8

Chapter Eight

Early 50 AC

As it turned out, cutting your face with a blade hurts quite a lot.

I looked at the straight razor now smeared with my blood. Silver stubble had begun to come through and shaving with a straight razor was nothing like using a modern one. Even after practice, the occasional nick was commonplace.

I rubbed my face with a bolt of linen after I was done, gazing into a rough mirror, the only kind available in Westeros. My features had evolved from a feminine looking boy into the more angular features of a man. My eyes were still the striking indigo of Valyria. I was definitely growing into a handsome man.

I turned away from the mirror and threw on my doublet. I still had half a mind to introduce suits to Westeros.

Warren had returned from Braavos a successful man with five thousand gold dragons in tow and a sanction letter that authorised further disbursement of another fifteen thousand dragons over the next four years. While the interest rates were rather high even by Westerosi standards, all in all, I was fairly satisfied with the terms of the loan.

My incomes were now stable enough, even with my massive expenditure on infrastructure and industry, that I had, at Maester Warren's recommendation, begun investing gold in the upkeep of my men at arms and levies. While I had earlier spent gold to just have my men at arms uniformed and outfitted, I was now spending to ensure that in case of war, I would have enough weapons and armour to arm my levies. I had given the order for the local blacksmiths to produce swords, armour, helmets and arrowheads which would soon be stored in the armory of my new keep once renovations were completed.

Ser Harys had been assigned the task of expanding his cavalry unit to better patrol my northern regions and borders and maintain law and order in the hinterlands and gold had been set aside for that purpose. While other Lords would be concerned about assigning too much power to a bannerman, I was not all that concerned especially considering that Ser Harys's son and heir, James was fostered at Eastwood.

However, with the influx of five thousand dragons from the Iron Bank, my road project had begun in earnest a moon or so ago.

The concrete had been perfected while Warren was in Braavos and was now being produced in great quantities in Southwood. I had written to Lord Swann a few moons ago about purchasing limestone from Stonehelm and Lord Swann had agreed to sell me large quantities. After several letters of correspondence, wherein pricing and schedules were agreed upon, a deal was struck and the first shipment of limestone had arrived recently. The limestone was baked under the able oversight of Mayor Monfryd in Southwood and then it was mixed into concrete as per the guidelines that I had provided.

The first road from Southwood to Eastwood was already being built and based on recent reports, nearly one fourth of a league, around three quarters of a mile in modern terms, had already been constructed. While initially the smallfolk labourers had struggled with the construction process, the initial teething problems were slowly being resolved and it was my hope that the Eastwood-Southwood Road would be completed by the end of the year.

This road was critical to my success as Southwood was shaping up to be a major industrial center, moreso because it served as the hub of concrete production. With the influx of gold from the Iron Bank, I had also authorised the construction of a road from Eastwood to Daegon's Valley where the new mine was turning out to be very productive.

The gold from the Iron Bank had also relieved a great deal of my financial stress. Much of this gold would be used to pay the Errols and Lord Swann for the stone and lime that I had purchased from them respectively. Ser Edwell had arrived at Eastwood a couple of sennights ago with the latest shipment of stone from Haystack Hall's quarries.

As was almost routine now, he spent a couple of nights in Eastwood before he returned and we had sparred in the yard in the morning. In what would perhaps be my most monumental achievement yet since arriving in Westeros, I had actually succeeded in knocking him down on his arse in one round. Whilst jubilant at having actually beaten a Knight several years my senior in a spar, I was almost immediately reminded that I still have a long way to go when he promptly got back up and proceeded to smack me around the yard for the next few rounds.

With my personal and infrastructural development proceeding apace, I had more time to contemplate my neighbouring lords. My lands directly meet the Baratheons' personal domain of Storm's End to the south-west, north-west is Bronzegate and House Buckler, and further north is House Errol of Haystack Hall.

