Before the meeting started Ezra had the whole morning setting up the apparatus. His retinue helped him move it, level it, and keep people out of the way, but for the demonstration he did not want them doing the pressing and punching. He requested two clerks from Rowan's office so the council would see that this was not a craftsman's trick.
When the council arrived, they arrived together along with Reitz. Galwell had attendants place a long table and chairs facing the press and the punch frame. The setup was simple: sit, watch, decide.
The council studied the contraption. Corvin's eyes went to the screw and the lever. Draffen's eyes went to the frame joints and the alignment points. Kestel's eyes went to the punch cradle and the seal blanks on the table. Ashen looked at who was standing close enough to touch it.
Reitz sat at the head of the table. Corvin Rufus sat to his right, already with a ledger open. Kestel Rowan sat to his left, seal-case beside his hand. Draffen was there too, sleeves rolled even here, posture slightly forward like he wanted to get back to work. Ashen stood behind and to the side, arms folded, eyes moving over everyone as if they were possible problems. Grimfire stood off to the side, quiet.
Reitz opened first. "So, Ezra. What do you have for us today?"
The device was plain in shape: a heavy frame, a threaded screw, a flat pressing plate. A lever arm fixed to the screw to turn it with force. It was built light and crude but it sat steady. It was clearly a first version.
"I call it an ink press," Ezra answered.
"Ink press? I don't follow," Reitz replied.
"I'll show you."
Ezra had a case of dried stencil sheets ready, cut to the size of a standard form. The sheets were linen-based, coated, and dried flat. Beside them sat a stack of blank forms.
Next to that was a shallow tray of blocks. Each block had two faces. One face had a readable letter or mark so a clerk could set it correctly. The other face was the working face, cut to impress into the stencil sheet.
Beside the blocks sat a composing frame with alignment channels. It forced straight lines and uniform spacing. It also made the work fast.
Ezra looked at the two clerks from Rowan's office.
"You," he said to the first, "copy. You," to the second, "seal."
Neither clerk looked pleased at being directed by a toddler, but they stepped forward and did as instructed. They had been told this was a council demonstration. They treated it like one.
The first clerk went to the composing frame.
Ezra spoke while the clerk worked so the council would understand the steps.
"This part is called is setting a form face," Ezra said. "He does it once. Then we print."
The clerk picked up a header block and seated it into the top channel. He added two line blocks beneath it—fixed wording that would appear on every copy. Then he used letter blocks to set the last line where it mattered: the office name, the date line, and a reference mark.
He checked the front faces as he placed them so he wouldn't mis-set a letter. Then he flipped the frame so the working faces were down.
Ezra took one blank stencil sheet and held it up.
"This is the sheet," Ezra said. "Dry until pressed."
He set it into the press bed. The clerk placed the composed frame over it and aligned it to pins Ezra had fixed into the bed.
Ezra pointed at the lever. "Press. Count to three."
The clerk pulled the lever. The screw drove the plate down. He held it for the count, then raised it.
The clerk lifted the composing frame and pulled out the stencil sheet.
At first it looked like an ordinary sheet with a dull surface. Then the impressed lines showed when he tilted it. The coating held the shapes cleanly.
Ezra took the stencil and set it into the ink frame beside the press. A roller sat ready, and a pad with ink.
"This is called the master stencil," Ezra said. "Now he prints."
The clerk slid the first blank form under the press. He rolled ink across the stencil once, then pulled the lever. He counted. He raised it.
He lifted the page.
The header and fixed text were printed cleanly. Straight. Even. The spacing looked the same from line to line.
He did the second without waiting.
Then the third.
Ezra stayed quiet and let the rhythm speak for itself.
By the time the council had finished looking at the first page, there was a stack of ten. The clerk had not slowed. He had not asked a question. He only fed paper and pulled the lever.
Reitz leaned forward slightly. Corvin's pen stopped. Draffen's gaze stayed on the stack. Kestel leaned in just enough to check ink thickness and whether any letters were breaking.
Ezra moved on before anyone could interrupt.
He nodded to the second clerk.
"Okay, now sseal," Ezra said.
The second clerk stepped to the punch frame. A flatbed sat under it, with an alignment cradle fixed into the wood. Beside it was a small open case holding the punch face mounted in a plate.
