Celestial Hymn 1 (Patreon)

Celestial Hymn

Chapter 1

-VB-

There was a rumor of a strange man and a strange house in the middle of nowhere in the Vale. The rumor spoke of a man who met with the head of the House Waxley of Wickenden, a town north of the Bay of Crabs. House of Waxley was responsible for much of the northern coast, and apparently, this man who sought and got an audience with the Lord of Wickenden managed to get himself a workshop for producing works of art.

Little by little, Wickenden, which was never a prosperous or powerful town, became enriched with art that - little by little - made other cities and towns look drab in comparison.

Renly realized that this was the truth. As he and his cohort approached the walled town of Wickenden, they saw a single statue adorning the left side of the entrance, holding up the battlement above. A giant of great white marble stood there, using his arms to sustain the battlement. His face, though contorted with great pain, showed great determination to continue his duty.

As they grew closer, the size of the statue became clear. At least four yards. No, maybe even five.

It showed off every muscle and curve. Details grew in complexity and number.

And Renly could not help but wonder if giants of the old were like this.

He gulped as he entered the open gates, and the lors personally greeted him.

"Welcome, welcome!" a thin man in yellow, white, and black greeted loudly with his own knights. His greying brown hair and moustache didn't make him look weak despite his thinness. "Welcome to this humble Wickenden, Prince Renly Baratheon!"

After he had just seen what had to cost more than a year's wage to feed a small army for a year, he didn't think this town was humble at anything.

Renly got off his horse and clasped the man's arms in a brotherly handshake.

"Thank you for the welcome, Lord Waxley," he said. "I did not know you were a patron of the arts."

"Oh, I certainly wasn't before. It took quite a bit to convince me."

"Like a genius artisan?"

Waxley looked pained. "Yes," he admitted. "He is too talented to be easily hidden, it seems."

Renly chuckled. "I think all of the seven kingdoms are aware of him."

"Already?"

"When you have that at the gate…"

"Ah yes. Alan called the statue 'Duty.'"

Alan and Duty. The name of the artisan and his first impression.

Renly just had to commission something from him.

"Come, my prince. I have prepared a feast in your honor!"

"Then let us be."

Perhaps later. Etiquette had to be observed, after all.

His paige came to take his reins and he walked with Lord Waxley, side by side. As they walked towards the central castle of the town, Renly noticed that there were other things.

A fountain that just perfectly sprayed water into the air. Small shrubberies along the side of the road that had little to no discrepancies. Smaller statues, more in line with normal individuals, in various forms and expressions.

"Which one is that called?" he asked, staring at a marble statue of a man who seemed to be thinking.

"Ah, the sculptor called it 'The Thinker.'"

A very fitting name.

When they entered the castle, he saw even more statues. Some were fantastic and mythical and others were more sublime and powerful.

And then they entered the hall.

Renly's eyes laid upon the resident lords chair and nearly let his jaw drop.

"That chair," Lord Waxley said proudly, diminishing the value by calling a proper throne, however wooden, a mere chair. "Was what got me to accept Alan's offer."

It was a throne of a single solid block of wood. Renly saw details upon it that went down to the size of a newborn baby's nails. It depicted battles, history, and even his older brother's rebellion and Lord Waxley's part in it. It was a piece of work that just screamed power and prestige.

Renly's best chair back home was worth less than a quarter of what this was worth.

"Very impressive."

"I am sure that a prince of your stature has better, and nothing can beat the Iron Throne in its prestige, but this is mine, and I am in love with it."

No, Renly was not jealous.

And then he saw a silver wine cup of the same quality. Though it lacked any studded gems and only boasted a thin line of gold around the rim, the ornate engravings looked far more valuable than a proper landed knight's armor set.

So meticulous in details did both objects contain that Renly swore he could stare at them for years to come and still find details he hadn't discovered before.

Genius artisan? No. No no no no no. This was a talent that came once every millenia. His patronage would see Lord Waxley's wealth surge high among the peerage. He would push aside all but the Lord Paramounts and the wealthiest of the Reach's noble houses.

"He's been with me for four years, and he's still only sixteen!"

Renly knew at this point that Lord Waxley knew he would lose his grip over this artisan. Renly knew he alone could offer land and titles that Waxley himself can only dream of. There was no chance Waxley could keep a hold of the personified gold mine.

"Would you like to meet him, my prince?"

'But Waxley could earn himself my favor. A favor of a lord paramount,' he thought as he nodded, unwilling to trust his mouth and lips to appeal properly.

"Very well, then! Let us feast first, my prince. It would be a shame to meet someone on an empty stomach and a grouchy mind!"

Renly laughed along with the lord politely as they walked up to the head of the hall…. And Waxley offered him to sit on the wooden throne.

Renly didn't hesitate.

The closer he looked, the value of this throne only increased and in turn multiplied the value of its maker.

"This is a marvelous… Chair."

Lord Waxley chuckled. "Indeed. It will remain in my house for generations to come."

-VB-

Later that day, Renly finally met the slightly older sculptor.

Alone in the hall with only the ternager and his sworn shield, Renly Baratheon stared down at the boy kneeling and keeping his head down.

"So you are the acultpor of all of those statues, inclusing the giant one by the gate."

"Yes, your grace."

"What do you say about becoming my vassal?"

There was a moment of silence. Eventually, his sworn shield growled and shouted. "Answer when you are spoken to, peasant!"