I had previously asked Armon about the possibility of expanding upon the 'roads' of the Stormlands, which were little more than dirt paths, to connect Eastwood with Storm's End. Armon had taken into account the fact that I would want a road that would increase the speed of travel by wagon, considering my sea trade issue, and had said that a road to Storm's End could be completed for a total of some forty thousand dragons. Although I was also fairly confident that the cost would be driven down as my concrete production was further refined and my labourers grew more skilled and experienced.

Even then It was still an amount that I, unfortunately, didn't have in the treasury. Furthermore, if I wished to build a road to Storm's End it would need to be with the permission of the Lord Paramount. I decided that it would be best to hold off on plans for such roads for at least a year or at least until my first roads were built. Hopefully, upon seeing the quality and effectiveness of my roads, Lord Baratheon may be impressed upon to build a road connecting Eastwood to Storm's End, with the cost of the same being shared by the two of us. The increased speed of travel for my traders would likely cover the cost of the roads within a few years.

It had been two years now since I had arrived at Eastwood and taken up its Lordship. In that time, it was clear that I had done much to ensure the prosperity of Eastwood and its people. And yet the coming years would be my greatest test. If I was able to manage the growth of Eastwood Whisky and at the same time ensure that my road network was to be successful, then within ten years I'd be one of the wealthiest Lords in the Stormlands. But if even one of my projects failed, then my entire house of cards would come tumbling down as the fallout would affect every aspect of my growing economy, and I could potentially leave Eastwood in a worse state than the one I had found it in when I first arrived.

Much work was yet to be done. And it was about time that I looked to build greater ties with my neighbours than just trade.

Time for me to get married to a child I guess. If only my mother could see me now.

I sat once more in my solar, the cushioned oaken chair far more comfortable than the previous furniture. I idly scratched across the surface of my desk. My solar was coming along excellently, the walls were decorated with a banner of my sigil to the right and the map of my lands to the left, the far wall had a table and chairs where Ser Morden often took up his reading. Above my seat, hung my father's longsword, the same sword with which he slew Darkrobin and saved the life of Lord Rogar. It was a plain sword, no jewels adorned the pommel and the scabbard was plain as any other, and yet it was a powerful symbol, and one that I displayed proudly.

I had sent for Armon and Ser Morden, believing now would be the correct time to discuss my betrothal. It was an important event and I would definitely want other opinions on the matter before approaching the Lords involved.

I had a couple of options available to me, one far more likely than the other. The first being Melissa Buckler. The Buckler's were an ancient house, close to me and very powerful, at least in comparison to me. However, for all those reasons it was unlikely Lord Buckler would agree to the match.

The other option was Elena Tarth. Lord Tarth's niece, and the daughter of Larissa Velaryon. Elena was far more promising, whilst Tarth was still an ancient and powerful house, although not as powerful as House Buckler, the fact that Elena was just the Lord's niece and not his daughter, made it a far more likely match. An alliance I could also bring value to by increasing trade prospects for the Sapphire Isle.

It wasn't long before the Maester and Ser Morden entered.

I nodded and addressed the Maester, "I have been considering our previous conversation regarding marriage. Two of the list are particularly intriguing."

"I am happy to help you consider the benefits of the matches. I assume you are talking about Buckler and Tarth?" Responded the Maester.

"Yes, they seem to be the most expedient."

"Well, as I'm sure you've already considered. House Buckler are the more powerful of the two. That will work against you there I'm afraid. The Buckler's are a prickly bunch and would see you more as an upstart than a possible candidate for marriage to one of their own." That alone would have been a problem. However, I could foresee even greater problems with the Bucklers down the line.

Much of my trade with the Bucklers involved me importing cotton and ale. With the increased growth of cotton in my northern coastal holdings and with Eastwood Whisky growing rapidly enough, I was well on my way to substantially reducing my imports from Bronzegate, an action that was sure to pinch the Bucklers' incomes.

If that alone was not enough, recent reports indicated that much of the immigration that I was receiving in my lands was from the lands of House Buckler. Something that was sure to cause me issues down the line. Binding myself to House Buckler through marriage would not be a wise decision, when much of my gains appeared to be coming in at their expense.