Ezra pointed once. "Set it in align then pull."
The clerk set the plate into the cradle. It seated square.
On the table were seal blanks, pre-cast and dry. Each was the same thickness.
The clerk placed a blank on the bed, set a form beneath it, and pulled the lever.
The punch came down.
When he lifted it, the seal impression was centered and even. The depth matched all around.
He did a second.
Then a third.
They matched.
Ezra took the last form and placed it on the table in front of Reitz so the printed header and the punched seal were visible on the same sheet.
Only then did Ezra step back on his stool and look at the council.
"That's it," Ezra said. "Questions."
The room stayed quiet for a beat.
People looked between Ezra and the devices. Not because they doubted it. Because they could already see what it meant.
The looks weren't aimed at Ezra personally. They were aimed at the fact that this was simple enough to make them feel slow for not having done it first.
Then the questions came quickly.
"Can we use this now as it is?" Kestel Rowan said immediately.
"Yes," Ezra said. "But I can't guarantee the tolerances. I am not sure if it will last as long as it should."
"Meaning?" Rowan followed up.
"This one is something that works, what you want is something that works reliably." Ezra replied.
Rowan nodded.
Draffen's eyes moved over the sheet case and the composing frame. "That sheet. How hard is it to make?"
"It isn't hard," Ezra said. "It needs consistency. The sheet is ash, linen, wax, and resin. I won't give any proportions here, that's going to be a secret for now."
Corvin asked, "And the ink."
"The ink is lampblack and oil," Ezra said.
Corvin asked, "Are you planning to sell this?"
"Definitely," Ezra said. "But not this version. I need time to refine it."
Ashen asked, "Can you make a lighter version. Something for the field."
Ezra looked at the press and the punch frame.
"No," he said. "Not yet."
Ashen's brow lifted slightly.
Ezra continued. "A field version needs to be smaller and simpler. It still needs alignment. If it shifts, the print is useless."
Draffen gave a short nod. That was a real constraint.
Reitz leaned back, fingers steepled. "Production. That's what I want to hear. How many. How fast. What breaks."
"It's two parts," Ezra said. "The frame and screw. And the sheets."
Corvin's pen moved again. "Sheets are consumable."
"Yes," Ezra said. "Counted. Issued. Stored."
Kestel tapped the edge of his seal-case with one finger. "And the punch plate."
Ezra looked at him. "Custody."
Reitz glanced at Ashen. "Missing plate becomes theft."
Ashen nodded once. "And I treat it like theft."
Ezra kept going before they could turn it into a lecture on punishments.
"For production," he said, "I need a maker. One good maker. Works can do the frame and screw. The punch face needs to be cut clean. The cradle needs to be cut clean. If it isn't, the seal shifts."
Draffen's eyes narrowed. "How long."
"A day for a crude one," Ezra said. "Longer for one that lasts."
Corvin asked, "And the sheets."
"The sheets can be made in batches," Ezra said. "But it needs control. Same mix. Same drying. Same size. If every office makes their own, you get variation."
Kestel leaned forward. "In theory, since the punch is separate, each office can have a frame and we keep the punch faces with us. Correct?"
"Yes," Ezra said.
Ezra looked at Reitz.
Reitz closed his eyes for a moment and exhaled.
"So this is what you meant when you wanted the writ," Reitz said stared at Ezra. "You already know what it means."
"My lord?" Rowan asked.
"Before Ezra built this, he asked me for a writ about it," Reitz said. "I will discuss the limits with you in private. For now, keep to the press."
Kestel's mouth tightened but continued to press. "So it must be centralized."
"Yes," Ezra said.
Reitz looked at the devices and the stack of forms.
"Who gets it first," Reitz said, "and what is it not allowed to touch."
"Central first," Ezra said. "One press. Castle offices. Internal papers only."
Corvin asked, "Define internal."
"Work orders," Ezra said. "Gate tallies. Notices. Repeated forms. Anything that is copied anyway and sent to Rolls. Basically everything."
Kestel said, "Nothing that creates standing."
Draffen leaned forward again. "If it touches contracts, it becomes legal."
Kestel looked at Ezra. "If it touches charters, it becomes dangerous."
Ezra nodded once. "No, we don't start there."
Kestel's mouth tightened. "That is a boundary. It is not mitigation."
