16

Chapter Sixteen

Eastwood

Late 57 AC

Aelon POV

"If we maintain these -"

"Thirty-two thousand Dragons?!" I cried as I saw the number on the bottom of the report submitted to me by Serwyn.

Across the room, the rest of my council appeared equally startled.

"Aye my Lord, that'll be the cost of the road from Eastwood to Haystack Hall," replied Serwyn with an apologetic look on his face.

I sighed as I continued staring at the number.

"Of course, around fifteen thousand dragons will be paid by House Errol, so our actual cost will be seventeen thousand or so," continued the Tarth.

Seventeen thousand Dragons was not a small number. Especially considering that it would have to be paid in a rather short time period. Knowing that the coming summer would be rather short, I had given the order for the road to be completed within two years. Shelling out such substantial sums of money in such a short time period would undoubtedly place immense stress on my cashflows. Even five years ago, such an endeavour would have bankrupted me. Fortunately, House Eastwood had grown, and what would have been seen as an insurmountable hurdle five years ago, was now just one of the many challenges that I faced.

"Very well, give the order for construction to begin," I said as I leant back in my seat.

The seat in question was quite good. I tried to avoid luxuries when I could, for a lord that is. The table and seats of my refurbished council room were one of the few exceptions. Made from solid ironwood imported from the North. They were both sturdy and comfortable; an important feature considering how often my council met. My own chair did have a noticeably higher back than the others, giving off the impression of a throne. Contrary to Morden's mocking japes, I hadn't asked for this feature, but apparently, it was so common for most lords to do so that the Forresters had just done it without asking. Morden had been bowing more deeply and always called me 'my lord' whenever I sat in it, the bow never quite fast enough to cover his smirking face. Even the others had picked up on the joke for a while. I had seriously considered cutting it down to make them stop, but since only the Forresters knew how to properly craft the difficult wood, my only choice had been to order a new chair or learn to live with it. Knowing I couldn't justify the added expense, I decided to just take my lumps and eventually they had moved on. It really was quite comfortable anyway.

"What about the road to Stormtower?" asked a confused, and still smirking, Ser Morden, "won't the cost for that also be substantial?"

"Not really," responded Serwyn, "the distance from Eastwood to Stormtower is minuscule in comparison to Haystack Hall. The cost will be significantly lesser."

"Aye, I gave the order for construction to begin on that a sennight ago," I added helpfully. Numbers had never been the old knight's strong suit. As the closest equivalent to a military general in my lands, he mostly focused on the martial affairs of Eastwood.

"Warren, make the funds available, but try to make sure that we don't dip into the reserves too much," I said as I turned to my Steward.

"Aye my Lord. We may have to consider releasing some more of the Gold Label stocks in the market to maintain our liquidity though," replied the Steward.

The Gold Label was the most recent and most premium product introduced by Eastwood Whisky. Aged for five years, the Gold Label was a far superior blend that I was selling for forty dragons a barrel. To maintain that price and exclusivity, I only sold limited stocks occasionally, thereby driving up demand.

"Would that affect our growth projection?" I asked.

"Not really my Lord. We are already dominating the Stormlands and Crownlands and the Graftons seem to have developed quite the market in the Vale as well. The only concern is that the Mootons seem to be struggling a little in the Riverlands but we expect that with Spring upon us, their sales should also increase substantially," replied Warren.

"I am still concerned about the drop in sales in the Crownlands. If the trend continues then we may face problems."

"Well Aelon, we have identified that Lord Darklyn seems to be the driver behind that. Ever since his bastard daughter has become Queen Alysanne's sworn shield, they have steadily been gaining influence in court," Serwyn chimed in at this point.

Lord Steffon Darklyn had become a thorn in my side in recent times. Ever since the Darklyns regained favour in court, as Ser Corwyn had warned me all those years ago, they had proceeded to make my life difficult. Initially, it had been of little concern, but recently they had somehow convinced the Harbourmaster at King's Landing to levy additional taxes on my whisky.

All this would barely be a minor annoyance, but what had exacerbated the situation was that Lord Darklyn had released his own blend known as Dark Whisky. It seemed that the recipe for my whisky had leaked, something that was bound to happen, but even then, they had obviously failed to replicate many of my more stellar manufacturing processes, principles and protocols which made Eastwood Whisky the brand that it was today. There was a massive difference in quality between the Red Label that we produced today and the swill that was created all those years ago.

