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Post by Deleted on Jan 23, 2014 22:18:14 GMT -5
Dragon saddle-making is not a trade, unlike the saddlers of horses and mules, or blacksmiths and potters and farriers. Only the Targaryens and their seeds ride dragons, and they hold themselves to be almost divine, their dragons even more so. Therefore the office of the Master Saddler is as ceremonial and prestigious as an office on the small council, a matter of great honor. It is an office that has passed down in the same family, from father to son, since the day the Targaryens arrived on Dragonstone a few years before the Doom of Valyria. The Master Saddler has chambers in King's Landing, but his base is on Dragonstone, the home of the Targaryens and their dragons.
The Master Saddler lives in a historic marble manse set away from the town, with a large, beautifully appointed workshop at the back. In front of the workshop is a hall with a vaulted ceiling, a museum called the Tack Room. There one will find displays of the saddle Aegon the Conqueror used when he was a mere boy, or the original saddle that Visenya saddled onto Vhagar when she flew into the Field of Fire. The Tack Room even has the saddles of the original five dragons (one of whom was Balerion) that bore the Targaryens out of Valyria.
Beside the workshop is a well manicured field, where the dragons are accommodated while they are fitted out for their saddles. The field is large enough to accommodate the Black Dread himself, and is covered in a tent of white silk when the dragon needs to be fitted during rain or snow.
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Post by Deleted on Jan 23, 2014 22:20:18 GMT -5
Vira did not find it difficult to pick out the marble mansion of the Master Saddler from the many toy-like houses she saw far below her. It was a magnificent old house, built in the Valyrian style, almost as if it belonged in the Free Cities instead of Westeros. She steered Aegerys towards the house, and he landed with a thump on the smooth, green field behind the wood-paneled workshop and the manse itself.
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Post by The Gambler on Jan 24, 2014 5:42:00 GMT -5
Had she been more educated, Vira likely would have noted the Myrish influence of the sprawling villa, glass panes of varied colors decorating each window rather than wooden shutters. Each clear pane, crafted by a master glass-blower, was worth its weight in spice. On the side opposite the dragon pen was a domed glass garden, where exotic flowers from all over the known world could bloom even in the dead of winter.
Half a dozen attendants filtered out of the sprawling manse, all apprentices and kin of the Master Saddler, of Valyrian heritage and well-versed in proper decorum around the dragons they served. Two carried a freshly slain lamb, which was deposited in front of Aegerys, as another offered his hand to help Vira from the beast's back.
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Post by Deleted on Jan 24, 2014 5:44:53 GMT -5
Vira looked at the attendant's outstretched hand in bewilderment, and then at the impeccably coiffed and dressed attendants bringing the lamb and setting up the dragon pen. This was all a little too ceremonial from her. She took the attendant's hand with a giggle and allowed him to help her down, smiling flirtatiously.
"I have never had anyone help me down from a mule, let alone a dragon!" she said. I'm really going up in the world now, she thought in slight wonderment. She had not failed to miss the curious glass garden as well.
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Post by The Gambler on Jan 24, 2014 6:10:41 GMT -5
The attendant is silent as he beckons Vira to follow him into the manse, where she was utterly seduced by the intoxicating and buttery aroma of hand-softened cordovan and the subtle scent of spices. Wonderful, thick, and comforting Myrish carpets line the floors as the seed is escorted into the well-appointed sitting room. Two luxurious upholstered seats are posted near a fireplace. In one of them sits the saddler of kings, a leather-bound Valyrian tome in the strong yet supple hands of the irascible yet avuncular Winhaerys Edoryon. Yet, only a select few can refer to the man by his last name, most simply calling him Maestro. Though he had recently enjoyed his 70th name day, Winhaerys had the timeless quality and refinement of his pure Valyrian ancestry, well-tanned from time spent in his garden.
He stroked his manicured snow-white beard, inspecting Vira with violet eyes that bore a lively and inquisitive energy, before motioning for her to sit. As soon as she did, a small flute of Myrish firewine was brought out by an attendant and handed to each of them, which the Master Saddler sipped slowly.
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Post by Deleted on Jan 24, 2014 6:20:31 GMT -5
Vira was utterly taken aback by all this. Even the austere majesty of the Red Keep did not impress her as much as the refined opulence of the Master Saddler's manse. What was all this? He was a saddler. Vira had known saddlers in Lower Crinkley, and they worked in grimy little workshops with dirt on their brow and nice, big callused hands and sinewy forearms and rugged, weathered faces. Men she enjoyed fucking, in fact, though at the moment she was focusing on the fact that a saddler ought to look like that. Not this big foreign peacock. Vira was an ambitious girl, but this was a way of living far beyond anything that she understood or had thought possible. Especially for a saddler. She would have wondered if she had come to the right house after all, were it not for the dragon pen and the attendants. And the man's very Valyrian face.