Corvin said, "Boundaries slip."
Ashen said, "People test them."
Ezra answered, "We can mark prints. A copy seal. Anything important stays handwritten until Maester Rowan writes a rule for it."
Kestel asked, "And if someone takes a 'charter' to a gate with a pressed seal."
"They don't act on it without a check," Ezra said. "If it isn't confirmed then it's a forgery. I believe you already have protocols for this."
Reitz watched Ezra without speaking.
Grimfire spoke from the side. "Who teaches it."
Ezra looked at him. "I do. At first. Then one clerk from each office. Then they train the rest."
Grimfire asked, "And when they do it wrong."
"The print is rejected," Ezra said. "The seal impression is uniform. If it isn't uniform, it's rejected."
Grimfire asked, "And when someone uses it for papers they shouldn't."
"Then we'll treat it as stolen seals," Ezra said.
Corvin spoke again. "If we do this, I want counts."
"Agreed," Ezra said.
"Counts of sheets issued," Corvin said. "Counts of sheets used. Counts of output. If the numbers don't match, we find out why."
Kestel added, "And a register of punch faces. Who holds them. When they're taken out. When they're returned. Under seal."
Draffen's tone stayed dry. "If you want more than one press, we need a shop and a foreman."
Ezra nodded once. "Yes."
Reitz leaned forward. "I think we can wrap this up now. We still have other official business to discuss"
Everyone nodded and then the council concluded.
After the council meeting ended, Reitz came to Ezra's room.
Reitz entered, shut the door, and looked at Ezra for a moment before speaking.
"You knew that would happen," he said.
Ezra looked up from his table. "That?"
Reitz walked farther in.
"After the council changed rooms and met again, they kept asking me about the press," Reitz said. "They couldn't drop it."
Ezra waited.
Reitz started listing it.
"Rowan asked when the earliest time was that he could use it. He asked it twice."
Ezra's face stayed blank.
"Draffen asked whether I had any hand in designing it or building it," Reitz continued. "I told him no."
Ezra nodded once.
"Corvin asked if I was speaking with any merchant groups about distributing it," Reitz said. "He thinks we can offset lost coin from the audit by selling presses. He also asked about the sheets and the ink. He said we could sell the press cheap and make coin on the consumables."
Ezra let out a short breath. "That sounds like Corvin."
Reitz pointed at him. "You knew they would want it. You knew they would be interested in this."
"A bit. Yes." Ezra chuckled, trying to downplay it.
"That's why you wanted the writ," Reitz said. "So that they would have to go through you for this."
Ezra nodded.
Reitz stood there for a beat, then sat down.
Ezra watched him.
"Actually," Ezra said, "there is more. I want my own office."
Reitz paused. "Office?"
"Yes," Ezra said. "It will be called the Press Office. It will handle all matters pertaining to the printing, distribution, manufacturing, modification, sale of anything pertaining to the press, its cartridges, ink and any variations."
Reitz watched him. "So you want them to come to you?"
"Yes," Ezra said.
Reitz's eyes narrowed. "You wanted this as leverage against them."
"I'd like to think that it's just a little bit added to convince them," Ezra said.
Reitz exhaled once.
"Fine," he said. "But I should get at least some say."
Ezra nodded.
Reitz leaned forward slightly. "Rowan writes rules for anything that touches standing. Corvin controls coin. Draffen controls workshops. Ashen controls enforcement. Your office coordinates. It doesn't replace them."
Ezra didn't argue. "Of course. I'm not replacing them."
Reitz nodded once.
"Also," Reitz said, "we are going to sell and promote this. No objections. Okay?"
Ezra nodded then looked at him. "How?"
Reitz's mouth twitched. "Let me handle it. Your birthday is coming up is it not?" That gives me a reason to show it publicly without making it look like I'm buying tools from my own son."
Ezra didn't smile. "So you want to turn it into a court event."
"Any event is always a court one.," Reitz said chuckling.
He stood.
"One more thing," Reitz said at the door.
Ezra looked up.
"You did what you said you would do," Reitz said smiling. "You made them see value without me forcing it. Don't get get it into your head now."
Ezra nodded once. "I won't."
Reitz opened the door and left.
With the office secured he was now posed to slowly develop Bren from the inside.