25

For once in this life the rumor mill had led me astray, the message that Cersei had tried to take over in the confusion having been just that – a rumor. I was deeply grateful that my slip of self control at the end of the advisor meeting had been without cause even if I did not think so in the heat of the moment. It would have fit so well with everything I read about her character, yet it had not happened at all. Latest information from the south spoke of her having secured King's Landing with the forces available to her after Robert's death caused some unrest and not a little of opportunistic looting. After regaining control in her son's name she hunkered down, waiting for Stannis to make it back to the capital.

At no point had she declined him as regent or stated such in public, which left me wondering where the rumor had started. A few words could do a lot of damage in the right place at the right time and this was one that just might have kicked off the civil war that was sure to erupt in the not too far future. Shaking my head I return to the present, the familiar sight of my solar surrounding my person as I worked through a lot of paper needed to keep the daily comings and goings of my lands in order. Even with the ridiculous cost of paper involved I could not escape it. My council had met up twice more to keep everyone important up to date on what was happening south while keeping our own preparations on track at the same time.

And there had been a lot to talk about.

Stannis had returned to the capital with a strong force hailing from the Storm- and Crownlands, stomping out any glimmering unrest within a week after arriving. Calm returned to the capital as he took his seat as Lord Protector, retaining Jon Arryn as Hand to make the takeover as smooth as possible. This might be my cynicism speaking but I suspected that Cersei would be in a lot of trouble at some point after recovering from recent events and leaving 'mother hen mode' as I liked to call it. Interestingly enough there was also the news of her giving birth to a black haired girl delivered by raven, the timing fitting roughly with the departure of Robert. The late king might actually have a legitimate descendant, conceived just before the latest rebellion. Or the girl might be someone else's but considering the hair color and the lack of Lannisters due to the rebellion there was a considerable chance that there was now a real one among the cuckoos.

This threw me far more than the news that the rumors had obviously not been based on facts. Cersei actually delivering a child of Robert was something I had not considered to be possible – at all. And still it had happened or at least it seemed so. What this would do to the powder keg that was the seven kingdoms I could not even begin to imagine. Thankfully it was not my problem directly, I had more pressing matters to attend to closer to home.

Lord Stark had passed Moat Cailin a week ago, bringing with him the northern host that had fought in the rebellion and a lot of refugees he had collected on the way. And if I said a lot I meant a fuckton of people. The northern soldiers numbered roughly four thousand able warriors, the losses during the rebellion having been few and far between if one did not count the last clusterfuck at Pyke. Following them – or being escorted by them more likely – were ten times that many smallfolk that wanted to make a new life in the north. A truly ridiculous number. In addition to the refugees streaming past the Moat on their own or in small groups, this led me to believe that the Riverlands were absolutely haemorrhaging people as the paramountcy sorted out its religious disputes.

While Lord Stark had been able to temper Walder Frey's ambition for now and keep at least some pressure off his nephew, there remained the sad fact that a marriage into the 'late' lord's family might actually be the most logical thing for him to do. After the rebellion and the Blackwoods departure the Frey's – unreliable as they might be – had the biggest amount of men available to them in the whole of the Riverlands, if one did not count the fanatics squatting in Harrenhal. The Tullys themselves could barely call up half their number directly, having relied on alliances with other houses for generations. Contrary to other ruling houses they did not have the direct power to squash annoying vassals with numbers alone, nor had they the respect like what the Starks enjoyed in the North for millennia. The woes of a comparatively young house, I suppose. Not that I could throw any stones in the matter.

As matters in the south deteriorated further I expected the northern lords to hunker down and dig in, leaving the dice on the other side of the Moat to fall as they may while preparing for the worst. As we were right at the start of a ridiculously long summer this was not unreasonable even though I was the only one to know – or at least strongly suspect – that there would not be a winter for some time. At the same time the great influx of people was strengthening the North by the day while it weakened the south as they ripped each other apart. In addition to the Sparrows lashing out against followers of the old gods there had been a declaration from the Most Divine, decrying Balish a heretic and pretender while condemning all that would follow him.