I was not all that worried though. There remained the fact that Dark Whisky was utter shite. It seemed that the Darklyns had managed to acquire the services of a low-level employee; someone that could see things like the ingredients used and the basic design of a still, but not anyone highly placed enough to properly understand the process. The Darklyns were still struggling with the correct ratio of corn to other grains and the actual distillation process.

In terms of taste and quality, it could not even compare to Eastwood Red Label, much less the top shelf brands that I was manufacturing as well. Even if they did manage to perfect the process, which would likely take years, they wouldn't be able to produce any properly aged whiskey for years beyond that, giving me a significant head start.

Even in terms of branding, I was far ahead. Eastwood Whisky was a household name at this point amongst the nobility of the Stormlands and Crownlands. Even the nobles who didn't like it bought it to serve to guests and at feasts.

I turned to Elena, "I have written to Beric regarding this. He informed me that Ceryse has written to Ser Walton in King's Landing and that he has promised to look into the matter," she responded to my unasked question.

"Even so, we must exercise caution. Remind me of our current export numbers and or projected ones once again Warren," I requested the Steward.

"On an average, taking into account direct sales as well as those through the Eastwood Tarth Trading Company and our distributors in the Vale and the Riverlands, we are currently selling around two thousand barrels of Red Label and three hundred and fifty barrels of Silver Label every month. Bryan and Olyvar project that with the advent of Spring we can look at a growth of around ten per cent this year," rattled off Warren.

"Even so, I want to take concrete steps to ensure that Darklyn cannot gain any market share. We shall announce a spring discount, for the Eastwood Red Label and Silver Label. We can frame it as a tribute to the Gods for a short winter or as a celebration for the birth of the Spring Prince," I announced.

"If we were to slash prices, even for a short period, it would reduce our profits substantially. How long would such a discount last? The costs for the upcoming roads are substantial, providing discounts at this stage might be folly" Warren said looking troubled at the idea of reducing cash flows.

That was a good point.

"A small discount then. And only on bulk purchases. We can keep it active for a couple of turns of the moon. Should be enough time for the word to spread. People will want to take advantage of the reduced cost and buy in bulk. We have massive stocks in storage due to reduced sales in Winter. This will allow us to offload inventory and drive the Darklyns' product into the ground," I said as I made my decision.

"Very well my Lord," nodded Warren.

"Perhaps it's time to look into expanding elsewhere. The Reach perhaps?" Elena added her two cents at this point.

Hesitantly, Armon replied, "Whilst the Reach may at first seem to be a large and attractive market. The distance and terrain involved make it hard to penetrate. Add onto that the enmity between that kingdom and the Stormlands and I fail to see how we could make it work."

"We are already selling to Harvest Hall and Blackhaven, it would not be that difficult to extend the route to Ashford, Cider Hall and Longtable," countered Elena.

"Agreed my lady, even then the fact still remains that the relations between the Reach and Stormlands are still rather tense. It may not reflect well on Lord Aelon to be seen to be friendly with Reacher Lords. He is already called a foreigner by some of the more orthodox Stormlanders. Trading with the Reach may further fan such sentiment," replied Armon.

And the man was correct. My Valyrian features and the fact that I was from the Riverlands had been a point raised against me by native Stormlanders in the past.

I hummed, "A good point. I will give the matter more thought. What of buyers for Eastwood Ale, whilst originally only produced for the Buckler situation I feel there is little reason we can't expand in that area, though not outside of the Stormlands as the profit margins are much smaller than whisky," as I stopped I looked around the table, noticing frowns of concentration on my compatriots' faces.

The ale business had done well enough these past few years. Sales in Eastwood and to Tarth and Griffin's Roost alone produced a decent profit. But there was still scope for improvement. I had broached the topic with Edwell again a few weeks ago but even though his Aunt had passed, they were not keen on making too many aggressive moves in too short a period of time.

Serwyn suddenly perked up, "We could slightly alter the shipping from Tarth to Rain House or Weeping Town, perhaps even both. We already have ships plying that route to deliver our whisky, it would not be that difficult to replace the smaller cogs with larger trade galleys to facilitate additional ale cargos. This would allow us to effectively sell ale in Cape Wrath, Estermont and even in the Marches."

