Giuyara, Yi Ti

314 AC

WHOOOOSH!

Almost as soon as the small mound of black powder lit up into a compressed explosion of sparks, had the stench of burning sulfur entered the wide open corridor of the warehouse.

Duncan Mormont watched in fascination as the towering blue flame whirled into the air, and then just as quickly sputter out on the stone table into nothing.

"...As you can see, Zūnjià," Mao was wearing a wicked grin that held pride. "Even the slightest spark would cause it to go off."

"You don't have to tell me, Mao. I'm simply wondering what else it can be used for besides starting fires."

"We have many uses for this powder; largely for the cannons that we place on our ships and walls, as well as for our fireworks," The older man elaborated. "It will still burn even during storms-and even in greater quantities, it would be used by mining companies for excavations, but only after being put into a casing."

Mormont nodded along. He could see the value in such an invention. He was even more curious as to why this black powder hadn't yet reached Westeros. "What's the stuff made of?"

"A simple mixture of chemicals. Charcoal, sulfur, and saltpeter. It is so trivial that even a child could put it together."

Ouch… that reply was rather unintentionally scathing-no doubt Mao wished to emphasize just how elementary the discovery was. On the other hand it reflected poorly on Mormont's countrymen. How the Citadel had yet to figure out this literal recipe for destruction, practically a potential replacement for Wildfire was beyond him. Perhaps they were too busy trying to influence the Lords of Westeros to consider progressing their society.

He immediately made a note of that mixture in his mind, charcoal, sulfur, and saltpeter. There wouldn't be any particular harm in bringing that back to Westeros once he was finished up here in Yi Ti.

"I can see the greed in your eyes, Zūnjià!" Mao exclaimed, laughing. "However, you must take care when handling such a material. It is as useful as it is dangerous. I trust you with this knowledge, and for the time being, ask that you keep it to yourself."

"Of course, Mao." Mormont was sincere in his reply. "But why exactly are you showing this to me in the first place?"

It was a fair question. Duncan had woken up earlier that morning and trained just has he had every day for the last week. Mormont had to be absolutely fit, as his instincts were telling him that very soon, his end of the bargain would be coming up. And after being idle so many moons, the long dormant warrior within him was itching to jump right into the action.

However, instead of heading over to Royal House, Mao had arrived at the Jade Palace and immediately whisked him away in a carriage to some warehouse outside of Giuyara, with the whole journey having taken over four hours.

Officially it belonged to the "Arkenstone Coal Mining Company"

Unofficially, it was the storing house of some supposedly dangerous equipment best left out of the public eye.

The warehouse was a large rectangular structure composed of bricks, and pinewood, and the red tile roof was coated over in some sort of polish. Thick pillars made of stone were placed symmetrically throughout the length of the interior, shooting up from the stone floor all the way to the arched ceiling. Towards the tops of the walls, there were narrow glass windows (which were obviously too small for any one person to climb through) that occasionally let in the light of the passing sun. Mormont guessed they were probably also there to let out smoke, which was likely a result of the rather… explosive experiments which took place there.

Mao had endless patience, it seemed. "Because, Zūnjià, you will be handling similar-and far more volatile-materials during the course of your operation. Naturally, you will be accompanied by others in my employ who are already versed with this powder and others like it. However, it is of the highest priority that you too understand how to properly handle it."

"In that case you'll find no arguments from me," Mormont said. The professional side of his mind had taken over. He'd become an expert with this stuff one way or another. "What do you mean by 'far more volatile materials' though?"

There was a knowing flash in those black-brown eyes. "You, my friend, will be dealing with what we call, 'high explosives' during the operation which is currently being planned. Once we have located the Yellow King, of course. These explosives are significantly more potent than the powder I have shown you just now. "

"I don't suppose I'll be getting another live demonstration, then?"

"Naturally," Mao said, "Come. My associates have prepared a few such displays for us today."

Mormont followed him outside and instinctively tugged at his sweat-stained tunic. The midday sun hadn't done him any favors, naturally, even in spite of the light cool breeze.

Outside, there was a large compound which had the look of a mining site, which was bordered with tall brick walls so as to keep out any overly curious passersby.

Spread throughout the compound were various huts made out of timber. The largest of which was the guardhouse, where about twenty men-all former soldiers belonging to the Imperial Army-would stay. The watch routine was strict; ten men would be on duty for twelve hours, while the others rested, ate, and spent time with their loved ones. Food would be brought to them, and it was expected for the men on watch to drink plenty of water during the day so they could stay awake and alert at all times.

