It's been roughly a moon and a half since the King passed through Moat Cailin on his way to Winterfell to name a Hand.
Sadly I hadn't been here to meet him. Rice paddies of all things kept my attention on the Eastern side of the Neck, close to one of the many Fever River tributaries.
Crazy crannogmen Lords and their old ways. These guys are more stubborn than the rocks in the Fever river I swear. And I don't mean the small ones the current can drag but… I don't quite know how to end that metaphor, bigger rocks? That sounds boring. Well whatever, it's a done deal but only thanks to Lord Reed. I have to send a gift in thanks, he's been quite helpful these past moons.
Now the first paddies were set, after they yield I hope to convince more of the Neck lords to set more canals and more rice fields.
(Yes Lord Greengood, it is costly but look at this yield, this will feed us and the excess can be traded either to our northern neighbors or across the Narrow Sea, the initial investment comes entirely from Stark coffers, the payment plan is extremely generous.)
Gods damned lords, the land wasn't even in use, hell the guy approved the initial plan almost instantly. But Lords gotta lord, amirite fellas.
I just realized I need to double whatever Lord Reed's gift was going to be.
"Ryk, remind me to double the gift I'm giving Lord Reed." I said to my right hand man's right hand man who happened to be on my right.
The guy, one and a half inches taller than me, shoulders like an ox, gave me a somewhat confused look. Hatten, to his left, gave him a pat on the shoulder.
"I'll write it down Lord Steward," he said as if apologizing to Ryk.
Oi, what was that apology for Hatten?
Whatever, Hatten is a competent man, if somewhat disrespectful, I'm sure I'll have a note on my desk come the morrow.
I gave my aide a side glance, I've known him for a long while. Lanky, mid twenties, currently he has about half an inch over my head, broad nose and sharp eyes with an uncanny talent for logistics.
Talent that, is related to the matter at hand.
The Kings' party was spotted earlier today. As any proper (and not proper) northern child, I grew up hearing the songs and stories about Robert's Rebellion. The man is a legend.
It all started a decade and a half back. Well not precisely, the Iron Throne had been an absolute mess way before the Rebellion. But, for the sake of brevity, let's say that it all reached a boiling point a decade and a half back.
Rhaegar, the crown prince, kidnapped Lyanna Stark, my aunt, in the Riverlands. The exact moment Brandon Stark, her brother and heir to Winterfell, learned of Lyanna's disappearance… The die had been cast.
Brandon rode to the capital to ask for her sister's whereabouts, him and his companions were arrested on the spot. The Mad King summoned the fathers of Brandon and his companions to answer for the 'crimes' of their sons. Rickard Stark answered the summon and went to King's Landing, only to be hanged by the armpits to be slowly cooked inside his armor. To add insult to injury, Brandon was there, tied by the neck and forced to watch his father's cruel demise.
But even then, that was not the whole depravity of the situation, no.
I have to repeat myself, Brandon was tied by the neck, watching as his father was slowly dying in one of the most painful ways imaginable. The fucking Mad King ordered a sword to be put just out of Brandon's reach and Brandon suffocated himself trying to reach that sword.
I can not begin to imagine Brandon's rage and Rickard's pain.
After that, the Starks, Baratheons and Arryns rose in rebellion.
But as I was saying, Robert Baratheon.
Not only was he the face of a rebellion against the centuries long Targaryen dynasty, not only did he commanded the armies of three and a half of the seven kingdoms with little to no issue, not only did he fought and survived in the battle of the Bells while gravely injured, he crossed swords with the fearsome Jon Connington with half his guts hanging out of his belly.
I may not believe that last part, but the song sure sounds better with that verse.
Where was I going? Ah yes, the guy personally vanquished the kidnapper-rapist dragon prince Rhaegar in single combat at the height of the war in the Battle of the Trident. Robert hit the Prince's chest so hard, that his plate armor caved in and the rubies in his chest spilled all along the now called Ruby Ford.
Absolute legend.
Except of course for his fabled reaction at seeing the fate of Rhaegar's wife and children…
Only once did I hear Father talk about it.
I was eight maybe nine name days old, I had climbed on one of the many trees in the godswood of Winterfell, when Eddard Stark got himself in front of the heart tree and began praying. At first I thought nothing of it, at least until Father started whispering, I could only hear bits and pieces: 'no child deserves that', 'mother… her child' and 'laughter in my nightmares'.
I felt like an intruder, I was witnessing something private and it wasn't right.
