The Mountain of Ice and Fire

The next day, in the main hall of Casterly Rock, seat of House Lannister.

Lord Tywin's voice was not loud, yet it carried an unmistakable weight of authority.

"All the lords of the Westerlands are gathered here today. I have several announcements to make. If anyone has objections, feel free to voice them."

The hall fell silent. Not a single sound.

That pleased Lord Tywin.

He preferred his vassals to listen, not to speak. The invitation to raise objections was nothing more than a formal courtesy.

Of course, Tywin was not averse to hearing real concerns, but only if they were well-considered and backed by sound logic. If not, it was better to remain silent.

"The first matter: all salt mining and trade in the Westerlands is to be centralized. Casterly Rock will reclaim full control. All shops under your houses that deal in salt are to cease procurement. Once current stocks are sold, operations end. All rock salt mined across the Westerlands is to be transported to Casterly Rock. Do any of the earls object?"

The hundred lords and knights in the hall remained utterly silent.

"Good." Tywin continued. "Since we are in agreement, I hereby appoint Ser Kevan as the Minister of Salt for the Westerlands. From this day forward, only 'Snow Salt' may be sold. For the first six months, its price will be equal to that of rock salt. After that, the price will rise by twenty percent. For external sales, the price will be tripled. Each vassal's domain will be assigned a fixed monthly salt quota, which may be reduced, but never increased. Any objections?"

This quota system was designed to prevent vassals from buying salt cheaply from Casterly Rock and reselling it at higher prices elsewhere. Once the quotas were enforced, trying to sell at a premium outside one's domain would only result in a shortage at home, for both lord and commoner.

The hall remained still.

"Ser Kevan?"

"I accept Your Grace's appointment and the office of Minister of Salt."

"Good. Second matter: within three days, each vassal must send two generals to Casterly Rock to learn the military whistle system. This knowledge is not to be shared outside the Westerlands. Should anyone be found leaking it to other duchies, they will face harsh military punishment."

Tywin's gaze swept the hall slowly. Where his eyes passed, nobles instinctively lowered their gazes, avoiding his stare.

Still, no one raised an objection.

"Ser Rafford Clegane."

Rafford stepped forward quickly. "Yes, Your Grace."

"You are appointed Chief Instructor of the military whistle system. You will have one month to train two generals from each house in the proper use of whistle commands, one for cavalry, one for infantry. Do you accept it?"

Gone was Rafford's usual cheerful expression, replaced by a serious, cold demeanor. "Yes, Your Grace."

This was a tremendous honor bestowed upon House Clegane, one Rafford himself felt deeply.

"Once Casterly Rock's generals complete their whistle training, I will personally inspect the armies of every vassal within two months. Troops will be tested on formation changes, maneuvering, and command execution via whistle. Any army that fails the examination will see its general and lord punished under martial law. Any objections?"

The hall remained silent.

Tywin's eyes once again swept the room of lords and knights. He always paused after each major decree to observe the room.

"The third matter: starting today, chopsticks are to be adopted across the Westerlands, beginning with the nobility. Within six months, all nobles, knights, soldiers, and commoners are to abandon metal utensils entirely. Steel is too valuable, and the price of iron ore from the Iron Islands rises every year."

"From tomorrow onward, no blacksmith may manufacture or sell iron cutlery or tableware. Production is hereby banned. Maester Pycelle, explain the benefits."

Maester Pycelle cleared his throat. "Lords and knights, after calculations last night, I found that by saving the iron used in common household goods, such as wash basins, we could increase our iron reserves by forty percent annually. Redirecting this iron to make armor, swords, daggers, and arrowheads would reduce the cost of weapons by thirty percent."

The hall remained silent.

When it came to numbers, everyone trusted Maester Pycelle.

Lord Tywin's gaze swept the room again, the pressure of his presence nearly tangible.

"Does anyone have questions or objections? Speak now."

wooden chopsticks vs. iron utensils, there was no question which was cheaper. Tywin had already considered every angle. This wasn't an impulsive decision.

During wartime, most commoners had no armor and wielded rusted, inferior weapons. Why? Because they were unaffordable.

Steel was too rare.

But wood was abundant in the forested mountains of the Westerlands.

"My Lord." said Lord Lefford of Golden Tooth, "if iron tableware is abolished, what do we use for kitchen knives? Surely chopsticks can't slice meat."

He voiced the concern on everyone's mind.

"Kitchen knives will be manufactured centrally by Casterly Rock's smiths and distributed via a quota system. I will ensure every household receives at least two knives. From now on, whether it's meat or bread, it must be pre-sliced in the kitchen and served ready to eat. Chopsticks only at the table. No personal knives or forks allowed."

"Six months from now, every home in the Westerlands will use chopsticks. All existing iron cutlery, including those of House Lannister, must be turned in. They can be exchanged for snow salt. I'll say it again: steel must be conserved. From now on, it is for weapons and armor only. No more iron plates, iron pots, or decorative items. Wood will replace them all. Any objections?"

Many looked around uneasily. Centuries of tradition, abandoned overnight? It felt surreal.

But no one dared speak.

After all, even House Lannister was held to the same standard. No exceptions.

Gregor couldn't help but admire Lord Tywin. At twenty, Tywin had already been appointed Hand of the King for his political brilliance, overseeing the governance of all Seven Kingdoms for two decades. His administrative skill was beyond question.

The chopsticks initiative alone would give the Westerlands a critical advantage in steel reserves over rival kingdoms. Once weapon prices dropped and commoners were better armed, which army would be stronger in the next war?

Gregor, despite coming from a highly advanced world, was still a novice when it came to grand statecraft.

When he first introduced chopsticks, he hadn't realized how such a trivial, low-cost tool could free up a massive reserve of iron. And the Iron Islands' annual price hikes on ore were no joke.

"Now that governance is done." Tywin continued, "I wish to recognize Ser Gregor Clegane for his extraordinary contributions to the Westerlands. I believe he will bring us even more valuable inventions in the future. For such merit, I intend to reward him today."

Gregor stepped forward, bowing with respect.

"Ser Gregor, you are my most loyal general, your loyalty is unquestioned. Your blessing from the Light of the Seven fills me with awe. Let us thank the Seven! You are also my bravest commander, undefeated in battle, unmatched in all the realm. As such, I shall grant you a sizable fief. But more than that, I will give you the dearest and most precious thing I have."

"Thank you, Your Grace." Gregor said, kneeling on one knee, fist to chest.

"My daughter, Jeyne Westerling."

Tywin took Jeyne's hand.

"You are of marriageable age. Today, I bestow you in marriage to Ser Gregor. I hope you will accept."

His tone was polite, but his voice allowed no refusal.

The hall was so silent, it was as if no one existed.

Jeyne's mind exploded in a burst of white noise. She saw her father's lips moving, but couldn't hear a word.

The world blurred. Light, shadow, color, and sound melted into a dreamlike haze. She thought she heard her father, Lord Gawen Westerling, say in a voice that felt both distant and unreal:

"My lord, you are like a father to Jeyne. House Westerling is honored by this union."

Her body went limp. She couldn't stay upright. The world around her faded, sound and color vanished, and she plunged into endless darkness, falling deeper and deeper, with no end in sight.

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