Mormont couldn't help but be impressed at the efficient machine under Mao's control. These men would fight and die for their commander. It was plain to see in the way they'd formed a clean line as both he and Mao entered the compound-holding their hands to their heads and their eyes to the ground out of respect.

Towards the northern end, there was a ditch that led further downwards, past the black metal gate and down the tiled steps. A quarry?

The rather shallow ravine opened up laterally before them. Guard rails and brick barriers were in place on the narrow plateau. Another stone storehouse stood up against the tall brick wall. Two men were going in and out of it carrying barrels and crates.

Mao pointed out to the middle of the rough stone crater below. "This is where we test our ordnance. We would normally placed them out there, and then come back here just before go off."

"Aren't you concerned that the people in town will hear about it?"

Mao shook his head. "We are tens of miles out from Giuyara. While it is possible the people may hear the occasional blast, often it is ignored, regularly interpreted as background noise. And with the hustle and bustle that comes with city life…" He shrugged. "It is not a problem for us. As for the use of a quarry, it is mutually accepted that there is no one safe distance to rely on. Especially when it comes to bombs. This place mitigates such risks."

Mormont nodded, crinkling his eyes as a cloud shifted away and the sun glared down at them both once more. "And what about these barriers of yours?"

"Protection, of course. Flying shards of metal, stone, or wood can still hit you even if you are a full field away! Therefore we must stay behind suitable cover. Keep this mind, Zūnjià. It may very well save your life."

"If you say so, Mao." Mormont said, giving a bewildered smile. "So what else are we going to blow up, then?"

His host had given him a slight smirk before turning to the two workers who were going in and out of the storehouse. Mao spoke rapidly to them in YiTish, and both men bowed.

Very quickly, they came back out with a smaller, torso-sized barrel painted in red. A few YiTish letters were colored in white along the length of the barrel. A long black string protruded from the lid of the thing, it was about three meters long.

"What's this?" Mormont asked.

"This is barrel contains one of our more potent variations of the black powder you've seen so far. In our language it is called 'Qíměi lā zhī xī', meaning literally, 'Chimera's Breath'. It is occasionally used by our war ships." Mao answered, then gesturing for Duncan to follow him to one of the nearby tables.

The workers placed the barrel on the table and unwound the long black string so the end rested on the wooden top. Then they stepped away and off to the side as Mao begun the lesson.

"Inside the barrel, Zūnjià, is what we call the secondary explosive. It is not too dissimilar from the incendiary liquid your people call Wildfire. However, ours is considerably more stable. It does not light as easily on its own. And here at the top of the barrel," Mao continued as he rested his hand on a small black wooden box that jutted out slightly from the lid. "Is where the primary explosive is housed."

Placing two volatile substances next to one another? Isn't that outstandingly dangerous?

Mormont had no doubt that it was. But then again, the mixture of these various chemicals was intentional. Probably, he surmised, to create the most optimal effect-in this case to make things go boom.

Which meant…

"Ah…" Mormont hummed, the pieces snapping together in his mind. "One is used to set off the other."

"Correct, Zūnjià." the older man nodded, now with a pleased smile. "This is a detonator. Once ignited with a match or a flame, it will discharge and set off the secondary explosive."

Mormont again spied at the black cord. The opposite end of it connected to the black box. That's got to be flammable too, then. Probably filled with that black powder Mao showed me.

The cord was likely what set off the detonator, which then set off the Chimera's Breath. Burning buildings. Chunks of stone and steel flying everywhere. The screams of men, women, and children. If such a weapon could be developed in Westeros-much like how Wildfire had been-the implications could be disastrous.

"And lighting this is what will detonate it?" Mormont said as he plucked up the long end of the black cord.

"Right again, Zūnjià. You learn quickly. We will now give you a demonstration. I must, however, warn you to cover your ears. It can be quite loud."

Mormont nodded, and watched as the two workers took the barrel down the hill and deeper into the quarry. It must've been about fifty meters out before they finally set the container down and completely unwound the fuse and fumbled with it.

Then, both men immediately began running back to the hill the way they came. Just as they both rushed by Mormont, he watched as they quickly got behind one of the barricades and held their hands to their ears. So too did Mao. It didn't take a genius to understand what would happen next, and so Mormont decided to do the same.

Even under the muffled blockade of the palms of his hands, he still heard it.

