"Master Torrell, it is an honor."
"Greetings."
After Aemon's introduction, neither Gaemon nor Baelon acted arrogantly. They showed proper respect to a man who had reached the pinnacle of his craft. True mastery in any field deserved recognition.
Seeing the two princes in their fine dragon-embroidered uniforms, silver-gold hair, and violet eyes, Torrell immediately recognized their status. When they greeted him, he bowed deeply, almost trembling with deference.
"Your Graces must be Prince Baelon, the Spring Prince, and Prince Gaemon. This humble blacksmith Torrell pays you the highest respects."
He began to kneel once more, as if it were second nature.
But Gaemon moved faster. His hands caught Torrell before the blacksmith could fully lower himself.
As he helped the man rise, Gaemon said warmly, "Master, there is no need for that. The fact that His Grace the King summoned you to Dragonstone already proves both your skill and your loyalty to the Crown. As members of the royal family, we are pleased to have you here. You have earned the right to stand and speak as an equal in our presence."
Torrell straightened, though his voice remained deeply respectful. "I am grateful for the King's favor and will remember it always. I pledge my entire strength to House Targaryen."
Aemon, Gaemon, and Baelon nodded in approval at the blacksmith's sincere loyalty.
With the greetings finished, Aemon continued, "Master Torrell, Gaemon and Baelon have come to teach you and your team a forging technique our family brought from Valyria. Weapons made with this method will surpass anything currently available in the realm. I hope you will master it quickly so you can begin producing them for the Crown. From now on, you and your men are the royal armorers, and this will be the royal armory. As long as your loyalty remains true, the Crown will reward you and your families with both wealth and status."
Torrell's eyes lit up with excitement. "A forging technique from Valyria? Could it be the secret of Valyrian steel? But I thought that knowledge was lost with the Doom…"
He trailed off, then suddenly realized, "Of course! The royal family came from Valyria. They are the last dragonlords."
The more he spoke, the brighter his eyes burned. By the end, his gaze was fixed on Aemon with almost feverish intensity.
Though the King had summoned them to Dragonstone without revealing the true purpose—only that other blacksmiths would be joining them—Torrell and the others had assumed they were here to craft ordinary weapons or armor for the Crown.
Now, hearing that a prince would teach them an ancient Valyrian technique, Torrell's mind immediately leaped to Valyrian steel—the closest thing to a legendary weapon in living memory.
Aemon didn't elaborate. Instead, he led the way toward one of the nearby buildings, speaking as they walked. "Master Torrell, you designed and oversaw the construction here. My brothers have never visited before. Show them around and tell us how much longer until everything is complete."
Though Torrell was burning with questions, the princes clearly weren't ready to explain further. He swallowed his curiosity and followed respectfully.
As they entered the main workshop, Torrell began his explanation. "Your Graces, with the help of the islanders, we have completed the main structures of three forges. Interior work is still ongoing, but it should take only a few more days. With the current number of smiths, these three forges will be sufficient for now. If we need more space later, we can expand.
The right side is dedicated to the furnaces for heating and forging. The left side is closer to the stream—we've built water wheels to assist with forging, saving manpower.
The central area is for final polishing, assembly, and storage of finished weapons.
The second floor is our living quarters. We rest there at night.
Below us is a basement level for storing fuel, iron ore, and other raw materials."
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