"My family has good connections in Cape Wrath. In fact, I had spoken to Lord Mertyns at my father's funeral and he seemed amenable to opening trade channels. Perhaps we could write to him as well," added Ser Morden.

The idea had merit. Cape Wrath was a market I had always struggled with. While whisky had been well received, soap and other Eastwood products struggled to find a market in the region. Ale, however, could sell rather effectively.

I chewed on my thoughts for a second before speaking, "I like the idea but it needs more thought and cost analysis. This plan would also likely require additional galleys to be reassigned, something I would need to discuss with Lord Tarth. Trade talks with Houses Whitehead, Mertyns and Wylde would also need to go ahead, though I'm sure Brynden could be of some assistance there."

"Uncle Brynden has a rather good rapport with Lord Wylde, he had arranged my fostering there rather easily. But the Whiteheads don't have the best relationship with Tarth. Their port has caused much grief to Tarth in recent times," Serwyn said thoughtfully as he drummed her fingers on the table.

"Very well, let us adjourn this matter for now while we do our due diligence," I decided to table that particular conversation until more research had been done.

Moving on swiftly Armon began a new discussion, "In bright news, many of our local products are being adequately distributed and most people in Eastwood are now consuming our soap. Lumber production has ramped up in Southwood to cater to the demands our expanding population required for building materials. The production of concrete blocks for building is becoming more efficient. Additionally, our charcoal production from Southwood is maintaining its speed."

I smiled, "That's good to hear, sometimes I get so caught up in new ideas I forget about the backbone of our economy here. Eastwood is called Eastwood for a reason after all."

There were a couple of chuckles at my piss poor joke.

"On the note of charcoal, with Spring now upon us, we should write to Griffin's Roost and inform Evan Connington that with Winter having ended, so shall the discount received by House Connington on our charcoal," Armon mentioned as he looked up from his notes.

"Aye, I'll write to Evan myself. He might be the only person not celebrating the end of winter for this very reason. The discount on charcoal was saving the Conningtons a pretty penny," Serwyn responded with a slight smirk.

"I would turn attention to the fact that sales of whisky seem to be doing rather poorly in the Riverlands. In order for this business to continue to grow, expansion into new markets needs to be fast and efficient. We have the benefit of a good summer and a direct sea route to Maidenpool. Why is our product not selling well there?"

"It could be the climate, the Stormlands has its storms and the Vale has its mountains. Hard places make harder people and whisky is certainly a hard drink," suggested Armon.

I grimaced, "The harshness of life should have little to do with it, most men in Westeros have a fondness for drink."

Elena chimed in, "Perhaps it's the price, the Hoares systematically stripped wealth from the Riverlands for decades to build Harrenhal?"

I hummed, "That would make more sense. It is easy to destroy something, yet hard to rebuild." There were agreements from around the table. "That still doesn't give us an answer to how we can increase our sales."

Armon frowned, "What about the free cities?"

I gazed at my advisor for a moment and contemplated the idea. The free cities were undoubtedly the greatest market to break into. With wealth and power unrivalled by any individual Kingdom of Westeros it would be wrong to say I didn't like the idea.

After gathering my thoughts I began, "Amongst others, one of the major issues I can see with expanding abroad is the war between Pentos and Tyrosh. The likelihood of being caught in the crossfire is high."

"There is also the fact that Tyrosh is known for its Pear Brandy and Myr for its Fire-Wine. Both are very popular among the respective nobilities and it would be substantially more challenging to breach that market," Serwyn pointed out as well.

"My greatest concern is dealing with slavers. Essos is rife with slavery and I do not wish to associate myself in such even as a trade partner," I said in a manner that made it clear that I was not very open to opposing views in this matter. Slavery was vile. End of story. There were certain lines that I would not cross. One of them was dealing with those who engaged in slavery.

Serwyn replied, "Perhaps just Braavos then?"

I gestured at him to continue.

Serwyn leaned forward and gestured at the map that lay before us, "Well twice a year our ships make the trip to White Harbour after stopping at Gulltown to facilitate our sales to the Manderlys. It would not be difficult to slightly modify the route and add a stop at Braavos as well,"

"Indeed my Lord. We've even dealt with the Iron Bank in the past and I made a few interesting connections there when I had last visited to close our loan. I could explore those connections to find a sales partner in the city," suggested Warren.

