Chapter 65: The Meeting
Eagle's Nest Isle, the Lord's Cabin.
"Take your seats, everyone," Samwell said as he sat at the round table, gesturing for the others to join him.
The group looked hesitant—sitting at the same table as their lord wasn't something they were accustomed to.
Chiman was the only one who immediately sat down on Samwell's left.
Seeing him take the lead, the rest of the group gradually followed suit, taking their seats.
This meeting gathered the heads of fourteen villages in the territory, along with Samwell's steward Gavin, the head craftsman Vido, the master blacksmith Buso, and the scholar Qyburn—eighteen key figures in the management of the lord's domain.
Normally, Todd Flower would be present as well, but he was still away in Highgarden recruiting refugees, so he was absent from the meeting.
After everyone was seated, Natalie, dressed in a floral dress, served each of them tea with her long, graceful strides.
Though there was no place set for her, Natalie remained in the room, standing behind Samwell like a demure maid.
Samwell didn't ask her to leave; instead, he cleared his throat to bring everyone's attention back from the lively girl to the topic at hand:
"Although the castle isn't yet finished, and I'm not officially a lord, it's only a matter of time. So, for the sake of better managing the territory, I've decided to formally induct each of you as my vassals."
Hearing this, everyone stood up at once. Some bowed, others pledged their loyalty aloud, and a few grinned, too excited to know what to say.
Though the title of 'vassal' didn't even reach the level of nobility, it didn't stop anyone from feeling a surge of pride. They already felt elevated in status just from having the title.
Samwell raised his hand to quiet them and signaled for everyone to sit: "Let's keep things relaxed, everyone. Please, take your seats. I called you here today to discuss the duties of a vassal toward their lord.
"First and foremost, you have a duty to uphold my authority and support each decision I make. Second, you are responsible for providing counsel, helping me manage the populace and govern the land. We'll make this meeting a regular monthly event, where you'll report your progress, and I'll issue directives as needed.
"Lastly, should I issue a call to arms, you must answer, either joining the army or supporting it logistically. If I am ever taken captive, you are to work together to secure the ransom for my release."
When Samwell finished, the room echoed with the collective, eager replies of agreement.
"Good." Samwell gestured for silence, then turned to Gavin. "Now, Gavin, please give us an update on the current state of the territory."
"Yes, my lord." Gavin rose to bow, then resumed his seat and continued, "The territory now has a population of over twelve thousand, including one hundred and eighty-four soldiers and another hundred recruits.
"We have thirty-five dairy cows, twenty-seven mules, fifty-four pigs, more than forty yellow goats, and over a hundred chickens and ducks.
"With yesterday's shipment of food supplies from Sunhouse, we currently have 1.3 million pounds of flour, 700,000 pounds of oats, 500,000 pounds of beans, along with a reserve of 50,000 pounds of dried meat and over 3,000 pounds of salt…"
As Gavin reported, Samwell silently calculated. Despite the seeming abundance of grain, when divided among more than twelve thousand people, it didn't feel like much.
The soldiers weren't a concern, as they were well-fed, with meat at every meal. But the laborers needed extra calories for their work. To speed up the construction of the castle and earn loyalty, Samwell hadn't cut corners with the food rations. The territory's daily consumption of provisions was immense, and their stockpile would last only a little over a month.
This dependence on outside resources was a significant drawback. It explained why no one had attempted to develop such a strategically valuable location before—it was a financial black hole.
Thankfully, he had contracts with Sunhouse, Greenstone, and Oldtown for food and supplies. For now, there was no immediate worry about running out. However, these contracts only provided a three-month "free" period, after which he'd have to start paying. The costs would be substantial.
He was grateful for the hefty sum he had coaxed out of the Lannisters at Greenstone; otherwise, he would have been anxious by now.
But that money was a one-time windfall, not something he could rely on regularly.
To secure long-term development, Samwell needed to focus on his two main revenue sources: brandy and the silver mine.
At this point, Gavin moved on to report the status of the brandy production.
"…we've organized three hundred women from the wildling tribes to gather wild mountain grapes from the forests. Additionally, we've cleared nine hundred acres near the valley to plant grapevines, with the first harvest expected in half a year…"
Samwell interrupted, "Expand the vineyard to eighteen hundred acres. And once that's complete, clear another area of similar size for crop rotation and fallowing. Don't worry about finding buyers—whatever brandy we produce, we'll sell. And any surplus can go into storage."
"Yes, my lord," Gavin replied, then continued, "Due to limitations in raw materials, our daily output of brandy is currently twelve gallons…"
Hearing this figure, Samwell frowned but could do little about it.
Reliance on wild grapes meant limited production. Only when the planted vines yielded could they scale up production.
The more sensitive steps of distilling the brandy were kept confidential, so Gavin refrained from discussing those further.
Next, Samwell turned to Qyburn. "Qyburn, report on the silver mine's progress."
"Yes, my lord." Qyburn nodded, his voice flat and expressionless. "Mining and refining operations are running smoothly. We're currently producing about 140 ounces of silver per day. With more labor, production could increase further."
Based on the weight of silver stags, Samwell estimated this output equated to around 350 silver stags per day.
Of course, there would be some losses during coin production, so the actual amount would be a bit less.
And taxes had to go to the Crown… though thanks to the conniving Hand of the King, those wouldn't be too high.
This promised to be a substantial source of income.
Even with just this silver mine, his population of twelve thousand could live comfortably.
Mining really was a moneymaker! And if it had been a gold mine…
No wonder the Lannisters were so rich, willing to pay dearly to eliminate a rival suitor.
Damn wealthy bastards!
Samwell found himself grumbling enviously, feeling he could have demanded even more during that negotiation.
(End of Chapter)