19

Chapter Nineteen

Mid 60AC

Eastwood

Human resilience was, as always, an impressive sight to see.

I walked the battlements of Eastwood Castle, gazing with a small smile across the lands that had so recently been ravaged by plague. The life in my lands which I had desperately missed during The Shivers had quickly returned, albeit the atmosphere was certainly still down. A fact I certainly could not fault them for. The deaths of loved ones took time to recover from, a fact I knew all too well.

Morden would be pleased to see the world return to normality. There was no greater shame to me that he would never get to sit in the shade of the trees he helped to plant.

I felt pressure against my leg and looked down to see my cat rubbing against me. I gave him a small smile and shook my head to clear the depressing thoughts. I had spent enough time in melancholy.

Gazing once more out to the town, I noticed that the planned expansion of the town of Eastwood was proceeding apace. Despite the deaths in Eastwood due to the plague, Eastwood was still growing rapidly and with the increase in population and the construction of various industrial complexes, an expansion of the Eastwood walls had become necessary.

While the order for the expansion of the town walls had been given prior to Winter with the objective of completing it before the onset of autumn, various issues had delayed the project and eventually operations had to be suspended when the plague struck. When Winter had ended last year, I had given the order for construction to resume and the foreman was projecting that the same would be completed within a couple more moons.

The end product would finally realise the transformation of Eastwood from a small town to a bustling hub of trade and commerce. With stone walls twenty feet high and four feet thick, three gates, multiple guardhouses and periodic patrols, Eastwood would soon be one of the most well-guarded towns in the Stormlands.

My council had been sceptical of such heavy investment at such an early stage. No one disagreed that it was a necessary action, but most had advocated for taking up such a costly endeavour a few more years down the line. However, none of them were aware that war was on the horizon.

The Buckler incident had caught me with my pants down and I had vowed to myself that that would not happen again. For over a decade I had invested heavily in trade, commerce, industry and agriculture. However, this was Westeros and I needed my military might to match my economic and political power.

The Shivers had devastated the lands around me. And yet, in comparison to the rest, I had come out virtually unscathed. Whiskey sales had begun again and after two years of no sales, I had thousands of barrels of Silver and Gold Label maturing in my warehouses.

The Lords of Westeros seemed to have missed my whisky as well, as sales had never been higher. Small promotional discounts to sell off my excess stock had proven to be invaluable and sales were through the roof. With the tax cuts provided by Storm's End in effect, more gold than ever before was flowing through my coffers.

With the success of Eastwood Soap during the winter, Eastwood alongside Haystack Hall was the only fief in the Stormlands that had survived the winter more or less intact. Word of myself and Lord Errol providing the food that saved the lives of many in the Stormlands had spread throughout the kingdom and bought tremendous goodwill. That along with the increased survivability of The Shivers amongst those fiefs which had followed the Eastwood Method had finally allowed me to rise above the level of a petty booze lord into a force to be reckoned with.

I smiled once more as the sun began its trek down to the West and turned back towards my Keep. With the sun at my back as I approached the open gates, I felt filled with an elation that had been sorely lacking from my life the past year. There was still much to do, still so much purpose in my life.

Firstly, I had a meeting to attend, one which was important yet unlikely to be popular with those who had essentially become my version of a 'small council'. The Shivers was a crisis unlike any other and had certainly given me a level of trust and goodwill to work with. But there would still be questions about my foreknowledge.

The situation I was to deal with was of course the Vulture King. Specifically how I would want to prepare for his arrival. With business up and running again and the treasury well on the way to recovery, I had some leeway with regards to funding the equipment and training necessary for soldiers.

I stepped into the room containing my friends and fellows and sat at the head of the table. A mug of whisky had already been poured for me and I picked it up for a first sip and took a moment to judge the room. As I looked about the room I noticed that everyone seemed to be nervous. Unfortunately, they would soon have reason to be.

"Good morning everyone. What do y'all have for me today?" I said as I started the meeting in a light tone. Better to hold off on dropping my metaphorical bomb until the end once everything else was dealt with.

I looked around the table and saw that everyone except for Elena seemed to be present. My lady wife on the other hand was currently visiting her family on Tarth along with the children. With Ser Edmund's death and with Larissa set to travel to Eastwood with Elena, it was necessary to shore up our alliance there.

