Chapter 109 — Daemon's Ambition, the Order's Arms
Sea snails, in groups, crawled over the pure white cloth, as pristine as first snow, leaving trails of color: some crimson, some indigo, some purplish-gold.
It was thanks to these sea snails that Tyrosh became wealthy, becoming the world's center for dyes, and fostering many famous tailors, weavers, and master dyers.
Galiano, the Tyroshi tailor, was one of Tyrosh's most renowned tailors and a master of the Dyers' Guild. He was short and thin, with his hair and thick beard dyed a deep green and blood-red. Galiano proudly showed Daemon the Tyroshi sea snails.
"Father of Dragons, the sea snails of Tyrosh are a gift from the gods. Wealthy merchants and nobles from all over the world, if they wish to wear vibrant colors, cannot do without Tyroshi dyes, and Tyroshi dyes come from these very sea snails."
"Princes and nobles from all over the world, whether it's the Queen of the Summer Isles, the princes and generals of Yi Ti, the lords of Westeros, the ancient dosh khaleen of the Dothraki holy city of Vaes Dothrak, the noblewomen of icy Ibben, the courtesans and the Sea Lord's lovers of Braavos, the elegantly deadly assassins of the secret city streets, the famous courtesans of Lys's brothels, the princesses and priestesses of pleasure from the Summer Isles, the bed slaves of Qarth—if they wish to dress splendidly and beautifully, then they must meekly pay Tyrosh."
Now they had to pay Daemon. Even Otto Hightower in King's Landing, Prince Viserys, and the Prince of Dorne would depend on Daemon's dyes for their splendid silk cloaks in the future.
After the Westerosi army captured Tyrosh, some dye-works were destroyed in the war, but many dyes in the warehouses and sea snails in the breeding grounds survived. Daemon pardoned over eight hundred dyer slaves, tailor slaves, and weaving slaves, freeing them and merging some workshops to establish the Dragon's Grand Dye-Works.
Through Daemon's coercion and enticement, the Dragon's Grand Dye-Works quickly monopolized Tyrosh's dye secrets.
Tyrosh was initially just a colony of the Freehold of Valyria, a military outpost guarding the north-south shipping lanes of the Stepstones. At first, Tyrosh was sparsely populated, with pitifully few villages beside the fortress, until people discovered sea snails in the surrounding waters. They found that these snails could secrete a viscous fluid which, when properly processed, could be made into a deep red, almost black dye. Clothes dyed with this color quickly became popular in Valyria and Volantis, becoming a favorite of the Dragonlords at feasts.
Because these snails could not be found elsewhere, merchants from Valyria, Volantis, and other places flocked to Tyrosh. Some merchants tried to bring the snails back to their homelands for breeding, but these snails would all die as soon as they left the waters near Tyrosh. The merchants, left with no choice, brought their families and settled in Tyrosh. Soon, more and more slaves were brought by some merchants, and ships from all over the world came to Tyrosh to trade, causing the port to become crowded.
In just one generation, Tyrosh grew from a seaside town into a city. As time passed, Tyrosh's dyeing technology continuously upgraded. Dyers soon discovered that by changing the snails' diet, the snails could secrete mucus of different colors, thus producing a rainbow of dyes: lemon yellow, crimson, deep blue, azure...
Over the next few centuries, Tyroshi dyers, with the aid of alchemy and even sorcery, were able to produce hundreds of shades of color. These dyes could not only color clothes but also serve as cosmetics to dye beards and hair, and even be used to color buildings and armor. The magnificent tall towers, temples, and brothels along the Tyroshi coast were all vibrantly colored.
The squires, Matthew Tyrell and Tyland Lannister, were very fond of these magical snails. Matthew Tyrell opened his palm, watching a snail crawl across it, leaving a golden-yellow trail of mucus.
Matthew Tyrell said, "I want to use this snail to color my shield. I want the golden rose to bloom on my shield."
