268 AC, Winterfell
After a moment, he said:
„Not all of your ideas are bad. You can explain better this... "four-field crop rotation"."
I nodded. Of course. I expected this.
„It's a crop rotation system, father" I began slowly, trying to sound more like a manager than a six-year-old. „Instead of leaving a field fallow or planting the same thing every year, you divide the land into four parts. Each year you cultivate something different so the land doesn't lose nutrients."
Rickard raised an eyebrow slightly. Encouragement to continue.
„You start with grain. Wheat. But... here rye or oats would work better. Then turnips — you can plant them even late in autumn, and their roots reach deeper, extracting what other plants couldn't reach."
„And then?" he threw briefly.
„Clover. It's fodder, but also... works like fertilizer. At the end — barley. Resilient. For bread. For beer. For feed. And then... you start over again."
Rickard was silent for a moment, staring at the map, then said calmly:
„We'll designate a piece of land. One or two villages. We'll test it for two to four years. We'll see if it really works. If so — we'll make it a new norm. If not — we'll return to what we know.
I nodded. I understood this approach. Caution underpinned by pragmatism."
„Additionally" he added, raising his eyes from the map — we'll send ships to Essos. To ports that Manderly trades with. Let them try to obtain various seed varieties. Maybe something that doesn't grow well in the south will be useful here, in our lands."
„I read that in Yi Ti they grow rice in marshes. It doesn't need fertile soil, just shallow water. Maybe... we could try something similar."
Rickard narrowed his eyes. Not out of doubt — rather cautious curiosity. For a moment he was silent, as if mentally transferring rice fields onto the map of the North.
„It won't hurt to try" he finally said. — We'll do a test. But don't spread it too widely. People don't like novelties that look like mud and don't provide bread."
„I understand" I nodded. — It will be a side project."
Rickard nodded, pushed one of the parchments aside and placed his hand on the map, exactly where my canal sketch began.
„Good. Let's finish the food matters." He looked me straight in the eyes. „And return to your main idea."
A new tone appeared in his voice. Not just curiosity. Something closer to... cautious appreciation.
„If it weren't for the ancestor placing hope in you" he said quietly „I would consider this plan a childish fantasy. A canal through wild lands, new ports, rebuilding routes... Too much for a boy in a nightshirt."
I smiled slightly. Northern-style. Almost imperceptibly.
„However, looking at the map and your proposal" he continued „I see more and more that this is not just a dream. It's... feasible. Difficult. Ambitious. But feasible."
He ran his finger along the line I had drawn. From Torrhen's Square, through the valleys, to White Knife.
„The key will be obtaining funds from the crown. Without their gold — we'll dig maybe a stream, but not a canal."
I nodded.
„We'll have to use southern influences" he added. „The maester recommended that I consider your engagement to a Tully daughter. In exchange for lower grain tariffs and access to their granaries."
I felt I had to react quickly. Immediately.
„Father" I interrupted „can't we use this differently? Ask the maester to convince the order that they are succeeding. That they are civilizing the northern barbarians."
Rickard narrowed his eyes. Not with anger. With curiosity.
„Continue."
„Let it look like their success" I raised my hand, pointing at the map. — "The North is opening up to the crown." "New routes, new loyalty, new marriages." They love that. Stories about how their influence changes the world.
Rickard listened carefully. I knew this was the right moment to play the marriage card.
„If the king, council, or anyone starts asking about my engagement... you can say it's impossible. That the entire North would be displeased."
I made a short pause. And then I added, calmly, matter-of-factly:
„But you can suggest that my siblings... are fine."
Rickard raised an eyebrow slightly. He did not deny it.
„And if that's not enough" I continued „we can send Ned for upbringing to the Vale. To the Arryns. Or even to the Tullys. Officially as a gesture of trust. Informal hostage-taking. Let them see that the Starks are not isolating themselves as before."
This was going to happen anyway. In the original story, Ned ended up in the Vale.
Father was silent for a long moment. Then he moved slightly away from the table and looked into the fire, as if searching for answers in the flames that the maps did not provide.
„Additionally" I added quietly „I heard from merchants that the king... is jealous of the Hand."
Rickard froze.
„Of Tywin?"
„Of his influences. Of his glory. Of the fact that every letter from the southern lords begins with "Great Tywin" instead of "Your Majesty"."I paused for a moment, and then added with the precision of a scalpel: „If we give the king a chance to shine — something Tywin did not support — he'll swallow it like a dog with a bone."
Rickard slowly turned his gaze from the fire.
„Good. Let the king get what he wants. Fame. Gratitude. "Civilization of the North.""
He was silent for a moment, and then added:
„But we... will get a canal. Routes. A port. And influences that no one expects. We'll send the plans of your ships to the White Port for testing."
Rickard nodded.
„And you're right. We need to start planning WinterTown."
This was the end of the conversation. But not the end of what had begun.
As I was leaving the solar, I told myself: the die is cast.