-First GoT fic I read where the SI contacts the House Reed for the creation of a spy network of them wargs and seers, N1! Also, some 5Head sense and usage of magic~
Sypnosis: A man from our world is reborn as Brandon Stark. He could have fun and enjoy this second shot at life, or try and be a hero and make the world a better place. He could use his knowledge to play the game and come out on top, or he could use it to keep his family well away from the death and wars. No one ever said he couldn't do both.
Rated: M
Words: 53K
Posted on: fanfiction.net/s/13559105/1/Just-Another-SI (JustAnotherFan217)
PS: If you're not able to copy/paste the link, you have everything in here to find it, by simply searching the author and the story title. It sucks that you can't copy links on mobile (´ー｀)
-I'll be putting the chapter ones of all the fanfics mentioned, to give you guys a sample if you wan't more please do go to the website and support the author! (And maybe even convince them to start uploading chapters in here as well!)
Chapter 1-3 (exceptional)
Dying was easy. It didn't hurt, I wasn't scared; one moment I was just going to bed, and the next thing I knew everything was white. A blank expanse with nothing around me, and I barely had enough awareness to even realize it. I was numb, at peace, I couldn't feel anything and so I didn't care. I closed my eyes, and fell back asleep. The next time I woke up was much less peaceful.
I was being squeezed through a tube, crushed in the jaws of some massive beast, there was no air and I couldn't f.u.c.k.i.n.g breathe. I tried to squirm, to move, to break free; anything at all and yet nothing worked. Everything was dark around me and when my panic was just getting the best of me and I was sure I would pass out, there was light and a rush of air and suddenly I was free! I was yelling and screaming, because thank f.u.c.k.i.n.g god I wasn't in wherever that was anymore, when I felt myself moved around and wiped down. Opening my eyes again, I got a glimpse of a blurry figure smiling softly at me.
"Tis a boy, my Lady, a healthy boy." The man said.
"Let me hold him." Came the soft reply, and I quickly found myself passed off to someone new. Someone warm, and safe, and my eyes picked up the blurry form of a young woman with dark hair and grey eyes smiling at me. I felt like I should probably freak the f.u.c.k out over the fact that I was just F.U.C.K.I.N.G REBORN of all things, but I didn't have the energy. I just smiled tiredly back at my new mother.
"What should we name him, my Lady?" Came a new voice, one hard as ice yet as soft as snow.
"Brandon, my Lord. Brandon Stark." My mother answered.
Oh that's nice. Not a bad name...wait, the f.u.c.k she just say? Brandon what now?
Growing up in Winterfell was pretty much how you would expect growing up in a medieval castle with a decent family was. It was a good life, definitely could have been worse, and I wasn't complaining. Sure there was no internet, and no TV, no electricity or indoor plumbing. One can not understate how much I miss indoor plumbing. The luxury of being able to wake up, take a piss or a shit, and go back to sleep is something I will forever be jealous of my past life for. Here I had to either shit in a pan, and try and sleep with the smell, or walk across the castle to where the outhouse is dug. Either way, not really going back to sleep. I appreciated that I was born a Lord however. I had pretty much all of the rights I used to have, minus that fact that I could be executed for saying the wrong thing to the King. That happened to old me, right? Or the me I would have been if I wasn't born as me? F.u.c.k.i.n.g confusing. Regardless I had a good life, I didn't have to work myself to the bone for scraps, and I could have someone summarily executed for the hell of it, just like the King could do to me. You have to take the good with the bad I suppose.
I wasn't that important of a person in my old life. I drove a damn forklift for a living, had a small but close circle of friends, and a fiance that makes me tear up every time I think of her now…best not keep thinking of her. I was also a history buff, I loved reading about ancient history, everything from the dawn of civilization up until the discovery of America, I drank it in. The stories of the great men of history, undefeated Generals who claimed glory on the battlefield, statesman famed for their cunning, inventors praised for their innovations, and they were all my heroes.
Here, I was the Heir of the North. Future Lord of Winterfell, and Warden of the North, I was in a prime position to make something of myself. To go down in history. To be remembered and read about generations later. I had a father who was stern and strict, yet loving and caring. My mother was sweeter than candied sugar, and she loved me with her whole heart. It was their love that helped me heal, helped me to move on and realize this chance I was given. I knew history. I knew this world, a good deal of its awful secrets, and the strengths and weaknesses of the major players. I knew the inventions and innovations that let nations rise from poor and desolate to rich and decadent. I would have to be careful, not introduce too much or upset the social structure, or I would find myself with more enemies than allies. It would be hard, but hey, since when is the easy way any fun?
Learning to read and write, again, was a f.u.c.k.i.n.g chore, I mean it really earned the title "F.u.c.k.i.n.g Chore." I had to be careful, don't be too smart or people would get suspicious. I was not getting myself burnt as a witch. However, I had to be smart enough to impress. Learn fast enough to be noticed, because if I didn't generate a reputation for genius early, I would have to wait that much longer to start trying to improve the North. I wanted this kingdom o' mine to be something at least equal to any of the Southern Kingdoms by the time I inherited. Who wants to rule both the poorest and coldest kingdom anyway?
So I started my lessons when I was five, just a year after the birth of my little brother Eddard. He was cute as a button, and I was already protective of him, and the idea of him having nothing but that glorified hovel Moat Caillin to inherit pushed me to work harder. By the time I was six, I could read and write in the common tongue as well as any Maester. That wasn't hard or impressive, I knew all that already. The hard part, however, was learning High Valyrian, because that shit really was difficult and I knew nothing of it from my past life. It sounded kinda like the bastard daughter of french and latin, but I never was any good with languages in my past life. The fact was I had nothing better to do in this medieval world than continue to study, so I picked it up eventually. A conversation with my father later, when Maester Walys pointed out my skill with languages, and I managed to convince him to bring in someone who knew the Old Tongue of the First Men. Whenever I managed to gain the respect and love of the North, I would try and bring some of the Free Folk south, but what I really wanted was the Giants and Mammoths. Mostly because Giants and Mammoths are f.u.c.k.i.n.g awesome, and I won't hear a word otherwise. Knowing the language would definitely help with that. I'll have to be extra careful about Brynden "The Three Eyed Raven" Rivers however. Supernatural, half-dead, prophet wizards are f.u.c.k.i.n.g scary and I have no defense against magic people who know what I'm going to do before even I know.
The problem with my uplifting plan is that despite everything, past Lord Starks have not been fools. Every mountain in the North has been prospected, and while there is an abundance of iron, coal, copper, and tin, there are scarce few precious metals. The silver mines of the Manderly's truly are the biggest deposit of precious metals in the North. That was a damper on my plans. I mean really, all the other SI's come in as little kids, and find gold right where a thousand generations of Lord Starks just happened to have missed. What, am I playing on Hard Mode here? Sure, I have ideas. I could ship all sorts of crops and other goods from Braavos and other places, I could even be reasonably sure that they would do well in a colder climate (after all it worked on Earth) but we Starks just didn't have the coin to afford the gamble. We weren't poor, not by any means, and many a "rich" house in the South would have only a fraction of the gold that flows through Winterfell, but winter was expensive. All the gold we saved throughout summer went to buying food to stock up for winter, and what is left come spring is spent on seed for the fields. Any gamble in trade that failed meant good Northerners starved in winter, and so the Lords just stopped trying. Nothing changed in the North for millenia, because all effort had to go to food so you wouldn't starve, every last copper spent in fighting the ice and snow. I might know that those crops would work, but my father and the other Lords would never be willing to risk it.
It was a vicious cycle that had held the North prisoner since Brandon the Builder, and it was one I was determined to smash. All it would take is just the right gamble, at just the right time. After all, other Lords and the previous Lord Starks were all betting on things they couldn't control, using money they couldn't afford to lose. I, on the other hand, know what will work. I know just exactly how to make a good deal of gold, and the beautiful part is that it will cost me next to nothing. All I have to do is convince my father to harvest and sell blocks of ice to the South. How hard could it be?
Chapter 2
"My Lord, your son wishes to speak with you."