Tyland Lannister gave a faint smile. "Gold is the color of House Lannister. I not only plan to adorn my shield with gold, but I also want to plate my spurs, saddle, and sword hilt with gold and crimson."
Seeing the heir of Highgarden and the second son of Casterly Rock arguing incessantly, Lord Rodrik Dustin, the Tomb Wolf, could barely conceal his disdain.
"A bunch of young squires in springtime, only knowing how to bicker and quarrel. Even when winter comes, they still won't grow up."
Tyland Lannister heard this and looked defiant.
"Tomb Wolf, you should really dress yourself up! Look at your grey wool tunic and grey breeches, so shabby! You are a lord of the North—why do you dress like a soldier?"
Lord Rodrik Dustin gave a wry smile.
"Boy, you should go see the North. No matter if you wear gold, crimson, or deep green, in the icy snow of the North, as the snow falls silently, the forests, hills, graves, and roads are all white. Ice and cold winds will rule everything."
Tyland Lannister gave an indifferent smile.
"I like snow. Last winter, it snowed in Casterly Rock, and we had snowball fights."
Matthew Tyrell said, "I've never seen snow. In the future, I dream of going to the end of the world to see the Wall. Lord Dustin, you should wear a vibrant silk cloak. This isn't the North; you need to learn to adapt to local customs."
The tailor Galiano chuckled.
"If this lord wishes for clothes, he can always come to me. Any color is possible, you know."
Galiano, along with squires Tyland Lannister and Matthew Tyrell, left.
Lord Rodrik Dustin turned to Daemon.
"Those two brats, Tyland and Matthew, are as green as grass. They can't fence worth a damn, but they've already started learning to dress up. They've never seen a true winter."
Daemon chuckled.
"Young people are always vain and love bright colors. Besides, winter's impact here is limited."
The Tomb Wolf slowly nodded.
"Indeed. The North is already covered in ice and snow, yet it's still sunny here. Prince Daemon, if you hadn't launched this expedition, many old people in the North would have gone hunting in the forests and been buried by the heavy snow amidst the cold and hunger. When spring came and the snow melted, people would only find their bones."
"You have changed their fate. The Winter Wolves will fight for you to the end. However, I worry that beautiful women and fine wine will make the Winter Wolves lose their fighting spirit."
Daemon chuckled.
"Who knows how many more years this winter will last? This might be some people's last winter. There's nothing wrong with enjoying themselves while they can, and besides, they haven't neglected their military training."
The four thousand additional warriors from the North arrived in Tyrosh, most of them white-haired old men.
These Northerners and the veteran soldiers under Lord Dustin quickly discovered that Tyrosh's brandy was far better than the North's ale. The women here were passionately fiery, and many spent their days, apart from training, drinking and having fun.
Lord Rodrik Dustin sighed.
"Actually, I don't blame them. Even I'm starting to enjoy the sunshine here."
Mysaria, the Lysene girl beside him, laughed.
"Lord Dustin, you really should go see Lys! Lys is the true sunny coast. Lys is like a sweet girl, while Tyrosh is a seductive old woman, relying on perfume and bright clothes to hide her aging."
If Daemon had not intervened, Mysaria would have been forced into prostitution, but now she served as Daemon's handmaiden.
At night, Daemon and a company of Kingsguard walked through the streets of Tyrosh.
The largest brazier burned at the Temple of R'hllor, the Lord of Light.
Not far away, a mansion had been converted into a Sept of the Seven.
Ser Ronald Florent approached with a company of Reach knights.
"Prince Daemon, in the battle for Tyrosh, many brave squires and freeriders were knighted."
Under the guidance of the Seven, our Westerosi army will surely conquer the Three Daughters."
Daemon nodded.
"Ser Ronald, we will soon advance. You must sharpen your sword."
Later, when Daemon drew his blade in the alley, the steel gleamed silver-white.
"Who is it?" he demanded, his hand on Dark Sister.
The woman stepped into the moonlight.
Red Priestess Helen smiled.
"Prince Daemon… you have become a lost dragon."
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