The people of Westeros loved giving people nicknames.
Their skill, originality, and creativity in naming things might not compare to that of middle and high school students, but they never tired of it.
Viserys, for instance, was called the “Young King,” while Daemon had titles such as the “Prince of the City” and “Lord Flea Bottom.”
Rhaenyra was hailed as “The Realm’s Delight.”
As for Baelon, whether as a Targaryen prince, the Prince of Dragonstone, or the owner of factories that poured out golden dragons, he naturally stood in the spotlight and had inevitably become one of the most talked-about figures in Westeros.
Of course, that also had a great deal to do with Baelon’s willingness to spend money promoting himself and his generosity toward bards and singers.
Sometimes, a small golden dragon could accomplish more than a gigantic dragon ever could.
He had many titles, roughly divided between flattering and insulting.
Across the sun-drenched lands within his reach, people raised their hands and praised him as “the Merciful,” “the Beloved of the Gods,” and “the Just.”
Yet beneath the shadows of Castles, whispers could always be heard.
“The Weak One.”
“The Evil One.”
“The Sorcerer.”
As for the things he had “invented,” they naturally followed their creator in acquiring plenty of names of their own.
Take toilet paper.
The people of Westeros stubbornly insisted on calling it “dragon paper”!
Then there was alcohol.
It was something wholly out of place, an invention that had forced its way into the history of Westeros far ahead of its time.
With the endorsement of the High Septon of the Starry Sept, however, the Westerosi had given it far more pleasant names.
“Holy Water.”
“Water of Life.”
Both suited its uses perfectly.
Disinfection, warding off the cold, extracting medicinal solutions, and preparing herbal remedies.
Alcohol was now a royal monopoly, and Baelon alone controlled the techniques required to distill it.
But he knew that the technology would spread sooner or later.
Having seen the consequences of alcohol restrictions and prohibition in the history of his previous life, Baelon intended to introduce a licensing system in another two or three years.
For now, however, the royal monopoly, restrictions on exports, and the alcohol he supplied free of charge to public maternity clinics meant that it brought him no enormous profits.
Instead, it was alcohol’s byproduct, perfume, that had sparked an unimaginable craze throughout Westeros.
…
Baelon quietly listened to Dore, the steward of the perfume factory, give his report.
“House Tyrell purchased 340 pounds of Golden Rose Eau de Parfum last quarter. This quarter, they’re requesting 600 pounds.”
“The Lannisters have also asked to increase their order…”
Baelon opened a bottle of Golden Rose perfume, and the heavy fragrance immediately washed over him.
He frowned despite himself and waved a hand in front of his nose, trying to disperse the scent.
He had never cared for fragrances this strong and pungent.
They were almost suffocating.
The nobles of Westeros, however, adored rich, overpowering scents.
From the moment perfume appeared, it had been eagerly embraced by the nobility.
After two or three years of growth, the perfume industry had reached the point where fragrance itself had become a symbol of status. This chapter was taken from g.com without permission.
A person’s scent alone could proclaim who they were.
Nobles were surrounded by fragrance.
Commoners reeked.
If someone smelled as though ten thousand golden roses had blossomed around them at once, they were almost certainly from House Tyrell.
If someone carried a powerful, crisp woody fragrance blending orange blossom, ebony, and cedar, then they were surely a Baratheon.
The very next moment, however, Baelon was proven wrong.
“The new Lord of Baratheon, Lord Borros Baratheon, has written to request that the perfumers create a new fragrance for House Baratheon.”
“He says he’s had enough of the rotten-orange smell in the perfume!”
Borros’s father, Lord Boremund, had passed away in his sleep three months earlier.
Baelon nodded.
“It seems the fragrance Lord Boremund chose doesn’t suit the new Lord’s tastes.”
“Send five perfumers to Storm’s End.”
The Baratheons were major customers.
Nobles were willing to pay ten times, even dozens of times, the cost of the raw ingredients for perfume.
And when spices from Asshai were involved, the profits became astonishing.
No noble would begrudge spending gold and silver on them.
Poddo recorded the order with his usual serious expression.
He continued, “Lys has requested 50,000 pounds of perfume for the new season.”
“How much?!”
Baelon stared at him in shock.
When it came to indulgence, these thoroughly seasoned feudal nobles always found new ways to exceed the expectations of an ordinary man like Baelon.
Perfume was as expensive as liquid gold.
Baelon had assumed they would spray it sparingly on places such as their necks and wrists.
Instead, they used it like water.
They splashed it over their clothes, furniture, and walls.
Even House Lannister’s horses carried a lingering fragrance.
House Tyrell went even further, pouring perfume directly into their fountains.
They had also planted thousands of roses throughout their gardens.
Their wealth became fragrance itself, spreading like long clouds and hazy mist until it seemed to seep into every pore of the Tyrells.
It was said that House Tyrell spent as much on perfume in a single month as five minor nobles earned in an entire year.
Fragrance had thus become another boundary separating the great lords from lesser nobles, and lesser nobles from commoners.
It had become a mark of rank and status.
Baelon had thought that, after two years, he had already grown accustomed to noble extravagance.
Yet Lys’s order still stunned him.
His eyes almost seemed to turn into golden dragons.
How much gold would that earn him?!
Enough to fill his bedroom, surely!
Baelon stared at the quantity on Lys’s purchase order, gritted his teeth, and reluctantly rejected it. Get faster updates on g.com.
“No. We can increase their supply by fifteen percent at most.”
There was nothing else he could do.
Perfume was mostly alcohol.
And alcohol was made from grain!
Baelon was not foolish enough to drive up grain prices merely to make himself richer.
After all, it was a Targaryen sitting on the Iron Throne.
“Ah…”
Baelon sighed miserably, closed his eyes, and refused to look at the Free Cities’ purchase orders any longer.
How were every last one of them so damned rich?!
The Free Cities being wealthy was understandable.
They had once been Valyrian colonies, and when Valyria fell, they had feasted on the spoils.
But Westeros?
How had Aegon “the Conqueror” ended up with little more than a few battered swords and whatever he could seize from the battlefield?
“Who’s there? Come out!”
A knight suddenly roared toward the doorway.
Ser Uther immediately stepped in front of Baelon, one hand gripping the hilt of his sword, his gaze sharp.
Poddo’s expression remained stern.
He shifted sideways to shield Baelon and drew the Dragonbone dagger at his waist.
One gleaming suit of armor after another closed ranks in front of Baelon until he was completely hidden from view.
Twenty blades left their sheaths at once with a crisp, almost pleasant ring.
“I… my lords…”
An old, trembling voice sounded from outside.
Baelon rose from his chair, climbed onto the table, then stood on tiptoe to look over the armored men.
There were two hunched old women.
One had already fallen to her knees and was trembling uncontrollably.
The other stood perfectly straight, her hair neatly combed, though her legs were visibly shaking.
Faceless Men?!
Or were they really just old women?!
Baelon said, “Knights, you’ve frightened her. Put away your swords.”
The Faceless Men were human, not gods.
In this low-magic world, if two Faceless Men could somehow break through twenty fully armored knights and kill him, then what else could Baelon possibly say?
If they were that formidable, he might as well hand them his life.
At least then, Baelon could accept dying for a second time without regret.
He would gladly place the Faceless Men second on the Godlike Figures Ranking.
First place belonged to Brandon Snow,.
To this day, no one had managed to surpass the lofty position he held in Baelon’s heart.