But at the same time a marriage to the Bucklers would create several benefits. They were one of the most powerful Houses in the Stormlands and imported much charcoal, metalworks and leather from Eastwood. While Lord Buckler himself was not an admirer of my whisky, several members of his House purchased barrels by the dozen every quarter. An alliance with them could go a long way towards resolving future issues as they may arise.

However, binding myself to House Buckler through marriage would not be a wise decision, when much of my gains appeared to be coming in at their expense. I would be beholden to them and most likely treated as a vassal - expected to obey - rather than as a fellow Lord.

I nodded along, "Yes, I am leaning far more towards approaching Lord Tarth."

"I would think that the more practical idea, my lord. House Tarth is a prestigious house, though perhaps not as powerful in terms of military strength as the Bucklers or the Errols, they do however possess the closest thing to a port in the Stormlands. Being just across the straits from you it is entirely possible you could raise their own fortunes economically."

"Yes, I have been considering the possibility of trading my whisky further afield, to do so I would need shipping."

Transporting Whisky overland was a risky endeavour and a time consuming one at that. While so far I had managed well enough, it was primarily due to the fact that the distances were limited to the Stormlands and the Crownlands. I was thus far struggling to transport whisky further beyond as after a point, road travel was no longer a viable option. Even now, transporting whisky to the Crownlands by shipping it to King's Landing and Driftmark would be far more expedient than overland transport.

If I were able to establish an agreement with the Evenstar, through this marriage, to use Tarth as the hub for shipping Eastwood Whisky and other products, all across Westeros it would solve my issues relating to transport and distribution.

My coastal holdings were practically in the centre of Shipbreaker Bay. Due to the frequent storms docking larger ships in my lands was nigh on impossible as they would be broken apart every autumn. While I could dock small trade ships which could be dragged onto shore quickly during storms and which were sufficient for crossing the straits to Tarth, larger ships were needed to brave the high seas. Ships the likes of which could and regularly did dock at Tarth.

Armon rubbed his chin, "Shipbreaker Bay is not known for its easy seafaring. Anchoring trade ships on Tarth would be infinitely easier, the Storm Kings used Tarth for that exact purpose many times over the centuries."

Nodding, I tapped on my desk, "If we were to come to an agreement to use Tarth's ships to ship our product far and wide, their prosperity would increase dramatically. I believe that would be enough to secure the marriage."

Furthermore, Tarth was already an important trade partner. They imported grain, soap, charcoal, lumber and tools from Eastwood if my memory served. None of my endeavours thus far had caused any issues with Evenfall Hall. I turned to Ser Morden.

"You served with Lord Tarth during the Vulture Hunt did you not?" I questioned recalling that he had once mentioned that he had fought alongside the man in question.

"Not with the Evenstar my Lord, but his younger brother, Ser Edmund Tarth, Lady Elena's father."

"How would you describe my potential goodfather then? Would he turn his nose down on me for my bastardry and lowly origins?" I stated. While Ser Edmund may not be the Lord of Evenfall Hall, he was still the Lady Elena's father.

"He is a decent man, my Lord. I was but the Bastard of Whitehill back when we rode through the Dornish Marches and yet he treated me well the few times we spoke. Aside from a few conversations here and there, we never spoke much, but the men spoke of him well."

While the information wasn't useful, it was still better than nothing. At least the man in question would not take offence at me suggesting a marriage as the Bucklers likely would.

"Very well Maester Armon, would you like to send Lord Tarth a raven? Perhaps organise a visit to the island itself to speak in person."

"As you say my Lord, I believe a face to face meeting would serve you better. I'll write a message for you to send." Responded the Maester as he and Ser Morden bowed and exited my solar.

I sat up and walked out the door of my solar, hearing Morden groan as he sat up and followed me. Muttering under his breath as he did. I had scheduled a visit to the Eastwood Whisky Complex today. With my focus primarily being divided between harvest season, tax collection and my growing network of roads, I had found myself unable to devote as much time to my whisky production as I should have. An error I planned on correcting today.