This of course had kicked over the already disturbed anthill something fierce, leading to followers of the seven turning onto each other right after driving out the folks adhering to the old ways. I had not known if I should laugh or cry at hearing the news, being glad either way that I had arrived in this world where I did. I did not want to switch with the southern nobles that likely had to govern a steadily expanding level of unrest as the declaration spread. The leadership of the church had a real talent for throwing gasoline onto an already out of control fire, making it spread far beyond what it should have been. Again I did not envy Stannis for the shit he was about to face, if he wasn't doing something by now anyway. The delay between events and me being informed of it had never been more annoying.

At least Stannis had a lot of money to throw at the problem, having earned nearly two million dragons from the auction of Pyke – the Florents having made the race in the end even though I had no idea how they managed to scrounge up that kind of coin. While this helped the royal regent greatly it also destabilized the Reach even further, skirmishes between the Florents and Tyrells growing more frequent as they moved right past assassinations and straight to open battle. I suspected that Stannis wanted to fight one battle after another, the emergent Faith Militant being his biggest problem for the moment. The Reach would likely trouble no one for a while as they descended into outright civil war on top of the already present religious killing spree happening all around.

I also finally learned how he managed to hold the auction without compromising his rigid adherence to the law. He simply only sold the rights to Pyke for a period of ten years, never outright stating that the one sitting in the castle would also be the one able to search for the lost valyrian steel. It was obvious of course but he neither promised the buyer the rights to the weapons, nor did he give in order what should be done in case of discovery. The only thing he did was to command Robert's bones to be returned to Storms End, should his body ever be discovered. This way he washed his hands of the thing and did not offend the houses that lost inheritance weapons at the same time. That would be left to the house actually finding and keeping one of the lost weapons. After all, if such a blade was discovered, honor would demand it to be returned to its previous owner, why should this be any different…. Right?

Of course any weapon discovered would be reforged or otherwise made unrecognizable before being shown in public, leaving any house that lost a weapon without a leg to stand on... but with a big grudge. It was another situation I would not touch with a ten foot barge pole, knowing that one could only lose in the long term even if having a blade of valyrian steel would have been nice. Still, I was pretty happy with my ax and painfully clumsy with a sword anyway. From a practical standpoint I would be better off reforging any valyrian steel I managed to acquire into arrowheads, not wanting to move my squishy body any closer to a walker – or the Night King himself – than I absolutely needed to. While I had grown to quite like the relative cold of the North to the sweltering heat of southern lands I still felt some temperatures to be too cold to reliably feel comfortable in. Anything close to one of those icy abominations was too cold for me, better to stay as far away as possible.

Looking at a map covering much of a wall I absently trace the king's road with my finger, naming the castles along the way in my head. Lord Stark and his giant caravan would have moved past the Moat by now and splintered into smaller groups as the lords under him took who they could from the gathered smallfolk to enhance their own fiefs. I estimated that a fourth to a fifth of the smallfolk would stay with the wolf lord and continue with him to Winterfell, settling into the surrounding lands and enhancing his direct power.

I still felt the urge to crackle after learning that only a three digit number of people had chosen to follow lord Bolton to the Dreadfort, his frightening reputation working against the man for likely the first time in his life as even minor lords attracted more smallfolk than he could manage. As I still suspected him of at least not harboring me any goodwill I could not help but gloat a little in the privacy of my head. Rytherstone would likely also attract some of the refugees even without my presence, my reputation being the equal and opposite of what the Leech Lord could manage.

The forest around my settlements had grown thin as I commanded houses by the dozen to be put up, stuffing any finished building to capacity as soon as the roof and walls were finished. I still had a lot of people living in tents, which would not be sustainable for long. Thankfully I had a lot of forces available to keep the peace, the easily observed process in building new homes doing what the men could not to keep new and old smallfolk reasonably happy. Even so I would be building at breakneck speed for at least another six to eight month to see everyone get a roof over their head. With safety regulations not even being thought about I already had a dozen deaths and thrice as many injured during the construction work, forcing me to implement at least the roughest of safety measures. Thick sticks as railings and a rope bound around the middle of any man working above three times a man's height had already saved a lot of people beyond those poor souls already mentioned. Half of those had actually been workers ignoring my instructions, which led to the others now mostly following my edicts even if my men at arms were not close by.

