Chapter Synopsis: Lord Edwyle reflects on the many changes brought on by Harry and his merry band. The state of the northern economy is in shambles, and he's been given the tools to lift it back up again, can he follow-through? He also has some very legitimate concerns about Harry's horse related negligence.
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Last Time: ... "It is a great honour to hold the sword carrying the names and deeds of my ancestors. Though it is true either way, that I am the last of my name."
Lord Edwyle was left thinking on the implications of Harry's last statement. He hadn't fully realised that Harry and Doberic were the absolute last of the Peverells, he certainly seemed bereft of family, other than his brother, but to be the last was tragic; especially for a man who was quickly becoming a friend.
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Chapter 16: A Horse of Course
Lord Edwyle gazed out his window, contemplating quietly as he awaited his guests. His servants would say he was brooding. But that was a natural Stark trait, so no one thought much of it.
In his left hand he held the journal of Torrhen Stark, the Kneeler. He'd been reading journal religiously for the last several days, and it still left him speechless. He felt like the wool had been pulled back from his eyes and he wasn't entirely happy with what he could now see. "How had the North fallen so far in just 300 years?"
The journal of the last King of Winter was an eyeopener; it covered all manner of everyday life for the brave man who gave up his kingdom for his people. But more importantly, it shared observations on the state of the Northern economy at that time, and it was thriving. Mine sites were mentioned that Lord Edwyle knew did not exist today. Trade routes over the land seem to have faded from the current maps, and a number of major vassal houses that made the North strong back in the day have since fallen to ruin.
Those vassal houses had died out for any number of reasons, and that in itself wasn't suspicious, but the lack of action to build new houses and man the many forts of the North was indeed suspicious. It spoke of a long campaign to see the North fester and fail. To keep even the Warden of the North ignorant of so much to do with his homeland, must have taken a concerted effort over a very long time.
The worst part was that Lord Edwyle could easily see it being a plot by the Maesters, or the Faith, or the Targaryen's, or all three. To all these parties, the Starks were a quiet but clear threat to their power. It was the only explanation that made sense.
If the journal was to be believed, the North was a true powerhouse before the conquest, possibly the most powerful of the kingdoms in Westeros at the time. It had more gold in its mountains than the Westerlands. It had a naval and trade fleet on both coasts that ruled their respective seas with impunity. Strange that the vassal houses which ran these fleets were among the first to fall. It had strong trade ties with most houses in the sunset sea, and ties with the larger cities in Essos. Then the Targaryens had come through and taken the Northern fleet to form the base of their newly formed 'royal fleet' as part of the agreement with Torrhen not to burn through the North as they had in the Reach and Riverlands.
Edwyle was furious at that revelation. He had always believed the tales that the North had no strength at sea ever since 'Brandon the Burner' had burnt the fleet in a fit of grief over a thousand years ago. Since the story was so well known, it had seemingly become fact. A story that on reflection made no sense at all, but had the effect of making the Starks look stupid and weakening the North.
If he believed the journal, and he did, then the North's seafaring vassal houses had hidden most of their fleets from their batty overlord at the time, and simply set about rebuilding what they lost with the full support of the next, slightly more sane, Stark. More importantly, the journal mentioned this rebuilding was done in the many shipyards that dotted the protected coves of Sea Dragon Point and the Bay of Seals. Two areas of the North that now lay abandoned and devoid of strong houses to oversee them.
"Of course that's what happened" Edwyle mumbled to himself, letting out an exasperated sigh. "If I tried to burn the Manderly's fleet, all I would get is a black eye and some very miffed neighbours. It would hardly stop them trading or stop them from replacing the boats, probably at my expense".
"Stupid really, for anyone to believe this mythical story. How would Brandon have even got his hands on the entire fleet to burn if they were constantly out plying their trade on the seas?" and boy was there a lot of trade going around.
The journal didn't go into detail on the numbers, but it was clear the North thrived on its trade. It seems their closest allies at the time were the seafaring kingdom of Braavos. It made sense to Edwyle, that they would be close to the down-to-earth people of Braavos. The only other peoples that really understood what it meant to live in the cold of the North, despite being on another continent.
"Well not the only people" Edwyle muttered, turning his thoughts to one of the other more startling revelations. The journal had gone into great detail on King Torrhen's plans to re-open trade with the Thenn.
A trade relationship that had apparently been dormant for over a century by that time, ever since the burning of Hardhome, which was the main trade port north of the wall. It was a shock to Lord Edwyle that this Thenn relationship was built on a dormant Stark alliance from the age of Heroes that King Torrhen apparently still respected despite its dormancy.
Before Aegon started his war, Torrhen had been working with his advisors on the logistics of getting a trade corridor back up and running. Lord Edwyle was still struggling to process this particular revelation, having grown up with the apparently mistaken belief that the Starks had nothing but enemies beyond the Wall. Lord Edwyle's own father was slain in battle by a false king from beyond the wall. But he had no reason to believe the Thenns were involved with that travesty of justice.
