A Book of Ice and Fire / Game of Thrones : Magic Network

On the stone steps outside the Alchemists' Guild, Joffrey amused himself by toying with the fire spirit nestled in his palm.

The diminutive golden figure, standing but an inch tall, clutched a crystal nearly as large as itself, steadfastly ignoring its ill-tempered master's provocations.

After a portion of its essence had been devoured by the inheritance mark, the Fire Child now called "Little Gold" could manifest a solid form no taller than four inches at its fullest extent. To exceed this size would cause its form to grow increasingly tenuous and transparent, with the flames comprising its body becoming wild and unmanageable.

Little Gold had reluctantly accepted this four-inch limitation.

Yet its master, addressed by others as "Your Grace," had forced it to shrink smaller and smaller until it could be contained within the cup of his palm, preventing it from easily returning to its natural dimensions.

How could it endure such indignity?

Little Gold drew another sip of magic power from the crystal it embraced; so sweet, so reassuring, filling its being entirely.

Yes, it could endure this after all.

Without warning, a powerful force thrust upward from beneath. Little Gold watched as everything seemed to plummet downward with alarming speed. Then the palm beneath it suddenly inverted, tossing the tiny being onto a field of shimmering gold.

Two enormous fingers plucked the precious crystal from its arms, but mercifully, the magic contained within continued to flow upward, suffusing Little Gold's form.

Dazed, it clambered to its feet.

The golden meadow upon which it stood was encircled by a ring of gleaming walls, their surfaces adorned with curved, intertwining golden branches that formed intricate patterns of surprising beauty.

Gold. Crown. Little Gold recalled these words from some forgotten memory. This, then, was the top of its master's head.

Just as this realization dawned, the entire world spun violently, hurling Little Gold through the air. It crashed against the unyielding metal of the crown and hastily clung to the decorative branches for dear life.

Joffrey turned his head to address Hallyne, who walked beside him. "The Alchemists' Guild has performed admirably this time. What reward do you seek? Name it."

Hallyne bowed with practiced humility. "It is entirely due to Your Grace's divine favor that the Fire Child was successfully brought into being. Moreover, to have personally participated in such a miracle is already the highest honor—how could I presume to ask for any reward?"

He frequently glanced upward at the Fire Child perched upon the King's crown, his heart torn between pride and disappointment.

He had witnessed with his own eyes that while the Guild's inherited spells and rituals had indeed proven useful in the Fire Child's creation, the King's divine power had played an even more crucial role.

Without that divine grace, could the Guild ever hope to replicate such a marvel?

This thought kindled in Hallyne a burning desire to remove the Fire Child from atop the King's head for closer study—perhaps even to claim it for himself.

But Hallyne was not yet mad enough to attempt such folly.

"Hallyne, what would be the total price for ten thousand jars of wildfire?" Joffrey asked abruptly.

The Alchemists' Guild was not directly subordinate to the Iron Throne. To procure ten thousand jars of wildfire from the pyromancers would obviously require substantial payment.

Hearing the King's question, Hallyne's mind raced through countless possibilities.

Surely the King already knows our price. Does he think it too dear? Or does he wish to increase his order? Perhaps he intends to raise the price as a reward?

Not daring to maintain his silence for too long, Hallyne spoke quickly. "In truth, Your Grace, the wildfire manufacturing process carries extreme dangers. Over the years, assistants and apprentices have suffered unfortunate accidents, and the Guild must provide for their bereaved families."

Hallyne sought to defend his brethren's worth. "There are also costs for raw materials, daily expenses, safety measures, and debts accrued from past wildfire production. All manner of expenditures accumulate, making our work... not inexpensive."

"In total, ten thousand gold dragons." He carefully studied the King's expression for any hint of displeasure.

This was the price they had originally agreed upon.

Ten thousand gold dragons—when he had first quoted this sum, Hallyne had summoned considerable courage.