My fields were being expanded by a large margin, leaving me to wince whenever Wyndal told me how our stores of grain dwindled dangerously fast because of it. Still, it was needed and I would soon enough recoup my losses as the new tenants came around to pay their tithe back to me. My people were of course careful only to assign farms to those already having some experience with it. Here the rural setup of Westeros helped greatly as nearly everybody not coming straight out of a bigger city had already done at least some farm work before moving north. Those without experience mostly had some other useful skill, leaving me to easily find a place for each new arrival. Well, I wasn't doing the sorting myself. but those that had assumed the role did it well enough in my estimate.

And they would not be out of work for a good long while either, if my take at the greater kingdom's situation proved to be even roughly true. Soon Blackport would grow past a size where I could continue to expand it at the current rate, sewer system and other necessary projects needing to catch up before any more growth could be done. Instead I would spread them across my lands or found new villages in favorable locations, which in turn brought me back to the meeting I had called, a soft knock bringing me back to the present.

"Enter.", I call and again move behind my desk, Alysanne and Harren entering ahead of Wyndal and Hoster.

After seating themselves I again am the one to continue speaking. "Lord Stark has commanded me to raise vassals and grant them some lands. With the influx of smallfolk and the expansion of Rytherport coming to its limit now is the time to do so. Some people have earned themselves a name during the rebellion and before, earning the right to be considered for the elevation to nobility. I would hear your thoughts on the matter, mostly who should get the honor and where they should be settled."

Complementary silence settles over our group, everyone having known the topic of the meeting beforehand but none wanting to start. Getting a little impatient I smile at my wife. "Dear, your take?"

She smiles, glancing around the room impishly. "A few candidates come to mind. Any of our sons but Nathan with a castellan, Wallace or Shale, Gregor… and any of the men present."

I lean back a little as I mull over the present options while the men present looked at each other, unsure of the position they suddenly found themselves in. Of course they had known that they might be considered but they also were too proud to demand such. Now that the possibility had been outright stated they did not quite know how to react to it.

"Ruling has never been my goal, my studies my calling. I am happy to be where I am.", states Wyndal first of all, taking himself out of the running. "I will also speak against young Gregor Rivers. While scarily skilled he nonetheless has not the accomplishments to his name to be raised without issues, nor has he the seniority."

"If you go about it that way there will not be any options left.", points out Alysanne as the other two stay silent, unwilling to compromise their own chances or to look greedy in any form.

Wyndal shrugs. "That might be but Lord Stark did not specify the number of vassals Lord Ryther has to raise, only that there should be some. Two would work just as well as three or six if meeting the requirement is what you are after."

"It is not.", I interject. "I will only elevate those deserving and sensible. Without candidates I would have fought lord Stark on the issue far more than I did."

"There you see.", Alysanne starts, a sly grin on her face. "We have a lot to choose from. Gregor might not be an old resident but he is loyal, able and known well enough."

"I suppose you two will refrain from voting or speaking your thoughts?", I ask the silent members of my council, both looking deeply conflicted.

"Mostly, aye.", grunts Harren. "While I am too old to feel comfortable at governing my own lands or doing anything else but being your master at arms I have to think of my family as well, my eldest son in particular. For him more than for me this would be the chance of a lifetime. As such I am very much prejudiced in this matter and will refrain from judging the other candidates… I would not be looking at it objectively."

Hoster nods, looking pained. "The same for me. I will not be bound to dry land more than I have to but my family remains another matter entirely."

I smile. "I am glad to see you recognizing the conflict of interest. Very well, you both please leave. We will discuss this without you compromising yourself further."

Both men make themselves scarce and I remain behind with my wife and oldest advisor, who is also the one to speak up next. "Harren, Hoster, Wallace, Shale, your sons… might I present my thoughts on the matter?"

"Please do?", I confirm and lean back.

"I would propose the following. Shale's father has been ruling Snowfort for a while now, he should retain it for the duration of his life and be recognized as the lord of the surrounding area by us. If the concentration of people continues, this will be very profitable indeed. Shale himself can take over after his death, creating a small exclave of the North that might in time grew into something much more serious."

"You forget that the free folk would likely fight the establishment of a lordship on their ancestral soil… not to mention the threat the walkers present.", I calmly counter. "As I see it any title we try to grant north of the wall has a clear date of failure."

"Do we know this for sure?", he questions, voice shaking slightly. "The first problem should not be that great with their new leaders being of the free folk themselves. The walkers on the other hand… we have yet to spot them and the Thenn might finish the threat before it really becomes one."

