Second Settlement and Hope

Such a nice lady is what I would like to say about Barbrey, but that would be lying. I continued walking towards Wyman Manderly, with a drink in my hand.

Gregor Forrester: successful.

Barbrey Dustin: temporary setback.

Now then. Here goes nothing.

"Lord Manderly!" I called out, stepping through the crowded hall toward him.

"Lord Torrhen! I was wondering where you were hiding!" Wyman boomed, his round face lighting up with a wide smile. He motioned me over, raising his own cup. "Come, come! It's not a feast without the Lord of Moat Cailin in attendance!"

"Tell me about the ships. Do they fare well for you? How is Moat Cailin faring these days? I hear the port is becoming quite the hub," he continued.

"Indeed," I replied, matching his enthusiasm, 'What a loud man,' going through my head. "Trade is growing, and we're expanding more than I expected. But that is in large part thanks to men like you, Lord Manderly. And the ships, finest I have seen. Not that I have seen many, mind you."

Wyman chuckled again. "Flattery from a Stark? My ears must be deceiving me. But I'll take it. Now, tell me, how do you find the wine? Surely it's better than anything served down south." He winked again, motioning for us to sit.

As we settled in, I glanced around the hall, observing the other lords and their interactions. "I must admit, it's a fine wine," I said, taking a sip, "but I find the company here even finer."

"Now you're speaking my language!" Wyman roared with laughter. "So, Torrhen, what do you say we talk business? There's much to discuss before the night is over."

A forward man, no wonder his trade isn't doing the best it can. "Of course, Lord Manderly."

"Of course, Lord Manderly," I said, leaning in slightly, my tone measured and serious. Wyman, ever the jovial host, might have thought this was just another light conversation, but I had my sights set on something far more valuable than wine and pleasantries.

"The truth is, Wyman," I began, swirling the drink in my cup, "Moat Cailin has been thriving, but we're at a crossroads now. Our steel quality is unmatched. Thanks to recent developments in our forges, the quality has surpassed anything else in Westeros, maybe even Essos." I let that hang in the air for a moment, watching the flicker of interest spark in his eyes. "But what good is producing the best steel if we can't move it quickly? Our lands are marshy, and the rivers, though useful, don't carry the volume we need."

Wyman nodded, his face showing that he was following my logic. "Ah, so that's where my ships come in, is it?"

"Not quite," I said, shaking my head, crushing any idea in his mind. "While your shipbuilders have certainly produced some impressive vessels, what I need now is to build a fleet of my own. A fleet that's not only equipped with the finest steel but also designed for our specific needs."

Wyman raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "You're looking to commission a fleet yourself, then?"

"Precisely. I'd like to negotiate the terms to acquire a team of your best shipbuilders. I want to establish a shipyard at Moat Cailin to construct my own vessels. In return, I can offer you an exclusive supply of the highest-quality steel. Your own shipyards will benefit from a steady supply of superior iron, which could greatly enhance your fleet."

Wyman took a thoughtful sip from his cup. "A fleet of your own, with the best steel in the world? That's a tempting offer. But I'll need to know more about these terms. Steel is valuable, and setting up a shipyard isn't a small investment."

"Understood," I said, nodding. "I'll make sure the steel is supplied regularly at a price that is fair, considering the quality of steel you will obtain. I will also support you regarding the matter of getting better trade deals with the neck. I hear you require some hides from them. This way, you benefit from the steel and the added revenue while I build the fleet we need."

Wyman's eyes narrowed as he considered the proposal. "I can see the potential in this. But I need assurances that this will be a profitable venture for both of us. And if the steel lives up to its reputation, you'll find no resistance from me."

"Rest assured," I said, meeting his gaze steadily, "you'll find the steel to be of the highest quality, and the venture will be beneficial for both our interests."

Wyman raised his cup, a grin spreading across his face. "You've got yourself a deal, Torrhen. I like a man who sees opportunity where others see limitations. But remember, if you falter on that steel, I'll be looking elsewhere."

I clinked my cup against his. "You'll find no better steel, I promise you that."

As the conversation shifted back to lighter matters, I allowed myself a small inward smile. Wyman Manderly was loud, jovial, and generous—but he was also practical. He is most probably the lord of the second strongest house in the North after the Starks, with 3,000 men and the greatest heavy cavalry north of the Neck, and as many silver mines as the Lannisters' gold mines

So, i will charge him somewhat lower than i charge the other lords for my steel and now, his shipbuilders would help me build a fleet that would ensure Moat Cailin's dominance on the seas.

Hopefully. 

____________

After a few days

The sun dipped lower in the sky as the day wore on, casting long shadows across the courtyard of Winterfell. Exhaustion clung to me after a day filled with meetings and exchanges. I sent word to Calhoun, arranging for the merchant who had been trading textiles in Pentos to meet me in a couple of months. My thoughts were interrupted as I escorted the Umbers out, following close behind Eddard.

Then I stumbled into something shocking: a child had crashed into me when I was escorting the Umbers out behind Eddard. When I kneeled down to help the boy up, he had opened his mouth somewhat, and his tongue... Well, he hadn't any. It seemed to be cut off.

'The little birds,' went through my mind. The children or orphans used by varys to get information regarding the the entire realm. No, tongue. Trained in reading and writing. The most specialized form of spy network in this world.

"Ah, careful there, lad. You know, you can't be here," I spoke gently, showing no surprise.

'Has he found Lyanna? Did he discover her? Did Varys know?' The thoughts rushed into my mind.

'Should I get rid of him? Fuck! What the fuck do I do?' I thought as I helped the boy get up.

'Is he even one of Varys' little birds? FUUUUUCK.'

I watched the kid run away. 'Lyanna, I have to take her away.', I declared to myself in my mind. 

________

Later that Day 

The afternoon sun was beginning to sink behind the towering walls of Winterfell, casting an amber glow over the courtyard as I made my way back inside. My mind, still racing from the strange encounter with the boy, settled on a more pressing matter. 

_______

"NO! I won't go, I won't leave Jon!" she yelled at me.

"Lyanna! You have to understand, this isn't just about you! Jon's life will also be in danger if you're discovered!" I tried to reason with her.

She hurled insults at me that I didn't even know existed. After a back and forth that went into the evening. I got fed up with her stubbornness. 

"You will go with me, that's final. You should know that if the king were to discover you're alive, hell would break loose for the North."

She glared at me, taking a shuddering breath. "Alright! I will go."

"Thank you. We depart tonight," I replied, watching her prepare the essentials, my mind running through various scenarios.

___________

During the Night

Night had fallen by the time we prepared to depart. The stars blinked faintly through the cloudy northern sky, their light offering little comfort as I oversaw the final preparations.

Our farewells to Eddard and his family had been brief, my explanations vague, and while Ned's reluctance was evident, he ultimately accepted the necessity. The horses were restless, and my men stood ready, the carriage positioned just outside the gates, waiting to carry us into the darkness.

I just hope the worst doesn't happen.