"Send him in Martyn."
Rickard Stark sat back in his seat and watched as his son of eight name-days walked into his solar. While showing nothing on his face, Rickard looked at his son and could easily tell he was nervous about whatever was on his mind. This immediately made Rickard nervous in turn, as whenever Brandon was afraid to tell him something, it usually meant a headache that he would have to deal with. The time Brandon wasted a few good pounds of oranges squeezing them into a bowl to make half a cup full of something called "orange juice" came to mind.
"What did you do this time, boy? Out with it, you have that look about you." Rickard said, hoping to get this over with quickly.
"I didn't do anything Father! I swear! Cregan is lying, it wasn't me! I actually wanted to talk to you about something else. You see, I had this idea about a really easy way for us to make more coin and expand trade…"
"Stop right there son. You know why we have to be careful about new trade ideas. If we put money into any of this, and it doesn't work, will you be able to tell the smallfolk that that is the reason why their families are starving?" Rickard interrupted.
"That's just the thing Father. My idea isn't going to cost us anything but a little time and manpower, and since Wintertown is full of small-folk enjoying our patronage while not doing anything productive, we could put some of them to work for a few hours a day."
"Oh? And just what is this magical good that we can harvest in winter? We can't dig any mines right now, if that's what you are thinking Bran, the ground is frozen solid. There's not much worth mining that we aren't mining already anyways." Rickard said sceptically.
"We are not going to dig in the ground, Father, we are going to dig in the snow. You have been to the Stepstones and the South, you know how hot it can get down there. Imagine how much sweaty Lords in their big castles with few windows would be willing to pay to have ice ch.i.p.s in their wine glass? We can cut out blocks of ice from the ponds around Winterfell, as well as the White Knife, and store it in crates filled with sawdust and straw. Then when winter ends, and the Manderly's send out their sh.i.p.s to trade fur, wool, and coin for seeds for crops, they can fill the empty space of their sh.i.p.s with the ice. If it doesn't sell, we don't really lose anything but some time."
Rickard sat back and thought for a moment, it sounded absolutely crazy to him at first but the more he thought about it, the more he could see it working. He could well remember the oppressive heat of the Stepstones, and how the many Dornish Lords laughed about how refreshingly cool it was. The Lords of the South and the Magisters of Essos probably would pay good gold for blocks of ice in the heat of the summer. There were only two problems with the plan however, though they weren't insurmountable.
"That's not the worst idea I have heard of, boy." Rickard responded, tapping his chin in thought. "It might just work. The first problem I see with it however, is the workers. Asking men to go out and work in the snow in the dead of winter is hard enough, asking them to cut blocks of ice out of frozen water is even worse. They will get wet, and freeze, and I can see a good portion of the men either losing hands or feet, or falling to the Winter Chill."
"I thought of that Father. We have a good deal of different pelts and furs around here, and we can make some gloves and jackets out of beaver, otter, and seal skin to protect against the wet and the cold. If we build small wooden huts that can be put together on the ice, we can put a small brick fireplace in it, providing a place for the men to warm up. We have plenty of people staying in Wintertown, so we can rotate them out, every man only working for an hour or two before spending an hour warming up in the huts."
It wasn't a bad solution, to Rickard's mind. His son was right in that there were plenty of men in the town with no work to do, and keeping them busy would keep them out of getting in fights in the taverns. He could have the men go out and build these huts in central locations, while the women worked on sowing the clothing from the necessary pelts and furs. From there it would be easy to harvest the ice, and he could be assured that the small-folk wouldn't be in too much risk from the cold.
"I agree Bran. I will order the men to start building the huts, and the women to start making the needed clothes. The only problem left however, is one you are going to help me with. It has been an easy winter, the roads are still passable, and it will be many moons before the End of Winter storms begin, so me and you are going to travel to the Manderly's and get them on board with the idea. The travel will be good for you, toughen you up; you spend enough time in your books as it is, and it will give you experience negotiating with other Lords. Make no mistake, I am proud of you son. Old Gods willing, this idea just might work." Stated Rickard, smiling softly at the boy.
Brandon was looking back at him with a wide-eyed look caught between scared and excited that made him have to keep himself from laughing. His son was so very smart, smarter than he ever was, but the boy was an open book to him. He would have to work on teaching him to control his emotions and facial expressions later. For now, it was the only advantage he had in keeping his wild pup in line.
"And don't think I forgot about whatever it is you supposedly didn't do, that Cregan never told me about it." Rickard added, given his son a stern look. At least the boy had the grace to look sheepish, he mused.
Lyarra Stark was not in a good mood. She was not happy at all, no, she was angry.
"How could you ever think this is a good idea Rickard!? He is eight name-days! Eight! It is the dead of winter! I don't care how easy a winter has been, you and I both know that that can be even more dangerous! A storm could blow through without any warning, you could run into band after band of bandits preying on the roads, hoping to get some coin or even the barest scrap of food! Not to mention the many different beasts that will be out searching for their next meal! What in the name of the Old Gods possessed you to think this was a good idea!?" Lyarra had started in a forceful whisper, but by the time her tirade had finished she was practically screaming.
"Now, now, dear. It's not as bad as you think. I will be taking a hundred of the guards with us, and we will bring plenty of extra food. We will have more than enough men to deal with any groups of bandits, and I know of no beast that would willingly attack such a large group of men. With some extra food with us, we will be able to wait out any storm in our tents, and you know as well as I do that the worst storms are always at the beginning of Winter. It will be good for him, my love. He will be able to see more of the North that he will rule one day, as well hopefully make some connections with the Manderlys. They are one of our most important bannermen after all." Rickard said quietly, taking both of her hands in his to help calm her down.
"Alright my Lord, you seem to have thought of everything," Lyarra sighed. "But I do want you to know this. If anything bad happens to my son while on this trip, and I mean anything, you will be sleeping in the stables until the Long Night comes again." With a glare that caused Rickard to gulp involuntarily, Lyarra spun around and swept out of the room. It was time to go see how her son was doing.
"Come in."
Lyarra heard coming from inside the room, as she knocked on the door to her son's chambers.
She walked in, seeing her son packing up some of his things into his bag so that he would be ready to leave with his father the next morning. She would have to speak with some of the servants, and have them check her son's packing. After all, her little wolf may be smart enough to speak three different languages before his eighth name-day, but he also happened to be one of the most forgetful people Lyarra had ever met. Lyarra swore that if it wasn't so cold outside, her son would forget to put on clothes in the morning.
"Are you ready to go to White Harbour, Bran?" She asked, sitting down on his bed.
"I am, Mother. It should be really fun, I get to see the ocean! And go on an adventure! I can't wait to finally get out of the castle for a while!" Brandon said, gesturing wildly with his arms as he threw another pair of breeches into his rucksack.
"I am glad that you are excited then, my little wolf. I, on the other hand, am going to miss you so very much." Lyarra said, pulling her son into a hug.
"I'll miss you too, Mother! Don't worry, I'll get you something nice at White Harbour. Oh, and Ned too! I'll get him something, what do you think he'd like?" Bran asked, jumping up and down.
"Oh Bran, he is two. He will love whatever you get for him simply because you are his big brother. Now, run along and go take a bath. You will be on the road for a few weeks to get to White Harbour, and you won't have any chance to bathe before then. After your bath, get some sleep. I will see you in the morning when we break our fast, and you and your father will leave immediately after." Lyarra told him.
"Ok, I love you Mother." Brandon said, walking out of the door.
"I love you too, my little wolf."
The road to White Harbor really wasn't that bad, I mused, riding my pony down the path. The road itself was nothing more than a pathway through the woods, it would be more accurately described as a hiking path, but it was what passed as roads around here. That was something I was definitely going to change once things got better. The Romans managed to cover an entire continent in roads, I was pretty sure I could manage half of one. I would literally kill for a radio, however. There was nothing to do while traveling other than talk to father, or one of the guards, or count how many trees had fallen in the road that we had to move out of the way. I ended spending most of my time thinking, both about my life now and the differences from what I liked to call, the "Modern World," and the plans I had to make the North better than it currently is.