"They might.", I agree grudgingly. "Not that I expect them to. Mythical beings from the time of heroes theoretically could but likely won't fall that easily. Snowfort is as of now – sadly – is a temporary settlement for as long as the walkers and their undead wights are not dealt with."

Wyndal grunts, obviously wanting to argue the point but not willing to fight for a proposition he recognized to be a losing one. "Very well then. Leave both be for now, granting the right to your northern settlement for the time after the situation has… changed."

Taking a deep breath he continues. "Wallace has never expressed the wish to rise from his current position and indeed I would see him as Harren's replacement, should our master at arms retire at some point. Add in a good marriage for his daughter – if the wild child agrees to it, of course – and that should be that. He likes the simple life and adding a title to his name would do him no favors."

"I agree", jumps Alysanne into the conversation, despite having been the person to throw the name into the ring earlier. "He would make a good master at arms. Little Lyrra I would offer a marriage in the future but the decision would have to be her own… her wolves might just eat the prospective husband otherwise."

I snort with a sudden bout of suppressed laughter, picturing the ensuring scene and the 'who? Me?' look of innocence on the girl's face as the animals ripped someone to pieces not too far away. My humor had really taken a turn for the worst since arriving in Westeros.

"This leaves us with our sons as well as Harren and Hoster.", I state, sipping on my tankard absently.

"Harren should be elevated for decades of service and loyalty", Wyndal states. "He is the most obvious candidate hailing from common stock. His rise will also greatly increase your reputation with the smallfolk and be an example of what great service might earn them."

Taking a sip of his own drink he continues. "Hoster on the other hand has been with us far shorter and would be hardly present in the future. His family lives in great comfort because of his status, adding a title would impact their living situation but not add to their current wealth in a meaningful way. Again, marriages or other positions should be considered for his children, likely leaving him content even without a title beyond the power he already wields as the commander of your fleet."

Not agreeing or disagreeing just yet I wave for him to continue. "Our sons?"

"Nathan will of course inherit Rytherstone", starts Wyndal with a shrug, earning a nod from myself and my wife at the obvious statement. "Theo is fostering with the Mormonts. Considering the current generation is completely made of females I expect him to settle on the island after his fosterage, taking the Mormont name. There have been…. Rumors… that Jorah Mormont is not one for fathering children. Some sort of injury, I hear. The solution seems to be there for all to see. The question is only when the Mormonts will ask for it and what they are willing to pay to see it through."

I blink in surprise, not having thought about the fostering going this way in the future but thinking about it I could see it as a possibility. While northern houses were and had been in the past led by females it was still rare. Having a male to be the head of the house even if the real power would likely remain with the initial members of the family would ease many things. Considering how laid back Theo was in relation to my other children I did not suspect him to fight the match overly much, if at all. Spending a lot of time with the Mormonts would see him grow to like some of them, hopefully basing any possible match on at least some affection. A grimace flickers over my face at the thought of arranged marriages but I mentally shrug immediately after, knowing realities for what they were. Nobles did not have the luck of marrying for love. Sure, in some cases love grew or had even been in place beforehand but those cases were few and far between. Most spouses scarcely met before being thrown at the altar.

"Eddard on the other hand is a second son. As much as I loath to say it he is needed as a spare, should something happen to Nathan. While no one wishes the lad ill, we live in a brutal world."

My hidden grimace turns open as I evaluate his words. Yes, I had implemented some reforms, mostly to fight hunger and illness but a lot of dangers present I had yet done nothing about or did not even know where to start. As it currently stood anyone I knew including myself was just one sickness away from death, not to speak about possible assassins or other more direct ways to get killed. A brutal world indeed. It was moments like these I missed my old life the most and with it the almost ridiculous safety blanked civilisation had wrapped each and every one of us into.

"So Eddard not as well, according to your judgement. Only Thormund and Harren remain.", I state the obvious and Wyndal nods.

"You cannot elevate Thormund without doing so to your own sons fist.", replies the man while shaking his head, stating a truth I had been unwilling to face until now. I of course knew it to be correct, as did Alysanne even if the dark looks she was throwing my advisor may have looked differently.

Wyndal, immune to most glares as he had long since grown, continues unabated. "As such I would recommend grooming him to become captain of your guard one day or to take up an equally high position in your court. He might yet earn a title by deed in time."

