakfast with his family. Tywin had summoned the small council because of the urgent updates on Essos. Maelys Blackfyre had been killed and his invasion stopped five years ago, but the rest of his motley crew were still out there, trying to hold on to their respective domains.
'Not anymore.'
Aerys was more than a little amused by what was happening across the Narrow Sea. His father and grandfather had hoped that the Free Cities would have set aside their differences and formed an alliance to get rid of the Band of Nine before they ever threatened Westeros. After Tyrosh and then the Stepstones were conquered, it became increasingly obvious that that was asking too much from those fools. It was only now, after the Iron Throne had weakened those outlaws that the Free Cities were finally pushing them out of their seats of power. Out of the nine, only two still held any sort of strength: Samarro Saan and Alequo Adarys. The former held a couple of islands in the Stepstones with the help of some leftover sellswords that stayed after the war ended. Meanwhile Alequo Adarys was in charge of Tyrosh, but his position was being challenged by the other Free Cities.
All the rest had lost their influence on the Disputed Lands, which meant that it was back to regular business on the eastern continent.
It had taken a while, but the shadow of the Blackfyre cause was finally disappearing for good.
And not a moment too soon.
Now, he found himself sitting here as he listened to petty disputes. How bothersome.
Aerys had to stop himself from yawning as the petitioner ended his case. He let Tywin dictate out the ruling in his name. He couldn't be bothered to focus on these mundane issues. No, his mind was far too preoccupied with a far more serious concern: securing a bride for his heir.
'It's been two years since Tywin's wedding.'
Two years since Rhaella's miscarriage. That was more than enough time, right? Surely it was safe to try again.
Hmm, maybe he should ask Pycelle, just to be sure.
He could also do with a vacation. The Red Keep was beginning to suffocate him.
'The Martells sent an invitation recently, did they not?'
Perhaps a trip to Dorne might do him so good. He had never been to the desert kingdom before. What better way to clear his mind than to visit a new place, even if it was filled with Dornishmen.
Tywin could manage things around here in his absence. It was why Aerys named him his Hand, after all.
---
The sun was setting by the time Tywin returned to his chambers in the Tower of the Hand. After the last of the petitioners were heard, Aerys had set him aside and informed him of his new plans. His old friend was planning on leaving the capital in the coming weeks to take a trip to Dorne, something about an invitation from the Princess to the Queen.
'An attempt to curry favor no doubt,' he thought snidely as he sat at his desk.
The young Lannister took a moment to gather his thoughts as he gazed out the window.
Tywin would freely admit that he was not a believer in the old stories. Those tales about the heroes of old? With their magic and whatnot? Just tales designed to fascinate children, nothing more. Sure, there were some wonders of engineering in this world, the Wall being a prime example. But that was all they were. Marvels of engineering. No magic was involved.
Or so he had told himself. And yet, everything had changed recently. He had seen for himself that something that could be called magic did exist in this world. Even now, he could never forget the sight of the crown prince conjuring flames from out of nothing. It wasn't a mere trick either. It was genuine.
'If that fire can be passed down….'
Tywin tapped his fingers on his desk as his mind raced with thoughts towards the future.
Presently, Aerys hadn't given any indication that he was set on a particular match for prince Rhaegal. The prince was still young, so it made sense. But this would not stay the same forever.
'Joanna is not pregnant yet.'
It wasn't surprising. Ever since their wedding, he had spent all his time at King's Landing while she had remained at Casterly Rock with the rest of his family.
Perhaps that needed to change. As Hand, Tywin had the authority to house members of his family here at the Red Keep. She was already friends with the Queen. It wouldn't raise any eyebrows.
After all, there was no way that Aerys could deny that a match between their houses was for the best. Even with his father still the Lord Paramount of the Westerlands, the Lannisters had only grown in strength now that the Reynes and Tarbecks had been put down and made an example out of.
Yes, he could see it now. His grandson, wielding the powerful fires of an ancient lineage, made only the more spectacular through the Lannister blood.
The Seven Kingdoms would be entering a new golden age, Tywin was sure of it.
---
When his father announced that they were going to be heading to Dorne in the following weeks, Rhaegal had been ecstatic. Finally! He could go and explore more of the world. He might have come to love King's Landing, but this did not mean that he did not yearn to see more of the world.
Rhaegar had been more sullen about it, complaining that he was going to lose valuable reading time.
Rhaegal slapped him on the back of the head for that one, much to Rhaegar's ire. Too bad for his brother: he was faster and more nimble, so escaping retribution was easy. It was Rhaegal's reward for taking their training in the yard more seriously.