One thing I noticed about being reborn is that it really wasn't that hard to pretend to be a kid. Fact was, I felt like a kid. I had all of my memories from my past life, in graphic detail even, but the simple fact was that my brain itself is an eight year-old's brain. If you study biology, or even just went to a high school science class, you would know that there are major differences between the brains of an eight year-old and an a.d.u.l.t. I had trouble controlling my emotions whenever they were particularly strong, and said emotions would jump out at me out of nowhere. I would get irrationally excited at the idea of playing with a blunted sword, and there is nothing more embarrassing than throwing a temper tantrum over not getting dessert, knowing how childish it is, and still not being able to stop yourself.
I really hoped this ice trade business took off, as I had finally decided on how I was going to begin introducing new crops and industry. Once some of the gold from the ice trade came back, I would convince Father to let me have some of it. I would use that gold to buy seeds, livestock, and even horses from places like Braavos, Ibb, and even the colonies near Sothoryos. White Harbor regularly traded with Braavos already, and there were occasional trips to both Ibb and the Summer Islands. All it would take is to convince some merchants to get the things I want from Braavos and Ibb, and get another to stop at a Sothoryos colony when they go to the Summer Islands. Then I would use one of the empty farms around Winterfell (there was one I was thinking of specifically that was right next to a strong flowing stream) and I can grow all the crops there. I could use the stream to set up my own forge with an open hearth furnace, all powered by water wheels. I could then use the relatively cheap bronze to make farming equipment so that me and just a few men could farm all the stuff I wanted.
By using bronze for parts of the seed drill, the reaper, and the thresher, I could greatly reduce the cost to make these machines, even less than the open hearth furnace would. Sure, I would still need to use steel for the plows if I wanted to have the same margin of efficiency that they are supposed to have, but substituting what parts I can for bronze will still help. After all, copper and tin practically grew on trees with how abundant it was in the hills and mountains around Winterfell. I could then make other products from the crops I grew, vodka, whiskey, beer, even sugar from beets. The options would be nearly endless, and the only limiting factor would be by what grew in the North, and what didn't.
It had been two days over a week since we had left Winterfell, and there was about a week left in our trip to White Harbor. We had just set up camp for the night, we were nestled up against the bottom of a cliff, giving us good protection from the wind which would help keep the heat from the fire from escaping. For some reason however, I could not sleep. I tossed and turned in my bedroll, constantly trying to rearrange it into a more comfortable position, and miserably failing. Whoever set up my tent is my new worst enemy, as the idiot put it right on top of a big old root. It was digging into my back, and it was f.u.c.k.i.n.g annoying. Giving up, I got up and walked out of the tent, heading towards the fire. It had burned a ways down, leaving mostly red coals. I threw some more wood on it from the pile, and began looking around. I could see the guard that was supposed to be on night watch, Robar I think his name was, sleeping up against a tree at the edge of camp. I snorted, if there was some actual danger right now we would have been f.u.c.k.i.e.d. Shrugging my shoulders, I decided to take advantage of the guard's nap to go exploring in the woods around here. At night. Alone.
Like I said earlier, a.d.u.l.t memories, child's reasoning skills.
The North really was a beautiful country. I mean, the only time I ever saw landscape like this in my old life was on the Discovery Channel. I had climbed around to the top of the cliff that our camp had been nestled against, with the light of a full moon overhead I could see nearly as well as I could in daylight, and the sight was gorgeous. There were rolling hills, all covered in rich green forests, with a blanket of white snow over it like the lightest layer of frosting on a cake. There were rivers and streams crisscrossing the whole thing, and just a few mountains jutting up into the sky in the distance...And it was all mine. I would rule all of this one day. That was a hell of thought, and it made me light headed for a moment. Shaking it off, I turned around to go back down to the camp, and froze.
Right in front of the path to get back down, there was standing a massive grizzly bear. I mean f.u.c.k.i.n.g massive. That cursed bear thing from "Brave" would have nothing on this guy. I would have shit my pants if I wasn't clenching so hard.
I was shaking, my palms were sweaty. I had turned around barely a second ago and it had already felt like I had been having a stare off with this bear for hours. The bear sat back on his haunches, lifting his front paws and head into the air, towering close to ten feet above the ground. The bear roared, and it was probably the loudest sound I had ever heard in this life. I wish I could say I held my ground bravely, but that would be a lie. I was eight. I screamed my f.u.c.k.i.n.g head off, tried to scramble backwards only to trip on a root and fall on my ass. Which was a good thing, in hindsight, as there was a rather tall cliff not that far behind me.
The grizzly thudded back down onto its front paws, and shuffled slowly closer to me. I was panicking, my whole body was trembling, and I can just remember thinking that I didn't want it to end like this, I didn't want to leave my family behind, again. With that thought came an icy rage that helped me reclaim control of my own body, and I stood back up on my feet. I looked that bear dead in the eye, gathered all of my courage, and spoke.
"I don't care who you think you f.u.c.k.i.n.g are, Smokey the Bear or Blue from the Jungle Book, I am not dying today. This shit is not ending like this. So you best just turn around, and go find a breakfast somewhere else, cause it ain't gonna be!" I said defiantly, clenching my fists so hard that I broke the skin on my palms.
The bear c.o.c.ked its head to the side, staring at me intently. I refused to back down, so I glared back. That was when it happened. One moment, I am staring a bear in the eye, confident I would be dying soon, and the next thing I know I am staring at myself. Everything is confusing, I have two lines of thought running through my head, and only one of them is in English. The other is not a language at all, but a series of images, smells, tastes, and feelings that paints a rather jumbled and blurry picture. I gripped my head, closing my eyes shut, and that's when I realized. My eyes were closed but I could still see. I was looking at myself through the eyes of the bear. I gasped, and suddenly I was seeing through my own eyes again, the jumble of thoughts and sensations disappearing.
"Holy motherf.u.c.k.i.n.g shit, did I just warg? Like, did I just warg you? Is that cool with you, cause I really hope it is, I didn't mean to do that but it was really f.u.c.k.i.n.g cool and it would be f.u.c.k.i.n.g awesome to do it again." I rambled, still cradling my head and dealing with a rather killer headache from what was apparently me doing f.u.c.k.i.n.g magic. The bear had gotten rather close, so close that I could just reach out and touch him. So I did, giving him a good scratch behind the ears because bears are basically massive dogs, and all good doggos love a scratch behind the ears.
"What do you say boy, I mean, it will look a little weird having a Stark with a bear for a pet, and I was always hoping to find myself a direwolf, but you are really f.u.c.k.i.n.g awesome too. So, wanna come with me?" I asked the bear, holding a hand in front of its nose, the way you would when meeting a new dog.
The bear looked up at me with a good deal of intelligence behind its eyes. The legends say that the bond between warg and animal is incredibly strong, and very strange. With both warg and animal taking attributes of the other. I didn't know what bear-like qualities I might have gained, but I did know that no regular bear should have that level of smarts hiding in its head. The bear huffed, before licking my palm and then leaning its head into my hand. I laughed, and then hopped up on to his back.
"Come on, let's head down the hill and I can show you to my father. I suppose you will need a name, can't just keep calling you bear. How does Yogi sound to you? You like that? Good me too...damn, why couldn't you have been a direwolf?"
Rickard leapt up out of his sleeping roll, the roar of some massive creature echoing over the forest. He quickly grabbed his sword, the ancestral greatsword of his house Ice, threw on his furs and rushed out of his tent. He could see other men scrambling out of their tents, but he paid them no mind, making his way directly to his son's tent. He burst through the flap, and found the tent empty, the bedroll was cold showing that Brandon hadn't been in his bed for a long while. Rickard cursed, that damn boy was always getting into trouble. He ran back out of the tent, making a beeline for his horse. He had seen the path leading up to the top of the cliff, and he knew how his son liked to enjoy the view from the tallest points of Winterfell, it was no stretch to guess where Bran had gone.
"Quickly men, arm yourselves and grab your horses. Brandon is not in his tent, and if I know the boy as well as I think, he will be on top of the cliff. The same direction that roar came from." Rickard grimly ordered, already having his horse saddled.
