Tyrion V

Tyrion Lannister had never been overly fond of his father. To put it plain, the feeling was mutual. The old lion found fault in all his children, yet the littlest Lannister always got the worst of it. That is, until now.

"It was too much to hope Cersei could regain her dignity, it seems, if she ever had any," Tywin said to Tyrion and his brother. He was to depart on the morrow, and sweet sister had retreated to her bedchamber yet again. Still, Father's wrath wasn't what it might've been. Conversations with the prince had a way of blunting the usual edge in Tywin's voice when he castigated his children for their many failures.

Presently, he'd left Tyrion with a significant sum of coin and stern instructions to spend it on Joffrey's whims. That command filled him with trepidation. Well did Tyrion know what sort of whims Joffrey had. This was no normal boy of fourteen who might be interested in wine, whores, horseflesh, or mayhaps a new sword. No, that would be normal. Tyrion's nephew had never been normal. That was why he was out here, freezing his balls off.

What a motley crew they made, Prince Joff the leader and his young red-haired beauty, Sansa, by his side, his man Jon, the wolves, both dark and light, as well as two knights of the Kingsguard and some servants toting ropes and stakes. They took a position on a hill with a commanding view of the Rosby Road.

"I understand winter takes some time to 'ramp up,' as it were," his nephew said from atop a horse. "It may be a few years before heavy snows fall this far south."

"It is to be hoped, my prince," Ser Loras, a newly-minted knight of the White Swords, said with scrupulous correctness of one recently come to his position.

"Well, with the ground so cold and hard, there is a limit to what we can do, but surveying and planning can be done at any time. Let's get started, Uncle."

"Which one?" Tyrion japed, for Jaime was also here, quite eager to get out of the castle since Cersei wasn't speaking to him again.

"Both, I suppose. Know anything about roads, Uncle Jaime?"

"Little and less, nephew." Seeing them side by side, Tyrion could half believe they were the twins, though there was still some youthful softness to Joffrey's face. "I ride often enough, but don't trouble myself overmuch regarding what my horse runs on."

Joffrey laughed evilly. "Well, you'll learn. I think the survey might be completed within one moon's turn."

The brothers Lannister shared a panicked look. Joffrey would keep them out here that long? As they realized their peril, Joffrey took something out of his saddlebag.

"What's that?" Sansa asked, leaning over in interest. Her red mare matched her red hair. She had a few maidservants with her, yet never strayed far from Joffrey, not ever. Since they brought the Starks down, she and the prince took every meal together and seldom parted. Sansa even had her own place to watch him at his practice in the yard. None questioned it. Wolves as big as horses do much for avoiding questions.

"An instrument for measuring angles, dear. We'll be using sight lines and triangulation to estimate much of the road's course." As the boy sighted angles one after another, he spoke them aloud for a servant with a ledger, who recorded all. "The Kingsroad is a disaster. I've ridden up and down it as far as the wall. Hardly any of it is paved, just dirt tracks that go to a muddy mess when the rains fall. I mean to change it, and the Rosby road shall be a good start."

"Ambitious, aren't you?" Jaime teased. "Was washing the stink of the city away not enough?"

His brother didn't know the half of it. Joffrey was actually quite mad, though of a milder sort. Other highborn boys might take up hunting or hawking for pastimes. Joffrey preferred Valyrian geometry.

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"Oh, I had to give up on what I really wanted. The Blackwater Rush is too deep and wide and flows too swiftly. Building a proper stone bridge across is beyond us. The ancient Valyrians might've managed it, but their arts are lost. Well, not all. I spoke to Lord Varys."

"You what?" Tyrion exclaimed. He shuddered to think what awful mischief the spider might have wrought by feeding the prince a choice tale or two. "Joff, really.."

The boy didn't seem to hear him. "He grew up in Lys, you know, but the spymaster has been all over, seen Valyrian roads for himself. The final secret is lost, yes, the magic, or whatever trick they used to make the roads enduring. They stand even now, perfectly straight, no wear, no maintenance necessary. Ugh, how I envy them."

"I've always wanted to visit the Free Cities!" Ser Loras said, a dumb grin on his face. He stuck almost as close to the prince as Sansa did. A tad overzealous in his duties, Tyrion thought.

"Some day, Loras. Everything I do is ultimately about stimulating trade. More people, more work, more goods. The crown's debt is monstrous, but we just need to outgrow it."

The young knight looked puzzled. "How can one outgrow debt?"

Joffrey set down his measuring instrument and paused to gather his thoughts. "Which is more, one tenth part of ten, or one tenth part of one hundred?"

Jaime answered with a cocksure smile. "You know I was never much for sums, to Father's dismay, but I'd say one tenth part of one hundred."

"You're right, of course," Joffrey answered. All the group was listening intently, being seduced by the prince's madness as he had been those years ago when the boy asked for books on Valyrian engineering. "With a clean city, more babes will be born healthy, and fewer will die of sickness. I will have more people, and I'll find more useful work for them to do: building roads, bridges, holdfasts, or getting more land under tillage. We'll make more, sell more, and soon that debt won't seem quite so large. You notice that even here, one day's ride outside King's Landing, the land looks mostly empty? With good roads, there could be a farming village in that valley yonder, and they could cart their crops to the city to sell. When spring comes, we'll have a plan."

So they rode along the road, measuring, sighting, and recording. They slept in inns when they could and tents when they couldn't. Whenever there was a free moment, the prince lectured.

"Valyrian roads are built in four stages. There is a bed of large stones, another layer of smaller stones with a binder, gravel atop that, and paving stones to cover it all. There are plenty of stonemasons in King's Landing who will be wanting work. Our task is not impossible, and whatever the cost, I maintain the new roads will pay for themselves in time. Our sons will thank us. All that is lacking is dragonfire, or whatever queer ritual they used to set the course in place forever. These highways will be about two-thirds as good as the genuine article. From time to time, they will require repairs, but I find that acceptable."

It wasn't all work, of course. They raced their horses, feasted under the stars, and talked of smaller things. Jon's white wolf even allowed Tyrion to ride him for a bit! In any case, the prince was not far wrong. The moon had turned by the time they returned to the city, where he spied a ship with a black sail in the harbor. Upon it was the golden Kraken of House Greyjoy. Old Balon the rebel had died, apparently, and their new lord had come to swear to King Robert.