37. Small Businessmen's Expectations

Sansa hesitated before nodding. "Yes, but you must be careful with it. That's all I have."

Arya quickly grabbed the wooden box from Sansa's hand. She then called to the maid outside to prepare a bucket of hot water for her bath.

Sansa waited in Arya's room until Arya finished bathing. Ignoring Arya's excitement over the soap, Sansa hurried back to her room once she got it back.

White Harbor, the largest port in the North, was ruled by House Manderly. It was bustling with merchant ships from Westeros and the Free Cities across the Narrow Sea. The city's trade brought many taverns and inns to life, while sailors and visitors helped grow its businesses, including the women's houses.

Fishermen pushed carts full of fresh morning catch along the pier, shouting to sell their fish. Wagons loaded with goods moved back and forth between the port and the docks. Occasionally, women would throw water from windows above, drenching unlucky passersby and bursting into laughter.

Barefoot children played in the alleys with makeshift toys, while the shouts of men echoed through the streets. White Harbor thrived with energy, richer than most places in the North. Its bustling trade brought much wealth to House Manderly.

Five days ago, Todd, a small trader from White Harbor, spent his last silver coin at the Winterfell market. He bought 10 gel pens, 50 refills, and 50 sheets of blank paper from a nobleman named Jason Liu, hoping to strike it rich.

Todd, who had been in business for over a decade, knew that these new gel pens, refills, and the fine paper were much better than quills, ink, and parchment. He believed these items would be highly sought after by nobles.

He sold his high-quality wheat for less than it was worth to gather enough silver for the magical paper and pens. With his last bit of money spent, Todd returned to White Harbor with a heart full of hope.

After five days of hard travel, he finally arrived home.

"Todd? You're back so soon!" His wife Doreen opened the door, noticing how pale he looked. She helped him guide the carriage into their yard.

Though tired, Todd was in high spirits. "Get me something to eat and drink, I'm exhausted from the trip."

Doreen quickly brought some bread, and their 10-year-old daughter Eudora poured him a full glass of water.

Todd drank it down in one go, then sighed in relief. He turned to his daughter and said, "Eudora, boil me some hot water for a bath. I need to go out later."

"Yes, father!" Eudora nodded and rushed to the kitchen to prepare the water, a task she was familiar with.

Todd ate the warm bread, grateful their life was good enough that they didn't have to eat the hard, sawdust-filled black bread common among the poor. While chewing, he glanced around and noticed his youngest son wasn't there.

"Where's Clayt?" he asked his wife.

Doreen was outside feeding the horses and replied, "He's out playing, but it's almost dinnertime. He'll be back soon."

Todd nodded, remembering his own childhood when children ran wild until hunger called them home.

He finished the bread and drank two more glasses of water, finally feeling a bit better. Doreen noticed he had only eaten bread and said, "You should have waited. I was about to serve the carrot soup."

"I'm full, and I need to head out soon. Just get the bath ready for me," Todd said. He went to their room, opened a musty wardrobe, and pulled out his best clothes to wear after bathing.

Curious about his urgency, Doreen still carried the bucket of hot water into the room, adjusting it to the right temperature for him. Todd quickly scrubbed down, knowing the person he was about to meet was important, and he didn't want to offend with a bad smell.

After his bath, dressed in his best clothes, Todd grabbed two gel pens, two refills, and a sheet of paper, then headed out.

As he stepped outside, he saw a small figure running towards him. Todd reached out and grabbed the boy by the collar. Feeling the familiar tug of his son's struggles, Todd sighed, "Clayt, you little rascal! Late again, aren't you hungry?"

Five-year-old Clayt, small and sharp-eyed, stopped struggling when he heard his father's voice. He hugged Todd's leg, shouting, "Father! I'm so glad you're back!"

Todd's stern expression softened, and he ruffled his son's hair. "Get home for dinner, you little scamp. I'll be back soon to deal with you!"

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