"These plans, they are… novel." Draffen stared at him with intensity.
"They are," Ezra nodded.
"It's advanced," Draffen said. "How to carry weight through points," he finished. "Columns and a spine."
Draffen frowned. "You're building a frame."
Ezra watched him read.
Draffen's nail tapped once near the center of the plan. "This stairwell. You made it thick."
"It's the core," Ezra said, nodding. "If the building grows later, that is what keeps it straight."
Draffen's gaze left the parchment and settled on Ezra. "Grows? Lord Blackfyre refused the structure—"
"That, he did," Ezra acknowledged.
"And you still drew it like this." Draffen's finger moved to the footings. "These foundations are for something larger than two floors."
"They have to be," Ezra said. "You cannot rebuild the foundations without tearing everything above it down."
Draffen leaned back slightly. "You are planning for the future weight," he said.
"I'm just planning for extensions," Ezra nodded.
Draffen grunted, then dragged the sheet closer and followed the ink upward.
"These bays," he said. "You repeat the span. Same measure. Over and over."
"So we can repeat the work," Ezra said.
Draffen's nail landed on a set of angled lines above the second level. "And this?"
Ezra glanced. "The roof system."
"That's not a roof system," Draffen said. "That's… lattice."
"It's called a truss," Ezra said.
He stared at the triangles, trying to appraise something. "Explain it."
Ezra kept his voice level. "A beam bends. If we form it into a triangle, it won't bend as much. If we want a wide hall without columns in the middle, we brace it like this. The load runs into the joints, down into the posts."
Draffen's expression stayed flat, but he nodded. "You're trying to get space without stone."
It seemed to Ezra he got the concept; after all, Draffen had been a builder as well, not just an administrator.
"I'm trying to get space without it collapsing on top of us if we want to expand," Ezra corrected, "and also without wasting timber."
Draffen traced the truss again. "Joints."
"In a sense."
"You wrote 'template'," Draffen said, reading the margin note. "And 'jig.'"
"So the cuts match," Ezra said. "If every truss is different, every truss is an argument. If they're the same, we can build them on the ground, lift them, and set them. Remember the proposal we talked about for a standard for weights?"
Draffen nodded, still wearing a frown.
"Those will help. If we can standardize the measurements, we can make the same form factor without having to carry around a standard for this particular instance," Ezra went on.
"I have talked to the builder guilds," Draffen interrupted. "They do understand the idea. And I have come to them with your measuring tools. They say that they will try it."
"That is great," Ezra smiled.
Draffen's finger moved lower, to a boxed note beside the foundations.
"'Poured stone.'" He read it twice. "Cast lime-stone."
"Yes," Ezra said. "We cast the frame and the core first, then build the rest around it."
Draffen's eyes flicked to Ezra and back. "That's mortar work."
"Same binder," Ezra said. "But we're not using it to glue stones together. We're using it as the material itself. We cast it in place."
Draffen's nail tapped the box. "Forms?"
"Timber forms," Ezra said. "We brace them so they don't bow, and oil the boards so the mix doesn't stick. Then we lay it in layers and pack it down. After that we keep it covered and damp until it sets."
Draffen stared at him. "You are proposing we make stone like soup?" He didn't smile. "Curing."
"It has to stay damp," Ezra said, nodding again. "We will use the timber to cover it. If it dries too fast it cracks. If it freezes before it sets, it crumbles."
Draffen's gaze went distant for half a breath, doing the ledger in his head. "That means time. That means tarps. That means guards so fools don't pull boards early."
"Yes."
"And you think our masons will accept being told to keep stone wet," Draffen said.
"If they see it hold, they will," Ezra replied. "And if they don't, we pick the ones who can follow instruction."
Draffen gave a quiet exhale through his nose. Not laughter. Just acknowledgment that Ezra had an answer for everything.
His finger slid to another annotation, a line drawn through a wall thickness.
"These iron marks," Draffen furrowed his brows. "They are straps?"
"They are ties," Ezra said. "Stone holds weight well, but it doesn't like being pulled sideways. The floors will try to shove the outer walls out over time. The ties stop that."
Draffen's brow tightened. "Iron costs coin."
"Remaking them costs more," Ezra said.
Draffen's eyes narrowed at that—because it was the same argument again, and it worked.
He went back to the thick stair core and ran a nail along it.
"This is doing more than holding stairs," he said.
"Yes," Ezra said. "It helps the whole building keep its shape. If the outer walls settle unevenly, the core keeps everything from drifting."
Draffen paused, eyebrow up. "You're thinking about wind?"
"No. It's more about crowds," Ezra said. "Not much, but it adds up. A light frame will start to sway. The core keeps that from building."
Draffen studied him for a long moment.
"You understand Reitz's refusal," he said at last.
Ezra nodded. "But that is not what I'm here for."
Draffen continued studying him, then opened his mouth. "Corvin says you have a tutor."
Ezra closed his eyes. In his mind he had his palm to his face.
"Is the tutor's name Michael James Faraday?"
Draffen nodded. "Some semblance to that name, yes. Corvin approached me asking if there had been a Maester of the same name in Blackfyre's employ." He paused. "I searched the registers and there was none. He suspects that Lord Blackfyre acquired a tutor for you."
Ezra sighed.
