More Work

Much work had been done as I rode my horse through my lands. A network of dirt and gravel roads, 8 meters wide, connected my villages to the main holdfast, the port, and the Kingsroad. The road was raised in the middle, allowing water to drain smoothly into the ditches that lined either side.

Compacted dirt and gravel beneath my horse's hooves created a solid path, smoother and more reliable than the typical mud-choked roads of Westeros. Though not as fine as paved roads, it was vastly superior to the muddy tracks we had endured before. I allowed myself a moment of quiet satisfaction. This was progress.

We moved toward my holdfast, and crops stretched out around us. The fields, once little more than swampy messes, now buzzed with life—farmers tending to wheat and barley, the smell of fresh earth filling the air. It was the land as I had envisioned it, but there was always more to do.

"You've really done a lot of work on this, haven't you?" Lyanna spoke up, her voice thoughtful as she took in the sights.

"I have," I replied simply, though inwardly, I felt a surge of pride. This was the result of years of effort and careful planning. I had built this from the ground up.

Lyanna continued to look around, taking in the vast tracts of land and the crops that now thrived where stagnant marshes once ruled.

A lot of land had been reclaimed since she left for the south. Two more smithies had been constructed, and a paper production line had been set up for the printing presses. I had two presses built by having different parts made in different places by different men. Secrecy was key, as always.

'Haaah, I want to rest so much', I thought to myself, though I knew rest would not come easily—not yet. Fuck this shitty medieval society. 

The next day

As the sun rose over the horizon, the sound of birds chirping was drowned out by the sharp clang of steel. Two men fought in the yard, the crack of weapons meeting filling the crisp morning air.

A swing came down at me, but I was ready. I sidestepped, feeling the rush of air as the blow narrowly missed. I struck out at my opponent's side, but he backstepped quickly, his reflexes sharp. I pressed forward, thrusting my weapon toward him. He blocked, but I was quicker—I kicked him in the chest, sending him off balance. In the next moment, the tip of my bec de corbin was at his throat.

"Yield," I said, my voice calm, my breath steady despite the exertion.

"You've become too fast for me, my Lord," Arthur, the commander of my men-at-arms, admitted with a tired grin.

"Just my luck, Arthur. Go get some rest; we'll continue another time," I replied, offering him a hand as he stood up.

He bowed before leaving. I put my weapon down and turned to Calhoun, who stood nearby with a ledger in hand.

"You should join us sometime, Calhoun. It would be good for your health," I said, wiping the sweat from my brow as I took the ledger from him.

"I'm too old for that now, my Lord. It's for young'uns like you who can move like that," he chuckled, shaking his head.

"Has the population increased again?" I asked, flipping through the ledger. The numbers seemed higher than before. "I'm seeing an increase in the taxes collected."

"Yes, my Lord. There's been a large influx of people from the south and some from farther north. The population of the main holdfast has grown from 1,700 to around 4,500, bringing our total to 14,000," he explained.

"You've had them documented, yes?" I asked, still scanning the pages.

"Of course, my Lord," Calhoun replied, the meticulous record-keeping having become much easier with the abundance of paper. I had previously ordered the construction of a large section of planned houses outside the motte and bailey. The growth was rapid but necessary.

There were three distinct sections in the holdfast now: the industrial area, where the workshops and smithies churned out goods day and night; the bazaar, or Trade Post, where merchants and locals bartered and exchanged goods; and the residential zone, which expanded steadily to accommodate the growing population.

"Make sure the shipbuilders arrive and get to work as soon as possible, along with the wood that's coming into the warehouses," I ordered him.

He bowed and left. I stood there for a moment, gazing out over the lands that had changed so much in recent years. The annual income of my lordship had risen to between 3,000 and 4,000 gold dragons, a significant increase due largely to the steel and textiles I exported. Yet, wealth was not the only measure of success.

I had imported various types of plant seeds for dye production and established a Builders' Guild to formalize labor jobs. Now, the infrastructure was set. But there was still one thing left to secure: an army and navy strong enough to endure the coming years.

Later in the evening

POV: Xander Lavinia

The sun was setting, casting a golden hue over the bustling, growing town as people closed their shops and made their way home.

This place has really changed since the last time I passed through, I thought as I walked toward the keep of Lord Torrhen Stark. He had transformed this land—on its way to becoming the center of trade for the North. The steward, Brandon Calhoun, had told me that the lord wanted to meet. Something about a good opportunity for me.

I was curious to see what kind of man Torrhen Stark was. After a 20-minute walk, I arrived at the keep and was promptly escorted to the lord's study.

The guard knocked on the door.

"Come in," came the steady voice of Lord Torrhen. I stepped inside, the guard behind me.

"My lord," the guard and I spoke in unison.

Torrhen nodded and motioned for the guard to leave.

"Sit down," he said, his tone calm but commanding. I obeyed and took a seat.

"You called for me, my lord?" I asked, trying to steady my voice.

"Yes, Xander Lavinia. Three and twenty namedays old. You lived in Essos before settling here as a farmer, later becoming a merchant. Two sisters, a wife, and a mother to care for, with a child on the way. Am I correct?" His sharp grey eyes met mine, and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat before nodding.

"Hmm. I have a proposition for you," he continued.

"Yes, my lord?" I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

"You see, I'm lacking in horses, and the Dustins have plenty. I want you to go to Barrowton and handle the trade for me. I'll grant you the title of 'Court Merchant' along with a salary. However, I don't want it known that you're trading on my behalf. I also know you haven't been making much profit recently," he added, his gaze unyielding.

I swallowed before speaking. "And the coin, my lord?"

Torrhen called for a chest to be brought in. It was filled with gold dragons.

"Here are 2,150 gold dragons. You'll travel with 30 of my men to the Dustins. Ensure the trade is completed smoothly, and you'll be rewarded with a house in the town below." Torrhen said.

I bowed deeply. "I shall not disappoint you, my lord," I vowed, determination strengthening my voice.

"See that you don't," he replied, his words carrying a weight that left no room for failure.