Chapter 18: Kings Landing II

Late 154 AC

Viserys had been initially surprised at his brother's appearance at the Small Council meeting moons ago. Even if there hadn't been much to add to the discussion, he'd bid his brother to stay for a different matter. As it turned out, Baelor's wish to be fostered had sparked something in his withdrawn brother, perhaps some measure of kingliness that saw the benefits. After Baelor had departed for Storm's End, there had been consideration of fostering Daeron and his siblings with various lords within the realm. His children were already too old for fostering, with Aemon having already joined the Kingsguard the year before and Naerys, having married Aegon, had given birth during a troubling labor at the end of the last year to his first grandchild, named Daeron.

His brother Aegon, for once in his life, had suddenly been adamant almost to the point of aggression that the rest of his children be fostered with those who had aided his family during the Dance. Deciding where to send them and when had been rather difficult between himself, his brother and his goodsister queen. Daeron was the heir, and after such a trying time, keeping the heir in Kings Landing was deemed to be the safest means of keeping the throne secure. Daeron also did not want to be fostered, which was taken into account only because sending him anywhere with another Kingsguard, as they had with Baelor, would begin to compromise their safety within the Red Keep, or so Viserys believed, having endured the Secret Siege decades ago. He would remain in King Landing, but live with various Crownland lords for a few weeks at a time every so often, to better learn the lands of his most immediate vassals.

Daena was not quite old enough to be fostered, being only nine, and despite her rather immature objections, was to be fostered with the Tullys within three years' time. Rhaena and Elaena were not yet old enough to be considered either, being only seven and four respectively. However, it had been determined that Rhaena, upon reaching two and ten, would foster with the Arryns in the Vale, and Elaena, with the Starks in the North at that same age. With how distant that time was, everyone felt it a safe guide, one they could change if needed. They had told none of their vassals this as well, just in case the plans needed to be changed, in order to avoid offending the loyal houses.

Were his own children of similar age, Viserys felt that fostering Aegon somewhere might have helped to curb his excesses, such as with the Lannisters or even the Tyrells. Yet he hadn't, and his son was already known as an indulger of whatever passions struck him, even at such a young age. The folly of youth, some said, but he knew better, and hoped Prince Daeron would not fall into the same pitfalls of his cousin.

Now, moons after Baelor's departure for Storm's End, a courier had arrived bearing a large scroll, the seal denoting it as that of House Wytch but with an additional signet showing the sigil of House Targaryen. After the courier's story and the clearly unique signet convinced him of the legitimacy of the scroll's origins, he'd opened it and perused its contents, expecting much of the same pious scribblings. The message was definitely Baelor's, his handwriting was unmistakable to the man who had taught him much of how to write outside of his maesterly lessons. It was the neatly simple style that of a boy whose foci was still spoken in hushed whispers of derision and jest in the court's various echelons. Life away from the Red Keep would likely be good for the boy, allowing him to find himself rather than be kept locked away from the rest of the world, as Viserys knew all too well.

However, as he'd read the message further and further, he felt the usual concern for his nephew tinge with a great deal of confusion. Not since the departure of his Rogare wife for Lys over a decade ago had he felt at such a loss for words. How… how was any of this possible? Baelor's writing was as clear as any other he had sent before, yet seemed filled with naught but strange tangents, talks of bows, and by the Gods, what was this about making a friend? His nephew had no friends, save perhaps for his older cousin Aemon, whose piety the young prince was said to have found comforting.

Not long after he'd finished and filed it away for later, just in case others wished to see it, he joined the family at their private dining hall, where a great deal of food was laid out as per the usual. This was one of the few times most of their family was gathered for a private meal, to the point where it was practically a special occasion. Even his brother the king was there, for once, though he wasn't eating much, as per the usual.