She was suddenly aware of how she must look. Her feet were still bare and coated with sand from when she had tamed Aegerys on the beach. Her dark hair was windswept, her lips chapped from the wind, her woolen dress a mess after all that dragonriding. And she noticed how tough and hard her palms and heels were, compared to the sleekness of the Master Saddler.
She did not know he was called the Maestro. She did not even know his name. All she could do was sit awkwardly in the seat he indicating, perching on the very edge of the chair because she had never sat in anything so beautiful, and accepted the small flute of odd wine hesitantly. Her hands were used to breaking and kneading and pushing. She was afraid she'd break the flute, so she held it very gingerly, and then became terrified that she'd spill wine on his very expensive looking carpets.
Vira did not know what to say, but she bravely broke the silence with, "This is a very nice house you have here, m'lord." As soon as she said it, she wanted to hit her forehead. Anxiety made her rural accent sound more pronounced and broad than ever. And she did not know if he was a lord. She had acted on the instinctive, trained peasant habit to address any stately figure as m'lord. How she hated that obsequious word.
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Post by The Gambler on Jan 24, 2014 6:48:07 GMT -5
Maestro Edoryon waved a hand, as if modestly dismissing the compliment of what he likely saw as a humble abode compared to the estates his family had held when they were still one of the Lords Freeholder of Valyria. That, or the opinion of a commoner simply did not interest him. He had, of course, sized Vira up as a dragonseed the moment he saw her, even before her tongue had given her away. Trueborn Targaryens and even royal bastards were typically brought up to look forward to their first saddle fitting with the Maestro as a rite of passage, a sign of their proud entrance into a timeless Valyrian tradition. The Edoryons viewed the crafting of a saddle ideal for both dragon and rider as an art, they its last practitioners.
"You will be needing a harness then." he stated, his crisp aristocratic accent cutting like glass.
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Post by Deleted on Jan 24, 2014 6:52:27 GMT -5
"Well, yes," Vira said, drinking the firewine and finding that she liked it. "Ooh, can I have some more please? I mean, if I may." She flushed, wondering if she had misspoke. Stop being so self-conscious! she told herself sternly. You have a dragon, he doesn't. He is here to serve you, and you can stop behaving like a miller's daughter now.
But that was easier said than done. She knew nothing of reins, harnesses, leg chains, and various types of saddles. She would never be able to distinguish between an elk leather saddle and a calfskin saddle, or a battle saddle from a winter saddle, or a saddle meant for long distance journeys. She did not even know that various types of leathers and saddle makes existed, so all she said was, "Yes, of course," and tried to look like she knew what she was talking about.
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Post by The Gambler on Jan 24, 2014 7:29:17 GMT -5
The two shared another flute of firewine as the Master Saddler asked a variety of seemingly simple questions. He listened intently, occasionally nodding gravely. An attendant measured Vira at no fewer than twenty-six points-during which Maestro Endoryon even inquired as to her dietary habits and mother's medical history. These figures, as well as presumably those of her dragon who was being measured by the attendants outside, are all related to the Master Saddlers positively ancient assistant, who sits at a small desk silently entering them into a well-worn ledger, bound in the softest calfskin and containing the measurements of kings, princes, princesses, lords, ladies, freeholders and their dragons dating back to the earliest days of the Valyrian Freehold.
The Maestro's assistant prepares a copia of these measurements, which is taken into the basement by one of his young nephew, who uses it to create a wooden last, using kiln-dried wood from the very heart of an old-growth Claret Ash. As the nephew slipped downstairs to hand-carve the last, a dizzying array of exquisite leathers is brought out, from which Vira is asked to choose. It was traditional to do the Maestro a great kindness-and the dragonrider an even greater favor-by deferring to his judgement: as he had an innate knowledge to determine not only what his client wanted, but needed. At this point, more firewine was brought out, as well as a tray of fig tarts.
Vira was then asked to choose the patina which would grace the impossibly supper leather of her saddle. There was no fear of making a mistake here: not only did the Maestro gently judge her towards the "correct" choice, but he assured her he could also-should she ever decide to-change the patina (via a secret process known only to him) using a proprietary blend of plant and oil based dyes.
