Fandom: Game of Thrones

Characters: Qyburn, Cersei, Ser Gregor

Author: m_findlow

Rating: M

Length: 1,414 words

Content notes: none

Author notes: Written for Challenge 261 - Amnesty and Challenge 48 - Technology (Bingo square)

Summary: Qyburn has plans for the war to come.


'Your Grace,' Qyburn said, bowing reverently as Cersei entered his chambers beneath the Red Keep. As always, Ser Gregor followed silently behind her, coming to a stop just inside the door, ready to bar the way for anyone who might wish to intrude. Some of his very finest work, he thought, even if he did say so himself.

'What is it?' she asked, cutting quickly to the point, whilst giving everything in the cluttered room a disparaging look. She clutched her hands in front of her over her black silk skirts.

Qyburn rushed over to his desk, gathering up a bundle of scrolls and putting them in a box. 'I wanted to show you some of the projects I've been working on, in preparation for your upcoming war with the Northern rebels.'

'What's left of them, anyway,' she muttered. 'Which hopefully won't be much.'

'Yes, Your Grace,' Qyburn simpered. 'I've been looking into how we might best arm our forces when the time comes, and I have discovered a rather extraordinary substance. 'He pushed a crate from the other side of the desk, clearing it completely before setting a small stone mortar in its centre. From a small, tightly woven sack, he extracted a small thimble of black power and placed it in the mortar.

Cersei frowned at it. 'Shall we cast it in the eyes of our enemies, Qyburn?'

He gave a thin-lipped smile. 'If Your Grace would bear with me a moment,' he implored. He placed a short length of string on the desk, setting the end in the bowl of powder. Picking up a candle, he lit the far end of the string and stood back, watching as the flame crept along the string. When it reached the bowl and the powder, both ignited in a small ball of fire. Qyburn smiled to himself as he caught the queen take a tiny step back.

'We are quite safe, Your Grace,' he assured her. 'That was only a very small amount.'

Her look turned to one of annoyance. 'You asked me down here to show me a magic trick?'

'Not magic. Technology. I've done a number of experiments and found that it has quite wide ranging applications. It is quite flammable and quite explosive.'

'As is wildfire,' she replied.

'It is,' Qyburn agreed, 'however wildfire is extremely temperamental and must be transported with great care. It is a weapon best laid well in advance, as Your Grace well knows.'

The entire city's cache had been used to destroy the Sept of Baelor, and though the guild had been hard at work to restore the city's supply, it seemed their work had slowed considerably. Aerys had only threatened to use it to destroy the city, where Cersei had made good on her promise. Their progress appeared to be tarnished by a reluctance to arm their queen with more.

Qyburn moved to the other side of the room and hauled out a large iron tube on wheels.

'I call this a cannon, Your Grace. When the powder is packed into the end of the cannon and lit from a fuse at the top, the explosive action is sufficient to eject a projectile object.' He picked up a heavy iron ball, slightly smaller than a melon. 'Whilst it appears quite heavy, the cannon can cast it a great distance and at quite a velocity. Though much smaller than a trebuchet, such cannons could be placed on the ramparts at intervals. They are also much faster and easier to arm than a trebuchet. A knight on a horse when struck would have his armor crushed in on him and be knocked several dozen feet from his mount.'

'I wish to kill my enemies, not have them knocked from their horses,' Cersei seethed. 'I want them crushed into the ground and their heads removed.'

Qyburn gave another acquiescing nod. 'Then Your Grace will be most pleased by my other discovery.' He picked up a second iron ball, smaller, about the size of his fist.

'And how is that going to kill my enemies? Cersei demanded. 'Shall I throw it at them?'

'Your Grace is quite correct. Thought this may look the same, it is very different.' He held it out to her. 'Take it. You'll find it's quite light. Only the outer shell is iron, and cast with impurities in the metal to make it intentionally weak.'

'And inside?' she asked, peering curiously at it.

'Powder and small fragments of metal.' He took it back from her hand. 'See this tiny pin at the top? It is set tight, but able to be removed if one so intends. Removing the pin will generate a spark inside that will light the fuse, much as you saw earlier. This gives you a few seconds to throw the ball before it explodes, sending the casing and the metal fragments inside outwards.'

Cersei's blue eyes bored into him, skeptical at the assertion.

'I can see that Your Grace requires further assurances. That is why I have already arranged for a demonstration. If you'll come with me, Your Grace?'

Ser Gregor took one heavy pace to the left to allow Qyburn and the queen to exit the dingy room. He followed behind them, leaving loud metal clangs with each step he took. It had become something of a reassuring sound around the Red Keep. No one stood in Ser Gregor's way.

Qyburn lead them to a balcony that looked down over small dusty courtyard on the edge of the inner walls. With the courtyard, six men loitered about in filthy garb, their exit from the space cut off by two guards who stood at the entrance immediately below the balcony on which they stood. On all other sides were the high walls on bright red sandstone which enclosed the courtyard.

'The City Watch were gracious enough to allow me to borrow a few of the prisoners from their cells,' Qyburn explained. 'It seems the Night's Watch will no longer have requirement for them, but they can still serve the realm.'

Qyburn extracted one of his iron balls from a pocket inside his sleeve. 'You see, Your Grace, these are quite safe to carry about on one's person so long as the pin is not removed.' He handed it to the Mountain. 'Ser Gregor, if you would be so kind as to do the honors. I suspect your skill is far superior to mine.'

The enormous man gripped the ball, which looked tiny in his huge hand, tugging out the pin and lofting it into the courtyard below. It landed with a dull thud into the dirt right in the centre of the yard.

One man cast his eyes up the the balcony, seeing them standing there before he stepped over and knelt down to inspect the iron ball, but a few moments later it exploded in a ball of fire. Once the smoke cleared, there was little remaining of the man or his companions, their faces and bodies stripped of flesh and identifiable features, leaving behind a mangled, bloody mess.

'How would they fare against armor?' the queen armor, still not completely won over.

Qyburn wrung his hands. 'Not so well, Your Grace. However it is well known that the Wildlings wear no armor, and the Unsullied carry only a shield and a spear. A shield would offer only partial protection, and Northern bowmen with only a mail shirt would be ineffective without hands or faces.'

Cersei leaned over the balcony, taking in the carnage. Her beauty was marred by the scowl that seemed a permanent feature these days. 'How hard is this powder to make?'

'It is remarkably simple Your Grace,' Qyburn replied, watching as the guards began the task of dragging away the remnants of the bodies, including several dismembered arms and legs.

Cersei seemed to pause and consider her enemies for a moment. 'And could these iron balls of yours be filled with something else? Assuming the worst, that the Northern alliance were to be defeated, of course. Fragments of dragonglass, perhaps?'

Qyburn nodded, swelling with pride. 'Quite so, Your Grace.'

'Good. Make sure the smiths have whatever they require to begin production immediately. And send ships to Dragonstone to gather as much dragonglass as they can carry.' She pushed back from the edge of the balcony, her skirts swishing as she made her leave, Ser Gregor plodding along in her wake.

Qyburn bowed low. 'As Your Grace commands.'