"Not that it matters" Edwyle sighed, "I wouldn't know how to get in touch with the Thenn's even if I wanted to". A quick scan of the library had turned up no useful information on their apparent northern neighbours. Another strike in Edwyle's book for the state of things being the result of enemy action. Knowledge on your neighbours doesn't just disappear by itself. The Maesters had a lot to answer for it seems.
At least he didn't have to worry about Maester Garrick. The man was a third son from a small house sworn to the Umbers, and was a Northman through and through. The work he'd put in with Harry recently was just proof of how enthusiastic he was about improving the North. So it was clear whatever plot existed, it wasn't so obvious or direct, at least in this generation.
Some of the older moves were now clear as day to Edwyle though. The most glaring being the stripping of the land in the 'New Gift' from the houses of the North. That strip of land was larger than the riverlands, and according to the journal, it was much more fertile. It had been referred to as the 'bread basket of the North' back in Torrhen's day and had singlehandedly supported the entire food needs of the, then much larger, Northern population. Even providing enough excess grain for trade to make the Reach green with jealousy. "Even more green" Edwyle snickered, glad no-one was there to hear his terrible joke.
So why now, was that strip of land laying empty while the North starved through every winter. That would be the not so subtle actions of the Targaryens and the Faith of the Seven. The well known story was that the wife of King Jaehaerys had been "impressed with the valor, bravery, and loyalty of the Night's Watch". So had convinced the King to grant the New Gift to the Watch as a sign of supreme generosity and appreciation.
"A nice enough story to keep the small folk happy, but I smell a rat" Edwyle thought with chagrin. After all, 'Jaehaerys the Conciliator' was mainly known for his efforts to appease the Faith and bring them back into the fold after the uprising of the Faith Militant during the reign of his predecessors. Now Edwyle wondered how much of that 'appeasing' came at the expense of the North.
It was no secret that the Faith had been trying to weaken the North and destroy their faith in the Old Gods since the Andal invasion had been turned back at Moat Cailin. He knew very well that when the Faith preached about the 'savages' in the North, they didn't just mean the wildlings beyond the wall.
For thousands of years, the North had been the one holdout against the Faith in Westeros, and a powerful one at that. Then not 50 years after Aegon's conquest, the food basket of the North was given away and Moat Cailin was largely demolished to provide materials for Jaehaerys supposed 'king's road'. "More like a dirt track" Edwyle griped "I'm sure not a single stone from the castle was actually used in that road".
It was all so clear to Edwyle now, but what was he even to do about it? What could he do to bring back the strength of the North?
All he had ever done was try to keep the North together and their mouths fed, it was all he could afford to do. Now though, now he had chests full of gold sitting in the crypts ready to use, and some long needed inspiration from his ancestors to rebuild the North as it should be.
"perhaps the arrival of Harry and all his ideas and inventions at this junction was destined to be. They came in at just the right time, like the first rays of sunlight in spring, spreading their good fortune to Winterfell and the North."
Edwyle snorted at himself. He was so dramatic. His son always gave him a hard time over it, but Edwyle secretly thought he would have made a great bard or mummer if fate had dealt him a different hand.
Even so, it wasn't so hard to see the seismic shifts that Harry had brought to Winterfell. Not least of which was the finding of the Journal itself, by none-other than the last descendant of the original Stark matriarch, Lady Iolanthe Peverell.
Edwyle wasn't daft, and the coincidences were piling up surrounding this mysterious new friend and distant kin; but all those coincidences were coming up in his favour, leaving Lord Stark to wonder if Harry was sent by the old gods themselves. He certainly had far more knowledge of magics than he seemed to think anyone had noticed.
He sighed at the thought, and made a move to tuck the journal back into the safety of the hidden vault in the floor of his solar, below a moveable Direwolf statue. The last item of note was of course the most dangerous, and the most crucial to keep secret. That being the Stark Family magics that were spoken of in the journal.
Magics that he had been taught to believe were only old wives tales and myths. Some of the suggestions Harry made of using soil fertility wards and weather moderation wards tied to weirwood trees were spoken of in the journal as though that was normal practice for the Starks.
True, Edwyle was easily accepting of magic, and had only been shocked for a moment by Peverell's mastery of the topic. After all, the North had many stories about the magics of the First Men and the Old Gods had no problem with the idea of such power being wielded by men. But if someone had told him a sennight ago that he would soon begin to rediscover the Stark magics and the Winterfell wardstone, he would have had them sent to the Maester to be checked up.
Even with the journal in his hand and the little he had so far read from the scrolls in the crypts, Edwyle didn't have a good grasp on the topic of magic. It was truly a godsend to have Harry there to decipher and improve the wardstone under Winterfell.