I blinked, "What's the worst that can happen?" Fuck it, guess we'll see.

"On another topic my Lord, I'd like to note that we are nearing our first harvest of this new season and results appear to be very promising," added Armon.

"Is that so?"

"Yes my Lord. I have received word from the maester at Haystack Hall as well and they are reporting similar results. Perhaps not as stellar as us, the Eastwood methods are still new in Errol lands, but noteworthy improvements nonetheless," concluded the ageing maester.

I nodded in satisfaction at that. Pursuant to our agreements, our little agriculture cartel seemed to be developing smoothly.

"On the topic of Haystack Hall, good sers, I'd like to remind you that another impressionable young child is going to be joining us very soon in these halls and I shall not tolerate any uncouth behaviour in his presence as well," said Elena in a rather indignant tone while casting a pointed look at Morden and Serwyn.

The two shuffled in embarrassment as they remembered the time when Elena had found them in the hall, drunk with some of the men at arms. While this alone would not have been an issue, the fact was that Serwyn had been babysitting young Aethan at the time. And no, he had not abandoned my child with some nursemaid and slacked off, the stupid bastard had brought my three-year-old boy with him as the men got drunk and made merry.

The sight of our son playing with an empty (or so Serwyn claimed) cup of whisky had ignited some primal beast within my wife and she had proceeded to verbally flay Serwyn alive before turning to Morden as well when he had accidentally let out a small snort of laughter (which he swears was a hiccup) during her tirade.

Suffice to say, I had not felt the need to chastise the two of them any further.

"Yes Elena, I shall be at my best behaviour in front of young Jon when he arrives," said Serwyn with a look in his eyes that I could have sworn was fear.

"And when exactly is the Errol scion arriving?" asked Warren.

"Half a turn of the moon at the very latest according to Lord Errol. Edwell will be escorting him here," I responded.

The discussion turned away from that to matters of taxation, harvests and other matters of state. Eventually, the meeting ended and I found myself making my way to my sons' rooms. It was late in the night. Past their bedtime. Ideally, they should be asleep. I knew they would not be.

I opened the door softly and saw quick movement as the boys tried to pretend to be asleep. A small smile played across my lips.

"Oh no! My sons are asleep. Alas, I shall have to go and read a bedtime story to Alys instead," I said dramatically as I pretended to turn around to exit.

The effect was immediate. Ned and Aethan abandoned any pretence of sleep and jumped at me begging me to stay and read them a story.

I sat them both down on the bed.

"Once upon a time….."

Lord's Solar, Eastwood

Aelon POV

Late 57AC

A lord made many decisions each day. Some good, some bad, all consequential.

Yet how was I to go about ensuring mine were good ones?

This was something I had considered often, good decisions are most easily made when informed of the relevant factors involved. So knowing that, how does one go about being better informed?

The question possessed many answers. In my old world, it would be reading books or articles to be up to date on current affairs. Perhaps even watching a Youtube video or two. In this land the choices and options were more constrained, the most obvious option was generally also the most effective.

Information was a necessary resource. I had wealth and lands aplenty and significant commercial and military resources as well. But where I lacked was information.

I needed spies and informants, and they needed to be competent. There were several small sources of information currently open to me. I received messages and notes from friends and business associates in various positions of power or authority. My councillors all possessed relationships with others in various such positions throughout the Stormlands and further afield. This small network though was not all-encompassing and there were myriad blind spots hiding those waiting to cut my throat.

Perhaps I sounded paranoid, but was it paranoia if everyone really was out to get you? This was Westeros after all.

I sat pondering once more in my solar as I awaited Warren. I had spoken to him before about the idea of information gathering and he had agreed to reach out to people he knew who may be amenable to the idea. Out of all my councillors Warren had proven to be the most effective thus far.

Not only had he reached out to former colleagues from his tax collector days in the Marches, many of whom had proven invaluable to my budding network, providing critical information about military strength and agricultural produce and shortages which had allowed me to improve the export methodologies and protocols for my agricultural cartel with the Errol's.

Furthermore, Warren's son Fred was now a Maester posted in Oldtown, one of the many who served in the largest city in Westeros. His positioning allowed him access to information from all across the continent, making him an asset to the network.

It was then that I heard the knock on the door, "Come in."