The men started scrambling with even greater urgency. They all knew and loved Lord Brandon, with his clever mind, sharp wit, and crazy antics, and none wished to see him hurt. Within a few minutes they had a good twenty men, fully armed and mounted, and they were charging up the path to the top of the cliff. Rickard was leading the way, urging his horse up the steep path hoping that he made it time to save his son. He had to.
As Rickard rounded a turn in the path, the hill started leveling off, and as he looked up ahead he saw a sight that had him stopping in his tracks. Digging his heels into the side of his horse, and pulling hard on the reigns he called out to his men to stop.
"HOLD! HOLD MEN!" He yelled back, before facing forwards once again.
Up ahead, calmly walking down the path, was the largest f.u.c.k.i.n.g bear Rickard had ever seen. It had to weigh a thousand pounds, and was over three meters long, standing close to six feet tall on all four legs. More amazingly, nestled on its back right behind the front legs, was his son Brandon, grinning ear to ear like a cat that stole a fish.
"What in the hells do you think you are doing boy!?" Rickard roared. "Get off that beast and come over here before it tears you to shreds!"
"Don't worry Father! I am fine! Yogi here wouldn't hurt me, would you boy?" Brandon cooed, his son literally cooed in the monster's ear, and the thing nodded.
Rickard was flabbergasted. He didn't know what to say. Here was son, riding on the back of what was most likely the f.u.c.k.i.n.g largest bear he had ever seen, and the bear was acting as docile as an old pony. Rickard ran a hand down his face, letting a deep breath.
"Well alright son, mind telling me the story of how exactly you managed to tame that particular beast?" Rickard asked, he knew there was going to be some crazy story here.
"Well, I couldn't really sleep you see, so I decided that I was going to go for a walk, and I ended up climbing up the hill to the top of the cliff because I thought it would be a great view, and it was! It really was! And then I was gonna turn around and come back down, but when I turned, there he was! This big old fella, and he roared at me all angry like, and I yelled back cause I wasn't gonna be scared by a stupid old bear! So he charged at me, and I jumped on his head and bit his ear, and then he stopped attacking, and now he's my new best friend. I named him Yogi." Brandon nodded, his face solemn, as if he hadn't just fed me the biggest crock of shit I have seen my entire life.
"I...I don't even know what to say to that Bran. Just, fine, whatever. If you want to keep the bear, you can keep the bear. But it sleeps outside of the camp, away from the horses, and if it hurts a single person, smallfolk or not, I will put it down. Am I clear?" Rickard bit out. He wasn't really angry at his son, no he was just worried, both for his son and himself. If his son had been killed here he would never have forgiven himself. He didn't believe his son's story about the bear at all, but he had his suspicions about how it really happened. Such things were not unheard of in the North, after all. Jon Umber was only a bit older than Bran himself and his squirrel companion was well known to everyone. That was a bit different creature than a bear, but he was sure the same principle applied. The thing that truly worried him was his wife.
She was going to kick his f.u.c.k.i.n.g ass all over the castle the moment she saw that bear.
White Harbor was a beautiful city, and one I was incredibly glad to have gotten to see. The walls were made of clean white stone, towering over the city, and one could see the walls of New Castle rising even higher on the hill at the end of the city. People were lining the streets, to get a good look at the Lord Stark and his Heir, though a good portion were there simply because there was nothing better to do, it was winter after all. They met up with Lord Wyman Manderly, who had come out to meet them at the gates of the city. He had flinched so hard when he first caught sight of Yogi that I was sure he was going to fall off his horse.
That would have been f.u.c.k.i.n.g hilarious. Unfortunately, he managed to stay in the saddle.
"Lord Stark, Lord Brandon!" Exclaimed Wyman boisterously. "We are honored to have you in our halls! Come, I will show you to your rooms in the castle so that you may freshen up, and I could lead you Lord Brandon to some empty stables where you can put that magnificent animal. However did you manage to tame it? That must be an incredible story, and one I look forward to hearing at dinner. My father sends his apologies for not meeting you in person. He is much too old to be coming outside in this cold, I am afraid."
"Think nothing of it, Ser Wyman. Your father, Lord Weston, was getting old when I was first born, I do not hold it against him. Lead the way, good Ser, I would like to bathe, and I am sure Brandon would as well, before we join you for the feast tonight. We can speak of the reason we came here then, it is no issue, just a small business proposal." Rickard said, waving off Ser Wyman's concerns.
"Then come my Lords, this way!" Ser Wyman said, leading the way towards the castle.
Getting a bath for the first time in weeks is a glorious feeling. The warm water was heavenly on my aching muscles and back, and I could feel the grime and dried sweat washing off of me. It didn't take long for the clear water to become a ghastly murky color, but the feeling of freshness when I got out just could not be beat. I put on some breeches and a tunic a servant had left out for me, throwing my furs on over that. Tying it all together with a thick leather belt, and I was out the door headed towards the Great Hall for the feast.
A servant showed me through the door, and I could see my father sitting with Lords Wyman and Weston up at the high table, with a seat open to my Father's right for me. I made my way up confidently, keeping my head held high the way Mother always taught me.
"Lord Weston, thank you for your hospitality. And it is good to see you again, Ser Wyman." I said, as I made it to the table and took my seat.
"Think nothing of it, Lord Brandon, we are happy to have you! Now, your father was saying that you both came all of this way to give us a business proposal, and I find myself curious about exactly what business would bring you all the way here in winter. I had asked him myself, but he told me it was your idea, and that it was best to let you explain." Lord Weston said in a surprisingly strong voice for his advanced age.
I was caught off guard, turning a wide-eyed look to my father, who returned it with a small smirk. The smug bastard. I'll get you back for this, just you wait.
"Well you see, Lord Weston, I had an idea. As you know, there really is no industry that the North can really conduct in the winter, and all efforts of summer must be put to use to survive winter. So I thought to myself, what do we have that the south doesn't. What do we have that costs us nothing to make, but that the south would pay good gold for? What I came up with is simple. Winterfell will harvest blocks of ice from its surrounding ponds and rivers, and store those blocks in wooden crates stuffed with sawdust and straw. We will store the crates in empty buildings and barns, and come spring we will have them sent down here to White Harbor. When your men go out to buy seed for the coming planting season, they can fill their holds with the crates of ice, and see how much the south is willing to spend on it." I said confidently.
Lord Weston leaned back in his chair, taking the time to think it over. Finally, he leaned forward in his seat, and addressed me again.
"Aye, it is a good plan my Lord. I can see it working. I am not sure how much they will be willing to spend, but seeing how hot it is in Dorne, and that people who live there have probably never seen ice before in their lives, I could see it selling. I'm not going to get my hopes up, and neither should you, but there is definite merit in the idea. How should we split the cost?"
"In thirds. House Stark will take two thirds of the profit, with House Manderly taking one third. After all, we will be the ones gathering the ice and shipping it to you. Your people are all already going to be going on these trade missions anyway, and your sh.i.p.s are never full when leaving at the end of winter. We are simply giving you something extra to trade." I said, with a small smile on my face.
Lord Weston stared at me for a moment, before smiling back.
"You have a deal my Lord." He said, putting his hand forward. I shook it, feeling elated. Finally, my plans were starting.
We had stayed in White Harbor for a few weeks, spending time with the Manderly's and meeting their various vassals who had trickled through New Castle. Lord Locke was not a particularly inspiring person, I still can't even remember his name, though Lord Wyman's daughter apparently noticed him very well, judging by how red her face was when they first met. I spent most of my time exploring the city, trying to feel out the different merchants and see if I couldn't make some contacts while I was here. In the end, it went about as well as you think an eight year old kid trying to get business contacts would go, I got nowhere. Oh well, the Manderly's seem optimistic about the ice trade, and I am sure that they can get me in touch with the needed merchants to get the next stage of my plan off the ground.