CRKKBOOOM!

Mormont nearly cringed at the ear-piercing lightning strike that still echoed in his eardrums.

The earth shook violently underneath his feet, and he might've lost balance if he'd not been leaning up against the barricade. A brief wave of intensified heat had brushed against his face before it went away.

Moments later, the rumbling seemed to have died down, and when the others removed their ears, Mormont did the same-though he immediately regretted doing so. A ringing, white noise pounded against his temples, and Mormont tried to shake his head so as to get it out.

Blessedly, it left. Mao turned to him and gestured beyond the barricade for him to look. And when Mormont did so, his eyes instinctively went wide.

Nothing was left of the red barrel.

"Seven Hells…" Mormont let out a sharp breath. The whole scene might as well have been a depiction of hell.

The only thing that Mormont saw was a field of fire almost nearly as vast as the quarry itself. Large chunks of stone and rock were all over the place, also engulfed in the shockwave.

And to think… all of those gouts of golden flames and stone came from a small, seemingly insignificant barrel! What if there had been two barrels? Three? Five, even? Would these barricades that he and the others hid behind be enough to protect them?

Unlikely, Mormont knew the answer. The blast radius-if it could even be boiled down to such a simplistic term-would've been drastically larger.

The potential for destruction was high to an uncomfortable degree. If Mormont hadn't been mindful of where he was, he might've lit his smoking pipe.

"You can agree that it is far more powerful than the powder, yes?" Mao suddenly appeared at his side again-as if he hadn't been there to begin with. "At a closer range, the Chimera's Breath would be more than enough to demolish multiple homes to the ground. Perhaps even it could take down the walls of a fortress." The older man said in a neutral, yet knowing tone of voice. "Your task will involve a great deal of stealth. Of course, you will be armed with the Chimera's Breath. That said, getting yourself to a safer distance before it goes off will be your own responsibility. I trust this is acceptable to you?"

"It is," Mormont said with a sharp nod.

He'd signed up for this after all, and he'd just have to make sure he got out alive and in good enough health if he was the one to light the fuse.

Because he certainly didn't want to be in the middle of that blast when it finally went off.

By the time they'd returned to Royal House-Mao had ordered for an early dinner to be prepared for them. In the meantime, he had taken Mormont into the lounge-like office with the maps and the papers and the secret doorway. They sat opposite of one another in the comfortable leather chairs by the roaring fireplace.

On the coffee table between them was a neat, but short stack of files that Mao had assembled only minutes prior. The older man had taken his time opening them, even pouring a glass of water for both himself and Mormont before they got back to work.

It seemed for a moment to Duncan, that Mao had seemingly lost that sense of desperate urgency he had over a week ago. Probably because he'd felt confident about their progress so far. It was only a matter of time before the problem got solved-either by Mao's own men, or the strange laowai sitting directly across from him.

Mormont quietly studied the golden-brown face with the scrutiny and detail of a professional, and patiently waited for what would come next.

Reports coming back already by the look of it, he thought to himself. Those folders looked similar to the ones on the shelf across the room.

Mao had drank down his glass of water and pulled over the topmost file. "Earlier this morning, we received word from our operatives in Tempurung, Ysharo, and Izohoruna." He said with a neutral voice. "These are the transcripts. They are all in our language, so I will translate the facts for you."

Duncan grunted with a slight nod of his head in response. Perhaps one of these days he'd sit down and learn YiTish himself.

Might as well, if I'm going to stay here any longer, he thought to himself with an amused smile.

"So," Mao flipped the file open, frowning as he silently went through each of the sheaves of paper inside. "Hmmm… it appears that there has been yet another attack on a village in Tempurung. A splinter cell of these cultists, no less."

Mormont sat forward slightly. "How so? Were they caught?"

"Yes. Caught and killed, in fact." His host said, frowning. The clear impatience, that urgency to be rid of this embarrassment of a problem had been renewed. "Besides this… many of the merchant caravans traveling through Tempurung bore different seals on their border passes. There was nothing out of the ordinary to note."

Well… they certainly weren't off to a good start.

Mormont calmly sat back in his seat again. "What exactly is the process for crossing the border?"

Mao pinched the bridge of his nose. "A small garrison is stationed at each border-most of these stations are in smaller towns or hamlets, or relatively close by. They inspect travelers who wish to cross over into another province. First they ask for border passes bearing an official seal from a lord or a king. Then they ask various questions concerning the traveler's visit, and finally, they conduct an inventory check. Once everything is concluded, the traveler is allowed to pass on into the neighboring province."