I started climbing down, slowly, silent as a breeze, until I heard sobs.
There he was, Lord Stark, the Quiet Wolf, one of the most powerful men in the continent, a man. A father crying for the children of his enemy. My father.
I went to his side and hugged him until the breeze dried whatever needed to be dried.
I had to take a long breath of fresh air to rid myself of those thoughts.
And so, the King's warhammer.
I pray the gods, the King carries that thing with him, I want to see the warhammer that supposedly needs the strength of a grown man to be barely lifted.
The very same warhammer that Robert Baratheon swung in battle with but a hand.
And that's the real reason I was giddy. I knew, from my first life, that warhammers weight similar to swords, only the balance of the weight is altered. They have to be that way in order to be wielded in battle, for if a warhammer is HEAVY, after a couple of swings your arms will be spent.
And so, I wanted to see if there was some kind of magical shenanigans involved.
Magic, that's the first thing that really shocked me back in my childhood.
Wait, you're a reincarnator and the first thing that shocks you is magic? Shouldn't it be the, I don't know, the fact that you are alive?
Well yeah, but it doesn't sound as good as if magic is the first thing that shocks me right?
Anyways.
Back in my childhood Old Nan used to tell stories of wildlings, giants, the Others, ice spiders, the Others mounted on ice spiders and the Wall.
At first I thought of her as a typical granny telling stories to naughty children for them to behave. Only, her stories were way cooler than my first grandma, sorry Grammanna.
Things changed, however once I started visiting Winterfell's library. Turns out the Wall is really 'tall as a mountain'. One hundred leagues long and over seven hundred feet tall and made entirely of ice is not possible. Or at least it wouldn't be with the rules from my old world.
After that I started paying attention to Old Nan's stories more. I even started transcribing them, with sound effects included for realism of course.
At that point I still had some doubts. Maybe the Wall is not entirely made of ice, maybe there are rocks, granite or whatever in its core but throughout the centuries ice settled over rock.
Those doubts lasted up until I met my first magic sword.
It was shortly after news of the burning of the Lannister fleet reached Winterfell. Robb and I were eating our 'stolen' mutton pies from the kitchens when we went to the godswood, there we found Father cleaning Ice. He let us hold the sword and swing it once.
I have to admit tho, maybe letting your six name days children swing a magic sword with an impossibly sharp edge is not the safest parenting I've witnessed, but it sure makes up for it with coolness points.
I'll never forget that swing. The sword was lighter than any of the training yard's swords, the swing in itself made me feel like I was cutting individual air particles. Words fail to describe how that single swing felt at the time.
That day an irrefutable fact was engraved in my soul, Magic exists.
We waited for a few more minutes until the King's retinue was visible to us from the courtyard, at the front I could see Father riding along the King and two of his Kingsguard.
I took a last look around me before they arrived.
The Moat's walls were new, thanks to Winterfell Steelworks. Steel production in pre-industrial era quantities while in a medieval setting is highly profitable.
Cementation is a relatively simple process and after a process of trial and error, and a pseudo fortress-town with watermills powered by the White Knife close to Wintertown, we became the steel capital of Westeros.
We got so good at making wrought iron and steel that there was a point in which the iron mines weren't enough.
Suffering from success.
The retinue was getting closer, at around one hundred feet front riders accelerated.
Two figures who made history with their own hands, riding merrily towards the fortress under my purview.
A fortress that was barely more than ruins a mere year ago but the timely invention of concrete made the refurbishing efforts easier and faster. Don't get me wrong, the Moat wasn't to the level to comfortably host a King, it's just that, currently it was the best option (the only option really) to allow the King's retinue some rest before the arduous journey south.
Everyone kneeled to receive the King.
The Lord of the Seven Kingdoms vaulted off his mount with an agility that betrayed his form, his very round form.
"Get on your feet lads," he bellowed. "Once again Ned, I have to say I'm impressed with the Northern quickstone. Ha! To think that this is the same Moat I've seen in my youth."
"Moat Cailin is yours. Your Grace."
The large retinue came in fast. Knights in Lannister red and Baratheon gold, dismounting on the courtyard. It was then that I saw it, a double decked metal-gilded monstrosity of a carriage. Had I not listened to my most paranoid architect and refused to expand our northern gates, the Queen's exercise in vanity wouldn't have passed through.
Apparently I couldn't keep a poker face, since Hatten gave me an elbow and an amused look.