"I have heard mention of a courier bearing a message from Baelor, goodbrother," his goodsister Queen Daenaera Targaryen nee Velaryon asked after spooning a small bit of mashed peas into little Elaena's mouth. Some noble ladies might find the queen doing such a thing beneath them, but this was a private dinner, and the queen could dote on her children however she wanted then. "How is my son? This is his first letter since Lord Baratheon's progression began a few moons before."

He didn't quite know how to immediately respond to that. "He… he writes that he is well," he said, deciding to start vague. This could be a delicate matter if not handled appropriately, especially with him and his brother's talks of betrothing Baelor and Daena. "It would appear he has taken a liking to some of the Stormlander dishes he has been served, though I'm afraid I have never heard of 'wheelers' before."

"It is good he is eating, I worried he was too thin for his journey on horseback. I am glad to hear he is safe, the troubles along the Dornish border bring me a great deal of worry," she replied. "Lord Baratheon remains with his Marcher Lords, dealing with this threat of some Dornish bandits?"

"Indeed, though he has yet to call any banners to deal with the problem. The slippery Dornish give him trouble, but it is more of an issue with finding or trapping them, than dealing with their limited numbers. Thankfull, the prince has remained far from the region of trouble, in a holdfast known as 'Stormhall' during this time. By his own writings, it would seem that he is quite enjoying his time in the Stormlands, despite being so far from Storm's End."

"Is that not far to the west of the sea?" Daeron asked. "Stormhall, that is. Towards the most interior regions, between the Reach to the north and the Dornish Marches to the south?"

"Indeed, nephew, it is perhaps some of the better farmland the Stormlands possesses, simply because much of the harder rain and winds that scar or damage other croplands are not quite so fierce that far inland. The landscape is far less rocky or filled with trees, instead having great grasslands similar to portions of the Reach. Your brother's message does mention a great deal of additional farmland is in the process of being created by the local lord."

"How much?" King Aegon suddenly asked.

"The message does not say, but it mentions it stretches well over the horizon, past the reach of the settlement of Lowhill. He describes it as rather picturesque, like a painting, one in which Lowhill sits nestled within, its sept stretching into the sky. Baelor also mentions it is coming along quite nicely. According to this, brother, he has taken to visiting it near once a week."

"That doesn't sound like Bael to me," young Daena said. "He's always off praying or talking to septons, I would have thought he'd live in the place all the time."

"That's not the only strange thing," Viserys said, seeing his opportunity to ease into things. "He has apparently also taken up the bow."

The entire table went silent at that, if only for a moment, but it was a silence deeper than the ruins of the Dragonpit. Had he not read it in Baelor's handwriting, he'd have not believed it himself.

"Come again?" Daeron asked after a moment.

"Baelor mentions that he has taken up the yew bow, as it was a gift from his host, young Lord Wytch," Viserys said. "He is apparently making remarkable progress, as he writes young Lord Wytch has told him, in the few moons he has been there. The master at arms is a tough but fair man as well, he says, and has ensured he knows as much about the bow itself as how to use it."

"I… I'd never have thought him capable of it," his own son, Aegon, said after drinking a good amount of wine. "How did a pissant Stormlord manage to get the Little Septon to pick up anything other than the Seven Pointed Star?"

"Lord Wytch is the primary reason behind Baelor wishing to foster in the Stormlands in the first place, son. With the building of the Lowhill sept, the prince wished to see one that was not only new, but being made of this new 'Wytch-stone' the merchantfolk have spoken of in passing. It would seem that your cousin's time in the Stormlands might have curbed some of his more… excessive dedication to the doctrine of the Seven."

"I'll believe it when I see it," young Daena said. "There's no way Bael's gotten interested in a bow. He doesn't have the arms for it, the master at arms here even said so!"

"None of us start with the strength for it, sister," Prince Daeron said thoughtfully. "It is unlikely, yes, but not impossible that something about it piqued his interest."

"That is not all," Viserys continued. "According to his letter, the prince has begun instruction in the ways of the sword, but mentions that he finds himself poor at it."

