Greenhand Manor was a classic Riverlands estate—secluded and wealthy.
Arthur took Ser Lucas Dayne on a thorough tour of the grounds.
The terrain consisted primarily of gentle hills, interspersed with copses of trees, manicured lawns, thickets, cultivated fields, and babbling brooks. It was an incredibly pleasant place to walk.
At present, estates on either side of the Narrow Sea generally fell into three categories: agricultural manors, mining estates, and artisanal/manufacturing estates.
(The notorious "Pleasure Gardens" of Lys technically counted as estates, but they were far too niche a category.)
Agricultural manors were built on the principle of minimal environmental disruption. The only man-made structures were the stables, reservoirs, granaries, and the lord's residence.
The estate boasted apple orchards, wild grapevines, potato patches, and cornfields. Arthur hadn't yet introduced aquaculture or livestock breeding.
A gray-brown stone wall enclosed the estate. Streams crisscrossed the land, and there were three or four natural ponds that could easily be expanded into small lakes.
In this part of the Riverlands, the only wild beasts you had to worry about were wolves and the occasional shadowcat. There were no venomous snakes or deadly insects here.
Arthur's ultimate goal was to build a highly diversified, comprehensive estate that combined agriculture, aquaculture, and animal husbandry.
Given the incredible natural advantages of the Harrenhal domain and his unique "Greenhand" talent, this manor was going to be his master prototype—a super-estate.
"This place is truly blessed by the gods," Ser Lucas said, the falling star and crossed sword gleaming on his chest.
The soil was rich, the irrigation was effortless, and the crops were practically bursting with vitality. It was an agricultural holy land.
Arthur led Ser Lucas and his two companions up a forested hill to his log cabin. Perched near the crest, the cabin offered a commanding view of the surrounding landscape.
Pushing the door open, they stepped into a bright, spacious interior.
The cabin wasn't massive, consisting of a main sitting room, a bedroom, and a few closets.
The sitting room featured a long table, comfortable chairs, a plush sofa, and a row of cabinets lining the wall, above which hung a large tapestry.
Arthur had decorated the room with furniture styled after the Free Cities—luxurious sofas, padded benches, and a large oval table.
The overarching theme was comfort and tranquility.
Ser Lucas's eyes swept the room, but they instantly locked onto the massive Myrish tapestry hanging on the wall of the sitting room.
Unlike the tapestries found in traditional noble houses, which usually depicted family history or heroic ancestors, this tapestry depicted something entirely different.
It was a map of Westeros. It was the world of the Seven Kingdoms.
Tapestries could depict anything. Robert Baratheon loved tapestries of hunting scenes.
Others depicted kings, ancestors, or maps of the world. (Daenerys Targaryen, for example, would later receive a tapestry depicting the lost Valyrian Freehold).
Arthur's tapestry wasn't the largest, but it was incredibly detailed and exquisite, carrying the distinct patina of age.
A previous Lord of Harrenhal had paid a king's ransom for it, only for it to be stuffed away and forgotten in Harrenhal's massive vaults.
"I see Starfall," Ser Lucas said, pointing to a tiny dot on the extreme edge of the map.
"We may be sitting in one room, but it feels like we're looking at the entire realm," Arthur said, his eyes resting on Harrenhal's location on the map.
This tapestry was essentially a real-time strategic dashboard of Westeros. To Arthur, it was priceless.
His starting hand was Harrenhal and a farm, but the true game board was the political arena of the Seven Kingdoms.
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The Seven Kingdoms were united in name, but their environments and resources varied wildly.
As a scaling-focused [Greenhand] and Lord, Arthur had thoroughly studied the geography, hydrology, and agricultural capacity of Westeros.
The various regions of Westeros were locked in a complex, overlapping web of mutual suspicion and balanced power. No single kingdom had ever been able to completely dominate the others through conventional means.
Even massive, homegrown hegemonic powers like the Durrandons and the Hoares ultimately fell to the Dragonlords who descended from the sky.
Of the Seven Kingdoms (technically nine administrative regions), the absolute best regions for farming and scaling were the Riverlands and the Reach, followed by the Crownlands, the Vale, the Westerlands, and the Stormlands.
The Reach: The Reach possessed the largest amount of fertile land in the south, second in total area only to the North, and boasted the highest population in the realm.
It took its name from the mighty Mander River and its countless tributaries that flowed through it.
Thanks to its perfect climate, vast open plains, effortless irrigation, and incredibly rich soil, the Reach's agriculture was unmatched. Orchards and fields of crops stretched as far as the eye could see, earning it the undisputed title of the Breadbasket of the Seven Kingdoms.
The Riverlands: Compared to the Reach, the Riverlands were just as good in terms of terrain, soil quality, water resources, and irrigation. It was essentially a slightly smaller, slightly colder version of the Reach—a high-quality knockoff.
However, the Riverlands suffered from all of the Reach's weaknesses—namely, a total lack of natural geographic barriers and a highly fractured, disloyal nobility—turned up to eleven.
