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Right after breakfast, Wylis went into the dungeons to teach Qyburn some modern medical things. It was mostly about the human body and surgery. One, Wylis got to train a surgeon. Two, Qyburn got to satisfy his curiosities.
The exiled Maester had sent many letters, and now they were waiting for responses. Nor all of them would answer the call. But even one or two were welcome. Especially that Archmaester.
"I have begun designing the entire administration district. The school of medicine, the navy, the army, and the rest will be built near one another," Wylis explained his plan to the somewhat mad doctor. "You will head the school. I know you only care for your studies, but no man grows wiser working alone. With a few sharp minds beside you, your work will thrive."
Qyburn nodded with a dissatisfied look. "I fear I can't escape this responsibility, my Lord."
After teaching Qyburn, Wylis went out and worked on fortifying the castle. The plan was quite simple but labor-intensive. He wanted to dig a moat around the rocky mesa on which the castle sat.
And then, he wanted to make a high stone wall around the moat itself on the outer side, so that the moat would turn into a deep watery drop. Anyone who would jump over the wall would fall into deep water, with the high walls on one side and the mesa's cliff-like wall on the other. Moreover, Wylis wanted to build another wall around the entire backyard of the castle, making it a private garden with that hot spring.
On top of that, he planned some extra digging around the entry into the castle. That way, anything entering from outside will have to go through two drawbridges. All that would turn Ramsgate into one of the realm's most fortified castles.
Now, digging the moat was the easy part for Wylis. Heck, even preparing the foundation for the wall was easy for him. The hard part was building the wall. Not because it was expensive, but because he didn't have enough people to build that fast.
Already, the town had welcomed some new faces. A few of them were red dots that Wylis left alone for the time being, keeping an eye on them through Tyrant's Fief's map. Waiting to catch their next plot before they made a move.
The simple fact was that the scale he had in mind for Ramsgate was impossible without enough people. After the castle wall, the city's wall would need to be developed. After that, the entire manufacturing district and then the textile district would need to be constructed. He needed people to build and craftsmen to work in them.
So much to fucking do. Knowing too much is also a damn curse.
With a sigh, he instructed the men on building the wall around the moat. The moat wasn't dug yet; he'd do that later. He wanted to build the wall first. After leaving them to work on it, he went to the town's square and walked into the lone blacksmith's shop.
It was manned by a boy, a little younger than himself. The boy's father used to be the town's main blacksmith in the past, but due to age, the old blacksmith was bedridden. Now it was the novice son's duty to run the shop.
"Come on then, Martyn. Let's get to it," Wylis said, setting his coat by the wall and taking up a hammer. "Pay attention and learn. What I'm forging will soon be worth more than silver. Smiths and armorers will flock to Ramsgate before long. If you mean to stay in this trade, you'd best be sharp."
"Understood, my Lord!" Martyn saluted stiffly. The poor boy was on the chubbier side and already balding. But he was willing to learn from the lord of the land.
"What we're forging is called a leaf spring, and we'll need one large enough for heavy use. Without proper tools, a forge, or bellows fit for the task, it'll take us a few days. Were we to have a blast furnace, we'd make pig iron with coke. I know those words sound strange to you now, but in time you'll see why I bothered to teach them."
Martyn nodded, focused. He tried to remember whatever he could, absorbing the knowledge. He didn't dare ridicule, as he knew well enough that Lord Wylis was anything but normal. He wasn't one of those pompous, cheese-gobbling nobles.
Soon, loud hammer sounds started to echo. It was very hot since a clay shaft furnace was used. Wylis was sweating and discarded all his upper clothes, covering his scar-marked body with an ethereal shine of sweat.
The first two days were spent making curved steel strips. It was annoying work, since making high-carbon steel took time. On the third day, Wylis took a break and actually made a pressure cooker. On the fourth day, he resumed the work and finished making all the steel strips and all the other components needed.
On the fifth day, he took everything to the castle and started working on a full-sized carriage. Right in the outer courtyard, with the help of guards, he first removed the top of the carriage and worked on the suspension. It wasn't hard to do, it just took time.
By evening, he put the entire carriage back together, tied Caliburn to it, and started testing it. He grabbed the reins, Brandon seated beside him, and four guards in the back, putting some weight on the suspension.
"This is bloody madness! Gods, my arse is loving every damned bit of it!" Brandon howled.
Wylis laughed and made the carriage run faster. That was the point of having a leaf suspension. Beyond just comfort, it allowed greater speeds on uneven roads, which were pretty much all roads in Westeros. Speed mattered a lot when traveling from the South to the North, or anywhere, actually.
"Can't say no to that. My arse likes it too," Wylis said, spurring Caliburn into a quicker pace. "We could buy old wagons, mend them, turn them into this, and sell for thrice the coin."
The wind was soothing. There wasn't much road to try too much speeding, but the tests were successful.
"Let me give it a try," Brandon asked for the reins.
Wylis let him without much thought.
"That's it!" Brandon howled, steering the carriage. "Gods damn it! Add some cushions and my arse'll melt clean off!"
Wylis did plan to do that. The current carriage was barebones, just a wooden frame with nothing fancy. It was more of a goods hauler than a people mover. But making fine stagecoaches out of it was a fine concept.
"Fuck! Fuck! It ain't stopping!"
Right then, he heard Brandon crushing. Wylis woke up from deep thoughts and realised the crazy Stark had steered the carriage into the docks and they were on course to fall into the waters.
"Caliburn!" Wylis called out and gave a sharp whistle. Instantly, the massive, muscular horse drifted with its hind legs and smoothly came to a halt. "He was toying with you, Brandon. He'd have pulled up before he went down."
"..."
"Fuck me, your horse can jest now?"
"Neighehe!"
Sure enough, Caliburn let out a big, loud laugh.
"Best watch yourself, boy, or I'll nick every bloody carrot you've got." Brandon hopped off the carriage, swaggering over to trade jests with the horse.
Wylis, meanwhile, checked how the suspension was holding up. He did stress it with four men in the back. His own weight was worth three. And then Brandon. Even as a goods hauler, it did great.
"Ehm…"
He heard someone clearing their throat behind. Stopping his inspection, he pulled his head away from under the carriage and looked.
"Greetings, my Lord. I'm Morgan, the fifth vice harbor master of White Harbor. I just arrived on that ship." Morgan pointed at the small carrack. "Lord Manderly charged me with settling the final sale of the ships you seek to purchase."
Ah, finally!
"But before we begin our talk, I was asked to place this letter in your hands."
That sounded very ominous. Wylis grabbed the letter from the neatly dressed man and opened it right then and there. He gave it a quick read, seeing what it was about.
Just as expected. There is no free lunch.
"I'll deliberate on this tonight. My men will take you to the finest resthouse in the town. We'll speak again come morning."
"As you wish, my Lord."
Right away, two guards led the man away. Wylis climbed the same carriage and headed back to the castle. The sun was setting, and with it his mood. Buying ships was proving tougher than he expected.
"What happened?" Brandon asked on the way.
"Read this."
Wylis steered the carriage and soon heard Brandon curse Lord Manderly's seven generations. By then, they arrived at the castle, and Wylis ordered a maid to call Lyanna to his solar.
Inside the solar, Brandon grabbed himself a cup of wine, and Wylis only drank water to remain clearheaded. Soon, the door opened, and Lyanna walked in, holding their chunky son in her arms.
"You both look like you stepped on shit."
"More like read it," Brandon barked.
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