We came around the corner of the road, and there was Winterfell. It was a massive, beautiful gray castle, with direwolf gargoyles lining the tops of the towers, and it looked both menacing and beautiful with a layer of fresh white snow on top of it. I could see the gates had been opened for us, which wasn't surprising as if the gates were closed on Father, the Lord of the castle, that would be quite the f.u.c.k up. We all came trotting into the castle, the men and Father riding regally on their horses, while I ambled in behind riding on top of Yogi. The bear was ridiculously lazy, and never moved any faster than he needed to.
I climbed off of Yogi's back, stretching out my limbs and heard a distressing amount of pops coming from my back for an eight year-old's body. I pulled a bag off of the saddle, the one with gifts for my mother and brother, and turned towards them with a big smile on my face. My mother was staring at me, or more aptly at Yogi, with a pale white face and a look of utter horror. Realizing exactly what she was thinking, there was only one thing left for me to say.
"Don't worry Mother! Father said I could keep him!" I exclaimed with a big grin, shooting a smug look at my father who's face had lost every last ounce of color. Serves that bastard right.
Chapter 3
Eddard Stark was smiling softly as he ran through Winterfell's main keep. He had a bag with a few treats in it, ones that he snuck out of the Hall when everyone was breaking their fast. He bolted out of the one of doors, deftly evading colliding one of the guardsmen, and continued on over to the training field. It was there that he found the target of his smuggled goods, the massive grizzly bear companion of his older brother.
Yogi was laying down at the edge of the training field, perfectly positioned to both watch his human go through his training, and also take a nap in the morning sun. His brother had brought the bear with him from his trip to White Harbor, and it didn't take long for Ned to strike up an odd friendship with the animal. His mother was furious with his father over it, and Ned had never seen the man looked so frightened, but he didn't understand what the fuss was about. Yogi never hurt anyone, and he was always willing to play with him.
"Hey Yogi, I brought you some eggs. Hard-boiled, just the way you like them!" Ned said with a smile, holding the eggs out in both hands.
The bear stood up from his resting spot, giving out a pleased rumbling sound that sounded suspiciously close to a purr. He sauntered over, swiped the eggs up with his tongue, and swallowed them all down, shells and all. Yogi then licked Ned from the chin up to his forehead, before letting out a massive belch that blew Ned's hair in all directions.
"Ugh! Yuck! Yogi, that's gross! Your breath smells horrible!" Ned wailed, recoiling backwards and squeezing his nose shut.
Yogi let out a couple of deep, bark-like noises that sounded a lot like laughter, before gently cuffing Ned over the shoulder with a massive paw. He turned back around, going to his favorite napping area, before taking up his favorite activity...napping.
Ned looked over to where the men were training, and quickly spotted his older brother Bran was fighting another boy quite a bit older than him. Ned knew his brother was really good with the sword, and whenever he watched him he was always amazed by his skill. Brandon was quick, had great reflexes, and had developed an unorthodox style early on that often left the older kids in the training yard battered and bruised. Bran wouldn't just use his sword in a fight, he would also use his fists, elbows, knees, and feet. It left everyone incredibly wary when they fought him, never knowing where the next hit would come from.
Though for all his skill and speed, Ned mused, he was still the smallest boy in the training yard. The next youngest person was Rodrick, Ser Martyn the Master-at-Arms' son and squire, and he had thirteen name-days compared to Bran's nine. He was usually Bran's sparring partner, and used his strength and greater size to weather the hits Bran landed, and eventually tire him out enough that Rodrick could take him out. This led to some really amazing spars, showcasing the skills of the young heir and squire, but it also led to some hot tempers and bloody brawls. In this case, it led to the second one.
Both Brandon and Rodrick were rolling around in the dirt; kicking, spitting, and scratching at each other like a couple of cats trapped in a sack. Ned laughed, and cheered Bran on, even as Ser Martyn came over and broke it up. The great boar of a knight grabbed both boys by the back of the armor, one in each hand, and threw them into the horses' watering trough.
"Everyone knows you boys's temper gets too hot every now again, best you both just cool off." Ser Martyn japed. Everyone in the yard burst into laughter, as both boys groaned and tried to hide themselves deeper in the trough.
As I walked around the various empty store houses that used to be full of ice, I smiled softly to myself. I had settled right back into life at Winterfell after coming back from White Harbor, and I started my sword lessons not too long after. My mother had gotten over her horror of Yogi pretty quickly. She smiled, laughed, and cheered at all the right places as I told her my now much more embellished story of taming The Great Yogi the Bear. What I didn't really notice, was that as I chattered on with my story, Lyarra had given Rickard a glare that could have melted the Wall.
Watching my father's many efforts trying to get back into my mother's good graces provided a lot of entertainment for quite a few weeks.
I found myself rather gifted with the sword, this particular body being incredibly athletic. I was quicker than in my old body, stronger at this age then I was then, and I had the advantage of past knowledge. While I was never a master, or even close to it, I had known quite a bit of Krav Maga in my old world. I had continued to practice the many different katas as soon as I had been able to find time to myself. After all, the katas promoted efficiency of movement, balance, and hand-eye coordination, which were all great things for swordsmanship. Plus, any kind of fighting skill is always an advantage in this Darwinistic world.
My good pal Yogi managed to insert himself into life at Winterfell so seamlessly, you could have sworn he had always been there. He had his own room next to mine, on the ground floor of the main keep, and it had no furniture. Instead it was covered in a massive pile of different sheep skins. I was actually rather jealous of it, it looked more comfortable than my own bed. While he tended to follow me around most of the time, he still found plenty of opportunities to get up to mischief. He was regularly seen playing with the different children all around Winterfell, and it didn't take long until he was well loved by all the smallfolk.
Well, almost all of them. Much like his namesake, Yogi had the rather particular habit of constantly stealing different morsels of food from all around the castle and town. He managed to steal two sheep, a goat, and half a carcass of a deer from different butchers within the first month without ever being seen. The sneaky bastard probably would have gotten away with it too if he hadn't gotten greedy and been caught trying to sneak out an entire boar.
He had also made an enemy of the castle's baker. Apparently the window he used to put the pies out to cool was not tall enough to keep out a hungry bear. Yogi learned quickly to make himself scarce whenever he did manage to snag a pie, his favorite prize, as he knew that my mother would be hot on his heels afterwards. Even Yogi wasn't willing to brave her wrath.
I often wonder how much of his personality was him originally, and how much was influenced by the warging. He showed way too many traits of the original Yogi the Bear for it to be a coincidence.
One thing I had noticed was a few of the bear-like traits that I had picked up. For one, I now loved honey. Shit was great. I also had a newfound fondness for napping. Before Yogi, I used to be unable to nap. Either I stayed awake, or I slept for hours on end. Now, I took a nap after lunch everyday, and it was utterly glorious.
I heard a horn blowing from over by the gate, and I ran over to see who was arriving. I really hoped it was who I think it was. After all, it was quite a few moons after winter ended, and almost all of the ice we had managed to store up had already been sent to White Harbor. I saw a rider pull up to my father, hold out a few scrolls, while a wagon came in behind with few chests on it. They were heavy, and made of iron, with big locks on them, and I could only imagine how much gold they might have in them. My plans for the North depended on there being enough.
I met up with my father in his solar after dinner, as he hadn't wanted to talk about "counting coppers" at the table. I could understand it, even in the Modern World it was never a good idea to announce to all and sundry exactly the status of your finances. I rubbed my hands together anxiously, hoping to get a grip of myself.
"Well son, I got the numbers in." My father said, his expression betraying nothing.
Hell, what do I have to do to get a poker face like that?
"So how did we do, Father?" I finally asked, the silence getting to me.
My father continued to look at me, his face carved from stone. He waited right up until I was about to break and ask another question, before letting out a great bark-like laugh. He leaned over and swept me into a massive hug.
"It went amazingly Bran! Amazing! The Manderly's did their part splendidly, and they took the ice to the hottest regions on their trade routes. There they held different auctions in each of the port cities, serving chilled wine with ice all the while, and saying about how the young Wolf Heir had preserved the cold of Winter so that he may share it with the South!" Rickard laughed with a massive grin, letting go of the hug and patting me on the shoulder. "A bit over the top, in my opinion, but it got the job done. You insisting we brand every crate with our sigil probably helped with that! We made thousands though Bran, thousands of gold dragons, and the South is almost begging for more. I honestly don't think the supply that we stocked up will last much longer."
