This concept was simply too alien and distant for these Westerosi natives.
Solomon fell into a strange silence.
How does this woman know this? It's as if she has actually lived inside a mountain.
"Excrement?" Barna's expression turned odd. "You mean... we have to build something special just for taking a shit?"
"Exactly!" Evelyn's answer was decisive. "Before we break ground! We must plan two systems!"
"One is the Water Supply System! Direct clean water from the high mountain streams into various areas of the city! Then let it flow out of the mountain and into the river!"
"The other is the Drainage System! Discharge all domestic sewage and rainwater out of the city! Far away from our living areas!"
"We also need to establish public latrines! And designate specific garbage dumping points! Regularly clear them out of the city!"
"More crucially! We must build secret passages for reinforcements to enter! To evacuate from the mountain! And to retreat deeper into the high mountains!"
"This is the lifeline that guarantees all of us will survive!"
Dead silence in the council chamber.
Luchen, Barna, Lauchlan—these men who rolled in battlefields and ledgers, brains devoid of any cultural foundation—their minds went blank.
They could understand high walls and arrow towers, but they couldn't comprehend the intricacies of construction inside a mountain, nor why so much energy should be spent on feces and sewage. It sounded like a fantasy.
Everyone's eyes finally converged on Solomon. Solomon had remained silent, repeatedly studying Evelyn's blueprints. Then, he stared fixedly at the woman, his eyes growing brighter and brighter. The way he looked at Evelyn made the courtiers, unaware of her true appearance, feel a chill. Lord Solomon really likes this type?
Genius! Genius! A genius design! A Thousand-Mile Horse! A true Thousand-Mile Horse!! Solomon came from a world with developed urban systems! He knew better than anyone the value of Evelyn's words and this blueprint! What this woman possessed!
It was knowledge and foresight hundreds of years ahead of this era! No! Thousands of years ahead of the Westerosi natives!
I picked up a truly fine horse!!!!
Under the bewildered gazes of the crowd, Solomon slammed his palm heavily onto the parchment depicting Evelyn's grand blueprint.
"We will follow Evelyn's blueprint exactly!!!!!!"
His voice wasn't loud, but it carried an unshakable power, echoing in the council chamber:
"From today on! The construction of the Military Forts! She is fully responsible for the planning! All of you! Must cooperate with her unconditionally!"
Solomon's sharp gaze swept over everyone, taking in Luchen and Lauchlan's excitement, Barna's shock, and Olivier's continued silence.
And Evelyn stood there silently, her perfect chest heaving violently, panting with a fragrant breath, unable to say another word.
Nightfall.
Evelyn walked slowly up the spiraling stone steps. Her footsteps were distinct in the empty tower, but the varying pace betrayed her inner panic. Solomon had summoned her. She had said too much during the day.
Evelyn stood before the door for a long time. Finally, she pushed open the heavy oak door. The room was lit only by a few lonely candles, their flames flickering constantly, casting Solomon's shadow on the stone wall behind him.
Solomon was not sitting in the Lord's chair that symbolized power. Instead, he stood by a long table covered in blueprints, carefully studying her drawings.
Evelyn's heart skipped a beat. She stepped forward, curtsied slightly, but her gaze was involuntarily drawn to the blueprints on the table.
Those were the structural diagrams of the underground fortress she had drawn. Every line, every mark came from her hand. Solomon didn't speak, just quietly looked at the blueprints, yet it gave her immense pressure.
Finally, Solomon looked up, staring at her in silence.
"Evelyn." Solomon finally spoke. His voice wasn't loud, but like a stone thrown into a deep well, it rippled with echoes. "There is no one else here now. I want to know, who exactly are you?"
Evelyn's body went rigid instantly. She subconsciously hid her hands behind her back, her knuckles turning white from the strain.
She looked up, meeting those probing eyes. In her blue irises, vigilance built a high wall.
Solomon didn't give her a chance to breathe. He extended a finger, tapping lightly on the blueprint:
"The architectural details of these mountain interiors... I fear even the Maesters of the Citadel wouldn't know them. Perhaps they are unheard of."
"And your map-drawing skills are too precise. Your understanding of scale and terrain is too perfect."
"You have drawn maps for Great Lords."
Evelyn's breathing became somewhat rapid. She pressed her lips together tightly, saying nothing. Her throat felt dry, and she could even feel her heart pounding violently in her chest.
"Finally." Solomon's voice dropped lower. "Your so-called father, Olivier."
"His ability to manage a castle and coordinate supplies for thousands of people... that kind of control over procedure far exceeds the knowledge reserve of someone serving a remote minor noble."
"Tell me. I will protect you."
The room fell into a dead silence. The quiet felt like a hammer constantly striking her taut nerves.
Denial was meaningless. Escape was impossible. In this castle controlled by him, she had nowhere to run.
Countless thoughts flashed through her mind, each leading to an unknown future. After a long silence, Evelyn finally took a slow, deep breath.
"Lord Solomon," her voice carried an imperceptible rasp. "You are right. We are not from Westeros."
"My family comes from Essos."
Solomon didn't speak, just looked at her quietly, waiting to see what she would say, signaling her to continue.
She lowered her eyelids, avoiding Solomon's direct gaze.
"My ancestors were obsessed with studying the ruins and technology of Old Valyria."
"My family believed that the greatness of Valyria lay not only in their ability to ride dragons but in their creation of unprecedented technology."
"The knowledge you see is not my individual genius. It comes from generations of knowledge accumulated by my family, from our research into... ancient civilization ruins."
"That knowledge about architecture, traps, public health, even materials... all stems from deciphering and reconstructing that great civilization."
She lowered her head, speaking no more, waiting for Solomon's answer.
This explanation was seamless. In Westeros, any technology or knowledge that transcended the era could be explained by the mysterious term "Old Valyria." It was a synonym for magic, power, and lost technology.
Solomon fell silent. He knew this woman was lying. And he had already somewhat guessed her identity and origin.
Solomon slowly left the long table, walking step by step until he was face to face with Evelyn. He lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze:
"I don't care what you have experienced in the past."
"I don't care how powerful your enemies are."
"Since you are unwilling to say, I will not force you."
"Your knowledge is very useful to me."
"I will protect you until the Long Night ends."
Solomon knew deeply the value of this woman. Her architectural design knowledge for underground and mountain structures was too uncanny and ingenious. In this medieval world of Westeros, her value was truly equal to a million soldiers. Even a dragon would be helpless against him. Once built, he could defend until he died of old age.
These things were too terrifying. Aqueducts, underground drainage systems, isolated livestock areas, even using primitive ducts for geothermal regulation inside the mountain, raising fish in underground rivers, and primitive cold storage designs.
Evelyn looked up into Solomon's eyes. Her blue eyes reflected the boy's figure, shimmering like water.
Solomon ignored what she was thinking, speaking to himself like an unquestionable promise and covenant:
"As long as you are loyal to me, these new mountain fortresses will be your eternal sanctuary."
The woman looked at the seriousness in the boy's eyes. Her body, which had been tense for so long, finally relaxed imperceptibly.
That fear and anxiety that had shadowed her for so long seemed temporarily shut out by the promise in this bedroom.
She looked at the young lord before her. This boy was much younger than her, yet possessed a maturity and ambition that belied his age.
She knew that if she agreed, her life would be thoroughly and firmly bound to his.
Evelyn slowly, solemnly, curtsied deep. It was a standard, elegant noblewoman's etiquette.
Her voice was clear, low, and melodious, echoing in the quiet room.
"As you wish, my little master."
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