Chapter 63:
Red Keep, Tower of the Hand, Master Bedroom.
The night was deep, but the snow glow outside the window and the shock from the miraculous "glass orb" earlier ensured that no one would sleep tonight.
The fire in the hearth burned brightly, driving away the winter chill.
Margaery Tyrell leaned against the headboard in a loose silk nightgown. Her four-month pregnant belly was beautifully rounded — showing maternal radiance while still retaining a maiden's charm.
In her hands, however, she held neither embroidery nor a book of poetry. Instead, she was reading the revenue report for the [Wired Telegraph Network] and the business plan Victor had just drawn up for the [King's Landing Electric Power Company (Preparatory)].
"Victor, you really are a madman… and a genius."
Margaery put down the parchment. Her beautiful brown eyes sparkled with the gleam of gold coins.
"That glowing glass orb (light bulb) — if we sold it to the Citadel in Oldtown or the rich merchants of Braavos, even at a hundred gold dragons each, they would fight over it."
"A hundred gold dragons?"
Victor had just finished bathing. He walked over bare-chested, drying his wet hair.
He smiled and shook his head, sitting on the edge of the bed and naturally placing his hand on Margaery's belly.
"My dear, you're still too conservative."
"The bulb itself isn't worth much — just glass and tungsten filament. The cost is less than ten copper pennies."
Victor explained, "What's truly valuable is electricity."
"It's like how we don't sell carriages, but we set up toll stations on the road. As long as they install the lights, every day, every minute the lamps are on, they will have to pay House Pompey."
Margaery was stunned for a moment, then gasped.
As a political creature raised by House Tyrell, she instantly understood the terrifying nature of this business model.
This was monopoly.
And it was a monopoly over light — far more frightening than one over grain.
"This… this is outright robbery."
Margaery murmured, "But they will line up to let us rob them."
"Exactly."
Victor leaned down and gave her a light kiss on the lips.
"So, I plan to establish the [Pompey Royal Electric Power Company]."
"You will be the chairman. I'm giving 40% of the shares to the child in your belly."
"This is the 'milk powder money' I'm giving to our second child."
Margaery's eyes instantly turned red.
She knew Augustus was the eldest son, backed by that terrifying warship. She had always worried that her own child would have no position in the future.
But now?
Controlling electricity meant controlling the economic lifeline of the empire.
"Thank you, Victor."
Margaery hugged his neck emotionally and buried her face in the crook of his neck.
"I will guard this family fortune for our child. All the gold of Highgarden will be used to lay power lines from now on."
Victor felt the woman's dependence in his arms and nodded inwardly with satisfaction.
Family harmony (√).
By binding Highgarden with利益, Margaery would focus on making money, freeing him to concentrate on military industry.
…
The next morning.
King's Landing, Rhaenys's Dragonpit.
This once-magnificent ruin that had housed Targaryen dragons had now been completely transformed by the Pompey Engineering Corps.
The huge dome had been repaired and covered with reinforced glass bearing anti-spying coatings.
An unassuming yet awe-inspiring bronze plaque hung above the main gate:
[Pompey Royal Magitech Academy]
[No Unauthorized Entry. Violators Will Bear the Consequences.]
Victor walked through the gates with Tyrion.
The moment they entered, a wave of heat carrying the mixed smells of sulfur, ozone, and formalin hit them.
The vast circular space was divided into several zones.
On the left was the "Mechanical Zone," where dozens of steam-powered machine tools roared as they cut precise gears.
On the right was the "Biological Zone," with rows of glass jars containing exotic specimens collected from around the world (including the frozen-shattered flame wyrm).
In the very center — the core of the former dragon nesting area —
Two figures in white coats were arguing heatedly around a massive furnace glowing with blue light.
One was Maester Marwyn, with his rugged face and Valyrian steel chain.
The other was the thin, gloomy-eyed Qyburn, who had once been stripped of his maester's chain by the Citadel.
These two men, regarded as "heretics" and "madmen" by mainstream academia, now looked like long-lost brothers.
"No! No!"
Marwyn waved a pair of pliers, spitting as he spoke.
"The frequency of the magic circuit is too high! It will make the steel brittle! We need to add more obsidian powder to stabilize it!"
"But Doctor," Qyburn pushed up his glasses, his voice calm yet fanatical, "if we don't increase the frequency, how do we simulate the high temperature of dragonfire? We are trying to make Valyrian steel, not kitchen knives. I believe we should increase the voltage."
"Ahem."
Victor cleared his throat.
Both men turned at once.
"My lord!"
Qyburn quickly bowed. Marwyn merely nodded, still not fully out of the argument.
"How is the progress?"
Victor walked up to the massive furnace.
This was the [Prototype Magitech Blast Furnace] built according to the system's reward blueprints.
Since the land-based power station was not yet complete, Victor had ordered the Nautilus docked at the foot of the hill, transmitting the energy of the Heart of the Titan through thick cables to this location.
"Extremely… remarkable."
Qyburn pointed at the instrument panel on the control console, unable to hide the fanaticism in his eyes.