The style and material of her bespoke saddle having been carefully selected, the entire staff of the Master Saddler's workshop joined Vira in a toast over a glass of delicate Volantene sweet wine. The Maestro informed her she would receive her saddle in three to four weeks-im a handcrafted, velvet-lined box made from the wood of a young Atlas Cedar-along with a handwritten note in High Valyrian.
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Post by Deleted on Jan 25, 2014 2:11:08 GMT -5
The Master Saddler found that despite her profound ignorance, Vira listened very attentively, and asked surprisingly sharp and thoughtful questions which showed that she was listening actively. As she became more interested, Vira became unafraid to reveal the extent of her ignorance because she was curious to learn. She asked about the different kinds of leather, the patina, the kinds of gold-embossing and monogramming and embroidery that were possible. She also learned about how to care for the saddle, and maintain it for years despite weather and wear, and how to manipulate the reins, and how to store her riding equipment. The Master Saddler also showed her the different kinds of whips that she could employ, and discussed the advantages and disadvantages of each one. Vira felt more at ease the longer they talked. Before she left, she took a temporary wide leather belt to tie around Aegerys, with stirrups attached to it, to give her temporary support and to prevent her thighs from chafing against the dragonscales. She also took an old, used bridle and reins so that she would be able to steer Aegerys better, until her own trappings were ready.
Eventually they walked out to the dragon pen, where the measurements had been completed. Evidently Aegerys had not forgotten his fittings with the Maestro when the Queen of Shells had ridden him, or perhaps the Valyrian attendants knew a way to pacify a dragon, for the dragon had submitted himself to their attentions without complaint. Aegerys had gone so far as to rest on the freshly cut grass, wings folded. He looked up at her with molten eyes as she walked up to him and caressed his ivory scales. Vira felt excited as she imagined Aegerys in the saddle that the Master Saddler had envisioned for her. She bridled him and strapped on the temporary belt carefully, belting it from his withers to his stomach, with the stirrups dangling on either side.
"Has an Edoryon ever tamed a dragon?" she asked.
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Post by The Gambler on Jan 25, 2014 3:36:43 GMT -5
"In days long forgotten by most my dear." the Master Saddler replied, calm and collected before the great beast. "In Old Valyria our family was one of the few that held the rank of Lords Freeholder, our house enjoying more prosperity and influence than the Targaryens. The Doom changed things and we have adapted to the times."
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Post by Deleted on Jan 25, 2014 22:42:10 GMT -5
That must sting, Vira thought, looking at his calm face. But she said nothing and slowly mounted Aegerys gratefully for the support of the stirrups and reins this time. "Thank you so much for your guidance today, Maestro," she said with frank friendliness. "I will be back in three weeks for my saddle. In the mean time I will be on Shells, should you need to contact me."
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Post by The Gambler on Jan 25, 2014 22:59:38 GMT -5
"I can have it delivered to you, if you wish it." Lord Edoryon offered kindly.
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Post by Deleted on Jan 25, 2014 23:07:14 GMT -5
Vira had never had anything delivered to her in her life. She did not know such systems existed, and for a moment she was agape. "Er, yes, that would be wonderful, thank you so much!" she said. "Can you please send it to the Dragonpit in King's Landing? I will collect it there."
With a last smile at the Maestro, Vira lashed Aegerys with her whip. The dragon unfurled his wings swiftly and jumped into the sky. They rose in a lazy circle until the Maestro's house looked like a child's toy, and then Vira steered him in the direction of Shells.
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Post by Deleted on Apr 12, 2014 16:51:06 GMT -5
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After some diligent scouting, Elsey found the field that lay beside the workshop and manse of the Master Saddler. She guided Caraxes down to it, and swung herself off his back, stumbling a little as she landed. The height difference would take a little acclimatisation.
Giving Caraxes' jaw an appreciative rub, she turned and strode towards the nearby workshop, and asked the first person she found about having a saddle fitted.
After both she and Caraxes had been measured, and Elseyris asked a number of questions about materials and colours, she selected an oxblood red leather saddle, with thick, sturdy steel chains. She avoided the ostentatious embellishments, inferring that they would take time and money, both of which she was not replete in.
She was advised of the necessary time frame to complete the saddle, around two weeks, since she strongly waved off talk of it being delivered to King's Landing, or being presented in an opulent box. With that, she bid the Master Saddler farewell, promising to return in two weeks, and clambered back onto Caraxes, taking off for the castle.
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all alone and also really bored 
Hopefully going to kickstart the festival too