Renly cared not for it.

"Well?" But he did want an answer. "Lift your head and give me an answer of any kind."

The teenager, older than Renly by a year, lifted his head. He looked plain. Brown hair, brown eyes, round jaws, thin lips, a thick nose bridge, and more. Just… average.

"I believe that the service and results I offer requires a better offer from you, your grace."

Oh, bold!

Before his sworn shield could even speak, the man continued.

"I have received letters from Lannister, Martell, and Tyrells, each offering me titles of nobility and land. For me to accept any offer less than what they offer would mean insult from a small folk to three lord paramounts, your grace. Even if you are the prince of the realm, making enemies of two houses of such high standing is not conducive to my survival. I imagine dying in a toilet with an arrow to my gut, a drop of poison in my food leading to a messy death on the way to the toilet, or simply go missing after going to the toilet."

Renly chortled. Then he laughed. "Well reasoned!" he snickered. "But why toilet?"

"People's minds tend to be in the gutter for most of the time, your grace. I know for a fact that one of the serving girls and the Waxley heir are ogling each other every meal."

He snorted and kept control of himself this time. "Very well. Let me hear what they offered."

"Martells offered me a brainy and one of the Sand Sisters."

"I see a poison," Renly jibbed.

"Tyrells offered me a town."

"Better."

"The Lannisters have offered me a lordship."

And just like that, all humor left him. "Lord Lannister did, did he?"

"Yes, your grace, and he also left a subtle threat that a small folk enriching other houses first before his may not live long."

Renly snorted. "You are a very brave and refreshing man, Alan. Fortunately, I do not believe that I can up Lord Lanister's offer. However, I do wish to commission something before I make that offer."

"For the right price and time, I shall create for you anything you desire."

Renly liked the sound of that.

"What would one hundred dragons get me?"

A moment of silence settled as Alan contemplated. Then he spoke. "I will carve a statue of whatever you desire of a real man's height of whatever you desire, my prince, and it will be done in seven days."

… only seven days? Well, the man certainly had some guts.

"Then make a statue out of marble of the most ideal man."

Alan bowed his head. "As you command."

-VB-

Lord Harold Waxley always knew that he would lose the talent that had allowed Wickenden to begin prospering. He invested a lot into other things, because this was nearly a fever dream. One day, it would pop, and if he didnçt prepare, then he would go back to the way it was before: lord of a town barely eking out a living in the Vale's mountainous coast.

With some of Alan's ideas and some investment, Harold managed to carve "terraces" into the side of the mountain, and there was more food around for everyone. He built a proper port, and because his was the only good port in the Bay of Crabs, merchants shipping goods down the river or up the river stopped by his port.

A week after the young prince's arrival, he stood next to that prince as they waited for the reveal of the promised statue.

Draped in yellow cotton fabric, no one among the crowd of fifty could see even after it had been gently wheeled into the hall.

"My prince," Alan spoke up, always too blunt. "I present to you Jon, the Perfect Man." Then he pulled the fabric away.

As always, Alan put a lot of time into the details. Harold could also tell that this was of a higher quality work. It was lifelike. Too lifelike. He mistook it for a man with paint for a moment.

Chiseled yet not overly muscular, tall yet not too tall, solemn yet not too serious, proud yet not arrogant. It was in the body, face, pose, and stance.

Harold could only hope to be as half as confident and powerful as the statue was. It was, as Alan titled it, the perfect man.

Prince Renly seemed to be in love with it. "It is perfect."

Women in the hall marveled at the statue. Some of the men compared themselves. Others looked upon it obviously.

It would be the first and not the last of Alan's work that would not adorn his home. Harold felt deeply sad about that. Alan had grown to be a good man. He was never arrogant, never greedy, and never lazy. Harold had even considered him a good match for his youngest daughter, but he would soon be a lord of a higher standing. His daughter, while not average looking or ugly, had no chance.

Not when he had secretly read the Lannister's offer. A personal fiefdom? That was something only the likes of the House Lannister could provide.

“Your value is truly worth a castle, sculptor,” Prince Renly Baratheon spoke loudly as he turned to the man in question. “Lord Paramount of Westerlands was not underestimating you when he offered a castle. In fact, I shall go ahead and offer you more than just a castle. In the Stormlands, there is a long stretch of land in northeastern Stormlands. Many of its lords have died without heirs during the rebellion, and the House of Baratheons have been keeping them to hand out to future vassals. You, Sculptor Alan, can choose to become the lord of any castle and the lands the previous castle lord’s owned and were responsible for. What say you?”

-VB-

A month after Prince Rennly left, he met with Alan for perhaps the last time as the man had chosen to accept Prince Renly’s offer. They were in his study during the day.

"I bring you a gift, milord."

And Alan brought forth a small statuette. As big as four fists put together, it was that of a powerful ram, the unofficial symbol of House Waxley.

"May you live prosperous and as strong as a mountain ram."

It was a heartfelt gift.

"As do you… my friend."

-VB-

Celestial Forge in ASIOAF

-VB-

Rules:

1. 100 CP per START of 1,000 words
2. 1 roll = 100 cp limit, 2nd roll = 200 cp limit, 3rd = 300 cp limit, etc etc

This Chapter:
Crafting Artisan - Artisan (100 CP), Skills Magic - Dark Crystal (200 CP)