![]() “We have been working very hard, my lord Hand, hmmm.” ![]() “Yes, yes, that’s so.” Hallyne mopped at his pale brow with the sleeve of his black-and-scarlet robe. You are several thousand jars ahead of the best estimate you gave me when last we met.” “Three hundred jars, you say? That still does not account for these totals. He supposed it was as good a place as any to store wildfire, and better than most, but it would have been nice if the late Lord Rossart had told someone. “I haven’t seen any dragons rising over the city, so it would seem it didn’t work this time either.” The Dragonpit atop the hill of Rhaenys had been abandoned for a century and a half. “There was a prince who tried that once,” said Tyrion dryly. He was so drunk he broke the seal and drank some.” When he felt the jars, he mistook them for wine. Under the Dragonpit! Some whores have been using the ruins to entertain their patrons, and one of them fell through a patch of rotted floor into a cellar. Another cache of Lord Rossart’s was found, more than three hundred jars. We have been, hmmm, most fortunate, my lord Hand. ![]() “No, no,” Hallyne squeaked, “the sums are accurate, I swear. “Almost thirteen thousand jars? Do you take me for a fool? I’m not about to pay the king’s gold for empty jars and pots of sewage sealed with wax, I warn you.” ![]() “This cannot be true,” said Tyrion as he pored over the ledgers. Only then did he admit Hallyne with the latest tallies from the alchemists. ![]()
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