Fuck you too buddy. Why didn't any of the guys told me of the monstrosity that needed forty horses to move?
Having a look around me gave me the answer. These fuckers wanted to see my reaction. Joke's on you fellas, I'm making you dig canals for this offense!
The Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Cersei Lannister and her golden children got out of the carriage. As per protocol I immediately knelt, hopefully she wouldn't be too displeased due to my bastardry status. I didn't dare to raise my eyes while kissing her ring for the rumours about Her Grace's hate toward bastards.
I could see her lingering for a bit before moving out towards the apartments.
I felt the sweet release of the tension in my shoulders. Well, now that that is done and I still have a head, I got up and found Father smiling at me.
"Lord Stark, it's good to see you."
"Aye Jon, I see you've done a good job with the Moat," he started walking me to the Main Hall where the King was already going. "Are all the gates this big?" there was a slight disapproval in his tone.
"No Lord Stark, only the northern gate. My chief architect argued that we would never have to defend from the north and it would be good for moving supplies in and out faster," I tried to gauge his reaction, but as always Father's face was made of ice. "I was still doubtful, so I wrote to Lords Reed and Manderly for advice."
"It's good to rely on trustworthy and experienced Lords, you did well." Father said while putting a hand on my shoulder, which in Eddard's non-verbal language means you did great, I'm proud.
I was stunned for a second, Father's smile widened and I swear to the gods that I saw his eyes soften in color for a second.
"T-thank you Fa- I mean, your words honor me Lord Stark" I gave a small bow because it's what protocol says. No, it was not to hide the redness on my cheeks, what are you talking about.
"Well then, Lord Steward of Moat Cailin, I wonder what meals you have prepared for your guests?"
"Well, it won't compare to a Winterfell feast but I assure you Lord Stark, it will be filling," I lied a little, I did everything in my limited power to make this as close to a proper feast as possible.
I procured myself some oil, butter and lard. Bought mutton, pork, duck and pork. Got fresh potatoes from our closest fields and personally tutored our cooks. If it was good enough for Napoleon it should be enough for figures of legend like Robert Baratheon, Eddard Stark and Ser Barristan Selmy right?
It has to be… Right?
Shit, the anxiety was about to hit me. No matter I will hit me first.
Father gave me one of his signature dry looks once he saw me slapping my cheeks with both hands.
I responded with an equally dry look.
The tension lasted little, since Ryk clenched the bridge of his nose let out a groan and passed some silver stags to a smug Hatten.
For some reason I felt very offended.
"No need for worry Lord Stark, tonight's feast will be acceptable," I said while staring daggers at my right hand man.
Father answered with a light chuckle and a head shake. "Seems like you have it all under control Lord Steward, I'm looking forward for dinner. There's one last thing I wanted to ask you about, before you can go on with your duties."
"Of course Lord Stark, ask away."
"There is this thing the Queen mentioned while in Winterfell, something about hot showers?"
"Yah, the east wing of the apartments have it installed, I have assigned them to the Lords and Knights in order of importance, I could guide you personally to your apartment but…", I gave a withering gaze to Hatten and Ryk. "I have to enforce discipline." Hatten's face went pale, good.
"Are those the same showers you wanted to install on Winterfell?"
"Yah, but you were right, the hot springs in the Godswood and below the castle would make it redundant," that and the costs to install pipes through solid rock for multiple rooms in the vast castle would make Tywin Lannister weep. "Amanda here will guide you to your apartment Lord Stark."
"Aye," Father turned his back to the apartments. "It's been good to see you Jon."
I allowed myself a smile. "It's been only a few moons, but yeah, It's good to see you Father," I looked around but couldn't see my sisters. "By the by, where are Arya and Sansa?".
"Arya was really happy to see her brother once again, so she has been running around the whole morning and afternoon, she's napping, the servants will carry her to our… 'apartment'. Sansa ran herself tired chasing Arya around and is also napping."
Huh, double knockout.
"I'll send their gifts to the apartments then."
"After the feast, I want some of your time, there are things we need to discuss."
Probably Bran, I had prepared a gift for him too, but… well I'll need to change it, I can't gift him a sword of all things now, can I.
"Anytime Lord Stark."
With a nod, Father turned away and followed Amanda to his apartment.
Time to get this show going I guess. "Ryk, organize the serving staff. Hatten make sure all of our guests each have a place to rest."
""Yes, Lord Steward.""
For the first and hopefully last time, I was organizing a fancy dinner for a King.