AN :
Next goal for another extra chapter is 400 power stones.
In the Game of Stones, you either win or you wait. The more Power Stones you offer, the faster the chapters come.
...
( Tywin Lannister POV )
Tywin set down the letter from Kevan in front of him, before glancing over at the one from Callum, scratching at his neck with a frown on his face. If either one of them had sent such news without the other, Tywin would have had difficulty believing it. Both, however…
Tywin tugged at his forehead. Callum's Printing Press was a clever invention and one that had already done great things for Lannister prestige. It was no doubt one of the greatest works of the age.
But bottling lightning? Using it to create a glass torch that burned as bright as the moon? That was beyond the work of just a clever mind. Callum maintained in his letter that there was no sorcery in it, and had even included a very loose explanation of how it worked in his letter, but Tywin found it hard to believe. Kevan also expressed doubts in his letter. Tywin's brother thought that perhaps Callum had discovered some new form of sorcery without intending to.
It was moderately amusing. Many were the men who claimed to wield magic but instead practiced parlor tricks, or claimed to tell fortunes but sold only lies and estimations. Here instead was his son stealing lightning from the heavens and calling it little more than a complex form of blacksmithing.
Or rather it would be amusing if it wasn't his own child getting involved in sorcery. Magic had a poor reputation for a reason after all, no matter whether more respectable sorts like the Pyromancers claimed otherwise. Tywin was no expert, but rumors of blood sacrifice and terrible curses were enough to make most men, small-folk, and Lord alike shun such things. Harmless Callum's work might be for now, but sorcery rarely boded well for its practitioners or those around them.
The thought that Callum might be right, and it indeed was not sorcery at all, did not make it less dangerous, not necessarily. Especially with Callum still so young, a fountain of the invention. Tywin needed to slow him down, at any rate, move him back towards safer things, like political treatises, or swordplay.
Tywin did let out a low chuckle at that thought.
'still…' Tywin sighed as he glanced over at Callum's letter once again, at the sketch contained within.
A lighthouse stood stop the very peak of the Rock, thrice the height of Oldtown's Hightower when factoring in the mountain castle beneath it. It would be built over the existing tower there, and his son's study, and capped with a golden statue (or a gold-plated bronze statue, as his son's notes suggested) of the boy's mother.
Tywin's fingers crinkled the paper at the edges of the drawing, he didn't remember when he had picked it up. The idea of it stirred his heart, the potential of his son's device, sorcerous or not, to blaze through day and night as a tribute to Tywin's lost love.
No one would accuse Tywin Lannister of being a romantic man, but such a gesture was appealing to even his cold heart.
He tugged at his eyes gently. 'that boy is unreasonable with this. How can I deny it?' He knew that of all his children, Callum had been the closest to Joanna, and ultimately, closest to Tywin as well. He appreciated Callum's letters, as he was sure the boy himself had noticed.
His mind cycles through pragmatic excuses, lighthouses did have a practical purpose after all, and it would certainly be an ostentatious display of House Lannister's Wealth and Power…
Tywin grumbled to himself and began to write. One letter to Kevan, and one to Callum. It didn't matter how intelligent his second son was, or how much he liked his ideas. The boy needed to slow down, he was pursuing too many things at once, and with such activity came risks. One need only look at King Aerys to see how a man with good ideas could fit between them like a mayfly and never get anything properly done. Now, Callum had probably already achieved more than Aerys ever would in his life, but that was beside the point. Tywin wrote his orders clearly.
Callum would be allowed to continue his ongoing projects, the little Citadel he was building, the printing of the Seven-Pointed Star, and this lighthouse for Joanna, but no more than that.
Once the Lighthouse was completed, which should not take more than a year, Callum would be squired and sent off somewhere to hopefully slow his charge a bit and give the boy time to grow up. That was the best solution at the moment. If Tywin let him squire for Ser Ilyn or Kevan, or some other household knight at the Rock, he suspected the boy would continue on much as he already was.