"Well, that makes sense, he's starting a little later than most pages do," his son Aemon said, for once eating with his family. It'd taken a great deal of persuasion, mostly Naerys' pleas, to have him eat with the family instead of standing off to the side as a guard. Even the other Kingsguard had told him to spend some time with them as family, and not as one of their order. "It would take some time for him to learn the basics, even if his enthusiasm is high."

"He has written he is determined to learn at least something of it, but mentions that he prefers learning the way of the axe."

Stunned silence again. "What, like that of an Ironborn?" his son Aegon asked.

"Or a Northman?" the king added.

"He didn't specify, but does mention learning to use a staff as well."

This was all very curious. Baelor hadn't so much as touched a weapon in the training yard in his time in the Red Keep, no matter how often Daeron had badgered him or his cousins asked while he watched them train. Now, somehow, he was not only learning the bow, and learning the basics of the sword, but also the axe and staff. Just how was Lord Wytch managing to do this? Lord Baratheon had written earlier that the prince bore no more eagerness with weapons within Storm's End than in the Red Keep.

"This is most unlike my son, and I do not know how to feel about this," Queen Daenaera said as she fed little Elaena again. "I am glad that he has taken up the mantle of learning the ways of war, but it is so unlike him that I fear something has happened that he isn't telling us of. This Lord Wytch, what do we know of their house and its lord?"

"House Wytch was founded upon the death of the bastard hedge knight Kennon Storm during the Dance," Viserys replied. "Rumor has it Kennon had the title given to his son, Morden, who named the house, in service for a great deed that ended in his death. It is also rumored that Kennon was a bastard son of a Baratheon, though there is no known evidence of this other than a close resemblance to Royce Baratheon, save for Valyrian eyes the lord inherited from his mother's Lyseni ancestry."

"So they are a new house, and Lord Wytch, if I recall, is only four and ten," Prince Daeron said. "His father, killed by what was suspected to be bandits, but was discovered to be his jealous neighbor?"

"Lord Craggner, yes, whose house nearly died out before his wife was shown to be with child," his son Aemon said with a scowl. "A despicable lord, to kill your neighbor over such petty squabbles. Surely the Seven blessed young Lord Wytch with great strength, the rumor is he killed the man with one blow in battle after the other lord broke the King's Peace."

"Be that as it may, I am not certain worry is needed at this moment," Viserys said. "Baelor's writing notes that he has become rather fond of his time with Casper of House Wytch, as he apparently learning a great deal of both managing a fief and building infrastructure. Lord Wytch, according to Baelor, appears wiser than his years and is all too willing to converse with the prince on whatever he wishes. He also seems to be invested in aiding the prince in his own goals, rather than treating him as a means of advancing himself, though Baelor does not mention what those goals may be. I would say, my king, your son has found himself a friend."

"That's a first," his son Aegon mumbled, before Daeron gave him a glare. "What? It's true!"

"That is my brother, cousin, and if this is his first true friend, then should we not be happy for him? It has always been hard for Bael to find a common interest with others outside of the Seven. Most of the other children in the Red Keep avoid him for it. Whatever this "Casper" is doing to bring some sort of normalcy to him, we should commend the lord for it, not denigrate his actions."

"I am curious," the king said, ignoring the bickering between the young adults, "if my son wrote anything of his learning of infrastructure being related to the farming mentioned earlier?"

"The letter mentioned some newer tools made in Wytch lands were en route, according to the courier there have been delays due to poor weather rendering the Kingsroad through the Kingswood nigh impassable for some time. According to the prince, some of these will be of a great boon to both builders and farmers, though he did write that a more detailed letter would follow. Along with these will come a great list of recipes for our cooks, courtesy of Lord Wytch, of foods Baelor thought we would be willing to sample."

"Such as?" the queen asked.