Warren scuttled through the door and made his way to the chair opposite mine, "Morning, my lord."

I smiled at the Steward, "How fare your sons?"

The older man replied with a grin, "Very well, my lord."

I nodded, "That's good to hear, let's get straight to it. What's the latest report?"

"A few improvements. One of the retired old tax collectors in Stonehelm is willing to move to Harvest Hall and send information here periodically. All he asks in return is that we find his daughter a good marriage here in Eastwood."

I nodded, "That's excellent news"

Warren nodded, "I shall have to continue searching for more 'Operatives' as you aptly labelled them last we spoke."

I gave a small grin, those close to me had become used to my occasional strange turns of phrase. Whilst I had become far more used to the archaic method of speech here I was still a modern Englishman in countenance.

"Indeed, spies will be indispensable as we begin to plan out our future," leaning forward I continued, "Have you got anything to report from our existing agents?"

"The merchant network has reported some interesting happenings in Felwood and Gallowsgrey. There appears to be substantial trade between the two regions. Not unusual considering their family ties, but not in such volumes so soon after winter," replied the Steward.

The Merchant Network was perhaps his crowning achievement. A few years ago, a few merchants based out of Eastwood who primarily traded in Eastwood Whisky, Soap and other products, had begun attempting to curry favour by giving us pieces of information that they deemed important.

Warren had seen the opportunity and begun providing incentives for valid and important information that could be useful to House Eastwood. An uncommon practice but not unheard of, especially for lords with mercantile interests. Soon enough, information was flooding in regularly.

However, Warren and I took it a step further. We identified the merchants who consistently provided good information and offered them better incentives, steady employment and tax benefits in exchange for their services. We arranged good marriages for their children or sisters to men loyal to Eastwood to bind them further to our House. In turn, these merchants would not only serve as spies and informants but also as the delivery mechanism for receiving information and conveying instructions to other informants in other lands.

Contrary to popular thinking, just having a spy in a Noble Lord's household wasn't enough. You also need a method to collect information from these sources and deliver instructions and payment. It was the rare informant who had access to a raven and an even rarer one who could get away with having information delivered to Eastwood via raven. This was where the Merchant Network came in. They travelled widely across not just the Stormlands, but to the Crownlands, Riverlands and Vale as well. It made it easy for them to deliver instructions or collect information from an informant under the guise of a simple sale.

The network was still in a nascent stage, but so far, it had yielded immense benefits. With one exception.

"Are we still struggling with the Darklyns?" I asked. It was, after all, a major intelligence failure. I'd had no idea that the Darklyns had managed to infiltrate Eastwood Whisky. What made it even worse was that I had no idea that they had begun production of whisky as well until they had begun selling it.

"Serwyn has managed to convince a merchant from Duskendale who deals in Dark Whisky to supply us with information. Apparently, the merchant in question is involved in the spice trade as well and has a mistress and bastard on Tarth. Serwyn convinced him that it would be in their best interests for him to provide us with the information we need. But only time will tell whether the man can deliver," replied Warren.

I raised my eyebrow at that. Serwyn may have appeared harmless, but the young man could be extremely ruthless when necessary.

"What about our men in Storm's End?" I asked.

"Well, Ser Bruce generally coordinates directly with you my Lord. I have heard little else from him. Ser Meryn however reports that there has been an unusual increase in banditry in the Marches and that Lord Rogar has ordered Ser Ronnal to ride out, investigate and suppress it." responded Warren.

"Interesting," I replied and it was. For only I was aware that a Vulture King was just around the corner.

"Any suspicious behaviour from Lady Emile so far?" I asked. The sister to some landed knight sworn to House Errol, Edwell had offered her services as a lady in waiting to Elena. An obvious spy, but I had not found a polite reason to reject the offer. I was not offended though as it would be hypocritical of me to feel so considering that I had a couple of my own informants in Haystack Hall as well. We may be allies, but it was just prudent to be well informed nonetheless.

"Is there anything else?"

Warren nodded, "Yes, only one thing seems noteworthy. Borys Baratheon has been spotted several times visiting Bronzegate recently. An occasional visit is one thing, but the frequency of the visits have increased since winter ended. He has been spotted twice already, in the last three turns of the moon. It's a good thing that we increased our network in Bronzegate as otherwise, the visits may not have come to our attention."