Despite all our aid, Tarth had been hit pretty badly by the Shivers. With little trade during the winter, Tarth had suffered more than most on the economic side, even though their adoption of the Eastwood Method had mitigated the worst consequences of the plague.

As far as my ward was concerned, he had departed for Haystack Hall a few turns of the moon ago. Young Jon was a good lad. While he had taken the death of his elder brother hard and was sad to leave behind Eastwood, he had sense enough to know that he would have to shoulder much more responsibility from here forward as the Heir of House Errol.

Soon, my own son would be leaving for Storm's End. There was no traditional age per se in Westeros for fostering. Sometimes children would be fostered when they were but six or seven namedays old, whereas sometimes it could be as late as ten and three.

It had been decided that Edwell would begin fostering at Storm's End next year when he completed nine name days. I was already dreading it. And while the benefits to Edwell from such a fostering were very evident, I was loath to let him out of my sight for that long.

My thoughts were however interrupted as Armon decided to speak up first, "Well Aelon, the first Harvest of Spring has been completed and the initial numbers are very promising. As per your instructions we are focusing more on rebuilding our reserves and restocking the granaries after the last Winter almost cleaned us out."

I nodded at that, "That's good to hear. What's the status of the export plan that we came up with the Errols?"

"After the massive exports during Winter, we've been taking it slow this year. But even so, we are projecting an overall increase of about eight per cent in our productivity this year as well. Agricultural Exports will be on the lower end this year, but even then it should not impact us adversely."

"Excellent," I replied, "is there anything else?"

"Indeed my Lord. I would like to go over the revised budget for the Eastwood Municipal Authority once more with you before it is announced," said the Maester.

That was indeed a pressing issue. With the plague in full force, the budget of the EMA had been increased substantially. With the Shivers having been dealt with, the budget was being reduced back to original levels and several key resources needed to be redirected. But It was something that could be dealt with later.

"We can look it over privately later this evening, Armon."

The Maester nodded and I looked to Warren.

Seeing his cue to speak up, the Steward started, "Well my Lord, I have just received confirmation that the first shipment of Eastwood Whisky to Braavos was delivered a sennight ago. It seems that your whisky has been very well received. It should not be long before we can begin regular shipments at higher volumes to Braavos."

A soft round of applause went up across the table as Serwyn reached out to thump the steward on his back. I would need to reward Warren for this. Breaking the Braavosi market was never gonna be easy and due to winter and the plague it had taken the better part of two years before Warren was able to find a trustworthy distributor and create the arrangements for regular shipments.

His success would mark a major turning point for Eastwood Whisky as Braavos was perhaps the wealthiest of the Free Cities and could potentially consume as much whisky as the entirety of the Crownlands.

On the topic of the Crownlands though, "And what of the damned Darklyns and their Dark Whisky?" I said as I turned to my council. Much like us, even the Darklyns had been forced to suspend operations during winter.

Even prior to Winter, my aggressive sales strategy had put a damper on their sales. I had thought we would have heard something from them soon enough, but little had been reported from Duskendale since the onset of Spring.

"They are struggling, Aelon," replied Serwyn as he took a sip of whisky from his own mug, "Winter wasn't kind to Duskendale and our sales strategies have been muscling them out of the market. They still have a decent presence in the Crownlands and are trying to improve their market share in the Riverlands as well, but their buyers are mostly poorer knights and lords who can't afford Eastwood Whisky."

"That's still not very good. While they are selling an inferior good at a lower price, it's still a threat to us. Perhaps we can reduce prices a little to boost our sales. The increased volumes should offset the hit to our margins," I countered as I contemplated the idea.

Warren chose that moment to jump back into the conversation, "Well my Lord that is something that I have been considering. Our newest line of whisky aged for ten years is on the verge of being ready for sales. But considering that we are already selling the Gold Label for staggering rates. I doubt any but the richest of lords would be able to afford the newest line if we scale the price accordingly. However, if we were to sell the Red Label for 4 Dragons, the Silver for ten, the Gold for twenty and the newest line for thirty dragons, that would allow us to drive all competition from the market while still maintaining excellent margins."

