"Galladon, is there anything special about this flower?" Lord Selwyn asked.
Galladon smiled faintly. "Father, Helena once mentioned in her letters that this flower has unique properties. I believe it's perfect for brewing wine."
"Wine?" Selwyn looked surprised. Even in Norvos, no one used this rare plant for brewing.
"Please help me find an experienced brewer from Sapphire Town."
Selwyn had long learned that when Galladon showed interest in something, there was usually purpose behind it. Though puzzled, he nodded.
"But the tourney at Harrenhal is in ten days. If you're going, you must leave in five. Brewing wine cannot be rushed."
Under normal circumstances, that was true.
But beer was different.
Westeros already brewed ale. Beer was essentially ale enhanced—with hops and improved fermentation.
Five days would be enough for primary fermentation.
If successful, this would be revolutionary.
Ale was common among smallfolk—cheap, cloudy, low in alcohol, often flavored with honey or herbs to mask roughness.
Beer would refine it—clearer aroma, balanced bitterness, smoother taste.
Once introduced, it would dominate taverns across Westeros.
The profit potential was enormous.
Confirming the Ingredient
Claude led Galladon to the warehouse.
Inside were seeds, dried snakevine flowers, and even a small transplanted vine in a clay pot.
Though slightly wilted from the sea voyage, Galladon recognized it immediately.
Hops.
Exactly as he suspected.
Claude looked doubtful. "Can flowers truly make wine?"
"Yes."
Soon they visited an old brewer named Bayful in Sapphire Town.
Bayful specialized in ale.
He explained the brewing process: germinated wheat dried into malt, ground, boiled, poured into barrels, left open two days to capture wild yeast, then sealed to ferment.
Simple—but inconsistent.
Each batch tasted different due to wild yeast.
Galladon immediately identified improvements.
First: add hops during the boil.
Second: use yeast sediment from prior batches instead of relying solely on airborne yeast.
When malt boiled in the iron pot, Galladon personally added two handfuls of hops.
Soon, a faint floral bitterness blended with the malt aroma.
Even Bayful's expression changed.
After cooling the wort using ice from local ice cellars, Galladon instructed Bayful to add yeast sediment from previous brews.
Bayful hesitated. "That's a waste."
Claude laughed. "Do as the young lord says."
The residue—rich in yeast—would accelerate fermentation and improve consistency.
Galladon also added a small final handful of hops directly into the barrel.
"Seal it," he ordered.
Bayful stared. "But we must leave it open for two days!"
"Trust me."
Reluctantly, Bayful complied.
Returning to Evenfall Hall, Galladon instructed Claude to ensure strict secrecy.
Production would eventually be divided into stages, each handled separately to prevent imitation.
The principle was simple. If leaked, others would copy it easily.
Monopoly meant power.
The Redwyne family's wealth—and fleet—proved what the liquor trade could achieve.
If beer succeeded, House Tarth could fund its own fleet, rivaling the Arbor.
Letters and Preparations
That evening, Galladon wrote to Helena.
He shared daily life updates and invited her to meet him at Harrenhal.
The tourney would draw every great house. The Hightowers would surely attend.
After sending the raven, he comforted Brienne, who burst into tears upon learning she would not accompany him.
Only after promising her a custom-forged fine steel sword did she relent.
Over the following days, Galladon prepared armor and equipment for the tourney.
He intended not only to attend—
But to compete.
One afternoon, while training shirtless in the sacred grove, Galladon heard his father's voice.
Selwyn rarely came in person.
Turning, Galladon saw him leading a magnificent horse.
The animal stood nearly sixty-six inches at the shoulder.
Its coat was smoky gray with a faint silver sheen. Muscles rippled beneath taut skin, especially along its chest and hindquarters.
Its head rose higher than Selwyn's, proud yet controlled.
An elegant black saddle rested upon its back, inlaid with sapphire and trimmed in silver.
"Father…" Galladon breathed.
Selwyn smiled.
"This is your first tourney. You require a proper warhorse."
He stroked the horse's neck.
"I acquired him from the Dothraki Sea of Essos."
"He is called—Thundersmoke."
(End of Chapter 21)
A/N:
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