Chapter 276 - My SI Stash #76 - Just Another SI by JustAnotherFan217 (GoT) (2/2)

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 g_r_o_a_n_e_d 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 c_h_e_s_ts 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.