I headed towards the Industrial Estate as I had named it. We mounted our horses and rode through the town. Eastwood was flourishing, my Eastwood Whisky was gaining popularity and demand was surging every quarter. I had finally reached a point where I was able to produce enough whisky to keep up with demand. We were currently producing nearly five hundred barrels of whisky every moon and with me no longer needing to empty my stock of available and matured barrels every quarter to keep up with demand, I could now afford to let some barrels mature for longer, allowing me to develop better and more refined whisky.

All the barrels currently being sold had matured for only six to eight moons at best and even that swill was being sold at five gold dragons a barrel. I was planning on letting some of my barrels in stock to mature for two years or so and I was hoping to sell them for fifteen dragons a barrel.

It took about fifteen minutes to arrive at the gated estate that housed my distilleries. I had earlier realised that maintaining a monopoly on my produce would be an important factor in gaining wealth quickly and had begun to shield my processes from the general public.

Dismounting, we approached the gates and were swiftly allowed entry. Walking into the building, a worker saw me and ran off. I assume to alert Bryan to my presence. Moments later, Bryan emerged from a hallway in the office section of the building. Bryan had quickly risen through the ranks over the past year and was one of the lead supervisors of my business.

"Lord Aelon! A pleasure to have you here. What can I do for you?" Bryan's smile was all teeth. Since arriving at Eastwood he had put on some weight, his gaunt cheeks now full and he looked happier every time I saw him.

"Bryan, it is good to see you too. How goes business here? I regret that I have been busy of late." I smiled back at the ageing man.

"Excellent, just excellent! I have hired a blacksmith who works here permanently now. He regularly performs maintenance on the equipment and I also have him working on an improved design for the distilleries. Not that your design was bad, just that I believe there is a way to make it more efficient and the structure more stable." Does he ever stop smiling?

Bryan was truly loyal to a fault. He was also intelligent, driven and capable of creative thought, a rare combination in my lands. Initially, I had Ser Jarett keep a close eye on him to ensure that he was not a spy or informant for the Bucklers, from whose lands he hailed from before settling here. After nearly six moons of careful observation though, he had displayed no signs of disloyalty and I had instructed Ser Jarett to cease his surveillance.

"That's good news. How many barrels do we have ageing in the warehouse?" I asked him as we walked through the complex.

Bryan didn't miss a beat, "We have a thousand and two hundred in the warehouse currently. Three hundred of those we are keeping in reserve so as to age them to your specifications. This is in addition to the four hundred or so that were dispatched the sennight past to the various Lords and merchants who have become regular buyers of your whisky."

"Perfect, have you looked into marking them by age? Gold, silver, and bronze labels for instance? I think a different marketing approach based on age would be best for increasing profits as time goes on. Older barrels have a much better taste and take longer to produce for obvious reasons."

Bryan nodded enthusiastically as I finished.

"Of course, I have an apprentice making labels as we speak. We won't put them on the barrels until they are ready to be sold of course. Never know if you want to keep them here longer and the labels would become obsolete."

I nodded along. He certainly has initiative. And a functional brain. Men like Bryan were rare. Not only was he educated but he also had the ability to think on his feet and apply his mind to solve problems. It was no wonder that he had risen so quickly through the ranks. We spoke for a few more minutes before I asked him where I might find Olyvar. It had been too long since we last spoke.

As time had passed, I grew to appreciate Oly as a friend. He had been my first real friend in Eastwood and was not like the other lads who had attempted to befriend me when I first arrived. At Bryan's direction, I headed off down the corridor towards the office section. I found Oly writing notes into ledgers.

I grinned, "Cough!"

Oly shot back and almost fell out of his seat at the noise.

"Aelon? Gods, it has been ages since I've seen you. How have you been?" Oly smiled at me.

"Lordship treats me well. Bryan tells me you have been doing well here, what has he had you doing?"