"And you've got men working inside these stations?"

His host nodded, "Of course."

Sounds about right, Mormont thought. He recalled another piece of information yielded to him from Mao's answer. The border passes can be given out by just any random lordling.

That didn't exactly narrow it down. There were perhaps thousands of Sorceror Lords, Kings, and Spice Merchants ruling over their petty kingdoms in Yi Ti. Any one of them could've been handing out the right legal papers to the Cult of Starry Wisdom.

"What about Ysharo, then?" Mormont asked, "Something… strange turn up?"

Mao flipped through the next report. He was unhurried by the question, and took his time going through it. "No," he said finally. "Though there have been no recent attacks, there have been floods of miners and farmers leaving the province to seek work in the South. Many of their compounds and crops were put to the torch, it seems."

Either by the Cult of Starry Wisdom, or by Nowara.

It didn't need to be said. Mao clearly disliked the ruler of Ysharo. It was quite possible that Mao had ranked Nowara as his number one suspect, but had relented more so out of a desire to be impartial.

Junpei Fong Nowara. He must've been some piece of work, elsewise Mao wouldn't loathe him the way that he did.

As an outsider to the politics of Yi Ti, Mormont found it hard to see Nowara in such a light. By that same token, he could understand the feeling. The Northern Lords who'd snubbed their noses up at him in his formative years came to mind. The Karstarks, the Glovers, the Cerwyns, the Ryswells… None of them were particularly outstanding, yet they thought themselves so damnably superior to his family in their own way. Probably some sense of moral edge that they imagined up in their heads. Even if they'd done precious little to expand their holdings and improve the lives of their own people.

Fucking cunts.

"And none of those farmers had acted… out of the ordinary?" Mormont asked, forcing himself to be ice-cold, and deciding to get back to more practical matters.

"No. Many of them brought along their wives and children. Entire families have been held up along the border for weeks. An inquiry will likely be made about this in the Imperial Court fairly soon if it does not stop."

That was another matter entirely, and one that Mormont was uninterested in. "What about Izohoruna then?"

Now that he thought about it, the lesser of the three suspect provinces had gotten him wondering in the last few days. As well as making quite a few connections.

Tsai Na had sent dignitaries to Trader Town under the guise of public escorts, hadn't he? Or at least so Mao had claimed. There was no solid evidence to prove it, of course. Those escorts could have been acting of their own volition, without Tsai Na's authority backing them.

And after having been in Yi Ti for a few moons, Mormont knew just how important the Spice Trade was to the country. Tsai Na with his political and mercantile connections, would be almost equally as important. No doubt he had plenty of allies he could call upon to do favors for him.

If it actually came to light that Tsai Na was supporting the Cult of Starry Wisdom… it would unravel all of those healthy connections in a flash. Very quickly, Tsai Na would meet with some unfortunate accident.

As it stood, Duncan was ninety percent certain that Tsai Na had nothing to do with the Yellow King nor the Cult of Starry Wisdom-but only ninety. There was still that ten percent of doubt which told him that Tsai Na was a dubious customer, that, if Duncan was right about the Cult acting as merchants, then Tsai Na's involvement would begin to look more and more likely.

What are the chances of that?

That possibility alone stood on a whole mountain of suspicions and guesses that had been accumulated over the last week alone. But to Mormont… it was a clear possibility.

Mormont was quickly brought back to reality as he noticed Mao frown out of the corner of his eyes. Those brown-black eyes were narrowed sharply on something…

What was it?

"Mao?" He asked, raising a questioning eyebrow.

His host had unsteadily locked eyes with him for a moment, and then gently set down the folder on the coffee table. Then he took a sip of water from his glass and simply stared into the pinewood floor.

The action alone was all Duncan needed to know. Mao found something. And it was something definite.

"There have been reports of merchants passing in and out of Izohoruna," Mao finally said after a short silence. "None of them acted unusual. And they were in groups of say, twenty to forty. Not unlike the sizes of the caravans in the other provinces."

"So?"

"So…" Mao pulled idly at his stringy mustache. "There is just one detail of note that was mentioned in the report…"

Mormont narrowed his eyes only slightly. "And what's that?"

Mao finally met his gaze. This time the brown-black eyes were steady.

"The merchants heading back into Izohoruna refused to sell their goods."