Not for the first time, he wondered whether Lord Harry was actually working on some long lost Peverell instruction to rescue the Starks should they ever fall, and fallen they had.
Of course, Harry could be here just by happenstance, but it seemed curious nonetheless. For all he knew, the Peverell's might have spirited this journal away on the behest of King Torrhen, who clearly remembered old alliances that the Starks of today had long forgotten.
Maybe these Peverell's carried this journal with them as an heirloom until such time as its knowledge could be used again. They could easily have used the discovery of the secret rooms in the crypts as a method of handing over the journal without raising too much suspicion. He glanced at the now hidden safe, and pondered. It seemed his family had a true friend in the Peverell family, regardless of the truth of these matters.
He steeled himself, and turned back to his desk, making the same conclusion he had made every day since reading that journal. The Starks would fall no further. Harry was already working on proposals, ones that he could now afford to experiment with given the generous treasury in the crypts, and he'd do his own research on those wardstones using the scrolls on family magics also held in that crypt treasury.
Dispersing such magics across the land would be a long term project, and with Harry being a bit of a traveller, he'd not ask him to lay all those stones across the north, or even just across the Stark lands in the North. No, it would have to be the Starks who picked up that task, as they did in the past. But he would be ever thankful to his distant kin for bringing back a piece of their history, and a piece of their family power.
At that last thought, he heard the knock at the door that would likely be Harry and Maester Garrick, bringing their finalised project proposals and blueprints. He called them in, smiling warmly at Harry as he carried several unwieldy maps and parchments into the room. "And so begins the rise of the Starks" he thought to himself, snorting again "so dramatic".
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After another day to finish up the blueprints, along with a rough map of the first proposed road to White Harbour, Harry and Maester Garrick finally felt ready to present their proposals to Lord Edwyle Stark. They'd kept him loosely appraised of the discussions to-date, but he'd been preoccupied with lordly duties, as is to be expected of a Northern Lord at the end of winter, so was still awaiting a proper briefing. They gathered their carefully drawn diagrams, cost estimates, and explanations for each project and made their way to Lord Edwyle's solar.
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Harry was pleased with how invested Lord Edwyle seemed in the projects and plans he and Maester Garrick were putting forward. Edwyle's interest in the mills and water wheels was to be expected, as they had already broached some of these ideas in passing conversation, along with some of the farming techniques. But Harry was honestly astonished at how well he took to the idea of new roads.
Harry had assumed the roads project would be the hardest sell, with most discounting the necessity of quality roads after hearing the cost. But Lord Edwyle's ears seemed to pick up at the mention of increased trade. It seemed he was keen to see a lift to the economy, and this was a clear route to start achieving it.
Harry had actually been prepared to use a mild compulsion charm to encourage Lord Edwyle and Maester Garrick to fund this first road to Winterfell, but it seemed that would be entirely unnecessary.
Personally, Harry was more excited by water wheel and windmill designs, which would inevitably revolutionize the forging of steel, and the speed of lumber preparation. Both of which were crucial not just to military purposes, but to enhanced farming. Though it was understandable that Edwyle and Garrick didn't have the right insight to see the bigger picture yet.
Cheaper, faster steel production could lead to actual steel farming equipment after all. A steel plough, which he hadn't included in this round of proposals, would be a gamechanger, but he wanted them to take this one step at a time. Roads and simple mills were the tentative step.
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With the knowledge that his treasury was now in a better position to fund these projects, thanks to Harry's astonishing find in the crypts of Winterfell, Lord Edwyle knew he could afford to set the plans in motion. Never had the Starks been able to hit the ground running after a long winter, usually having to scrimp and save the first harvest tax revenue to replenish the coffers.
That being said, the Starks were known for their cautiousness for a reason, and Edwyle wanted to approach these new projects with the same level of prudence.
It was agreed amongst the three of them that these projects would need to start small with one watermill, and one windmill, as the mills would require some experimentation, and the craftsmen would be learning on-the-job as they build each.
The farming methods would also cause quite a bit of consternation and suspicion amongst the smallfolk, who had no reason to believe this new way was better. All those of the North knew that taking risks on your crops could spell death if the harvest were to fail as a result. It had happened in the past.
Lord Edwyle sensibly declared that they would start only on the lands immediately around Winterfell, and he would personally guarantee the income and harvest ration expected from a normal harvest for those smallfolk farmers, which he would be able to dole out from the usual harvest tithes from his vassals.
Lord Edwyle also proposed working with House Manderly to fund the new road to White Harbor. Even with their treasury, it would be hard to justify funding the entire route, and the Manderlys would equally benefit from the construction. As the North's largest trade port, it made sense to connect White Harbor to both the south and the north with better roads. By involving the Manderlys, Lord Stark hoped to create a sense of shared investment in the project and demonstrate the benefits of collaboration between the Northern houses.