My eyebrows nearly disappeared into my hairline as I considered the idea. It was viable. Extremely viable in fact. Reducing the price of my product would make it more affordable to the less wealthy nobility and merchants. The increase in volumes alone would perhaps even boost my margins. A bit of creative branding would allow me to present Silver and Gold Label as luxury goods meant for nobility. And that would allow me to retain the tentatively named Black Label as a special reserve.

"The idea…has merit my Lord," said Armon as he considered Warren's words. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Serwyn nodding as well.

"Indeed it does. I want you to draw up a proposal for this Warren. Discuss with Bryan and Oly as well. They know the business operations better than anyone else. Serwyn, if we change the prices we will have to consult with Lord Tarth as well. I want you to reach out to him as well as our other distributors," I said as the rest began to note down my instructions.

The meeting continued along those lines for a few minutes as the minute details of the various aspects of administration were discussed. Topics of taxations, trade and industry were touched upon as we slogged through the necessities of bureaucracy.

"Now on the topic of finances? What is the state of our treasury Warren?" I decided to head to one of the main topics of discussion as I turned to the Steward. In hindsight, hiring him had been one of the best decisions I had made. In addition to being an able administrator, his son George was one of my most loyal and competent knights whereas his elder son Fred, by virtue of having just survived the Shivers, was now a rather senior and well-placed Maester at the Citadel.

"The gold is flowing in my lord. But it is flowing out just as quickly. The expansion of the city was going to be expensive anyway, but the sheer amount of stone and labour needed to construct the walls is costing us greatly," replied Warren as he looked at his notes.

"And what are we doing to address this?"

"Well, tax season is coming up soon. That should bring in substantial incomes, especially considering the tax cuts from Storm's End. Additionally, with the Smithing District soon to be up and running, we can expect to see substantial incomes from there as well," said the Steward.

'Those incomes from the smithing district will take a while yet,' I thought but kept it to myself. The rest were not yet privy to my plans regarding arming and armouring my troops first.

"And with the trade route being established with Braavos, we will receive additional incomes from the sale of whisky as well as other goods," continued Warren.

"Aye, but Uncle Brynden just sent the bill for the construction of the new ships added to the Eastwood-Tarth Fleet. Those incomes will be needed to pay those off," added Serwyn.

I'd forgotten about that. Prior to the onset of winter, Brynden Tarth and I had agreed to share the cost of expanding our trading fleet. While he had agreed to shoulder the majority of the cost, even my lesser share was still a substantial sum. While construction of the ships had halted during winter, the Velaryons seemed to have resumed the operation at high gear as the bill had come due just a few weeks past.

I grimaced as I thought of the sheer amount of expenditure on my plate. What made it worse was that I knew that I was about to add to it. And if I was feeling uncomfortable, I could already imagine the hell my more cautious and conservative council would raise when I raised my proposal.

"Let us turn our attention to military matters then my good men," I said as all eyes automatically turned to the empty seat to my left. The seat where Morden always sat. I suppressed the wave of sadness and sentiment that rose in my heart and pushed forward.

"It has been near a year since Ser Morden's death and while Ser Jarett has done a decent job as temporary Master of Arms, it is evident that he is more at ease as the Captain of the Eastwood Town Guard," I said as I decided to breach the topic that everyone had seemed to avoid for some time now.

"My Lord, I am no expert in the realm of martial affairs but it does seem that Ser Jarett is ill-suited to the position," said Armon as he seemed to concur with my statement.

"Well, it was always a temporary appointment, Aelon. Ser Jarett has himself stated that he much prefers managing the town guard. But as you yourself pointed out, we lack a suitable candidate for the position," added Serwyn.

"Aye. That was back then. But recent developments have caused me to reconsider that statement."

"I presume you're talking of Ser James's victory at Lord Caron's Spring Tourney," said Serwyn quickly catching on to what I was alluding to.

Around the room, Armon and Warren seemed to perk up as they too realised where this conversation was going.

"Champion of the Melee is certainly a laudable achievement. And that too in a Tourney hosted by one of the Marcher Lords," added Armon contemplatively.

"Tis a good idea, Aelon. Ser Harys is one of your most valued vassals. Having his son and heir as Master of Arms at Eastwood would honour him greatly. And no one can question James's loyalty and skill either," Serwyn added his two cents.

