8 Chapter 8

The evening light bathed the Red Keep in shades of orange and pink, casting long shadows along the stone corridors. Ned, Alaric, and Ashara walked through the hallways adorned with tapestries narrating the history of the Seven Kingdoms, their steps echoing in the surrounding silence. The air was charged with the tension of recent events, and the weight of history seemed to permeate the walls of the castle.

Upon encountering a servant, Ned asked in a firm, though weary voice, "Where is King Robert now?"

The servant, a slender middle-aged man donning the Baratheon livery, responded with a bow. "He has just left the Small Council meeting and is in the dining hall waiting for dinner. He sent me to await your arrival and to inform you that he wishes to dine with you, Lord Stark."

Ned nodded in gratitude. "Thank you, I will be heading there," he said, and began walking towards the dining hall, with Alaric and Ashara following. The silence between them was thoughtful, each lost in their reflections on the unfolding events.

The dining hall was a grandiose chamber, with tall stone pillars and a vaulted ceiling. Long dark wood tables were arranged in rows, and in the center, isolated in his grandeur, sat King Robert. He was seated alone, a sad and solitary figure, eating in silence. Upon seeing Ned and the young ones, a flicker of relief crossed his tired face, but sadness lingered in his eyes.

"Come sit by my side, Ned," invited Robert, with a weary gesture. Ned nodded in agreement and sat beside the king, while Alaric and Ashara took their places next to Ned.

As they began to eat, Ned broke the silence. "I'm sorry, Robert. I shouldn't have revealed her death to you in that way."

Robert slowly shook his head. "You're right, you shouldn't have. But it was also my fault for the way I was acting. But let's not talk about that now. Tell me, who is this young man by your side? And why is Ashara Dayne here?" His voice had a tone of jest mixed with seriousness.

Ned looked towards Alaric, a touch of pride in his gaze. "This is Alaric Stark, son of my brother Brandon, and the rightful lord of the north" he began, but was interrupted by Robert, who widened his eyes, surprised.

"Brandon had a son? How is he the legitimate Lord of the North if he's a bastard?" Robert asked, clearly shocked by the revelation.

Calmly, Ned clarified: "He's not a bastard, Robert. Alaric is the legitimate son of Brandon Stark and Ashara Dayne. They were secretly married at Harrenhal."

Robert fell silent for a moment, processing the information. His gaze shifted from Alaric to Ashara, assessing. "Are you sure about this, Ned? You know how these Dornish are..."

Before Ned could respond, Ashara, with a defiant look, interjected: "I am not a liar, Baratheon!" Her voice carried a mix of anger and pride.

Ned, attempting to calm the situation, said softly: "Calm down, Ashara." He turned his attention back to Robert. "I'm sure. I've seen the marriage certificates and Alaric's birth certificate."

Robert, now calmer, nodded. "You must be happy, Ned. Something of your brother still exists in this land and now you won't have to be the Lord of the North, something you never wanted."

Ned smiled, ruffling Alaric's hair. "Yes, I am very happy, Robert."

The king burst into laughter, momentarily forgetting his previous sadness. "The old trout is going to go mad!"

Ned sighed. "He certainly will." He shook his head, then looked at Robert with more seriousness. "Robert, I want the Gift of Brandon and the New Gift back for the North as a reward for our participation in the rebellion. We can't afford the food prices now that the Tullys will probably raise them even more, and the Tyrells are already charging a fortune."

Robert was silent for a moment, then agreed. "Of course, Ned. I will send a letter to the Night's Watch about this."

Ned smiled. "Tell them that in the future, when the production is high enough, we will send them food. But considering they don't have enough manpower to cultivate, it won't affect them much."

"Anything else, Ned?" asked Robert, ready to fulfill any other request.

Before Ned could respond, Alaric, seizing the opportunity, interjected: "King Robert, could you give us 150 thousand golden dragons to rebuild Moat Cailin? Then, in the future, I can give it to Uncle Ned when I take over Winterfell."

Ned looked shocked at Alaric

's request and Robert pondered for a moment before responding: "Done. You will receive 150 thousand golden dragons to rebuild Moat Cailin. I want Ned to live in a place befitting someone of his status in the future."

Ned sighed, defeated, knowing Robert rarely changed his mind. "Thank you, Robert," he said, a mix of gratitude and resignation in his voice.

Ashara, smiling, whispered in Alaric's ear: "When did you learn to negotiate, my little wolf?"

Alaric chuckled softly. "I guess I just did."

After finishing their meal, a maid guided them to their rooms and then to the bathhouse. Alaric took a bath with Ashara, who insisted on not leaving him alone, and then they went to sleep, preparing for their departure the next day.

Lying in my large, spacious bed, I found myself lost in thought. I felt a sense of satisfaction for having convinced King Robert to grant us 150 thousand golden dragons. We were fortunate; had Jon Arryn been present, we likely wouldn't have secured such a sum. Robert's generosity stemmed from the overflowing royal coffers, but Jon would have been aware of the imprudence of such expenditure, given the need to compensate houses involved in the rebellion, rebuild what was destroyed, and pay the soldiers.

Setting these concerns aside, I estimated that rebuilding Moat Cailin would cost around 100 thousand golden dragons, leaving at least 50 thousand to spare. These extra funds could be used in the Gifts, speeding up the process of renovation and planting, and significantly reducing our reliance on food imports from other kingdoms.

Even with my limited knowledge of agriculture, I knew I could contribute significantly to improving life in the North. After this, I planned to persuade Ned to rebuild the Northern fleet and explore other revenue-generating ventures.

Perhaps we could sell ice to the South and even to Essos, capitalizing on their warmer climates. And maybe, when I was around 7 or 8 years old, I could introduce the concept of the blast furnace to Ned. By then, it would be easier than now, with my being only 1 year and 5 months old. The blast furnace would revolutionize our iron and steel production, greatly enhancing our capabilities in construction and warfare. By demonstrating my intelligence and the practical benefits of this technology, they would be more inclined to consider my ideas in the future.

As I contemplated these possibilities and plans for the North, sleep gradually overtook me, with the soft light of the moon streaming through the window, illuminating the finely crafted details of the ceiling in my room at the Red Keep.