"Following your blueprints, we successfully converted electrical energy into high-frequency magic oscillations."
"Last night, we tested it with a piece of ordinary pig iron."
Qyburn picked up an iron ingot from the table and handed it to Victor.
The surface of the ingot showed an attractive dark rippled pattern. It was extremely heavy and… faintly warm to the touch.
"This is low-grade Valyrian steel."
Marwyn added, "Although its hardness and toughness are only 30% of true Valyrian steel, it is already stronger than any knight's sword currently in use. Most importantly…"
The old man grinned, showing his red-stained teeth.
"As long as the electricity keeps flowing, we can produce as much as we want."
"Excellent."
Victor nodded in satisfaction.
Even 30% performance was overwhelming. If his entire army was equipped with this "mass-produced Valyrian steel swords" and "Valyrian steel plate armor," what war would there even be? It would be a steamroller.
"Mass production plan approved."
Victor waved his hand decisively. "Tyrion, allocate the funds. Also, have the North ship more obsidian over."
"But my lord, there is still one problem."
Marwyn suddenly turned serious.
He pointed at the dome above.
"During our experiments, we detected a strange interference wave."
"It came from… the sky."
"The sky?" Victor frowned.
"Yes." Marwyn took out a recording sheet covered in chaotic waveforms.
"Every time our magic furnace activates, something in the sky responds. It's as if… some ancient pact has been triggered."
"Moreover, Lady Daenerys's three dragons have been very restless lately. They keep perching on top of the Dragonpit and roaring toward the North."
Victor's heart stirred.
The North.
Beyond the Wall of the Far North.
The Others.
As magitech industry revived and the tide of magic returned (with the birth of dragons and the red comet), the things sleeping in the lands of eternal winter seemed to have sensed the threat.
"Ignore them for now."
Victor gave a cold laugh.
"When my internal combustion engines are ready, when my armored divisions are formed…"
"If they don't come to me, I'll go find them."
…
Meanwhile.
Red Keep, Maegor's Holdfast, Queen's Chambers.
Daenerys sat on the balcony, basking in the weak winter sunlight.
Although she had only been pregnant for a few days, she had already become quite sleepy.
At her feet, the three dragons — Drogon (black), Rhaegal (green), and Viserion (golden) — were curled up together, napping.
"Your Grace."
The handmaiden (the loyal Missandei this time) walked in quietly.
"Lady Sansa Stark requests an audience."
Daenerys opened her eyes. A flicker of surprise appeared in her violet gaze.
"The wolf of the North? Let her in."
Sansa entered.
She wore a thick white wool cloak trimmed with direwolf fur. Her face was still pale, but her eyes held a determination that had never been there before.
She carried an exquisite gift box in her hands.
"Queen Regent."
Sansa performed a perfect court curtsy.
"I heard you… have happy news. This is a special Northron herbal tonic for safe pregnancy. I brought it especially for you."
"Thank you."
Daenerys gestured for Missandei to accept it. She studied Sansa carefully.
She could sense the anxiety radiating from the girl.
As fellow women of Victor, Daenerys understood the cruelty of this "competition" all too well.
"You look… troubled, Lady Stark," Daenerys said.
Sansa bit her lip, then suddenly raised her head and looked straight into Daenerys's eyes.
"Queen Regent, you have dragons. Lady Margaery has gold. Sister Alice has the eldest son."
"And I… I only have this blood of the North."
"I wish to go to Winterfell."
Sansa spoke suddenly. Her voice was soft, but every word was clear.
"Priestess Melisandre says that only in the godswood, under the gaze of the Old Gods, can I awaken the dormant power within me."
"I would like to ask you… if my lord asks, please support my decision."
Daenerys was somewhat surprised.
She hadn't expected this seemingly delicate "little bird" to have such strong determination just to bear a child.
She was even willing to seek help from that eerie red priestess.
Daenerys smiled.
She rose from her lounge chair, walked over to Sansa, and gently took her hand.
"We are all doing this for House Pompey."
"If your child can inherit the resilience of the North, that will be a good thing for Victor."
"Go ahead, Sansa."
Daenerys stroked Drogon beside her.
"If my lord disagrees, I will whisper on your behalf in bed."
"After all… the more brothers and sisters there are, the less lonely my child will be in the future."
Sansa gave her a grateful look and bowed deeply.
"Thank you."
As she turned to leave, Sansa tightly clutched the small bottle of blue liquid hidden beneath her cloak — the [Winter's Flower] extract.
That was her final gamble.
Just wait, she swore silently in her heart.
What I will give birth to will be a true King of Winter.
…
Night fell.
Victor returned to the bedroom and found a new itinerary on the table.
[In three days: Depart for an inspection tour of the North.]
[Accompanying personnel: Sansa Stark, Melisandre.]
[Purpose: Inspect Northern coal mines, and… "family team-building."]
Victor glanced at Sansa, who was quietly packing luggage, then at the flashing [Internal Combustion Engine Technology] reward in the system quest panel.
He smiled and blew out the candle.
"Looks like this winter, we're going to play some ice and snow activities."
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