Chapter 51: Dragonglass Mining
"I intend to mine obsidian here. What preparations do we need?" Egger held his torch close to the cavern wall, illuminating a large expanse of dark, jagged volcanic rock.
"So this is what an dragonglass mine looks like... what use does the Night's Watch have for this stuff?" the old miner muttered. He handed his torch to his youngest son and pulled a small iron hammer from his belt pouch. After tapping and probing the cave walls for a while, he straightened up and shook his head. "The tunnel is already there, the structure is stable and sits above sea level, and the air circulates naturally—no need to worry about collapses, flooding, or toxic fumes. The ore itself is pure obsidian; it doesn't need refining, and the difficulty of extraction is practically zero. Just find some strong men. Unlike a gold mine, you won't have to worry about workers pocketing nuggets... Tsk, if there's anything to watch out for, it's just setting up some scaffolding and planks to keep falling shards from injuring the men during excavation."
Egger nodded. In a field where he lacked expertise, he wasn't above showing a respectful attitude toward a professional of this world. "Can you determine exactly what we need? How soon can we start? And roughly how much funding is required?"
"I can't give you a full accounting just standing here; I'll need to draw up a manifest. As for starting, these conditions are so good that if the coin and tools were ready, we could start tonight," the old miner said noncommittally. "As for the cost, that depends on how urgent your need is, the quantity required, and what standards you have for the ore."
"What do you mean by standards for the ore?"
"Put it this way: if you wanted to carve obsidian into those dragon heads we saw flanking the castle gates, you'd need massive raw blocks, which would make extraction extremely difficult. But if you just want beads to string into bracelets to sell, then the workers can just swing their hammers and smash away. The difficulty and cost would drop significantly."
So that's how it works, Egger thought, stroking his chin. Obsidian was, after all, just glass; it couldn't be forged into massive weapons like longswords. The dragonglass daggers and arrowheads used by the Children of the Forest thousands of years ago were already the most practical solutions proven by history. This meant the extracted ore only needed to be large enough to be fashioned into daggers; anything larger was a waste. Furthermore, facing intelligent magical creatures like the White Walkers, it would be difficult to repeat his success of killing them in close-quarters combat. The most reliable plan was to rely on a massive amount of dragonglass arrows—using overwhelming ranged fire to let quantity defeat quality.
"The ore doesn't need to be too large. Whatever comes out naturally is fine."
"Mm." The old miner nodded. "I'll draw up a list of what's needed for you later. Regarding the procurement, once you've reviewed the quantities, you can leave the buying to me. I can find people to get it much cheaper than if you tried to find your own way. Additionally, the mine will need an overseer to manage the men, keep watch, arrange the shifts, and ensure the workers aren't goldbricking or stealing tools to sell for scrap. My youngest son grew up in the mines near Casterly Rock; he's not my equal yet, but he certainly knows more than a layman..."
...
Egger smiled. Though he had never been a leader before his transmigration, his ancestors had summarized the principles of power quite elegantly: Profits should be shared, never monopolized; schemes should be kept private, never publicized. This meant that when planning grand designs, one must only consult with a few key, decisive individuals; democracy was forbidden. But when it came to execution, all participants must see a benefit; one must never try to do everything personally for fear of someone else getting a slice of the pie.
When the water is too clear, there are no fish. Stannis Baratheon didn't understand this principle, which was why he was disliked by nearly every noble in Westeros, high and low. Egger admired the man's sense of justice, but he had no desire to be a lonely pariah. Planning was for him and Tyrion alone. If the old miner wanted to help him with the mine while securing a future for his son—and perhaps skimming a bit off the tool procurement—it was perfectly acceptable.
"Very well. Since an expert has spoken, I shall trust you. Your son is hereby appointed as the overseer of this dragonglass mine, with full authority over the excavation. As for pay, let's start at a hundred silver stags a month; do well, and there will be bonuses." Egger nodded. "But one thing: the tool purchases, hiring, and travel expenses—everything must be clearly accounted for in the ledgers. I need to report these for reimbursement... the Night's Watch is not exactly overflowing with gold. Keep it reasonable."
