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299 AC
Bolton Lands
Unmarked Testing Grounds
Boom.
Boom.
Boom.
The earth answered the cannons like a living thing, trembling beneath each thunderous report. Cast iron roared, smoke belched skyward, and the sound rolled outward in chained echoes that refused to die quickly.
Twelve guns fired in sequence.
Eight hundred meters away, the timber targets ceased to be targets at all. Clumsy lumber walls shattered, oaken plabks screamed as they tore loose, and the ground beyond them was gouged out as if clawed by something vast and unseen.
This weapon could fire well beyond the reach of any scorpion that was larger, stronger, or more finely made than any siege engine Westeros had ever fielded.
The barrels were threaded internally, subtle grooves etched with care. The round/artillery bit into those threads as it flew, stabilizing its path, denying inaccuracies.
In theory, they could fire well beyond a mile.
But in practice, accuracy at that distance was questionable.
Still, I doubted such excess would ever be required.
"My lord," Wisdom Hogarth said, unable to keep the proud tremor from his voice, "as you can plainly see, the powder has been perfected."
'Well he was getting carried away, I wouldn't say perfected but it was acceptable ' I thought to myself.
"You have exceeded expectations, Wisdom," I said aloud. "Your name will endure long after this age has passed."
The praise landed exactly as intended. He straightened, pride blooming across his face like rot beneath fresh paint.
"You honor me, Lord Domeric," he said, almost breathless.
The apprentice who had fled his secret laboratory awhile back had long been caught and he was hanged at dawn. No trial, no questions. Some knowledge could not be allowed to wander. His corpse had been left on a pike outside the facility long enough for every craftsman and scholar involved to understand the price of treachery and disloyalty.
Caro stood with me, silent as ever, his sharp eyes missing nothing. Beside him was Rigmond now "High Scholar", by my decree.
The Citadel shall no longer hold a monopoly on learning. He would ensure of this, the vision had started, and in the future it shall be fully realized.
We were building our own institutions, one along the coast at Acanon, another deep within the Dreadfort's own expanding town/city itself. Knowledge would no longer flow south. It would be gathered, refined, and controlled here.
Even my Praetorians, men hardened by blood and enhanced by magic and obedience shifted uneasily at the noise.
I had been bound for the Wall that morning. But the testing grounds lay close, and moments like this demanded witnesses as the Wisdom had told me of the powder's readiness.
The Wall could wait.
There would be enough time to speak with Lord Commander Jeor Mormont, about the dead that walked, the cold things that watched from the dark, and the living threat pressing south under a single banner.
Mance Rayder.
"Magnificent," Caro finally said, awe slipping past his restraint.
Black powder would rewrite the nature of power.
Stone would crumble. Steel would fail. Wood would vanish. And Armies… they would break without ever closing for battle.
Nothing built by men could stand against this new foe.
And if Westeros still refused to kneel to him then it would be taught how, by steel and ash.
And the world beyond it would follow.
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Smoke clung stubbornly to the field, drifting low and heavy, stinging the eyes and coating the tongue with bitterness. Downrange, the inspection crews hesitated. No one was eager to approach what had been erased so thoroughly.
One man finally knelt where a target had once stood.
There was nothing left to examine.
Rigmond exhaled slowly. "This ends the age of walls," he said, more to himself than anyone else.
"A farce," I replied. "It ends the illusion that walls were ever enough, dragons showed us and I'll remind the world."
Caro turned his gaze from the wreckage to me. "With enough of these," he said, "the entire could not be held against you"
"I expect nothing else my friend," I said simply.
Wisdom Hogarth edged closer, emboldened. "With refinement, my lord, improved casting, tighter measures, we could reduce misfires. Increase consistency. Perhaps even…"
"Focus on reliability and the casting's durability ," I cut in.
He nodded quickly. "Of course."
I mounted soon after. My escort was rather larger than custom demanded a bit over 40 riders, praetorians and more personal knights and household guards. A precaution in case I was to be ambushed, but I would soon meet my army at the border to umber lands on the kings road, a band of 1500 men drawn directly from the reserve would accompany me . The veterans of the war south had been sent home to rest and recuperate.
I wanted them prepared and well rested for a new offensive that were to come. Some would be promoted and serve as officers and so their well being was taken in hand.
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One Man to Rule them
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