"Don't worry about that Father, I already have the perfect idea about how we can keep the ice trade going, even as all of Winterfell's ice melts. It's rather simple, we won't harvest the ice anymore. We will have House Mormont do it, and they can ship it to us. Most of their ponds stay frozen year round, with only the streams thawing out come summer. They can brand the crates with their sigil so everyone knows they are doing the work as well, and then we will brand it with ours to show our approval of it, before sending it down to White Harbor. We can change the deal to where Houses Mormont and Manderly both get forty percent of the profit each, while we take twenty percent. We won't have to do any of the work anymore, while still making some gold." I told my father, a big smirk on my face.
My father shared the smirk real quick, before frowning and replying.
"That's all well and good Bran, but if House Mormont takes over part of the trade, and we get forty percent less than what we are getting now, then those two houses will eventually grow more wealthy than ours. While they are both incredibly loyal, I would prefer to keep our House much stronger than theirs." Rickard asked.
"Don't worry Father, my plans to help the North don't stop here. I have made quite a few lists of different crops and livestock that I am rather confident will do well here. I have figured out where all of the different seeds would need to be bought, and all we would have to do is have the Manderly's arrange it with the right merchants. While it might cost a bit to get all of it, about fifteen hundred gold dragons, it should be affordable with the gold coming in from the ice. If they work, most of these are things I plan on gifting to our different vassals; I do plan on keeping one or two of the most lucrative projects for our House, however." I stated, handing my father the different parchments I had covered in lists.
My father took his time reading through all of the lists, the only expression he gave being the raising of a single eyebrow. He eventually looked up from them, and pinned me with a rather intense look.
"I can't spare many men to help you, one carpenter and maybe as many six different labourers. I will also allow Master Ryker the blacksmith and his apprentice to assist you, as long as you don't use up all of their time with these projects. You think you can manage to pull all of this off with only that much help?" My father asked, waving the parchment in front of him.
"I do, father. I am completely certain that that will be more than enough help to pull off everything I need to." I said, much more confidently than I felt.
"Well alright, Bran. I will give these lists to Ser Lester as he goes back to White Harbor, along with the needed gold. I will also send ravens and letters to the Mormonets. You can begin starting work on your farm as soon as you'd like. You will probably need the time to get everything in order, before your seed and animals begin arriving." My father said, a small yet proud smile on his face.
I smiled back. This was it, if this project fell on its face, then I wasn't sure how I would manage to help my entire kingdom. Best get started then.
The first thing I had to do was get my forge set up. The building itself was rather easy to do, with the help of the carpenter and laborers my father gave me, I had the structure itself setup within just two weeks. Getting the forge itself made took a little longer, as special bricks had to be made, and the whole thing had to be able to handle the extreme heat that it would be generating. While I knew the whole process necessary to make it, it still took a while. Luckily, I was able to start setting up a sawmill at the same time, while also making an empty barn between the both of them for my workshop. I could use that space to make the farming tools I needed.
The forge and the sawmill were both completed at about the same time, and we managed to get all of the water wheels installed by ninth name-day. That was probably the best present I could have asked for, though I did have a great time at the feast my parents held. With both the forge and the sawmill ready for action, it was time to start making the farming equipment, and the many different fences and shelters I would need for the livestock. It didn't have to be much, most of them would be gifted to various bannermen at the Harvest Feast, so the shelters were only temporary.
When I showed Master Ryker the blacksmith my open hearth furnace, with how much high quality steel it could make and just how fast, he looked at me with near reverence. I felt like Moses here to show him to the Promised Land. From that day forward, Master Ryker practically threw all of his other projects onto poor Mikken, and focused on working out all of the kinks with the forge. After all, while it did work, it could definitely work better.
From there I started building my farming equipment. I started with a seed drill, using steel for the plows and all the different gears, and bronze for the axles, wheels, and fittings. It came out great, and I had it finished just in time for the first shipments of seeds and livestock started to come in.
The first test of the Northern Seed Drill was done by having Yogi pull it. Apparently my friend didn't appreciate earning his place in the history books, as he let out pitiful whining noises the whole time, and refused to keep going after ten feet. Ah well, we hitched it up to a regular horse afterwards and it worked perfectly! I did notice that a few of the bronze fittings were already showing signs of strain however, so I would have to replace those with steel.
My farm was growing though, and I was growing more excited with it. Within six moons after sending the lists of things I needed to the Manderly's, they had managed to bring me every last thing on said lists. I'd have to reward them somehow when my plans had taken off, maybe I could design a few new sh.i.p.s for them to play with?
Ah well, I had gotten the first versions of the reaper and the thresher made, though I would have to wait a while to test them. I just didn't have anything ready to harvest yet.
I was taking a break, ambling my way to a pond in the Wolfswood on the back of Yogi. The crops of my farm were already starting to show yields, and most of it should be ready for the first harvest within a moon or two. That was good, it would mean that I would have examples of all of the products that could be made from them by the time the Harvest Feast came around in six moons. I would have to buckle down, but I had already managed to build all of the distilleries and other things that would be needed.
One thing I was sour gr.a.p.es about was, ironically enough, gr.a.p.es. I had imported some gr.a.p.e seeds from Braavos, intending to use modern techniques to make a high-quality wine, but something about Westerosi soil just didn't agree with them. My every attempt to plant them, even in the glass gardens, was an abject failure. While there were a few hiccups here and there, all of the rest of the crops were grown successfully. I even managed to use some irrigation to flood a field enough to grow both rice and cranberries, and I couldn't wait to see the look on Howland's face when I gave them to him.
As I was saying, I had all of the necessary supplies to make some awesome wine, and nothing to make wine out of. It was quite the bummer, and it was my frustration over my inability to grow any gr.a.p.es that had me going on this fishing trip. I figured a bit of peace and quiet in the great outdoors would be just what I needed to get my head back on straight.
We made it to the end of the path, the woods opening up for us to make our way onto the rocky shore of the pond. I took out my fishing pole and a box of worms I had collected from Yogi's saddle, and pulled the quick release on it so that my friend could lay down comfortably. My fishing pole wasn't much, really just a thick stick from a willow tree, with a bit of twine tied to one end, and a bronze hook made from a nail at the end of the twine. It would get the job done however.
The pond was large and the water was completely calm, looking like a single pane of glass reflecting the sky. It was surrounded by evergreen trees on all sides, and a few different rocky beaches like the one we were in right now. There were two different small streams that fed into the pond from one end, and a single bigger stream that led out of it again. There was even a buck getting a drink on the opposite shore, only to bolt away the moment it caught Yogi's scent.
I set my hook in the water, and leaned back against Yogi's side as he took a nap, and enjoyed the serenity around. I used to always love fishing in my old life, and as any good fisherman knows, it doesn't really matter if you catch anything or not. As I was looking around the shoreline, I spotted a cl.u.s.ter of bushes nearby. Walking over to them, I realized that these were what is called Frost berries. They were incredibly common around Winterfell, but nobody ever ate the things or gave them the time of day, not even the animals. Thing was, frost berries were the most sour thing you would ever taste. Think of a JawBreaker, sprinkled with the sour dust from a bag of Sour Patch Kids, and you would have something pretty close to a frost berry.
I picked a few, and as I was looking at them, I remembered something. Sweet and sour are both incredibly close to each other, taste wise, and it usually doesn't take much of a chemical process to make something sour, sweet.
I grinned, and started filling up my saddle bag with as many of the berries as I could.I would test these ones, and if it made a good wine, I would come back and grab more so I could plant them myself. I already had the set up to make wine, after all.
"Yogi! We can make wine from the berries! Maybe that will work!" I said excitedly, grabbing the second saddle bag so I could fill that one as well.
Yogi shot me a sceptical look, and I caught the sensation of something incredibly sour on my tongue.
