The picks woke him.
They had been at it the whole night.
Sun came through the flap in a hard line.
He rolled.
The pane came up on the hour.
[System]
Daily draw refreshed.
Draw now?
He hit it with his eyes still shut.
White light.
A dusty card.
[System]
White trait acquired: Miner’s Stamina
Stamina spend on pit work −10%.
Time on a shift +15%.
He gave it a look and killed it.
White.
Support.
Not a main line.
Better than an empty hand.
He came off the cot, pushed the flap, and went out.
The cut had the noise of a market.
Bronn squatted the rim with a heel of bread.
He saw Lyonel and tossed the bread aside.
“My lord.
Twelve carts last night.”
“How many.”
“Twelve.
All deep-vein.” Bronn tipped his chin at the stack by the mouth.
“Cliff took a crew through the dark.
He’s still under.”
Lyonel walked to the stone.
Gold-green, three ranks, edges dressed square.
The pane ran the lot without being asked.
[System]
High-purity gold ore × 12 carts.
Average purity: 76%.
Estimate: 1,180–1,240 gold dragons.
Trade Sense took the second pass.
Error inside three percent.
True mark: about twelve hundred forty.
He picked up a piece and weighed it.
Heavy in the palm.
Bronn leaned in.
“What’s it worth.”
“Twelve hundred.”
Bronn nearly lost the bread the wrong way.
“One night.
Twelve carts.
Twelve hundred.”
“Dragons.”
“I know they’re dragons.” He packed the rest of the bread in.
Cheeks full.
“Fuck.
I took hire in the Vale a year, licked blood off a blade, came home with two hundred.”
“You’re lazy.”
“I’m lazy?”
Lyonel was already walking.
“Merrell.”
Merrell came at a run from the far side.
Eyes red.
He had not slept either.
“My lord.”
“Weigh it.
Price it.
Write the sheet.
Raven to the Rock.”
“N-now?”
“Now.”
Merrell turned and ran.
Three clerks went after him.
Lyonel pushed back into the tent.
The map still open.
He sat and put his boots on the board.
Outside: men calling, iron on rock, someone on a tune.
Bronn put his head in with more bread in his fist.
“My lord.
Truly twelve hundred.”
“I can’t run a sum.
You know that.”
“Then don’t.”
“Then what do I do.”
Lyonel looked up.
“Watch the mouth.
No one walks off with a stone.”
Bronn put the bread in his teeth, gave two fingers for a salute, and pulled out.
Lyonel let the chair take his back and shut his eyes.
Short night.
Not tired.
Silverhill’s map in his head.
The run of the vein.
Sixteen thousand carts still in the number.
Merrell outside, loud:
“First cart down!
A hundred and thirty pounds!
Purity seventy-six!
Mark—a hundred and thirty dragons!”
A shout from the crew.
Second cart.
Third.
Fourth.
Every call set the rim off again.
Lyonel stayed in the chair and heard it.
Bronn in the mix: “Fuck.
Each one fatter than the last.
This stone’s learning arithmetic.”
“Fifth cart!
A hundred and thirty-five!
Seventy-seven!”
“Sixth!”
“Seventh!”
Noon.
Twelve carts done.
Merrell came through the flap with ink to the wrists and slapped the sheepskin on the table.
“My lord.
Full count.
One thousand two hundred forty gold dragons.”
Lyonel looked at the figure.
Trade Sense had already closed it.
Inside the band.
“The raven.”
“Ready.”
“Write.
First day’s take: twelve carts.
Value: one thousand two hundred forty gold dragons.
Still cutting.”
Merrell wrote, sealed.
“That all, my lord?”
“That’s all.
Tywin reads the number.
That’s enough.”
The bird left camp for Casterly Rock.
Lyonel did not wait on an answer.
He took the rim and looked down.
A dozen more backs than morning.
Cliff at the floor, grey to the teeth, grinning like the prize had come in.
“My lord!
North wall’s open!
It’s all ore!”
“Keep on.”
“Aye!”
The iron doubled.
Sun went.
A second raven came back from the Rock.
A slip on the leg.
Lyonel opened it.
Three words.
Keep digging.
No name under it.
He knew the hand.
Hard.
Sharp.
Every stroke cut.
Tywin’s.
Bronn leaned and flicked a look.
“Fuck.
Three words.”
“No praise.”
“That was praise.”
“Where.”
Lyonel folded the slip and put it in his coat.
“Tywin writes past two words, he’s praising.”
Bronn gave that two seconds.
Then he laughed and went down on his heels.
“My lord.
I ride with you this long and even the compliment comes out mean.”
Lyonel let it lie and went back in.
The pane put up a new line.
[System]
Task: Miner Loyalty
Progress: 47%.
Half still to run.
The book was up twelve hundred forty dragons for the day.
Tomorrow would add.
The day after that too.
The days were putting on weight where you could see it.
He took the chair again.
Boots on the board.
Moon clean on the canvas.
The picks had not stopped.
Bronn at the mouth, talking himself larger for the crew.
Halfway through a line, a shout cut him.
“Raven from the Rock!”
Another bird on the guy-rope.
Lyonel undid the slip.
Same hand.
One more line.
Silverhill books updated.
The Rock sits a council in the morning.
You will not attend.
He read it and the mouth bent.
Good he would not sit it.
He was on a dry bed pulling gold, not in the hall with the old names chewing the same bone.
Tywin keeping him here meant Tywin had run the same count: the hole outranked the table.
Bronn’s head in the flap again.
“My lord.
What’s it say.”
“Nothing.”
“He want you back for the talk.”
“He doesn’t.”
Bronn grinned.
“Then you don’t get stripped for it.”
Lyonel folded the slip into the drawer.
“Tomorrow we dig.”
“How far.”
“Until the hill is empty.”
Bronn pulled out.
From the other side of the canvas, to the crew, too loud:
“You hear him?
Until the hill is empty.
That’s a mind.
That’s what a mind looks like.”
The miners gave him a sound bigger than noon.
Lyonel shut his eyes.
The pane sat quiet.
[System]
Opening the West — Stage One
Progress: 32%.
A card in the morning.
New stone in the morning.
The Rock’s clerks putting today’s figure in a book so the West would know a windfall had landed.
None of that was his work.
He had one line.
Dig.
Until Silverhill ran out of a name for the hole.
Until Tywin’s brow moved again.
Until the rest of them shut their mouths.
Outside, iron on the wall.
One.
Then another.
He put an arm under his head.
The mouth stayed bent.
Twelve hundred forty dragons for the day.
Tomorrow would run fatter.
The days were getting better, and that was the truth of it.