Slightly mollified, my wife is the one to speak up next. "This leaves us with Harren only."

"Aye, my lady.", agrees Wyndal. "He is the only real choice. Long standing loyalty through bad and easy times. An accomplished fighter with some deeds to his name and a known reputation for hard but fair treatment. He will do well."

I find myself nodding along to his analysis but still take a few minutes of silence to mull things over before passing my judgement. "Harren will be elevated and given some lands further up Sea Dragon Point. We have enough smallfolk to see him well settled in a year of two with a small Motte to his name. Everything else after that will be up to him and his family. The time until everything is set up it will be his task to train up his replacement."

"You are aware that he likely will want to stay at your side, giving the Motte to his son to administer?", queries Wayndal with a wry grin, having called the master at arms friends for a long while and knowing the man quite well.

I smile, laughing slightly. "That will be his choice. I will not throw him out just because he earned himself a title."

Turning serious, I move one. "Sadly this will not be enough. Lord Stark commanded me to raise vassals, not a vassal. He was very specific on that, so one of the others will get a keep to. Eddard."

"Why?", asks Alysanne at once, a small frown on her face even though she knew that her own son had only a tiny chance from the start of the conversation.

"As a second son he will need to learn how to govern anyway, why not in his own lands?", I rhetorically ask, forging on before I can be interrupted. "For now the lands would need a castellan anyway, the boy being far from the age able to take up the responsibility himself. As soon as Nathan has children Eddard will choose a name for himself, founding a branch of house Ryther. Before that… he will remain the spare. Even though I loathe to call him such."

"The castellan?", Wyndal asks, implicitly accepting the decision being final.

The question earns a shrug from my side. "I trust you to find someone able and loyal. Just see it done."

"Aye, my lord.", the man nods before glancing at the door. "Shall we resummon the others?"

"Not yet, I wasn´t finished.", I admonish him and he goes silent again as I continue. "Despite your misgivings I will give Hoster lands and title as well, bringing the vassals up to three. His son will manage the estate as the man himself will be on the waves nearly all the time. Little will change there… but he earned it. Giving a former Riverlander, a bastard on top of that, a title based on accomplishments will also do us a world of good."

"I disagree but the last decision is yours my lord, as always."

"Just see it done.", I sigh, not following his opinion for once. Mostly I was content to act on good advice but in this case I felt differently, the privilege of rank making it my decision.

Collecting himself Wyndal makes some notes in his book before asking again to re summon the other members of the council.

I shake my head, dismissing the man instead. Other than new vassals there was little of immediate importance that had to be discussed. The usual festival had come and gone, leaving the smallfolk in high spirits as a mixed team of old inhabitants and new residents won the archery bout. The integration of refugees was going as well as could be expected, as was the effort to repair the damage done by the ironborn attack. Even with the situation down south growing ever more desperate I could not help but feel at least somewhat secure in my own small corner of the world.

Of course it could always be better, hence I had flown the idea of water powered mills and smithies by Wyndal and his acolytes, leaving the finer details for them to figure out. Either would be a great boon to me and the north as a whole once they got them to work. Might take a while, though, considering that I only had a very rough idea of how they were supposed to work. But in the end everything good started with just that – an idea. Time and effort would take care of the rest.

The crop rotation I had implemented was also showing great rewards, my food situation slowly turning from outright precarious to only 'somewhat' endangered. My method had also been distributed far and wide by now, many a lord implementing the new way of farming on their land on a trial basis after rumors of its success reached them by traveling merchants and other methods. Only those lords closest to me had forgone the time costly trails, jumping completely into the method on my word alone. They would see the rewards soon enough, giving them a headstart on the more hesitant nobles, just as I had a headstart on them.

I also continued to see a higher survival rate on the birthing bed due my commands regarding hygiene and washing in general. This had already spilled over into the larger populace, causing the average inhabitant to be cleaner than in most other places on the continent, which again led to a healthier population. Of course this had also been noted by others even if the cases where it was copied were still far behind those of crop rotation. Some things were just easier to change than others, it seems.

Another thing heralding change arrives a few weeks later, the invitation to a festival in Winterfell being delivered by raven. Taking into account Lord Stark's likely arrival time this would have to have been sent at the moment he passed the gates to Winterfell. Interesting.