"Well, other than 'wheelers', he mentioned something called 'whipped cream' for desserts…"

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Janyce Wytch II

Whilst her duties were far, far less than they had been during the time her husband was lord, there was still plenty to do even with her son running their lands. The household staff were always in a state of flux, with some falling ill, some falling pregnant, a few even suffering injuries, and others passing away, usually of old age these days. Most of those had long since left this world, may the Seven watch over them, so keeping an accurate list of their staff and the duties they completed usually only needed to account for the sick or with child. It was rare that any were injured enough to cease working, as her son had ensured they could still accomplish other tasks whilst resting their injured leg or arm or whatnot.

Another part of her duties focused on Stormhall itself, ensuring that the renovations and additions were both completed on time and with the greatest degree of craftsmanship available. The additional guest quarters were underway, with the existing ones being refurbished for more lordly and important visitors. A great deal of the kitchens had been moved to a newer, larger area, and whilst the hall would likely never expand again, the additional ovens, cooking pits and larder storage would certainly help keep any amount of guests fed and content. The ice box, sadly, could not be expanded in its current location, given its need for thick walls and depths within the castle, but it was still large enough to fill with a great deal of food if needed.

Whilst technically under the purview of their maester to some extent, Janyce was also greatly involved in the finances of their home and lands, especially in regards to the records and taxes both levied and collected. One of her greatest contributions, with a slight tweaking by her son, was a new method of keeping track of their records, of which thankfully there were not quite as many as there would be in an older Stormlands house. 'Double entry bookkeeping' her son had called her creation, which certainly sounded better than 'twice written records on taxes' one of her kin had suggested. Now, although there hadn't been much waste since her son's rise to lordship, she'd found enough errors to send more than one tax collector out of their lands or to 'encourage' them to pay back what they had stolen, with interest of course. Any that remained after such fees were under close scrutiny now, as their 'thefts' had been small enough to more readily forgive than the banished ones.

Alongside this, and unlike a great deal of other houses, her son gave her the duties of managing the kennels, specifically ensuring the sale and transportation of the guard dogs raised and trained by Stannis the kennel master. Whilst some ladies might find it a task beneath them, she ensured a good deal of coin from the sale of the dogs to richer smallfolk and merchants passing through Lowhill, as well as to kin further in the Stormlands.

Speaking of which, whilst her son was touring the new fields far to the east with their princely guest, some of her merchant kin had arrived in Lowhill. Bidding them welcome to her private study, the one her son had allocated specifically for her own duties, she had one of the maids pour them a small decanter of brandy for them to sip. Peach, if she recalled, made from the fruits of the saplings that had survived their journey from the Reach with their smallfolk immigrants.

Her elder siblings had branched out rather well, even before her elevation to a lady, and it showed. Before her sat several nephews, each representing a different branch of their expanding mercantile family. Were they all Braavosi, they might have one day become a major player in that realm's politics.

"Aunt," the eldest said with a polite nod. "Our thanks for having us. We have been meaning to come and discuss matters with you, but with Morden's death, some of our business partners wished to wait for things to stabilize before going forth with our proposals."

"A wise decision, even if a bit rude on their part, but there was nothing you do about it," she replied, knowing full well that if they had gone ahead, without support, some of them might have lost everything on one bad investment. While most merchant families that worked with her own tended to be careful, and only dealt with risk when they absolutely needed to, any family that was seen as moving ahead without concern or planning was viewed by others as foolish, perhaps even careless, and could lose both allies and power from a lack of support. Whilst not near as rich, prestigious or inherently dangerous as the politics of merchant families in Essos, especially Braavos, many merchant families of Westeros were not without their own shady dealings or political games. "What brings you here?"

"Many of our kin have become settled in these lands, for their trade centers on food, woolen clothing, and the various products your son's lands have begun to produce in earnest," the leader replied. Even if they were cousins to Casper, referring to him as 'her son' rather than 'our cousin' was just one more way to distinguish their lordly kin from their mercantile ones. "They see it as safe markets, as there is always a demand for food, and they've always found reliable clients for their stock. We few, however, have seen the wider world, much as you did in your youth, and wish to expand operations elsewhere."