"He gets me to do stocktaking and to process orders in and out of the warehouse. Lots of writing. I have gotten much better at my letters and numbers though!" He grinned again.

"That's good. I am glad you seem happy here. I admit I had my doubts to start off with but it seems you will rise up well here after your apprenticeship is concluded." My smile was genuine as I replied.

"Yes, I really enjoy working here. I still find time for swordplay though, I could visit the castle to practice with you if you like? It would be good to see you again."

"I would like that a lot. There are few others in the yard who are the same age as us. And I have missed knocking you back on your arse when we spar" I joked as we laughed together.

I spent the next few minutes catching up with the young man. One of my primary reasons for having Oly employed in Eastwood Whisky was that he was loyal only to me. His father was one of my men at arms and his friendship with me ensured that his loyalty would be nigh on impossible to subvert. His presence would ensure that any wrongdoing at the Eastwood Whisky Complex would be very difficult to conceal. I had plans to see him promoted into an important position soon enough so that he would be in a better position to serve me. Time passed and eventually, we said our goodbyes and he promised to come to the Keep soon.

I spent the rest of the afternoon inspecting the facilities to ensure that all processes and equipment were up to my standards. I spoke with the other supervisors and labourers to identify existing and potential problems in an attempt to resolve them. With that concluded, Ser Morden and I headed back to the keep. Armon would no doubt try to collar me again soon about marriage arrangements.

Hearing that I had a significant stockpile of whisky growing at the warehouse. I decided that a venture I had previously discussed with Armon might be worth broaching. That being the sale of whisky in foreign kingdoms. While I had excellent sales within the Stormlands and Crownlands, which were growing at an exceptional pace as my drink gained popularity with the Marcher Lords as well, I was not able to maintain the same growth in other Kingdoms.

While Eastwood Whisky was a well-known brand in the Stormlands and the Crownlands, I had been unable to make similar headway in other regions. While Dorne and the Reach were not viable options to trade with due to the ugly history of war and conflict between the Stormlords and the two regions, I faced no such issues with the Vale and the North.

The most obvious places to start, reliant on a trade deal with Tarth, were Gulltown and White Harbour. Drinks with a warm burn would definitely appeal to those in colder climes. I chuckled softly at the image of an Umber discovering whisky. They would probably become my finest customers.

The matter that I needed to decide on was what method I would use to distribute my goods. A company-owned directly by me, or appointing a middle man to buy my goods wholesale for distribution. The former would require a lot of work and finding buyers in an unknown region would be difficult, the latter would net me less profit but be far easier.

However, the most pressing issue was demand. Due to the remoteness of these regions, Eastwood Whisky was not known to the Lords there. There was no Rogar Baratheon in these regions, who upon liking my drink had spread the word about it through his actions, inadvertently creating a market for me. Even if I wanted to sell in these regions, I was not a known factor there. Being recently ennobled, most lords there would have never even heard of me.

While selling wholesale to a middleman would be less profitable, the volumes would definitely be far greater, eventually allowing me to net a greater profit than otherwise. The ideal middlemen, being the Graftons and Manderlys in this case, would manage sales and distribution. The Manderlys and Graftons were among the most well connected, influential and wealthy lords in their regions. Selling the whisky once it was purchased from me would not be an issue for them.

As I pondered the idea, considering both merits and downsides, it began making more and more sense for me to appoint distributors in the North and the Vale who would facilitate sales under the Eastwood Whisky brand in their respective regions. It would allow me to focus my efforts and alleviate the burden of creating a sales network in regions I knew little to nothing about.

The first thing I would need to do was send a message to the ruling families of both cities, if they were amenable to the idea I would then need to get samples sent off. Though that would likely have to wait until I had talked to the Tarths.

I entered the half-finished keep to grab dinner and then began writing letters to the Manderlys of White Harbour and the Graftons of Gulltown.