That was true, after the Buckler incident, I had made it clear that any information from Bronzegate would make me extremely grateful. Bryan, the immigrant from Buckler lands, who I had placed in charge of Eastwood Whisky came through in a magnificent manner. Turns out one of his cousins worked as a scullery maid in Bronzegate and she had, in turn, pointed us in the direction of a couple of Knights in the household, with flexible morals, loose lips and substantial gambling debts. The rest had been a cinch.

I hummed, "Curious, I don't recall hearing he had an existing relationship with the Bucklers beforehand."

What I didn't say was that I had expected him to be exiled around this time, butterflies were carrying away my knowledge it seemed. I wondered what kind of impact this would have on the war with the Vulture King in the near future.

Warren replied, "Lord Bryce is noted for his friendship with House Trant through their family ties to House Fell. Lord Trant's other sister is Borys's wife. While it is not very well known, prior to the birth of Lord Rogar's son Boremund, when Ser Borys was still heir, the three Houses backed Ser Borys heavily in Storm's End, if I remember correctly."

"And that is no longer the case?" I enquired.

What I was attempting to work out in my head was what exactly I had done that caused this change in the timeline. Every action I took was likely to cause butterflies in the timeline, yet Borys was supposed to have been exiled by Rogar this year, not gallivanting around Bronzegate.

"Well, there may have been a thaw in relations after Ser Borys was no longer the heir. He is not known to be the most charming individual,"

"A relationship the three houses probably decided to rekindle after the Buckler's trial at Storm's End," I groaned as I realised the impact of my actions.

"Certainly a possibility, Lord Bryce was incensed at the trial and this could be an attempt by Rogar to smooth over relations with Bronzegate. They are one of his most important vassals after all," I somehow doubted those words as I spoke them. Borys was not known for his level-headedness and it seemed unlikely to me that Rogar would have entrusted such an important task to him.

What was more likely was that after the disastrous result for House Buckler at Storm's End and the consequent rise of the Tarth-Errol-Eastwood Alliance in the northern Stormlands, in order to remedy their waning influence, the Bucklers, Fells and Trants had decided to back Borys again to regain influence at Storm's End.

With Borys being the medium of these Houses' influence, exiling him would have been like pouring wildfyre on an open wound, setting it off and then dancing around the corpse. The BFT would be backed into a corner, humiliated and angry. A dangerous situation, and one that the Lord Paramount would seek to avoid. In all likelihood, that would theoretically be enough of a reason for Rogar to not exile Borys.

Alternatively or perhaps in conjunction, it was also possible that because of his renewed relations with the BFT and whatever scheming the four of them were up to, Borys had likely not even committed the act for which he was exiled in the first place.

I sighed as I shook my head. Dealing with such hypotheticals always left me with a headache. There was little I could do aside from stepping up my vigilance and keeping a careful eye on the situation.

"If you can arrange it I would like to know more of Borys' affairs in future. After the business with the Bucklers, I am loath to ignore anything I hear involving them."

"Of course, my lord. Though the information our current network is capable of providing may be no more than superficial, these men are merchants and traders, not faceless men," Warren spoke words that I knew were true but found immensely disappointing.

I wondered how hard it would be to train proper spies as were seen throughout history in my previous world before discarding the idea. The main players in this world used ears that were already in place, rather than creating agents of subterfuge. Baelish and Varys used different methods of achieving their goals, though I would lean far more towards the method of Baelish than using tongueless slave children.

"I understand, my lord. Information is the currency of politics, after all."

And wasn't politics terrifying to contemplate.

Eastwood Yard

Late 57AC

James POV

He turned and sent a slash at the junction between head and shoulder, a cry of surrender went up and the blow was pulled before causing harm.

After finishing this final bout with the Lord of Eastwood, James wiped the sweat from his brow and walked over to the water barrel in the yard with a brazen grin, Aelon was a hard man to pin down in the yard. They had been sparring together for years. Aelon was but a few years older than him and the only one who was at his skill level in Eastwood. While Ser Morden was undoubtedly more experienced and probably more deadly on the battlefield, in the yard, few could match their stamina and speed.

Despite being the Lord of Eastwood and having more than enough responsibilities on his shoulders, Aelon always took out time at least thrice a week to spar in the yard. That was something James could respect.