Furthermore, the Riverlands lacked the massive advantages the Reach possessed. The Reach had a massive coastline and two true metropolitan centers: Oldtown and Highgarden.
The Riverlands' biggest failing was its complete lack of a major seaport or a true city. The mouth of the Blackwater Rush had been carved out to form the Crownlands, and towns like Saltpans and Seagard had never developed into major economic hubs.
No cities meant no concentrated wealth and no massive tax base. This was why the Kings of the Trident had historically always been short on cash.
The Crownlands: There wasn't much to say. They held prime farmland, a solid coastline, and the ultimate mega-port: King's Landing.
Historically, this region had never been an independent kingdom; it was constantly fought over by the Riverlands, the Stormlands, and other powers.
The Crownlands' prime agricultural zones stretched along the Kingsroad to its borders, with places like Rosby producing massive yields.
When Aegon carved out the Crownlands, he secured a massive stretch of coastline and numerous ports for the Iron Throne.
While the Crackclaw Point peninsula was a poor, rugged backwater, and the Kingswood formed the southern border, the main advantage of the Crownlands was its proximity to King's Landing—you could always make a living feeding the massive capital.
The Westerlands: Though highly mountainous, the valleys were incredibly fertile, and the climate was mild and perfect for crops. They were bordered by high mountains to the east and south, and the Sunset Sea to the west.
The Westerlands were small, and their arable land wasn't as massive or concentrated as the Reach or the Riverlands, but they boasted excellent seaports and unimaginable gold and silver reserves. They held the second-largest population in the realm.
The Vale: Geographically, the Vale was practically a mirror image of the Westerlands: massive mountains combined with a long coastline. In terms of overall strength, it easily ranked third.
The Vale was isolated and protected by the Mountains of the Moon. The golden rule was: When the realm bleeds, the Vale sleeps.
Like the Westerlands, the Vale's usable land area was small, but the soil within the valleys was incredibly rich, black earth. It featured broad, slow-moving rivers and hundreds of crystal-clear lakes that mirrored the sun.
Crops thrived in the Vale. Their pumpkins grew larger than those in Highgarden, and their fruit was sweeter.
The Vale was also geographically closer to the Free Cities of Essos, giving them a massive boost in trade wealth.
The worst regions for agricultural scaling were the North, Dorne, the Iron Islands, and the Stormlands, each suffering from severe natural drawbacks.
As a result, these regions had the lowest populations in the realm, with Dorne likely sitting dead last.
The Stormlands: Despite having a massive coastline, they lacked a single good natural harbor. Their most "famous" port was the Weeping Town, which was barely a town at all.
The Stormlands were relatively small. The inland terrain was mostly harsh, rugged mountains (like the area around Summerhall), and the coast was battered and rocky (like Cape Wrath). To top it off, vast swathes of the region were covered by dense, primeval forests like the Kingswood and the Rainwood.
The soil in the Rainwood was actually quite fertile, but the constant, brutal storms and endless rain made large-scale land clearing nearly impossible, severely limiting usable acreage.
To the southwest, stretching out from the Red Mountains, was a narrow strip of territory known as the Dornish Marches.
This area acted as a brutal, effective geographic buffer, separating three kingdoms that historically hated each other: the Stormlands, Dorne, and the Reach.
The North: The absolute largest region in Westeros, comprising roughly 40% of the continent's total landmass. However, it was sparsely populated, filled with endless moors, deep forests, and snow-capped mountains.
The soil in the North could be surprisingly fertile, but the brutal climate and relatively primitive agricultural tech held them back. Northern winters were apocalyptic, and it could snow even in the height of summer.
Dorne: The hottest region in Westeros. It was rocky, mountainous, arid, and poor, boasting the only true desert on the continent. The only viable land and rivers were concentrated entirely on the eastern, western, and southern edges—primarily along the Greenblood and the Torrentine. (The Brimstone was too sulfuric to support much agriculture).
The lands along the rivers were fertile enough, and even during the longest summers, they provided just enough water to keep Dorne habitable.
The Iron Islands: An inherently barren, miserable rock. Even their iron ore—their namesake—was becoming a less valuable commodity.
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The ancient Go proverb, "Golden Edges, Silver Corners, and a Belly of Grass," described the strategic geography of Westeros perfectly.
Corner regions like the Westerlands, the Vale, and the North were infinitely better suited for defensive scaling and building regional hegemony than the "belly" regions like the Riverlands and the Crownlands, which were constantly getting punched from all sides.
Dorne was highly defensible due to its mountains, but lacked the population and resources to project power outward.
The Reach had massive wealth and manpower, but lacked hard strategic defenses.
The Riverlands? They were the soft, unprotected belly of the continent.
Sitting right in the middle of this exposed, perpetually burning crossroads, Arthur knew the only way to survive was to be more cunning, more ruthless, and more completely prepared than everyone else.