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Coastal City of Acanon
Bolton Owned workshop
Mists of steam rose in the air in torrents, as men stirred the contents of large copper basins with long wooden paddles.
The slurry within was neither hide nor hair, but pulp, linen rags, hemp fibers, and cotton scraps broken down until they were no more than white ghosts suspended in water.
Rigmond and a line of his apprentices stood and watched the process with fascination.
And beside him stood a man named Somas.
Somas was not a Northman. He was short, spare, and dark-eyed, with the accent of a volantene ever clinging to his speech like oil to cloth.
Once, he had worked in Lys, then Pentos, and finally Braavos, before Domeric had bought his contract outright and brought him north under heavy guard and heavier promises.
"This batch will be better than the last," Somas voiced not holding back his enthusiasm as they peered into the vat.
"The fibers are finer now. Longer even, lord Bolton is a young genius , this method had utterly blown over my head, never in my years would I think to have come up with such a technique."
"Well we all can say so, master somas", Rigmond added not knowing quite well the genius for new ideas he had in that brain of his.
"What about the surface or its texture. I'm quite curious of the final product?"
"Very smooth if i might add scholar Rigmond," somas replied at once.
"Smoother than parchment. Smoother than vellum even and three times thinner. Ink will sit upon it like a saddle on a horse"
Rigmond Snorted at that claim.
They moved to another area where they kept a press, where sheets, still wet, were laid carefully atop one another, by which the stack of wet sheets were slid beneath a heavy wooden screw.
Two turned the arms slowly and carefully , until water ran out in steady rivulets and the stack compressed into something flatter, thinner, more uniform than any hide could ever be.
"They would stay here and drain, after which we would pull them out and air dry them properly to this", he said while handing the man a dried sheet.
Rigmond took the paper and brought it to eye level examining its texture. He could almost see through if the light was right.
It was white that was obvious. Perhaps the whitest paper he'd ever seen.
Not the yellowed bone-color of parchment, nor the blotched cream of cheap vellum, but a clean, pale white that caught the torchlight softly.
There was no grain to speak of. No raised veins. No scars, no blotches, nothing.
"I could fit twice the words on this, if only i wrote smaller" Rigmond said."
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Eyrie, Gulltown
"15 coppers per pound, for the salted pork and 20 for the mutton. And do keep in mind that this is of the highest quality meats that you could ever buy. Our meats are brined in northern salt, and in rich spices brought from lands in the farthest reaches east that only the mind could ever see or dream of." He convinced his customer.
"So you all say, but even so that's too pricey even for down here, and thats not what the other northern fellow charged me the last time, ", Big Tim said as as he crossed his arms.
" Well the other northern fellow sold you mere plain salted meats, no doubt of variety, but plain nevertheless, but with this. You yourself could garner more customers from this better tasting product. And more customers means more coppers and silver in your pockets. I've sold out in bravos 4 times over. And I decided to wade down to Kings landing to to do the same. They do have an apetite for this flavor I can tell you", Dennis the merchant smiled toothily.
"Hmmm," the man hummed in thought out loud.
"Tell you what."
"I'll give you 14 coppers per pound for the pork and 18 for the mutton, deal?" Tim gave his ultimatum.
"You drive a hard bargain my fellow" ….. Dennis also paused for a second to think .
"But deal" , he now replies as he raised his hand for tim to shake on it.
A hand shake to seal the deal.
"I want three hundred pounds of pork and a hundred and twenty pounds of mutton." He ordered
"Will do my good friend ", dennis says as he turned to the prepare the orders the man just placed. "I'll even throw in twenty pounds of potatoes, call it a gesture of my good will."
"Ahh, you aren't such a bad northern bastard afterall", the buyer joked making Dennis laugh aswell.
"Father can we get some sugar cubes ?", the little girl looked up to ask the stout man.
"A Next time Gretchen, my coin is almost finished and your mother wants one of those new sewing thingies from the north"
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