"I am glad that you like my idea because you are not going to like my next one," I said wryly as everyone in the room stilled and looked at me wearily.

The way they all went still almost simultaneously and began exchanging wary glances was almost comical. I would be offended if not for the fact that it was a deserving response considering the sheer number of foolhardy ideas that they had managed to persuade me out of over the years.

Fuck it. Here goes nothing.

"I believe that war is on the horizon, my good men. And we need to be prepared for it. I plan on increasing our military expenditure substantially over the next year,"

There I said it. I dropped the bomb. Cue, opposition.

"A valid concern my lord," said Armon as the others nodded along.

They agreed with me?

Huh. This had never happened before.

My bewilderment must have been evident on my face as Serwyn carefully disguised his laughter as a cough.

"To be honest, I had expected vociferous disagreement when I raised this topic," I said, smiling sheepishly.

"As much as I love debating with you Aelon, you have a valid point. Tensions have been simmering for some time now. The winter and the plague have only made it worse. It's only a matter of time before something goes off," replied Serwyn as he shrugged nonchalantly.

"Increasing military expenditure is going to be risky at this time, my Lord, but the reports I have been receiving from my agents in the Marches have been alarming. Raids from Dorne are more frequent and brutal than they have been in living memory. And with the King's less than martial reputation…..it would not be unforeseeable for someone to break the King's Peace," Warren added.

"And with Buckler, Fell and Trant spoiling for war because of the perceived slights heaped on them by us, the possibility of some form of bloodshed is within the realm of possibility," finished Warren.

I leaned back in my chair with a genuine smile on my face. It was like watching a well oiled marching band. They were almost finishing each other's sentences.

"I am glad to see that you share my opinion. But my concern remains the financial cost of such an endeavour," I said as I shared my thoughts.

"That is a concern. But I'm certain that I can find the gold somewhere. We may have to shuffle a few things around here and there, but our cash flows are robust. We should be fine," said Warren in a confident tone.

Huh.

Here I thought that I'd have to essentially order them to follow my instructions and instead they were the ones assuaging my concerns. It seems that you don't need foreknowledge from reincarnation to predict war in Westeros.

That didn't mean that they were happy about it though. As I got over my shock I could see the expressions of worry and concern on the faces of my advisors. An expression that must have been mirrored on my face as Serwyn spoke up.

"It just seems to be one thing after another. First the Shivers and now we are expecting a war?"

I smiled a little despite his frustration and replied, "Life is chaos. We are defined by how we navigate that chaos. Everyone experiences it, and we all combat it in different ways. The more responsibility we bear, the more chaos we encounter."

There were frowns and nods from around the table. I took that to mean I was a little young yet for the wise old man speeches and moved on.

Mid 60AC

Eastwood Training Yard

Ser James Potter stood in the training yard of Eastwood, both proud that he was entrusted with this responsibility, and missing the steadfast presence of Ser Morden bolstering his morale.

He had been shocked and honoured when Aelon had appointed him Master of Arms of Eastwood a few turns of the moon ago. A position, that until recently, had been held by his former mentor, Ser Morden.

That he, a young knight of barely two and twenty years, was being honoured with such a position, was not unprecedented. But it was generally reserved for sons of old and storied noble houses. For him, whose house had been ennobled just a couple of decades ago, to be granted such an appointment, was an honour he had not expected but had nonetheless graciously accepted.

As Master of Arms at Eastwood, he was not only responsible for training, organising and leading Aelon's Men at Arms, but was also the direct commander of all garrisons, town guards and patrol units in the lands of House Eastwood. A daunting responsibility.

And yet, one he was confident he could fulfil. For over a decade, he had served as Ser Morden's squire and then second in command. He knew the 'military apparatus' of Eastwood, as Aelon called it, better than anybody else. And while he was prone to modesty, no one could deny that he was an accomplished knight as well.

Ever since his participation in the Buckler incident, where he had acquitted himself well and his recent victory at Lord Caron's Spring Tourney, he had seen a marked change in the way the men treated him. Gradually, over time, he had gone from being Ser Morden's precocious squire to an acclaimed knight in his own right.

