The road to White Harbor was paved with cobblestones, a luxury that Andar had almost forgotten existed.
After leaving the mud and snow of Winterfell, the coastal air felt different. It was salty, wet, and heavy. Seagulls screamed overhead, replacing the harsh caw of ravens.
Andar rode at the head of his small column. The Royal Decree sat inside a waterproof leather tube strapped to his chest.
Ten thousand dragons.
It was a piece of paper, but to Andar it was a key. It was the key to unlocking the next stage of the System.
"My Lord," Jory said, pointing ahead. "Look."
In the distance, rising from the mist of the White Knife river, stood the city.
White Harbor.
It was the only true city in the North. It had white stone walls, slate roofs, and a bustling harbor filled with ships from Braavos, Pentos, and King's Landing. It smelled of fish, tar, and money.
"It is huge," Tom whispered. The young soldier had never left the Wolfswood before. "Are there really people living in all those stone houses?"
"Fifty thousand people," Andar said. "More than all the castles in the North combined."
He spurred his horse forward.
"Straighten your backs," Andar ordered. "We represent the King now. We do not look like refugees."
The Iron Squad adjusted their muskets. They rode with the discipline Andar had drilled into them. The locals stopped to watch them pass. They stared at the black uniforms and the strange iron tubes.
They reached the Seal Gate.
The guards wore the teal cloaks of House Manderly and held silver tridents. They looked well fed and well equipped.
"Halt!" The captain of the guard stepped forward. "State your business in White Harbor."
"I am Andar Stark," Andar announced. "Royal Artificer to King Robert. I am here to see Lord Wyman Manderly."
The captain frowned. "Royal Artificer? I have never heard of such a title."
Andar pulled the scroll from his chest. He unrolled it just enough to show the Royal Seal of the Stag, stamped in golden wax.
The captain's eyes widened. He bowed immediately.
"Forgive me My Lord! The gates are open to you. I will send a runner to the New Castle to inform Lord Wyman."
The Merman's Court was a spectacle.
Unlike the grim grey halls of Winterfell, this hall was painted with bright murals of sea creatures. The floor was polished wood. The tables were piled high with lamprey pies, roasted crabs, and barrels of Arbor gold.
Lord Wyman Manderly sat on a massive cushioned throne shaped like a shell.
He was an enormously fat man. His chins had chins. His belly spilled over his lap like a sack of grain. But his eyes were not fat. They were small, pale, and incredibly sharp.
He was the richest Lord in the North. And he was loyal to the Starks to the bone.
"Lord Andar!" Wyman boomed. His voice shook his belly. "The Wolf of the Woods! Welcome to my city! I heard rumors from Winterfell. They say you frightened the Queen with a thunderclap!"
Wyman laughed, a wheezing sound that turned his face red.
"A good story! Any man who frightens a Lannister is a friend of mine!"
Andar stepped forward and bowed.
"Lord Wyman. You are generous as always."
"Sit! Eat!" Wyman gestured to the table. "Try the crab. It was caught this morning. And tell me... is it true? Did the King give you gold?"
"He gave me a promise of gold," Andar said. He handed the parchment to a servant, who carried it to the fat Lord.
Wyman read it. He munched on a sausage while he read. His eyebrows went up.
"Ten thousand dragons," Wyman whistled. "Littlefinger will weep blood when he sees this. But... Littlefinger is in King's Landing. And you are here."
Wyman looked at Andar.
"You want me to cash it."
"I need liquid assets Lord Wyman," Andar said directly. "I need grain. I need high grade iron ore. I need sulfur. And most importantly I need workers. Masons. Carpenters. Men who can build."
Wyman tapped his fingers on the armrest.
"I can give you the supplies. I can give you the coin. But the Crown is slow to pay. Littlefinger plays games with money. If I give you ten thousand now, I might not see it back from the Crown for a year."
"I will pay a fee," Andar said. "Take ten percent. Give me nine thousand in value. You keep the thousand as interest."
Wyman smiled. It was the smile of a shark.
"Twenty percent."
"Fifteen," Andar countered. "And I will give you the exclusive shipping contract for the new weapons when we start selling them to the South."
Wyman froze. The sausage stopped halfway to his mouth.
"Shipping contract?"
"I am building a factory Lord Wyman. We will produce muskets. Cannons. Steel tools. We will need ships to transport them to Gulltown, to Duskendale, to King's Landing. Deepwood Keep has no fleet. White Harbor does."