"You wish to form company?"

"Indeed," another said, retrieving a piece of parchment from his rucksack and handing it over to her. "By your elevation to a lady, retroactively, many of our kin have been given a greater deal of freedom than some of our mercantile competitors. We'd never say we were nobles, yes, but since your elevation to a lady, and since our cousin is quickly growing into one of the more prosperous and noted nobles of this part of the Stormlands, we've found opportunities coming more readily to us than previously attainable with such ease. A great deal of our partners, both through marriage and a good history of dealings, have taken note of this, and feel it would be a worthwhile investment, should you find it agreeable."

Janyce read through the document, her knowledge on economics returning like an old friend after a long journey as she did so. This was a worthwhile thing to create, as it would not only open up further markets for the goods and services of her son's enterprises, but it would also bring with it the spreading of the Wytch name, and with that came prestige that martial valor could not attain. Her son, bless him, seemed to have inherited Morden's skill with arms as well as her aptitude for numbers, yet there was still much more she could teach him on the latter, especially on the intricacies of trade with other realms. So far, the vast majority of his exports had been to other lords within the Stormlands, but with this, that could easily expand to the other kingdoms, or even further.

"It all seems to be in good order, but some of the items in question are not yet ready to be exported in sufficient quantities to turn a greater profit. The brandy and other spirits are still in the process of being made in sufficient quantities and are being aged appropriately. Casper has told me that no 'proper' whiskey is good enough for export until it has aged at least three years. As for other items, the amber from Timberstone is still in relatively small quantities, mostly for local usage, and we've only begun the process of growing more herbs and spices that are available to us."

"We are willing to wait on the more specialty items," the first said. "Our primary goal is to establish our presence in the markets of the Reach and the Crownlands. For the Reach, we would purchase their fruits and bring them to Lowhill, where we would then sell them back as the spirits Lord Wytch distills. We also have a more immediate opening in Kings Landing, with which we could begin selling food and local herbs and spices, but we need more carts to haul it, as we will likely be selling out of it faster than we can bring it in at our current pace."

"My son has cartwrights in both Timberstone and the Wytchmill crafting as many as they can. See to them of attaining more carts."

"We also wish to begin a foray into trade with Dorne, but the road through the Boneway is too treacherous for both beast and rider. The heat is enough to ruin much that may be brought through, and even if not for the bandits in the area, the harsh sun can kill just as easily. Even if it were not so difficult, and we were able to buy goods there and transport them back to be processed, our return destinations with other Wytch goods would be Plankytown or Sunspear, and we've no ships for such ventures."

"The cost of a cog or merchanter is no small price, especially given the costs of hiring and paying a crew and captain. My son has spoken of trade opportunities by sea, but as we are so far inland from any sort of port, we've not given it any serious thought. Even if we were to do so, Casper has expressed interest in trade with Tarth and few others."

"Surely he sees the potential profit in steering our trade towards markets with little access to our goods at the prices we can offer?" one of the younger men asked.

"Of course he does," Janyce replied. "It is the issue of production that has stymied such talk. He feels, and I agree with such an assessment, that we do not yet produce enough of our more unique specialty goods to warrant trading so distantly, with the added risk of ship upkeep and loss from storms or pirates. We currently have enough for trade within the Stormlands, and perhaps our nearest kingdom's neighbors, but aside from that, we've yet to achieve peak production. There are too many variables involved to yet attempt such a feat, and our house did not progress as it had through needless risk."

"But he would support our trade company?"