But even so, there was a difference between being a knight in service of House Eastwood, and its Master of Arms. Ser Morden had left big shoes to fill and he'd be damned to the Seven Hells before he failed to live up to his expectations.

When he had informed his family of the news, they had been overjoyed as well. Harys Potter was a hard man. One not prone to emotional displays. But even he had been swelling with pride when informed that his son would be Master of Arms. Cassana had even gone teary-eyed when she realised that James would be stepping into the shoes of her dearly departed uncle.

Add to all this, the fact that Cassana was due to give birth soon, meant that the elevation could not have come at a more opportune time. While the winnings from the Tourney had been more gold than James had seen in his lifetime, he had set aside much of it for the reconstruction of the Keep of House Potter. The pay raise he received as Master of Arms would come very much in use. And while he had not brought up the topic yet, he didn't doubt that Aelon would let his future children receive lessons from the Maester as he had.

He owed much of what he had to Aelon Eastwood and he would see his will done. When Aelon appointed him as Master of Arms, he also assigned him an important task. A complete overhaul and expansion of Eastwood's martial strength. He would not fail.

That task was assigned for reasons as yet unknown. Many men in his position would falter and worry about the cause and reasoning behind the order for such a military build-up. James was not one of those men. Aelon had not guided them wrong yet and as such he trusted his judgement. Whatever it was, he would ensure Eastwood was ready to face the threat.

The men in the yard this day numbered a hundred and fifty. It was a far cry from the sixty men at arms Eastwood had possessed when they had ridden to face Borros Buckler. Each man was a volunteer, for in Eastwood there was no need for conscription. There was nowhere in Westeros that provided as much opportunity as the lands ruled by Lord Eastwood, so every man was willing to do his part in its defence.

Many hours had been spent by him and Aelon behind closed doors discussing the expansion of Eastwood's men at arms. Eventually, the two had settled at a hundred and fifty full-time men at arms to be garrisoned at Eastwood, in addition to the eighty strong town guard in Eastwood headed up by Ser Jarett.

A disproportionate number perhaps for a House with as small a population and lands as Eastwood, but as Aelon argued, still substantially lesser than all his neighbours.

The men had been drilling for hours, the training regimen he was putting them through came in the form of both physical conditioning and training at arms. Unsurprisingly, Aelon had had the foresight to build up the arms and armour necessary to equip the men he had yet to order recruited.

For his men at arms, Aelon had arranged for each to be footman to be clad in mail shirts over boiled leather with steel caps. Each man was armed with either swords or polearms depending on their position in formation. Undoubtedly this must have cost Aelon heavily, but as he explained, these men were to form the backbone of Aelon's army in times of war occupying positions of officers, scouts and cavalry. Arming and training them properly was paramount. Ser Morden had designed separate regimens for the infantry and cavalry which had yielded excellent results and James had seen little reason to change that.

However, the expansion of the military apparatus was not just limited to his men at arms. Additional horses had been purchased and were being trained to expand Eastwood's cavalry strength. Most importantly, as Aelon explained, there were now enough armaments for a force as large as eight hundred. It seemed that Aelon planned on outfitting his levies also very well. He could see that he had many long days of training ahead of him.

One of his ideas that Aelon had given him leave to implement was creating a dedicated cadre of longbowmen. The Stormlands were infamous for the deadly archers native to the land and within Eastwood as well there were a number of such archers who made a living as woodsmen and hunters.

During times of war, he could call upon a hundred or so such archers. Recruiting these men as even a semi-permanent force had been a headache and half owing to the fact that they made a living in the remote wilderness of Aelon's lands. But it was shaping up well. The first group of twenty longbowmen were due to begin training in the coming days and James was not looking forward to it. Training infantry and cavalry was tough. Longbowmen tended to be lone hunters and did not work well in groups.

The hardest part of building up the forces, however, had been working out which men would make reasonable enough unit commanders. A task he was currently still working on.

Aelon had left specific instructions for the set of skills he would require in his officers. They were mostly obvious things, that they needed to be capable of speaking to their men and be skilled at arms. Others not so obvious, such as the ability to read and write being required. Which had made sense to James once explained, as how was an officer to receive, obey and relay orders if they could not read?

