Chapter 5 : The first step

(3 years later, 270)

[Hoster's POV]

Before my rule, House Tully was far from the power it should have been. The Mootons and those cursed Freys commanded more wealth. Armies? The Vances, Mallisters, Brackens, Blackwoods, and, yes, the Freys again, each one boasted larger and more feared forces. We were respectable enough in our own right, sure, but respect isn't power. No port, no thriving city, nothing like the Frey's Twins, that miserable toll bridge of theirs. Riverrun was no less impressive for lacking such vulgarity, but still. For a house meant to lead the Riverlands, our standing felt like an insult.

Settling for modest influence should have never been an option. It was beneath us. The Tullys were meant to command, not scrape by under the shadow of lesser Houses. We lacked the coin, the forces, and the prestige to impose our will as we should have, and I knew it from a young age. That was the first thing I swore to change.

When my father stepped aside, naming me Lord of Riverrun and the Riverlands, I made a promise. By the time my rule ended, the name Tully would be whispered with respect, or fear, across Westeros. Reckless, perhaps, but what ambition isn't? We couldn't rival the gold of the Lannisters or the harvests of the Tyrells overnight. We weren't the Stark wolves, beloved by their bannermen, nor the soaring eagles of the Vale, but no one said it would be easy.

Still, I began to see shifts, small but undeniable. The mocking whispers about the 'feeble trouts' grew quieter. The dismissive looks from our rivals turned to wary glances. The cause? Simple ; William. A mind sharper than any sword, and as unpredictable as the Trident. I had expected great things from him, but what he delivered exceeded even my ambitions.

It all began three years ago when William and my father made me discover chocolate. I saw its potential immediately. But when William mentioned sugar as a key ingredient, my enthusiasm dimmed. I pointed out, "Sugar is controlled by the Free Cities, and it's derived from sugarcane, a plant that can't grow in Westeros." That should have been the end of it. I thought he would sulk, perhaps abandon the idea altogether. Instead, he smiled, that unsettling smile of his, and said, "Give me time, Uncle. I will find a solution."

The next day, he came to me with a white beetroot. He claimed this unassuming vegetable held the answer. I didn't understand at first, so he explained that sugar could be extracted from it, much like sugarcane. I was skeptical, but after consulting Maester Corwyn with him, I found that William's method was sound. According to Corwyn, William's approach mirrored the process used with sugarcane, with one key difference ; Instead of crushing and pressing the cane to extract a sugary juice, the beetroot could be sliced into thin strips and heated in water to obtain the same result.

I made a bold bet, one that almost had me doubting my decision when the sugar we produced looked different from what I expected. I was certain we had failed. In response, William simply told me to give it a try.

When I held the small pile of white sugar in my hand, I couldn't help but feel a flicker of doubt. The cane sugar I had known all my life had always been a rich, brown hue, with a hint of molasses clinging to its grains. But this, this was something entirely different.

I brought a pinch to my mouth, expecting some noticeable difference. Yet, as it dissolved on my tongue, it was shockingly smooth, almost purer, with none of the heavy, earthy aftertaste that came with the brown sugar. The sweetness was sharper, cleaner, almost crystalline in its clarity. Where the brown sugar left a lingering richness, the white beet sugar delivered its sweetness quickly and faded just as fast, leaving behind nothing but a ghost of itself.

It wasn't better, necessarily, just… different. Cleaner. More refined. And in that simplicity, I saw potential. Not just for our trade, but for our future.

Once we had the sugar, selling it should have been easy in my opinion. But William and my father cautioned me. People were used to cane sugar, and ours, looked different. They wouldn't trust it right away even if we wanted to sell it cheaper. William suggested handing out free samples to gain their trust and buying time to ramp up production. It stung to delay the profits I had anticipated, but I recognized it as a small sacrifice for a greater benefit. It took about four moons to recoup our investment, slower than I liked, but we expected it. Soon, lords realized they could buy sugar from us at two-thirds the price of the cheapest suppliers from Essos, and with much faster delivery.

From there, demand soared. Our gold coffers swelled. Buyers recognized the value in trading with us, and no one in Westeros raised an eyebrow at cutting the Free Cities out of the trade. In fact, it was welcomed, as it reduced dependence on foreign goods.

Making us rich was one thing ; doing it in a way that left our trade partners smiling was another. William managed both. He had a knack for this, just as he had a knack for avoiding retaliation. The Free Cities were notorious sore losers, so we didn't wait for threats, sanctions, or worse to act.

Pentos and Tyrosh were the main sugar exporters to Westeros, making them the most aggrieved by our actions. And there were two ways to handle this ; Show them they would lose more than we would if they antagonized us, or convince them that what they lost was trivial compared to what they could gain by aligning with us.

The first option was out of the question. Whatever the nature of the confrontation, we will undoubtedly suffer more than they will. William's suggestion was far more suitable. To appease Pentos, we would cut off wheat exports to their rival, Braavos. For Tyrosh, we would take the same approach, halting shipments to Lys, Myr, and Volantis. It seemed audacious at first, but the risk was minimal on closer inspection. We weren't sending large quantities of wheat to these cities anyway, and they could easily buy from the Tyrells instead. Meanwhile, the North would willingly accept our wheat, and despite knowing I would have to settle for a lower price and that it would also fatten the purse of that old rat Walder Frey through toll payments, it was worth it to cement our relationship with the Starks. Whatever losses we incurred would be easily offset by our growing sugar trade.

In the end, we enacted this plan with precision, and to this day, we have faced no retaliation. Quite surprising, given the Tyroshi's notorious arrogance and insatiable greed. I had prepared for far more resistance, yet it seems they underestimated us, a mistake they won't make next time, I wager.

In the meantime, we began selling chocolate, but not before we had offered free samples and shared recipes with potential buyers. It wasn't merely about earning their trust ; We needed to show them just how versatile chocolate could be, enticing them to purchase even more. Chocolate, being entirely new to their taste, required a more strategic introduction than sugar ever had. People needed to taste it, understand it, before they bought into it. But once they did, it soared.

Currently, chocolate brings in nearly seven-tenths of our sugar revenue, and combined, these two commodities contribute about eight-tenths of our wealth. They are the foundation of our House, sustaining both our power and ambitions for the future. But we aim higher. Our gold is being used to expand our standing army and equip our peasants with better tools, as we press forward to secure even greater harvests and lay the groundwork for long-term prosperity. Our ambitions reach further still, for we have ventured into new endeavors, ones that demand patience, infrastructure, and time before they fully bear fruit. Yet I am certain they will prove as invaluable as the riches we have already secured.

Gold flows through my hands like the waters of the Trident, but I fear none of it slipping away. William and I share a common vision. With his sharp mind steering the course of our house's fortune, I am confident our future will thrive. 

[William's POV]

The year 270 AC marked my seventh name day, a year that, according to everyone, was supposed to usher in greater prosperity for House Tully than the past three years combined. And yet, despite all the ambiant optimism, I absolutely loathed it.

In just a few moons, Minisa would bring Edmure into the world, further deteriorating her already fragile health in the process. And as if that wasn't enough, my grandfather, my second anchor, the man whose wisdom had steadied me almost as much as my father's presence, was inching ever closer to his final breath. With every day that passed, the reality of losing him hung heavier in the air, and no matter how clever I fancied myself, I was still powerless to change a damned thing.

So while others eagerly embraced the future, filled with promises of wealth and power, I approached it with nothing but a sinking sense of dread. How could I not? The people I cared for seemed poised to slip through my fingers, and all I could do was watch.