"Indeed he might, though I must speak with him on the matter. It would be best for us to focus on the nearest centers of trade, outside of Wytch lands," she said, motioning to a map behind her. "If not by ship, then by land, and through that we will accrue the capital needed to look into investing in trade ships of our own. We should seek to expand into the towns that support Bronzegate, Storm's End itself, Tumbleton, Bitterbridge, Kings Landing, perhaps even the town under the Whiteheads and Highgarden if our caravans can travel so far and turn a profit. We must move slowly but surely, establish ourselves, and build our reputation as one of both quality and reliability."

"Such as?" one of the others asked.

"For one, no watering down the alcohol, Casper said he would personally flog the man who did such a thing," she said. "The spirits being distilled have been determined to be of a nominal cost for producing, given the bounty of harvests we have had, and the profit margin will be great as a result, and greater the further from out center of production it is carried. There will be no need to try and stretch the amount we have to try and make more coin, I have been assured. For the Reach, they already have brandy, but nothing like Casper makes it, and in Kings Landing and even Storm's End, I doubt they have ever heard of whiskey."

Her nephews nodded at that. Being one of the sole sources of such a specialty product was nothing new, but would be incredibly lucrative. It would all work towards an end goal of eventually expanding their trade company to include ships would take a great deal of time, years perhaps. Even then, trade was no assured thing, as there were few laws regulating it outside of the obvious tolls, taxes and tariffs, and even a wealthy trade network could suffer from the likes of storms, disease, and war, to name a few maladies. Her son was adamant they take no greater risks than necessary, especially when expanding to new markets. 'Quality over quantity, even if quantity may sometimes be a quality all its own,' he had said.

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Kingsguard II

Alliser Thorne was not a man to make many mistakes. Such faults had, he felt, been beaten out of him in the training yard in his youth and further expelled through a rigorous self-discipline he had only further honed as a Kingsguard. He was sure that when he made a decision, he weighed all the options beforehand, and went through with what felt not only just, but with the greatest chance of success. On occasion it did not work, but the successful actions far, far outnumbered the wrong ones.

However, in this case, he felt he could admit he had been not entirely correct about the character of Lord Wytch.

The young man, for indeed Alliser now saw that he was, was not like other lords he had known thus far. The young man was mature for his age, yes, but still possessed a boyish enthusiasm that he would do well to retain in his later years. There was little guile in his words, his earnest truths rather refreshing compared to some of the more flowery words and veiled insinuations back in Kings Landing. Yet there was little of the false bravado so eminent in other more boisterous lords, almost as if Casper had nothing to prove to anyone who did not see him for what he was doing. Even if he tended to enjoy overhearing such politicking words, just in case they proved to be a threat to his liege or the royal family, Alliser felt calm that he needn't worry out here.

That was the other thing. Lord Wytch cared about his land, perhaps more than any lord he had met. Most other lords did care to some degree, as their lands and the smallfolk were what gave them their wealth and power, but the young lord was invested in ensuring his lands were thriving, and if not that, at least of some use. He'd put a stiff penalty on the hunting of aurochs, stating that with so few left, it would be better to leave them be, hopefully so that their numbers could increase once more. Animal waste and village garbage would be placed far from the town and any water sources, to avoid the ill humors and the pestilence it brought. Soil too rocky for farming would be turned to pasture, and anything unfit for even that would be planted with trees, both for future firewood but also to serve as windbreaks from the powerful eastern winds.

Most smallfolk tended to give their lords their proper deference, usually fearful in nature, simply because such men and women held power over their very livelihoods. When Casper arrived in a village and spoke with the masters of it, usually the blue-hairs that had known the land longer than any in the party had been alive, there was no sense of polite humor, of merely hearing the words and nodding along.

Casper listened to his smallfolk, and they in turn listened to him. Some seemed to bow to him out of respect, not reflex, and some of those of weaker constitutions, usually young mothers he noticed, asked for him to bless their children. Some had approached with fear, usually in the midst of a marriage, and while Alliser knew the First Night had been abolished almost a century ago, he suspected some still partook in it when they could. Yet the young lord instead gave a blessing upon the marriages themselves, reminding the newlyweds that the gods fashioned humans for love, and that with a strong foundation of it between husband and wife, they could handle all of life's obstacles.