Tywin frowned for a moment, considering where exactly the boy should go. He had put a great deal of thought already into where Jaime ought to end up, but not a great deal towards his precocious second child. It ought to be in the Westerlands, someone under Tywin's control, less his son be put to work making presses or something instead of properly squired, perhaps Lord Crakehall or-
The Hand of the King blinked, as a thought arose, and he had his answer. Callum was immensely talented and intelligent but lacked martial rigor, so who better to squire for than Tygett? The man was on the north coast, far from the boy's multitudinous projects in Lannisport, and Callum could stand to be bloodied a little against the Ironborn 'fishermen' that were pestering Tywin's subjects.
While the bloody marauders were fearsome on the sea, Tygett would be more than capable of keeping Callum safe while their feet were on the ground. The Ironborn were never any good against cavalry, and Tygett was a masterful rider and a born knight.
As he finished scribbling out his orders, including a short explanation of his reasoning for Callum, he went to reach for another parchment, only to be stopped by a knock at the door.
Tywin glanced out the balcony window to the moon rising high over the Blackwater bay. It had better not be something frivolous to bother him at this hour. "Who is it?" he asked curtly, raising his voice.
"Me, Father." Cersei's voice came from the door, and Tywin let the tension lesson somewhat from his shoulders. Not a scheming courtier pestering him over something or other then, just his daughter coming to visit him in the office. He supposed he had missed dinner.
"Come in," Tywin said, leaning back in his chair a bit. "Have you eaten?" he asked as she opened the door. Cersei was growing quickly these days into a beautiful young woman, shooting up like a beansprout when he wasn't looking, her chest had even started to develop a bit.
That was honestly concerning, Tywin was hoping to go a few more years before he had to start rendering courtiers into Eunuchs. Since Rhaegar was getting married it wasn't even useful on that front. Cersei was hardly going to have a chance to catch the babe Prince Viserys' eye for many years yet. Thankfully, for now, she was a bit gangly and awkward, unused to her growing height, but Tywin could see his daughter would grow beautiful, and that would no doubt be a blessing and a curse.
"I haven't," Cersei said, shaking her head. "Father, I've come to discuss something important with you," she said quickly, and Tywin raised an eyebrow. Her voice was a bit ragged, so perhaps she had been crying.
Of course, in the time he had known his daughter, that only gave it roughly even odds of being serious or frivolous. At any rate, she needed to be calmed down before she'd speak sense. "We will discuss it after the servants bring something up from the kitchens. I haven't eaten either." Tywin rang the small silver bell on his desk and quickly barked an order that had the maid who answered running to the kitchens to fetch whatever they had hot and ready to eat.
"Father I-" the girl pressed to continue, but Tywin wasn't having it, she needed to take a moment to breathe or she'd just go on and on without thinking. Cersei was fine enough when she stopped to think. She could even be clever at times, unlike most women, but she needed to learn to pause and consider, to think about her position and get out of her own head.
Tywin raised his finger. "We will speak while we eat," he said sternly, before allowing his expression to soften minutely. "You must learn to be more patient Cersei, I've spoken to you often about this."
The wind seemed to fall from Cersei's sails. "Yes… yes, Father, I'm sorry."
Tywin nodded calmly, accepting her apology. Tywin nodded slowly, before glancing away from her, down at his desk, where he had just finished writing out letters for Kevan and Callum. Cersei seemed to notice his gaze and glanced down at them curiously. "Oh!" she said, suddenly regaining her energy. "Are you writing to Callum?"
"And your Uncle Kevan, yes." Tywin mulled over whether he ought to tell Cersei about Callum's latest project, deciding she'd hear about it anyway in time, he bobbed his head lightly. "Your brother has discovered a means by which to bottle lightning, and use it as a torch."
Cersei blinked, staring straight into Tywin's eyes with clear surprise. "Um… Is that… Father is that a thing which can be done?"
"Kevan attests that he's done so, and Callum's included a drawing of the device as well." Tywin offered the letter Callum had sent to Cersei, along with the sketches of the 'Arc-Lamp' and the Lighthouse.
Cersei scanned the letter quickly, under her breath Tywin heard her mumble something about how pretty her brother's handwriting was before she gasped suddenly. "I remember these!"
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