The silver-haired Lord walked with James panting as he did, purple eyes filled with mirth as he spoke, "It seems I have finally been bested."

"Still a better showing than most could claim, my lord."

"I should certainly hope so after all these years of training. Though I am certainly less dedicated than most men on this continent," feeling that this was a perfect time for a jape, he added, "Perhaps you should look to remedy that before the men begin calling you Aelon Half-Essosi."

A single eyebrow was raised at his comment and the Lord's hands gripped the rim of the barrel, the barrel was tipped and his boots soaked within a second. He grimaced as he felt the water soak between his toes.

A barking laugh sounded from in front of him and he looked up to witness the proud Aelon Eastwood hunched over and shaking with laughter, "Perhaps you ought to give the recruits some swimming lessons since you're so well versed."

He considered retaliation before accepting that this was merely an indignity to be suffered. Shaking his feet to release a torrent of water, James marched over to the weapons rack, placing the blunted sword in its proper place.

It was hard to remain annoyed with Aelon though considering all he'd done for him and his family. His position as second to the Master-at-Arms was far better a future than anything he could have dreamed of before Aelon had ridden up to his father's keep all those years ago and then wrought his miracles through his lands.

Miracles including the new road being constructed to Haystack Hall. A road passing through his father's lands would herald substantial wealth in trade and prestige for House Potter. Aelon had even gone a step further and given his father the responsibility of patrolling and maintaining law and order along the road to ensure it remained safe for travellers and merchants alike.

Aelon managed to stop laughing long enough to speak, though his voice was interrupted by intermittent wheezing, "I should think your wife would find this an interesting sight. If only I could take a picture."

He growled, "You wouldn't."

What exactly was a picture? It was common for Aelon to create terms seemingly out of thin air, but most of them seemed to have a deeper meaning than he could fathom. The lord always brushed it off and failed to explain them. Perhaps it was related to his uncanny ability to create contraptions and understand exactly how he should position himself for events not yet conceived.

The lord sobered and raised an eyebrow, "Maybe I would. Never mind, I have duties to attend to. I will see you later for dinner with the wives?"

"Aye, my lord," his words conjured thoughts of the woman he called wife. Cassana and he had been married for a short while now and he couldn't have been happier. The niece of his mentor, Ser Morden, was strong but caring and a welcome break from the harsh work of training men-at-arms and helping Ser Morden maintain law and order within Eastwood.

The fact that she was a daughter of a House as old and famous as House Brownhill was an added bonus. House Potter was young and recently established. While due to Aelon's efforts their wealth and power had increased substantially over the past few years, what they had lacked was legitimacy. They certainly were not well connected enough to have achieved such a match on their own before Aelon arrived at Eastwood. It was only due to Ser Morden vouching for him and Aelon's support that he was able to achieve such a prestigious match.

Watching as Aelon walked away to perform his "duties", which at this point in time he was sure meant washing and having a laydown, I considered bringing up the coming winter at dinner. My father was certainly worried about it and that was cause enough to worry me as well. Ser Harys Potter not being a man easily worried.

While he was aware that their granaries were full and that there was little possibility of starvation in Eastwood, the same could not be said for the rest of the realm. His fosterage at Eastwood meant that he had received a Lord's education. As such he was well aware that a famine in the Stormlands would acutely affect Eastwood as well.

He rubbed his hands across his face and sighed before walking up to a seat perched upon the curtain wall surrounding the expanded Keep and looking across the horizon. A cat jumped onto the seat next to him and he paused to stroke its fur. While not an uncommon sight, cats had become much more common in Eastwood a few turns of the moon ago when Aelon, for some enigmatic and mysterious reason, had decided to purchase dozens of cats from some merchant in King's Landing. As usual, no one knew why. On the plus side, the rat population in Eastwood had never been lower.

He turned his gaze away from the cat and turned his attention to the breathtaking view before him. Often after training, James would come to rest for a while and watch the hustle and bustle of the smallfolk.

The town had grown so much in the time he had been in service to House Eastwood, where once there were merely fields the same as any other there now stood industrial complexes producing any number of Aelon's goods. Despite this industry, the landscape was still as beautiful as ever, with the swaying fields of corn and other such goods visibly further off it was easy to see this place as a paradise. It was rare in Westeros, the Stormlands especially, to see such productive lands settled with happy people.

I only hoped it would remain so forever.