He'd thought it a bit naïve, but given that most of these smallfolk couldn't read nor would likely travel more than a few days walking in their lives, he'd said nothing of what dangers lay beyond their village cottages to worry about. Casper must have noticed, however, as he'd said later that the smallfolk needed all the hope they could have, given the perils of their world. With that, Alliser could agree, and noted how Baelor observed so much of this with a curiosity that bordered on excitement.

If Daeron were to be even a decent king, for none knew if he would be until he became one, Baelor might be one of the better Hands to serve at this rate. Case in point, as they looked over a great field of field corn, the smallfolk harvesting it in great bundles that other groups were separating into different wagons, Baelor turned to Casper.

"How many fields are you looking to have?"

Lord Wytch shrugged. "As many as needed, my prince. As of now, I'm afraid I've lost count, but will continue to make more until I've no more smallfolk to attend to them. Even if I were to triple the amount of fields under plow, I still have so much more land than I would know what to do with. Eventually, unless the smallfolk have a great number of children for the next generation, my greatest setback for increasing anything will be the population of my lands. The Stormlands are rather sparse, perhaps not so much as the North, but they are not exactly populous. We do not even have a city, merely towns of varying sizes."

"It takes a charter from the king to allow for a city," Baelor said. "I wonder why no Baratheon has yet to ask for one?"

"There likely has never been a need for one, my prince, or the constant wars before the rise of your family managed to keep the realm from prospering enough to make one," Alliser said. Disease could have also played a factor, but decided not to mention that. "A city represents a great deal of power for the lord that controls it, both for the number of smallfolk that fall under their jurisdiction and the amount of trade that can take place. Take for example one of your father's former regents and Hand, Torrhen Manderly. His family were originally of the Reach, and although there is speculation on the specifics, as it happened a long while ago, they wished to turn their then-seat of Dunstonbury into a city. Such an act would have greatly shifted the power of the region in their favor, especially at the expense of their rivals within the Reach."

"So unless a city in the Stormlands were to be held by a Baratheon, or perhaps a Targaryen, it could be a threat to the power structure of the entire Stormlands," Casper said. "Even if it didn't upset anything, it would still exert a disproportionate amount of pressure upon the land, perhaps driving trade and thus commerce away from the coastlines, unless it were a coastal city of course. Smallfolk might migrate to the city to look for work, much like what happened in Kings Landing, meaning other areas would lose prosperity and the workforce available. If it were an interior settlement, it might even upset the trade networks reaching to Essos, who often buy Westerosi raw goods such as wool at low rates, process them, and then sell them back at a markup."

"Thus leading to a potential cooling of relations between Westeros and other trading powers, especially those whose trading power blocs could exert a great deal of pressure upon their leaders," Baelor said, eyes wide in surprise. "I never thought of it quite like that. Mother always said that Spicetown would have been a trade city all its own were it not for the Dance."

"It likely could be rebuilt, but such settlements take a great deal of time to develop, as they are usually dependent on trade, and not simply farming, to make their due," Casper said. "However, shipbuilding and such trade is beyond my purview, being so far from the coast. Let us return to Stormhall, my prince, we should be back just in time for supper."

"What will there be to eat?" the prince asked.

"Oh, I'm sure the cooks will have something good waiting for us," Lord Wytch said as they turned their horses away from the harvests before them. "Sweet corn dunked in melted butter and sprinkled with salt sounds good right about now, and the smallfolk are still harvesting much of the other crops, so we'll have plenty of options. Have you ever tried mutton before?"

"Some during my time at other Stormlord holdfasts. A bit tough for my tastes, but the lords may have just had it overcooked rather than risk feeding a prince rarer meats."

"Well, I'm sure we could convince the cooks to try smoking it for tomorrow's breadwytch options."