"I have read the Master's books as well," Draffen said, gaze distant. "I admit, they are enlightening. Corvin says you have deep insight in the teachings of this Master, and he constantly seeks your counsel in matters—especially those pertaining to numbers."
Draffen looked at Ezra again. "These techniques are novel, yes, but I see the wisdom in this. Does this come from the Master's knowledge as well? Tell me honestly."
Ezra had no choice. He nodded. But maybe he could make this misunderstanding into something that would benefit him. To be totally honest, the building techniques of the Imperials are advanced for the amount of technology they had; they even had something that resembled the polyspastos—a crane driven by four people and a treadmill.
Ezra only added minor improvements to already great building infrastructure.
"Pray tell, how did you get this information?" Draffen asked.
"There is a book," Ezra said.
Draffen's right eyebrow raised again.
"Mayhaps you have this book with you?" Draffen asked.
"I do not have it in its full copy," Ezra said. "I have a collection of notes."
Draffen nodded. It was common to not have fully bound books and just a collection of writings from a master. Often times these were not arranged in a sorted fashion.
"You have stumbled upon a great find." Draffen looked at him again. "Notes of a great master are not like stone you can pick up anywhere. You told Master Corvin that you retrieved these tomes from the Ironbale merchants?" Draffen said, still eying him.
"I suspect they are not such a simple matter. If you have stumbled upon these through Blackfyre's private library…" Draffen studied him as if to catch his expression.
Ezra didn't answer. They did come from a private library—just his private library.
"Regardless," Draffen continued, "if any such material surfaces, I would think it best to create copies of it using the ink press. I would very much like a copy of my own."
Ezra nodded again. He was forming an idea now of using the name so that he could gain the approval of the Maesters. Maybe just a little more push was needed.
"My lord, I would just like you to understand," Draffen said, clearing his throat, "that when your father, Lord Blackfyre, came to us asking for us to entertain you with your questions, we were under the assumption that he was just indulging you. But as I have come to talk to you, I am of the deeper understanding that you do indeed possess knowledge beyond your years. And that counsel with you bears fruit."
"I am sure you are privy to the knowledge that highborns mature faster than their peers," Draffen continued. "They are more intelligent than commoners, surely. I have been acquainted with the Regaladeus's ken—a branch family I had been a tutor to once. By five he could speak with the verbosity of an adult. This is no secret. However, you seem to be developing much faster, by a margin not to be dismissed. Due to your magic capabilities no doubt." Draffen spoke, words bearing weight, but he was talking more to himself than to Ezra.
"But enough ramblings from old men." Draffen shook his head, then spoke to Ezra again. "Now, what was the reason for your visit? I believe that Lord Blackfyre has rejected these initial plans, has he not?"
"Well, this is for another thing," Ezra said. "It's more of an investment. If we can pull it off, we can produce ten times more steel."
Draffen's expression showed a flicker of curiosity, but he tried to keep his face calm. "As much as Rexasticus itself can produce?"
"I can't be too sure of the quality," Ezra admitted. "But it will be good enough for plate, and tools."
"This is just raw steel," Draffen said, "not the reinforced or enchanted steel that Rexasticus makes, I presume?"
"Yes," Ezra replied.
Over the past few weeks, Ezra had a better understanding of some technology that didn't clearly fit with the supposed period. He still wasn't in any position to speak to the Artificer's Guild. That guild held monopolies on anything that involved magic, and it was maintained strictly—law, charter, and enforcement—that only the Artificers could sanction the creation and use of such devices.
Anything that used magic cores, crystals, or anything deemed magical in nature was under their domain.
The local guild, to his understanding, did not have the ability to create those devices. They did simple installation tasks. All of the experts who knew how to create them resided in Rexasticus.
Draffen looked back at him. "How do you propose we do it then, Lord Ezra?"
"First," Ezra said, "we need something called firebrick."
Draffen's brows drew together. "Pray tell—what does this firebrick do?"
"Firebrick is a special type of brick that doesn't crack when it goes from cold to hot," Ezra said, then stopped and corrected himself. "Well, not that easily. It has higher tolerances for heat."
"Our kilns have bricks," Draffen said.
"It's not the same brick," Ezra shook his head. "Not for this."
Draffen held his gaze. "Then what do you need."
"I need time to test," Ezra said. He could hear how it sounded, even to himself. "I need a place to do it. And I need materials."
"What materials?" Draffen asked.
"Crushed brick," Ezra said. "Fired brick. We crush it and mix it back in."
Draffen furrowed his brows. "So you need two batches of bricks."
"We don't need to make the first batch from scratch," Ezra replied. "Any old brick can do. Broken brick. Waste. We just need it fired."
Draffen stared at him for a beat, then nodded once. "Very well. And anything else?"
"Hands," Ezra said. "A few. People who know the craft. People who can follow instruction."
Draffen's nail tapped lightly on the desk, his habit when he was already building the list in his head. "And after this experiment of yours—what will it prove?"
"It will prove that we can make something that can tolerate fire," Ezra said. "If the lining fails, the rest is pointless."
Draffen's expression didn't change, but he listened.
"If you can, Lord Ezra," Draffen said at last, "I want you to document this in detail. Ratios. Times. What cracks and what holds. If you prove what you say it does, it might prove useful for other things."
"I will have the documents written and pressed," Ezra nodded.