Together, they began to outline the next steps needed to bring these projects to fruition.
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Two days later, after a bit of back and forth around the logistics involved in these projects, they were ready to get things started.
Harry, Lord Edwyle and a small retinue of guards rode the surrounding farmlands, surveying the possible locations suitable for the first watermill and windmill constructions. It only took a short time to land on an exposed plot atop a hill that they both agreed would be perfect for the first windmill when they eventually got that project off the ground. Though the right spot for a water mill was trickier to find, with the needs for fast moving water and solid banks that could support a large structure.
They had also sent out messengers earlier in the day to arrange for a gathering of the smallfolk farmers and farmhands to speak with their Lord, and to receive instruction from Harry on the process of the new four-field crop rotation.
The farmers were all in awe of being addressed directly by their Lord, and seemed more than willing to follow his every word without question, puffing up with pride when he told them of the great good this would do for the North.
This unquestioning loyalty was a little disturbing to Harry's sensibilities, but it was the way of this world. He was just glad he knew these instructions would see greater crop returns, he shuddered to think of what would happen if an unwitting Lord mucked up instructions issued by an incompetent Maester. Starvation probably.
On the plus side, the farmers knew their plots like the back of their hand, and it only took a moment for them to point out the best spot for a water mill. Not that they yet knew what a 'water mill' was. They were just happy to help their lord.
With the instructions given, and a spot by a fast-moving river marked out for the watermill, Harry found himself short of anything further to take his attention. Lord Stark was finalising his meeting with the gathered farmers and addressed some minor grievances while he was there. These minutiae of local administration held no interest for Harry, so to while away the time, he trotted his horse down the hill to drink from a nearby stream and rest by the waterside.
Harry patiently passed the time skipping stones across the water as his horse drank. Just as he was preparing to re-mount and head back to the others, he spotted a small cluster of standing stones surrounding a Weirwood hidden deep among the trees. Harry quickly strode off in their direction, seeking to investigate in the hopes of finding more First Men runes.
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Jace son of Mace, was wandering the quiet forest this evening, having no more chores and, knowing his father was off meeting their great lord, he had nought to do but wander and play. He was surprised therefore, to come across an unattended horse trotting through the stream.
Jace was well versed in horse handling, dealing with them on a regular basis on the farm, so it was no chore, even with his smaller child's size, to grasp the reigns and bring the horse to heel. Seeing the Stark livery emblazoned on the saddle it was no mystery where the horse belonged. Looking around, he confirmed there wasn't another soul to be found in the area.
Jace figured this beauty must have run off from the castle at some point. Jace was sure he'd get a few small coins in hand from their generous lord for recovering his horse.
So he mounted up and began the several league trot up toward the castle, enjoying the chance to ride a thoroughbred war horse instead of their small farm pony for once. This was turning out to be a great day.
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After a fairly trying conversation on some land rights amongst a few squabbling farmers, Lord Stark moved off with his retinue in the direction of the stream he'd seen Harry head towards, somewhere over the next hill.
Cresting the small hill, Lord Edwyle was not expecting to see Harry already walking towards him on foot. He had been reticent to lend Harry a horse, despite his seeming competence in all other matters of life.
Lord Edwyle could not shake the memory of the constant trickle of raven messages telling him of the mysterious but friendly merchants making their way down through the North, and consistently, every single time, managing to misplace their horse before reaching the next town.
"Where is his horse?…" he pointlessly asks his men with some exasperation. Groaning and palming his face he asks one more time, with more quiet desperation, "Where is his horse? Does anyone see his horse?".
"He'll have tied it by that copse of trees" a guard suggested, sure of himself, since he'd not learnt of Harrys propensity with negligent horse misplacement.
"He can't possibly have lost another horse," Lord Edwyle mumbled, attempting to reassure himself, only to have his denial dashed by Harry's first words.
Harry called to them as he approached with a wave and a smile, "Lord Edwyle" he called, "I can't say this has ever happened to me before", he lowers the decibel as they approach closer rubbing his head in an embarrassed manner, "but I seem to have misplaced my horse".
Harry's not sure he's ever received such a sceptical and disappointed look in his life. Almost despondent in its deadpan delivery.
"I think", Lord Edwyle finally says, releasing a breath, "that I'll send for a carriage, to fetch you." Nodding as though he's solved a persistent problem, Lord Edwyle sends a guard back to the castle to fetch a carriage, and a stable boy to watch the horses. He quietly asks the guard to ensure the horses are tied firmly to the carriage and that the stable boy watches them at all times.
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Chapter 17 Teaser: ..."a sudden shiver ran down his spine, and the hairs on his neck rose like someone was watching him. This was more than a gut feeling, it was a clear warning from his magic, a subtle sense that served him well during the wizarding war, and he knew better than to ignore it."
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