"I know they are sour Yogi, but fruit changes when you ferment it, and maybe it will make a good wine!" I responded to my friend, who just shrugged, and I turned back to filling the bag.
Yogi then let out a whining noise, and I looked back at him. He looked at the sun and looked me in the eye again. I got a glimpse of a sunset, a scene of me and him walking through the woods in the dark, and the sensation of the chills and cold.
"Don't worry Yogi, we are going now. I don't want to be out here after dark either. Come on, let's get your saddle on." I said, bringing over my now full bags of berries, picking up Yogi's saddle on the way.
When we made it back to Winterfell, well before sundown, we returned to a massive feast being prepared. Apparently my mother and father had an announcement.
My mother was pregnant. Most likely with Lyanna. Which was a good thing, as I was pretty sure she should have been born already. I'm pretty sure that was my fault, as my Mother was pissed about Yogi for a long time. I even heard a rumor that Father spent a night in one of the stables, but no one could (or would) confirm it. Now that I think about it, I was currently nine, almost ten name-days, and Ned was only five. I am pretty sure he was supposed to be closer in age to me as well. Ah well, I suppose it doesn't matter much.
Over the course of the last five months since then, everyone has been very busy. I managed to get the first harvest of all my foreign crops, and I had made examples of all of the most important goods that can be made from them. One of the best surprises was my Frost Wine, or as the men called it, Northern Blue. The fermenting process ended up changing the disastrously sour berry into one of the best tasting, sweetest wines I had ever had. It had the same vibrant blue color of a blue raspberry Jolly Rancher, and tasted like something between strawberries and blackberries. I wasn't a big wine drinker in my old life, but I loved this shit.
I ended up deciding to keep the Northern Blue as a purely House Stark industry, along with the open hearth furnace. I had three farms growing frost berries exclusively already, and had set up a much larger and more efficient forge along a stream closer to the castle. With the gold from the wine sales, and being able to make steel faster and cheaper than everyone else, I can rest easy that the Starks will stay on top in the North. Sure, spies will eventually figure out the process, but with the speed most things moved in this world, I should already have the contracts to sell steel already made. I will also be able to arm all of my men for dirt cheap. A win-win situation if I ever heard of one.
I wasn't the only Stark working on increasing our fortunes, however. My father was certainly not willing to just pile up his gold from the ice trade and leave it at that. He had already had the Broken Tower torn down, and a new one was a quarter of the way built. He had also ordered a new outer wall built, a quarter mile out from the original walls, to both expand the castle and replace the current outer walls. Apparently, stone walls got weaker after they have been up for four thousand years. Who knew? Either way, within the next five years my father planned to have the entire castle renovated and expanded. It would look basically the same, just newer and stronger, and I definitely approved. I could focus on trade while my father reinforced our home.
I put on my cotton tunic, made from the cotton I had planted, embroidered with copper thread forming the shape of the Stark direwolf over my left b.r.e.a.s.t. Some warm, wool breeches dyed a light blue (using a dye I made from the frost berries, those things were awesome) and all of it held together with a lizard-lion leather belt. That had been something I bought from House Reed, I had no intention of trying to domesticate the things. They belonged in Jurassic Park, in my humble opinion.
I made my way out of my room, heading towards the Great Hall where the first Harvest Feast was to be held. Traditionally, House Stark has always held two Harvest Feasts. One for the first harvest of the summer, and one for the last. This one was going to be especially important, and dare I say, rather historic. It was at this feast where I was going to reveal my plans to increase trade and prosperity in the North, and afterwards I would give all of them a tour of the farm I had been working on for the close the last year.
I walked in with my head held high, making eye contact with each Lord that looked at me, but not staring long enough to make anyone uncomfortable. Most of them zeroed in Yogi trailing in behind me, and that actually made me nervous for a second.
The men often japed that I was Brandon "The Beartamer" and that was one name I wasn't that fond of. It sounded cool, but I was sure that the moment Lady Maege Mormont heard it, she would introduce me to her mace. Just to show me what she thought of that particular title. I wonder if Yogi is related to the bear that fathers her children in the future?
Food for thought.
"Ah Brandon, my son, I am glad you finally made it! I already shared with our Lords the story of how your good friend there came to be in our company, and many of them have since then been curious about the good fortune of House Stark and our ice trade." My father told me, giving me a pointed look.
That had been one of my worries when we first started the ice trade. The ease in which we could make coin doing it, harvesting something as ever present in Northern life as ice, was bound to make more than a few Lords jealous. Many of them would berate themselves for not having thought of it first, while the more rebellious ones would believe they had a right to a part of the trade as well. This was one of the reasons I wanted to gift different industries to the Lords anyways. Ruling happy Lords is always easier than ruling jealous Lords.
Yogi ambled over to behind the high table, where he laid down by my seat, and began enjoying the basket of fresh fish that the servants had left out for him. I stood in front of my chair, and addressed the Hall.
"Do not worry, my Lords, I assure you. The ice trade was only the beginning of my plans to help enrich the North. As you know, we could never afford to make gambles with trade or on new industry, as all failures meant starvation. With the added gold House Stark has gained from the trade, we took it upon ourselves to pay these risks for you. I hope you have been enjoying the many new foods and drinks present at this feast. Unlike what you may think, none of this has been purchased from other lands. Each and every bit of it has been grown here at Winterfell, or made from crops grown here. House Stark intends to gift each of its loyal bannermen one of these new crops and new trades. I will personally teach your smallfolk how to farm it, to distill these drinks, and how to raise the livestock. Along with your gifts, each of you will be given a contract, giving your house exclusive use of these crops and goods. No other Lord in the North will be allowed to sell the goods we gift you without facing the wrath of House Stark. Tomorrow morning, when we have all broken our fasts, I will take my Lords on a tour of the farm I have created. It is there that I have grown every one of these crops, and there that I made each of these goods." I said confidently and clearly, hiding my shaking hands by gripping the edge of the table.
The Lords were silent, each one of them giving me a searching stare, and it took every last ounce my willpower not to break out in a cold sweat. Suddenly, there was a snort coming from against the Lords.
"Aye lad, we thought the Starks were getting rich off the cold, while the rest of us froze. This feast being full of things we have never seen before, it just seemed to confirm it. If what you say is true, and I believe it is as I've never known a Stark to lie, then I owe you an apology lad. To Brandon Stark, the Clever Wolf!" Yelled out Lord Hothor Umber, holding his glass of vodka up in a toast. His son Jon was the first to take up the cheer, and Jon was someone I would call a friend. Loud and boisterous, but with a good deal of intelligence and pragmaticism, he was loyal and honorable, a great ally to have and an even better friend.
I held up my own cup of Northern Blue with a fake c.o.c.ky smirk, returning the toast, as the entire Hall broke out in cheers. I looked to the rest of the High Table, and took a glance at my family. My father had a barely noticeable proud smile on his face, while my mother made no attempts to hide the warmth and pride in her own. Ned was looking at me with wide eyes, more copying everyone else by cheering than really knowing what was going on. I gave a shaky smile back to them, tomorrow would be the day where I finally showed them all what I had made.
"Here is the farm, my Lords." I said, walking next to Yogi at the top of a hill. Behind us was Winterfell, and in front of us were large fields, all full of different crops. There were many different fences, all made to hold in different animals, and a couple of barns I had made to hold the distilleries. I had moved the winery to a different farm, as that product was staying at Winterfell.
"Come on, we shall start with the crops, and I shall inform each of you what you shall be taking home. First here we have corn, a crop from Sothoryos that can be eaten in a many different forms, but the best part is that it is from corn that we made the whiskey you all tried and loved so much last night. Corn and whiskey is House Stark's gift to House Cerwyn." I nodded at the Lord, who looked at the growing corn with a greedy eye. No doubt remembering the whiskey from the other night.
"This one here is a potato farm. Potatoes are originally from Ibb and Sarnor, but they have no issue growing here. While potatoes taste great, and you can make many different dishes from them, they spoil quickly. As such, it wouldn't be that useful if it wasn't for the fact that you can make the Vodka you tried from them. The potatoes and vodka are House Stark's gift to House Tallhart." I said, walking past the potato fields. Many lords looked at them in wonder, never having seen a plant quite like the potato.