Today was my ten and fifth birthday, and it had been celebrated with a feast. Advisors and leaders of Eastwood Whisky, Soap and other such ventures were all present at the feast. Many were raised from near poverty as they were rewarded for their competent service. Ser Harys Potter had ridden down from his little keep to the North to attend the festivities as well as visit his son James. Ser Jarett and other high ranking members of the town guard were also present alongside some prominent merchants, traders and influential craftsmen. These men together formed the 'court' of Eastwood.

Much had occurred in the past two years that I had served as Lord of Eastwood.

Eastwood stood at a population of slightly over four thousand, more immigrants seemingly joining the settlement every few weeks. Some from the many surrounding farms located on my lands, and some from neighbouring regions seeking better-paid work. With the settlement ever-expanding and Eastwood's wealth from trade growing with every shipment, I was grateful for the time that I had spent in better planning my city and constructing new housing.

Though if the current rate of expansion continued, and there was no reason to expect it would not, I would need to completely reconstruct my town's wood walls. The plan was to continue building districts attached to the castle walls so that eventually the castle was completely surrounded by the town. Hopefully, by this point, which was still several years into the future at the very least, I would have enough wealth to afford constructing stone walls for my town.

Ser Harys was accompanied by several village elders and prominent farmers from in and around his lands as per my instructions. I wanted to use the feast to make a proclamation regarding the mandatory implementation of the four-field crop rotation practice that Maester Armon and I had developed.

My lands that had taken part in the trials had seen an increase in yield of roughly twenty per cent. Maester Armon, after seeing my idea turn out so well, had at first been shocked before finally acquiescing to my desires and all of Eastwood's farmlands would after today's proclamation be using the new system.

Currently, only the test lands and the farms in the vicinity of Eastwood had adopted the new method. I was under no delusion that all farmers across my lands would immediately discard thousands of years of farming traditions and practices just because the new lordling said so. Some would resist, but most would obey my decrees. Additionally, as the results of the crop rotation became evident, the holdouts would follow.

That was the primary reason that I had invited Ser Harys and the posse of farmers and elders that accompanied him. It had been my hope that by speaking to them directly, Armon and I would be able to convince them to abide by my proclamation. While I had absolute power over my smallfolk, I did not wish to wield it like a hammer. Subtlety and diplomacy would serve me better in this instance.

The Feast had gone rather well in my opinion. The men and women attending had feasted and made merry, I had arranged for a couple of barrels of Eastwood Whisky to be served at the feast and ordered the kitchens to prepare the finest meals. Midway through the feast, I had issued my proclamation. Maester Armon had then read out a summary of the results of our tests much to the astonishment of my 'court'.

Much to my astonishment, the response had been more positive than negative. It turns out that being a Lord that actually cared for smallfolk and had actually worked to improve their lives won you a lot of respect and credibility. The numbers provided by Maester Armon had also helped. There had been a few naysayers, but they were handled deftly and with a sure hand. I may be willing to adopt a gentle approach, but if they crossed the line I would not be afraid to bring down the hammer upon them.

After some grumbling, the disgruntled elders and farmers had eventually quieted and the feast had resumed. That had been a couple of hours ago.

I sat on my chair in my solar with Warren and Maester Armon. There was much work to be done. Ser Harys and his party were due to leave on the morrow and they were to carry copies of my proclamation as well as detailed guidelines regarding the crop rotation system back with them.

We agreed that it would be prudent that no further forays into farming innovation be made for the foreseeable future. While I still had ideas in mind regarding the dutch plough, too much change in too little time could be very detrimental. Proper progress was only made slowly after all.

Lord Tarth had written back to me a few days ago, inviting me to visit Tarth to discuss the terms of the possible marriage alliance that I had proposed. He seemed especially interested in the trade aspect of the proposed alliance. I could certainly understand that. While Tarth could potentially serve as a hub of trade for the Stormlands, it had little to trade in actuality. In contrast, my metalworks, charcoal, whisky and soap were goods that were in great demand and could revive trade through Tarth in a manner that would otherwise be near impossible.

