"Haha, never mind them. The king and the prince's affairs are none of our business!"
Robert laughed and took a gulp of wine. The grilled fish sizzled over the fire, its skin golden and crisp. He blew on it and bit down happily, ignoring the heat.
Galladon smiled and said nothing more.
If the royal family remained stable, they would have no opportunity in the future.
That night, they returned to the castle and dined with Lord Selwyn. After the meal, Selwyn reminded Robert and Ned to rest early. They would depart for Storm's End at dawn—Renly's nameday was the day after tomorrow.
The next morning, Robert awoke in his guest chamber. As soon as he opened the door, a maid stood waiting with a wash tray.
"Lord Robert, these are things specially prepared for you."
His eyes immediately fell on a small brush beside the water cup.
"What's this?"
"It is called a toothbrush. It is used to clean the teeth and mouth. Lord Galladon invented it."
Robert blinked.
"A toothbrush?"
He picked it up curiously. The bristles—made of horsehair—were fixed neatly into a polished wooden handle.
"And this?" He pointed to a small whale-bone box containing dark green paste with a fresh scent.
"That is toothpaste. Apply some to the toothbrush to clean your teeth better."
Robert carried everything back into his room, eager to try it.
Moments later—
He was stunned.
The paste tasted fresh and slightly sweet, similar to the sour herbs of the Stormlands but far cleaner. It contained salt, charcoal, wood ash, mint, honey, and other ingredients. Paired with the horsehair brush, it scrubbed every tooth thoroughly.
For someone who loved meat and drink—and had been criticized more than once for strong breath—this was revolutionary.
After rinsing, his mouth felt astonishingly fresh.
His teeth even appeared whiter.
Without hesitation, Robert tucked both toothbrush and toothpaste into his belongings and rushed to Ned's room.
Ned was already brushing with interest.
The two exchanged looks of pure admiration.
Soon they found Galladon downstairs.
"Well?" Galladon asked with a faint smile. "Is it acceptable?"
"Acceptable?" Robert exclaimed. "It's genius!"
Even Ned looked impressed.
"How did you secure the horsehair so firmly?"
"Drilled small holes into the wood," Galladon replied. "Inserted the hair in clusters and fixed it with fish glue. Then polished the handle smooth."
"And the paste?"
"Salt, charcoal powder, wood ash, mint, sour grass, honey… and flaxseed gel to thicken it."
He had spent half a year perfecting the formula.
Robert stared at him as though he had just witnessed a new form of sorcery.
"Is this a gift?"
"Yes," Galladon said lightly. "And I'll give you ten more sets. Distribute them to the nobles in the Stormlands, the North, and the Vale."
Ned immediately understood.
This was not merely hygiene.
This was business.
"How much will you sell them for?" Robert asked.
"The toothbrush—ten silver stags. Toothpaste—fifty silver stags per box."
"That's cheap!" Robert declared instantly.
Ned remained thoughtful.
In truth, the price was extraordinarily high.
One gold dragon equaled 210 silver stags. A single silver stag equaled 56 copper pennies. Fifty silver stags was nearly a fisherman's yearly income.
The production cost?
Perhaps twenty copper pennies per box.
The profit margin was immense.
But nobles would gladly pay for comfort and status.
If the upper nobility adopted it, knights and wealthy merchants would follow.
Galladon had carefully ensured that imitation would be difficult for several years.
By then, the storm of rebellion would already be rising.
If necessary, he would protect his monopoly by force.
After breakfast, preparations began for departure.
Galladon, Brienne, Robert, Ned, and their attendants boarded at Sapphire Harbor and set sail for Storm's End.
Arrival at Storm's End
By afternoon, beneath the blazing sun, the ship approached Cape Wrath.
Storm's End rose from the cliffs like a colossal beast of stone.
The massive round tower pierced the sky, banners bearing the stag of House Baratheon snapping violently in the wind. Waves crashed against jagged rocks below with thunderous fury.
The fortress seemed less built than carved from the storm itself.
Robert proudly recounted its history as they disembarked.
Lord Steffon Baratheon awaited them at the harbor with his second son, Stannis.
Stannis, twelve or thirteen, stood quietly—serious, reserved.
Lord Steffon was tall, slender, handsome, black-haired and blue-eyed, with a gentle smile.
Galladon studied him thoughtfully.
In the original timeline, Steffon and his wife would die at sea, their ship wrecked upon a reef just within sight of home, returning from Essos after seeking a Valyrian bride for Rhaegar at King Aerys's request.
A strange mission.
A suspicious one.
But Galladon chose not to interfere.
He would not meddle with every fate.
Led through the enormous black oak gates reinforced with iron, they entered the courtyard of Storm's End.
The air smelled of salt, stone, and horses.
Guards bearing the stag sigil stood watch along the walls. Weapons racks lined the yard. Warhorses stamped within nearby stables.
The sea roared endlessly below the cliffs.
Brienne's small hand tightened around Galladon's.
Her eyes shone brightly.
This was her first journey beyond Tarth.
Salt and bread were offered.
Guest chambers were assigned.
Before parting, Lord Selwyn spoke quietly to Galladon.
"Wash and prepare. There will be a dinner on the rooftop tonight. I will introduce you to some old friends."
Galladon nodded.
This visit was not merely a celebration.
It was networking.
He did not notice the faint, knowing smile on his father's lips.
(End of Chapter 17)
A/N:
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