Rhaegar had grumbled about this for days.
Monford had been sad about the news, expecting to stay behind. Rhaegal decided to throw the younger boy a bone and ask his father if he could accompany them on the trip. Rhaegal had expected for the Lord of Driftmark to put up a fight. It was a long trip, after all. They were going to be traveling through the Stormlands to Storm's End before going by sea. Why this route? Because his father wanted to meet his friend, Steffon Baratheon. Apparently the young Storm Lord's wife had given birth to a second son the previous year, and Aerys wanted to congratulate his friend in person.
Really, it was just another excuse to throw a feast and drink more wine. Rhaegal wasn't going to complain, though. It gave him a chance to see the legendary castle with his own eyes. It was perfect!
To his surprise, the Master of Ships had accepted his request with ease, his face pleased. It didn't take too long for Rhaegal to realize why. He was going to be the next king, and the man's son was the only one who was building a close relationship with him. He saw it as a benefit for Driftmark in the long run. Since the Dance, the Targaryens had largely forgotten about their Valyrian cousins. Now, the island was a dying power, no longer the powerhouse that it had been under the legendary Sea Snake.
If only the man realized how pointless it was. Rhaegal already had his plans for the island in the future. He meant to elevate them. They were kin, after all. That said, one fact was clear: they would never again rise to the same levels that they had before the Dance. They would never try to think of themselves equal to the dragons.
Rhaegal vowed to ensure this. Yes, he was a prideful person, and above all else he believed that the Iron Throne was for the Targaryens only. He would not let a lesser house dare think that they had any right to it.
Monford was also funny. Rhaegal did not mind his company.
In those weeks leading to their journey, more news came from Dragonstone, much to his delight.
"It seems like your idea was a success, my prince," Qyburn said as the two of them walked through the godswood.
The place was very comforting, and he wasn't exactly sure why.
"No need to be so modest, Qyburn. I'm only borrowing from the idea that you shared with me."
"I aim to please."
And he certainly had.
When it came to recording the size of the population in Westeros, there were no exact records from which to gather any data. A lot of it had to do with guess work. This meant that there could be many cracks in the system when it was time to collect taxes. Fraud was always an issue that the lords had to combat. The Iron Throne was no different.
When trying to think of ideas of how to increase the flow of gold into the crown, Qyburn had shared an idea with him that he had learned of during his time at the Citadel. The idea of a census. It was a time consuming effort that required more gold to be spent, which was always a risk. They needed learned men to conduct these censuses, and they wouldn't work for free. Thankfully, the Red Keep was full of scribes that he could borrow for a few weeks.
Dragonstone and the lands that fell under its purview were not massive. There were only a few villages on the island apart from the fortress itself. Then there were houses Celtigar, Sunglass, Bar Emmon, Velaryon, and a couple of others. Aside from the Velaryon holdings, the rest were mostly tiny islands with a low populace. It was the perfect setting to test out Qyburn's idea.
It took a while, but sure enough after the counting was done and a comparison was made with the previous tax season, there was a growth in income.
Success!
'This also means that there are those who dared to steal from the crown.' The thought made Rhaegal angry, but for the moment there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn't condemn anyone specifically, so there was no point getting hung up on it.
He was really going to need his own informant soon. Someone who could gather information during times like this. Something else to consider.
The trickier part was going to be trying to implement this system on a massive scale.
'The lords would never agree to it.'
Population size was equal to the number of levies that a lord could call upon. The same was true for the number of knights in their territory. Having this information out in the open would be like sharing their military strength to their rivals. They would never allow it.
'Think small for now.'
It was something that his great grandfather had failed to understand. King Aegon V had tried to force his reforms on the realm at large rather than trying to work on what he could control. Dragonstone was under Rhaegal's supervision. The houses there were loyal to the Targaryens. They were more accommodating compared to the rest of the realm, and right now they did not have their dragons to force their will upon the Seven Kingdoms.
King's Landing would have to suffice as a start.
'This means that I'll have to speak to my father about this.'
With these results, he should be open to the idea.
Of course, even with this improvement in taxation, it wouldn't be enough to fund all of his future projects.
Rhaegal was going to have to find other ways to bring in more gold to the treasury.
'I might have to get the Velaryons involved sooner than I thought.'
Or maybe he was just being impatient again.
It was during this time, when he was mulling things over and preparing for his first trek across the Seven Kingdoms, that an unexpected event occurred.
A visitor arrived at the capital, requesting an audience with not just the king but also with him.
It was none other than a Red Priestess.