Considerable wealth for a lesser lord had already found its way into my coffers through established land trade routes, though the wealth found in overseas trade would do wonders for my developing lands. Also allowing for far faster travel to other areas of the Kingdoms. There was only one other port to be found on the Stormlands mainland. That being the port at Weeping Town on the southern coast facing Dorne. The Whiteheads and the Tarths facilitated much of the Stormlands overseas trade, a market that I wanted desperately to break into. A deal with Tarth would allow me to finally achieve that.

I downed the small cup of whisky as I prepared to retire for the night. Feeling the warm liquid burn my chest. The whisky was far better now that it had time to age, the cask I had been working my way through had sat in an oak barrel for two years. It was my birthday, after all, may as well break out the good stuff - at least as good as I currently possess.

Stormtower Port

Early 50 AC

Septon Luke looked down at the construction site from a vantage point provided by a small hill as the first smoothly cut white stone was dropped from the back of a wagon and rolled into place. He barely managed to hold in his childish glee at the sight. After many years of decay the young Lord was providing him with a real Sept.

He had been dubious after Aelon's declaration but soon men had begun turning up to begin drawing plans and sourcing the necessary materials. Large cut stones had been sourced from a quarry in the fief of House Errol. They arrived sporadically on large wagons that seemed barely able to cope with the weight and must have cost a fortune.

A fortune the Faith would never have expended in such a poor place.

But young Aelon was not the Faith, he had invested greatly in his lands already and had only been a Lord for a couple of years. Gods willing he would continue for many years.

The sept had been designed with the main section to serve as the entrance with two attached wings that would form a central yard. All the stones were to be whitewashed with chalk paint, he could almost picture how it would gleam in the sunlight, a truly marvellous design.

He had initially been unsure about one part of the sept's design, that being the tall tower that would be lit to allow sailors to find their way into the harbour. It was unprecedented for a sept to perform such a function, but the Septon had supposed that it would be worth it if it meant the provision of a proper, stone-built sept for him to make use of.

It had been a year since the foundation of the new Sept had been laid. With the main wing already complete and only some construction left on the attached wings and the tower, the labourers had assured him that the Sept would be complete in a few more moons. The Tower was a massive structure. It soared up into the sky several stories above the main section and when lit, would undoubtedly be visible to sailors for several leagues, even during the harshest autumn storms.

Already the men had taken to calling it the Stormtower Sept. A holy beacon of the Seven, shining its light across the treacherous waters of Shipbreaker Bay to guide lost sailors into the embrace and safety of the Seven.

And after years it felt that the Seven had truly returned to these lands. Lord Aelon had initiated several projects in this little town, that the people had taken to calling Stormtower, after the Sept that would soon be ready. The roads were cleaner and wider and trade was booming. Wagon loads of tools, grain, lumber and charcoal would arrive every moon to be traded to the Sapphire Isle. The dock had been completely refurbished and several trade ships were now moored there at all times. Large warehouses had been built near the docks where the various goods were stored and already more ships from other lands docked in Stormtower to trade their wares than ever before in living memory.

Massive stones, or wave breakers as the sailors called them, were being dropped in the harbour. Initially, he had been dumbfounded at the idea of dropping good stone in the sea, but as the sailors explained, the stone halted the tides and prevented powerful waves from forming and smashing the ships in the harbour.

Mayor Owen had never appeared happier than any could remember in recent times. He confided in him that Lord Aelon was to visit Stormtower soon on his way to Tarth. The old Mayor was making every possible effort to have the Sept ready by the time the young Lord visited so that he may see the fruits of his efforts.

Luke had even heard tell about plans to improve the roads to accommodate the increase in traffic supplying goods to the town. Many smallfolk proudly proclaimed that Lord Aelon was Blessed by the Seven and that he would bring even greater wealth and prosperity to these lands. He had himself written to his sister, Septa Leia, who served the Most Devout in Oldtown, requesting that more Brothers and Sisters of the Faith be dispatched to Stormtower to care for the new Sept as well as informing her of the deeds, generosity and devotion of the Lord of Eastwood. The young Lord deserved recognition for his deeds.