That it made sense did not make it easier. Most men in Westeros were illiterate, even large amounts of the nobility thought reading was for the weak. Sighing deeply, a habit of Aelon's he had picked up recently. James shook away his thoughts to return to the task at hand.

He nodded at the drill leader, a hedge knight named Hugh who had entered Aelon's service and left the yard to head to the solar Aelon had provided him in the Keep when he was appointed Master of Arms.

Waiting for him in his solar as expected was the Steward of Eastwood.

"You took your time," commented Warren as he looked up from the papers that were strewn across his desk. It seemed that he had made himself comfortable.

"Aye, you have my apologies, the training of the new men at arms is taking up more time than I had expected," grunted James in response.

"I can imagine. Ser Morden maintained lofty standards for his troops and I doubt you have lowered them."

James could only nod in response as he crossed the room and took his seat. Speaking of Ser Morden was not something he was ready for yet.

"Let us get down to it then," said Warren sensing the need to change the topic, "You've requested some changes to be made to the guardhouses in the city wall. A little late for such requests wouldn't you say? The construction is near completion."

"Aye. But my appointment was very recent and the security concerns that I have raised are substantial. The changes that would need to be made would not cost much or take up too much time," replied the young knight.

"I agree, but the foreman will raise hell anyways. But anyway, that hardly matters. I'll take care of him. I'm more concerned about the additional gold you have requested. You were not very clear on what they are for?" questioned Warren as he leafed through the papers in his hand before finding the request in question and laying it on the desk.

"That gold is primarily for equipping the patrol units" replied James.

The units in question were the northern and western patrols that were led by his father and Ser George respectively. Nearly a hundred men strong, the two patrolled the borders with the Bucklers, Fells and Errols and maintained the peace in the region. In case of any aggression from Aelon's neighbours, they were the first line of defence and yet were poorly equipped and trained in comparison to the men at arms in Eastwood.

"That will be difficult to finance James. Ser Benjen recently requested for some gold to be disbursed to Durran's Rest to purchase some horses and armour for his men as well. Aelon will have to grant this request to appease him since we denied the last few, lest he becomes unruly," replied Warren in a tone that belied his exasperation.

James couldn't help but sympathise. While Ser Benjen Buckler was a fair administrator and managed his lands well enough, he was also extremely ambitious and constantly overreaching his position and making demands of Aelon. Demands that were generally having little substance and were thus summarily requested by Aelon. That was not the case this time.

"What can be done then? Well it will not be possible to grant you the gold in this quarter, for that matter even without Ser Benjen's request that would have been extremely difficult, but I can set aside some gold in the next quarter for this," said Warren as he added some notes to his ledger.

James sighed as he leaned back in his chair and considered the steward's words. The western front of Aelon's lands was House Eastwood's greatest weakness. A long and unruly border with little in terms of solid defences. The patrols could deal with the occasional bandits and brigands but were not equipped to face anything greater than that. The gold he had requested would go towards improving the equipment, arms and armour of the patrolmen and purchasing fresh horses that would allow them to detect, bleed and delay any incursionary force before they arrived at Eastwood.

With both Buckler and Fell to the West, augmenting these forces was paramount. But he would have to make do. And aside from this he even had concerns regarding the walls that were currently being constructed in Eastwood. The changes that he had proposed would have to be implemented otherwise his men would not be able to provide an adequate defence in case of an attack.

"Very well Warren. I have no choice but to leave the lives of these men in your hands."

What went unsaid was that his own son George was the head of one of the patrols in question. Warren would be suitably motivated to see his request granted.

The Steward nodded and collected his papers as he left James alone in his solar.

The young knight let out an audible sigh as he collapsed back in his chair. The past few weeks had been beyond exhausting. He had scarcely had time to spend with Cassana as his new position kept him busy at all times.

While his lady wife had been overjoyed at his elevation, neither had anticipated the sheer workload that would accompany it. Ser Morden had made it seem so easy. Not for the first time did he feel the respect for his deceased mentor increase a notch as he struggled to keep up with the work that the grizzled old knight had seemed to perform almost effortlessly for the past decade.

Yet regardless of how difficult a task was, he would see it completed. For if he knew one thing for certain, it was that Aelon was not known for flights of fancy. Eastwood may very well depend on it.