While Gaemon was still reeling from the breathtaking artistry of Dragonstone Castle, Aemon appeared seemingly out of nowhere and stepped up beside him. With a hint of pride in his voice, he said, "Well? Impressive, isn't it, brother? Quite the sight, right?"
Hearing Aemon's boast, Gaemon—who had just recovered from his awe—shot him a sideways glance and replied in a deliberately casual tone, "Your castle? Isn't this the family's ancestral seat? Since when did it become your castle? I must have missed that part."
Aemon didn't take offense. Instead, he grinned and shot back, "Jealous, are we? I'm the Prince of Dragonstone. The entire island belongs to me. So naturally, the castle does too."
Seeing that his jab hadn't rattled Aemon and that his brother was still looking smug, Gaemon lost interest in arguing. After all, Aemon was the eldest, and these privileges had been his from birth.
When Gaemon stopped responding, Aemon wisely dropped the teasing. No point pushing his luck—if he annoyed his little brother too much, he might actually lose in a fight.
Having won the exchange, Aemon decided to quit while he was ahead. He turned to both brothers and said, "Come on. Let me show you to the dining hall. We'll eat first. I've been preparing a proper feast for days to welcome you two."
With that, Aemon started walking ahead, leaving Gaemon and Baelon exchanging silent glances that clearly said the same thing: Typical Aemon.
But seeing their brother already moving, they quickened their steps and caught up.
Under Aemon's guidance, the three soon reached a dining hall inside the castle.
The room wasn't enormous, but its decoration was nothing short of luxurious. The domed ceiling was painted with colorful scenes from Valyrian mythology. The walls were carved with countless dragon motifs. A grand chandelier hung from above, clearly made of the finest crystal, with glass shades protecting the candles.
Paintings covered the walls—portraits of people and landscapes alike—all clearly the work of master artists and worth a small fortune.
Aemon led them to a long table in the center of the hall.
As Gaemon sat down, he ran his fingers across the walnut-colored tabletop. The smooth, fine grain told him immediately it was made from rare walnut wood—impossible to find in Westeros and only imported at great expense from distant Yi Ti. The table legs were carved into dragon heads, accented with gold inlay that made the entire piece look even more opulent. Gaemon couldn't help but admire it.
"You really know how to live comfortably here on Dragonstone," he said to Aemon, a touch of envy in his voice. "You've claimed all the family's best luxuries for yourself."
Aemon just grinned wider at the comment.
Once the three were seated, Aemon straightened and said, "All right. Now that you're both here, it's time to move to the next stage of the plan."
At those words, Gaemon and Baelon grew serious, their expressions turning solemn.
Gaemon spoke first. "Big Brother, how are things prepared on the island? Where do we start?"
Aemon didn't hold back. "Since I returned to Dragonstone, I've swept the entire island clean. We didn't catch any big fish, but we cleared out the small ones. I've already gathered a team of smiths. Father sent some, and they've been arriving in batches—about fifty or sixty total. Most are apprentices, though. Only around ten are true master smiths capable of independent work. Their loyalty, however, is beyond question."
Gaemon nodded. "Numbers aren't important right now. We're not looking to mass-produce yet. Our priority is to establish Dragonsteel as something rare and prestigious. The fewer pieces we make at first, the better."
Aemon agreed. "Exactly what I was thinking. To keep the technique secure, we're also limiting personnel. We won't expand production on a large scale. Instead, we'll focus on private and family commissions. That way, the profit will actually be higher."
Gaemon fully approved of the strategy. In this era, only a small portion of people had real spending power—nobles and wealthy merchants. Ordinary folk couldn't afford weapons, let alone something like Dragonsteel. Positioning it as an ultra-exclusive luxury would only increase demand. The rarer it was, the more people would crave it.
"Since you've already made the preparations, Big Brother, let's eat first, then head over to the smithy. I want to inspect the forges. Dragonsteel requires much higher temperatures than ordinary ironwork. If the furnaces aren't built correctly from the start, even if the smiths learn the technique, they won't be able to produce it."
Aemon nodded. "Good idea. You're the expert here, so I'll need you to check everything. I have no experience building forges. The smiths who arrived earlier have been handling construction. I've mainly been overseeing logistics and security."
"Fine. After the meal, we'll go take a look. The sooner we get this sorted, the better. I've been away from my own lands for too long. If I stay gone much longer, I'm worried something might go wrong."
Aemon smiled at Gaemon's confidence. "Then let's eat quickly. The sooner we finish, the sooner we can get to work."
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