It was well known that ten thousand jars represented the Guild's largest commission in recent memory. The Guild's operations for years, perhaps even decades to come, might well depend upon this transaction.

Hallyne had felt compelled to inflate the price somewhat above the true cost.

After all, if they hoped to restore the Guild to its former glory, to attract fresh talent, and to conduct further research, gold was essential.

Of course, two or three thousand gold dragons would have been acceptable as well.

Yet remarkably, the royal treasury had accepted the price of ten thousand dragons without the slightest haggling.

Could the King now regret such generosity?

Contemplating the recent clearing operations in King's Landing and the King's Holy War army, Hallyne bowed even deeper, striving to convey utmost respect and submission.

Even one thousand gold dragons would suffice.

Joffrey regarded him with a dispassionate gaze. "You are familiar with the Research Department, I presume?"

Indeed, Hallyne knew this name well.

The Research Department, established barely a month past, had already garnered considerable renown throughout King's Landing.

Common folk whispered that the department housed mad scholars and monstrous aberrations, forever devising novel methods of dealing death and conducting inexplicable experiments.

To Hallyne, however, these sounded like kindred spirits. Were not the alchemists themselves slandered in much the same fashion by ignorant masses?

Hallyne also knew certain secrets withheld from most.

The Research Department's director—the notorious "Ogre" Qyburn—had been tasked with studying divine power and the divine power light screen!

Hallyne could scarcely contain his envy. He had already experienced Qyburn's remarkable achievements firsthand.

Before this very day, heeding the divine power light screen's prompting, Hallyne had prayed twice at the Prayer Stone.

After each prayer, Hallyne had noted subtle changes in the light screen itself. Some texts vanished, certain patterns and operations transformed, and the assigned tasks grew increasingly refined and frequent.

Following his second prayer, the light screen had begun to impart knowledge of writing and history, and revealed a vast "Sea of Books" containing seemingly limitless wisdom.

Hallyne had immersed himself in this Sea of Books for two days before realizing that its contents multiplied faster than any mortal could possibly absorb.

The light screen had assigned him the task "Accumulating Streams into the Sea." Hallyne had gathered several ancient scrolls, which the light screen had successfully incorporated into its repository, rewarding him with points for his efforts.

These points served little practical purpose as yet, being exchangeable only for grades of honor—symbols that looked impressive but held no tangible value.

Yet Hallyne suspected that these points would prove more valuable in time. The reason was simple: neither the King nor Qyburn would cease their ambitious pursuits.

Hallyne looked up at his sovereign.

What had Qyburn been before? Merely a scholar expelled from the Citadel. Now, by the King's favor alone...

By the King's favor, Qyburn had helped create the divine power light screen, applying his knowledge and wisdom to transform all of King's Landing—changes that would soon reshape the Seven Kingdoms, perhaps even the entire world.

This was truly the happiest home a wise man could hope for.

The Research Department.

The King's eyes remained calm and fathomless, and Hallyne believed he understood His Grace's intention.

He dropped to one knee. "Your Grace, I require no reward save this: allow me to join the Research Department. Hallyne will devote his heart and soul, offering eternal loyalty, exploring the power of divine grace and the mysteries of magic in Your Grace's name."

Joffrey nodded slightly. "The wisdom of Hallyne certainly merits such a position. However, this alone seems insufficient reward for your service."

Joffrey gently raised Hallyne to his feet. "All members of the Alchemists' Guild may join the Research Department and establish an Alchemy branch. You shall remain their director, equal in station to Qyburn himself. Does this arrangement please you?"

Hallyne then knew that the ten thousand gold dragons were utterly beyond reach.

"I am humbled by Your Grace's generosity."

Joffrey finally mounted his white stag and returned to the Red Keep, well satisfied with the day's accomplishments.

Halfway to his destination, Alyn, the Minister of Security, sent a rare message via the light screen: "Archmaester Marwyn of the Citadel has entered King's Landing."

Joffrey sighed softly. Today had proven busier than expected.

"Summon him to my presence," he commanded.

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