"Here we have what are called beets. I got them from Braavos, and they can be rather tasty if cooked right. However, what makes them really worthwhile is the fact that one can make sugar from it. The same sugar used on all of the pastries last night. Beets and the process to make sugar from them, is House Stark's gift to House Hornwood."
As you can see, I was trying to do it a bit ritualistically. I really wanted each of these Lords to remember that I could have kept every last one of these industries to myself, and that they truly were a gift to them. Yes, I wanted the North to rise as one, but I also wanted to stay on top without having rebellions. It is a fine tightrope to walk, but one you have to manage.
"Next up is cotton, my Lords. As you can see, it doesn't look like much. Combine it with the inventions I call the cotton gin, the spinning wheel, and the water powered loom, and you can use cotton to make both fine and cheap clothing, just like the tunic I am wearing right now." I pointed out the rather sharp tunic I had on. It wasn't anything fancy, but it cost less than a regular cloth tunic, and took half the time to make. "Cotton, and the process to make clothes from it, is House Stark's gift to House Flint of Flint's Fingers. Your lands are perfectly situated to grow the cotton, as the warmer climate of the Neck is just what cotton needs."
We went up a small hill, where I had set up a good sized garden to grow hops.
"These are hops my Lords, and they aren't supposed to be eaten at all. They are instead used to make the beer that you all tried last night. These hops, and the beer, are House Stark's gift House Forrester." I said, watching as the Lords examined the long vines that the hops came from. I then turned to the other side of the hill, pointing down.
"Down there we actually dug some ditches from the stream into there so that we could flood it into two different, man made bogs. It is in this bog that we grow one of the most important crops that the North could ever have. Rice. It was those bland white pellets that we had mixed in with different meats. Not the tastiest thing on its own, but rice can be mixed with near just about anything. Its greatest advantage is the fact that once harvested, as long as rice is kept dry, it will never truly go bad. It also only needs boiling water to be cooked. Five, ten year winter, it doesn't matter. The rice will still be good. In the other marsh we have cranberries, a rather tart berry that I found myself having a liking for. I am quite certain you could make some wine from it, but I never actually tried myself. Either way, the rice and the cranberries are both House Stark's gift House Reed. After all, the marshes of the Neck are the best places to grow these crops." I said, looking at my rice paddies and cranberry boggs with pride.
I glanced at Lord Reed and his son Howland, and they were both looking at the crops with literal tears in their eyes. Now that I think about it, their people probably never managed to grow any kind of food of their own, and had to keep hunting and foraging. There are no native crops in the North that would grow in a marsh, after all. That is probably when Greywater Watch floats and moves around. They aren't worried about someone finding the castle, they have to move around to follow the food.
Well, I am glad they are happy.
We were walking by the edge of a small forest, heading over to where we were keeping all the animals. Along the way there were many different trees, all with a small bronze tube hammered into them, and a bucket laying under it.
"Many of you commented on the sweet syrup that we had served with hot cakes this morning, and here is where it is made. We drain some of the sap from Maple trees, and boil it down a few times. It is a pretty easy process, though it takes a large amount of sap to make only a small bit of syrup. As such, it was rather lucky when I discovered that in the Wolfswood on the lands of House Glover, nearly nine out of every ten trees is a Maple tree. The process of making Maple syrup is House Stark's gift House Glover." I said, spying a satisfied smile on Lord Glover's face. He was a good friend of my Father, and I was proud that he was happy with the gift.
"Here we have bee hives. Many of you keep bees already, for the honey they make, but I managed to make a drink out of it. The honey mead that Lord Whitehill enjoyed so much, shall be House Stark's gift to House Whitehill." I said with a smirk. Lord Whitehill had gotten so drunk last night that he tried to put the moves on, and seduce into his bed, Yogi.
Never thought I'd see a drunk man trying to kiss a bear.
I had also been utterly amazed when I learned that no one made honey mead. Seriously, what kind of medieval society can import wine from the other side of the continent, but can't figure out how to make honey mead? Ah well, their loss, my gain.
"These fences hold many different animals, all split up by species. First we have these massive horses, all imported from Sarnor. I can't pronounce the name they called them there, so I just call them Clydesdales. They are incredibly strong, though kind of slow, but will still make for great steeds. They can do more work in the fields than other horses, and their greater size and would lend an advantage in any cavalry charge. These Clydesdale horses are House Stark's gift to House Ryswell." I looked at Lord Ryswell and he was staring at the massive horses with worship in his eyes.
Hopefully he doesn't start following the Dothraki horse-gods after this.
"These furry-ass cows are actually called Yaks. Their big hairy fur keeps them warm no matter how cold it gets, and they have no problem digging through the snow to find food to graze on. The Yaks are House Stark's gift to House Umber. House Umber has the largest grazing lands in the North, after all." I said happily, watching Lords Hothor and Jon as they patted the sides of the hairy animals.
"In this barn we keep a new kind of fowl called turkeys. We got them from a colony of Sothoryos, and they have shown to be a great addition to the North. They are a bit bigger and stockier than chickens, and their meat has a distinct and pleasant taste. They are easy to raise, and with the extra fat and thicker feathers, they can handle the cold better than chickens. These turkeys are House Stark's gift to House Dustin."
"Here, these are actually Unicorns from Skaagos. I had thought long and hard about what might help my loyal Lords of the Dreadfort, but alas it was much harder than I thought. Your lands are very rocky, and mountainous, and even these resilient crops I have found would not grow well in such an environment. In the end, I realized that what you needed was an animal that would survive well in rocky mountains, and as such arranged the purchase of these with House Magnar. These unicorns are House Stark's gift to House Bolton." I said, making sure to keep my face solemn. Lord Roose, who was already Lord Bolton, returned my straight look with one of his own. He nodded once, before turning away.
The unicorns were never really meant as a gift, after all, but the illusion of one. It is true that unicorns probably would do very well in the lands of the Dreadfort, and if Roose was smart he could breed them and sell them far and wide just for the novelty of unicorns. Thing is, the Dreadfort and Skaagos have been nominal allies for a very long time, ever since they both rebelled together for the first time. If the Boltons had really wanted unicorns, they would already have them. By doing this, I could pretend I was doing House Bolton a favor, while ensuring their House would be the one that benefited the least from the changes.
"Lastly, we have my gift for you, Lord Karstark. Your lands are all forest, and as such not really suited for farming or livestock. Instead, I have a contract from Braavos, saying that they will willingly buy any wood that comes from Karstark lands at a fair market price, whether it is firewood or lumber. Also, I will be providing you with designs for a sawmill powered by a water wheel. It would greatly reduce the amount of time it takes to mill your wood, allowing you to grow rich from the lumber trade. I also have been designing new sh.i.p.s, that will hopefully be faster than the current ones, and if they work I plan on giving the designs to every Lord of the North." I said, smiling at Lord Karstark.
I looked around at the gathered Lords, and I saw hope. Each of them was looking at their new gifts with undisguised hope. Hope that this would finally be the time that the North would rise. It is a hope I shared with them.
All of the Lords left the Harvest Feast with praise for the Stark's on their lips. Each one sending smallfolk to Winterfell to learn how to make the different goods, and each Lord had taken one of each of the different pieces of farming equipment I had made. Hopefully they adopted their use, and the craftsmen make them fast enough, and after enough time-spark an agricultural revolution.
Surprisingly, I hadn't needed to introduce four crop rotation, they already knew that. I suppose it made sense, they had to be doing something right in regards to agriculture if they were regularly surviving multi-year winters.
Four months after the harvest feast, I was finally sending the last of the smallfolk I needed to train home. They would return to the lands of their Lords with new knowledge and industry, and hopefully each Lord took full advantage of it.
"My Lord! My Lord! Come quick! Your Mother, the Lady Lyarra is in labor!" My good friend Rodrick Cassel said, running up to me where I stood on the castle walls on top of the gate.
I immediately took off after him, I couldn't wait to meet my baby sister. A brand new sister, born in a brand new North.
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