Wyman put the sausage down.
He saw the potential. If these weapons were as good as the rumors said, the trade volume would be massive.
"Fifteen percent," Wyman agreed. "And the contract. Done."
He clapped his hands.
"Maester! Bring the quill! We have business!"
[Quest Complete: The Banker]
[Funds Secured: 8,500 Gold Dragons (Value in Goods and Coin)]
[Alliance Formed: House Manderly]
[Trade Route Established]
For the next three days Andar went on a spending spree that shook the markets of White Harbor.
He did not buy luxuries. He bought the raw materials of civilization.
He bought five hundred barrels of limestone.
He bought huge quantities of volcanic ash (pozzolana) from a Braavosi trader.
He bought every scrap of sulfur the apothecaries had.
But his biggest purchase was human.
The docks of White Harbor were full of refugees. People fleeing the early skirmishes in the Riverlands, or poor younger sons looking for work.
Andar set up a table in the square.
"Deepwood Keep is hiring!" Jory shouted. "Three meals a day! Warm housing! And a wage of five coppers a day!"
Five coppers was generous. Three meals was a luxury.
A crowd gathered instantly.
"What is the work?" a burly man asked. He looked like a mason.
"Building," Andar said. "We are building a new city. I need strong backs. I need stone layers."
"Is it safe?" a woman asked. "Deepwood is near the Wildlings."
Andar pointed to the Iron Squad standing guard.
"We have the thunder," Andar said. "We are the safest place in Westeros."
By the end of the day Andar had hired two hundred workers. He also bought fifty ox carts to carry the supplies.
He was not just returning to Deepwood Keep with a squad. He was returning with a caravan.
On the final day Andar visited the slave markets of a Tyroshi smuggler anchored secretly in a cove outside the city. Slavery was illegal in the North, but indentured servitude was a grey area.
Andar was looking for something specific.
"Do you have any literate men?" Andar asked the smuggler. "Maesters who broke their vows? Scribes? Alchemists?"
The Tyroshi grinned. "I have a man from Myr. He claims he is a lens maker. He says he was exiled for debt."
"Bring him."
The man was old, skinny, and squinted badly. His hands were delicate.
"Can you grind glass?" Andar asked.
"I can grind lenses that let you see the fleas on a dog," the Myrish man muttered. "But I have no tools."
"I will give you tools," Andar said. "I will give you a workshop. And if you work for me for five years I will give you your freedom and a bag of gold."
The man looked at Andar. "And what do you need lenses for in the frozen North? To look at snow?"
"To look at the stars," Andar lied. "And to build sights for my rifles."
He bought the man's contract for fifty dragons.
[New Recruit: Myrish Artisan]
[Skill: Optics / Glassworking]
[Tech Tree Unlocked: Telescopes / Advanced Sights]
The caravan left White Harbor a week later.
It was a massive snake of wagons, oxen, and people. It stretched for half a mile.
Andar rode at the front.
He looked back at his new army of workers. They were ragtag. They were dirty. But they were his.
"My Lord," Jory said, riding up beside him. "The Manderly guards at the gate... they were laughing."
"Why?"
"They said we are bringing dirt to the forest. They saw the limestone and the ash. They think you are crazy."
Andar smiled.
Limestone plus volcanic ash plus water.
The Romans used it to build the Pantheon.
"They see dirt Jory," Andar said. "I see concrete."
He patted his horse.
"When we get back we are not repairing the wooden walls. We are tearing them down."
"And building what?"
"A Star Fort," Andar said. "A fortress designed for cannon fire. A fortress that no dragon can melt and no giant can smash."
He looked at the horizon.
"Winter is coming. Let us go home and pour the foundation."
[System Notification]
[Construction Mode: Activated]
[Blueprint Available: Star Fort (Bastion Style)]
[Blueprint Available: Roman Concrete Mixer]
The Industrial Revolution was moving from the lab to the land.
.…..
Author Note
Hi guys! Thank you for reading my fanfiction.
I wanted to let you know that I'm releasing bonus chapters for Power Stones. Here are the goals:
25 Power Stones: 1 Bonus Chapters
50 Power Stones: 1 Bonus Chapters
75 Power Stones: 2 Bonus Chapters
100 Power Stones: 2 Bonus Chapters
Thanks for the support!