"Thank the lord, boy." A monthly salary of a hundred stags was already quite high, especially when the overseer's job was light and had other potential perks. The old miner patted his son, who quickly did as he was told.
Heh, even the form of address has changed. Egger shook his head. "I'm no 'Lord,' just call me by my name. The work here needs to start as soon as possible. Keep the startup capital within a hundred gold dragons. I want the first shipment of obsidian sent to Eastwatch within a month. As for the amount... aim to fill that small merchant boat we took to get here."
"That's not much. It seems recruiting a dozen or so workers from the village will be enough."
"Good. You two discuss the details. Tyrion introduced you to me; I trust you."
"Thank you, my Lord."
"I told you I'm not... sigh, never mind." Egger shrugged. "Let's go. Before it gets dark, we should head back to the village. I promised you all a grand feast."
Egger soon encountered a deeply embarrassing situation: his promise of a "grand feast" for the three men who had accompanied him was proving difficult to fulfill.
It wasn't that the villagers were trying to fleece him—with Stannis's temperament, anyone caught overcharging guests on his lands would be tossed into the sea in short order. The problem Egger faced was having money but nothing to buy. He wanted to order pork, beef, or mutton—none to be found. Chicken, duck, or goose? Also missing. The only thing Dragonstone could provide was fish, and the young guide who lived here was clearly sick to death of it.
"Is it like this in the castle too?" Egger asked, puzzled. "If Lord Stannis wants to eat something other than fish, what does the cook do?"
"Every fortnight or so, a supply ship docks here. Whatever is on that ship determines the castle's diet until the next one arrives," the young guide replied helplessly. "It doesn't matter. We'll eat what's available. Fish soup and grilled fish are fine, so long as you're generous with the spices."
"In the future, when we send a ship of obsidian out every month, make sure they don't come back empty-handed. Have them bring some chickens, ducks, cattle, and sheep. Include it in the food budget and send half to Lord Stannis. Mining on his island without him mentioning taxes is a courtesy; the Night's Watch shouldn't take it for granted."
He rarely handled these trivial matters before his transmigration, but he knew how to do things with grace so that no one could complain—and some principles were universal across any era or land.
The old miner said the mine only needed a dozen people; no matter how much they ate, it wouldn't cost much. If Tyrion agreed to join his investment plan, these expenses would soon be trivial pocket change. Not to mention, the miners' food was technically a reimbursable expense for the Watch.
...
Ultimately, Egger forced his promise into reality—he paid three times the market rate to convince a villager to slaughter a laying hen for the main course, supplemented by several side dishes of various fish. He treated the young man who had guided him well; watching him ravenously gnaw on a chicken leg, it was clear he hadn't tasted poultry in months.
With food and drink in their bellies, the four sat drinking ale, continuing to discuss the mine. The slightly tipsy old miner had become the center of attention, regaling them with endless stories of his youth managing gold mines for House Lannister. Given his experience, he was certainly qualified to boast before three young men.
He reached the part where Lord Tywin, following the death of his father Tytos Lannister, returned from King's Landing to Casterly Rock and ordered his father's mistress—who had tried to grasp power—to be stripped naked and paraded through the streets of Lannisport. The opposite sex was always a reliable topic when men gathered; Egger, though he found it a bit crass, still listened with interest... Just as the old miner began to vividly describe the woman's pale, bare skin, the door to the house suddenly creaked open.
A woman walked into the room.
"The very first guest of the Night's Watch on Dragonstone, and no one thought to inform me?"
Before Egger could even turn his head to see the newcomer, the young guide sent by Stannis had already set down his cup and stood up in sheer trepidation. "Lady Melisandre, why have you come?"
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