The return to the North was like entering a different world.
While the Riverlands were lush, wet, and bleeding from the war, the North was hard, white, and silent. The snow was now two feet deep. The wind bit exposed skin with invisible teeth.
But as Andar approached Deepwood Keep the air changed.
The smell of pine needles vanished replaced by the heavy acrid scent of burning coal. The white horizon was stained by a permanent grey smudge of smoke.
Andar crested the final ridge.
He stopped his horse.
Deepwood Keep was gone. In its place sat the beginning of a monster.
The Star Fort had grown. The concrete walls were now twenty feet high, sloping back in aggressive geometric angles. They were grey and lifeless, immune to rot and fire. Inside the walls, the old wooden keep had been stripped down and encased in stone.
But it was the area outside the walls that shocked him.
A shantytown of tents and rough cabins had exploded around the fortress. Thousands of people were moving through the mud. Carts filled with black coal and red iron ore clogged the roads.
"It is a city," his guard muttered.
"It is a hive," Andar corrected.
He rode down to the main gate. The guards on duty wore the black uniforms of the Deepwood Security Force. They saluted sharply.
"Open the gates! The Minister returns!"
Inside the courtyard, the noise was deafening.
Steam hissed. Hammers rang. Men shouted.
Cullen ran out to meet him. The old steward looked exhausted. His robes were stained with soot and he had dark circles under his eyes, but he moved with a frantic energy.
"My Lord!" Cullen gasped bowing low. "We received your ravens! The King in the North! A new kingdom!"
"Save the speeches Cullen," Andar dismounted tossing his furs to a servant. "Give me the numbers."
Cullen pulled out a thick ledger.
"Population has swelled to four thousand My Lord. Refugees from the Riverlands and the Stony Shore. We have put them to work in the mines but housing is short. Food is tight."
"And production?"
"Mott has delivered two hundred Type 2 Muskets," Cullen said proudly. "And twenty tons of pig iron."
"Twenty tons," Andar repeated. He frowned.
"Is that not enough My Lord?" Cullen asked nervously. "It is more iron than Winterfell produces in a year."
"It is enough for muskets," Andar said walking toward the factory. "But it is not enough for what comes next."
He walked into the main foundry.
Mott was there supervising the pouring of molten iron into sand molds. The heat was intense.
"My Lord!" Mott wiped his face. "You are back! We heard about the Mountain! Did you really chain him?"
"He is rotting in a cell in Riverrun," Andar said. "Mott stop the pour."
"Stop?" Mott blinked. "But the metal is ready."
"It is pig iron," Andar said. "It is brittle. If I make a rail out of this it will snap under the weight of the engine. If I make a boiler out of this it will explode and kill us all."
He walked to a clear space on the floor.
"We need steel Mott. Mild steel. Flexible. Strong. Cheap."
"Steel is not cheap My Lord," Mott argued. "To make steel we have to hammer the carbon out of the iron by hand. It takes days to make a sword. You want tons of it?"
"I am going to show you how to make ten tons of steel in twenty minutes," Andar said.
He pulled a roll of blueprints from his saddlebag.
[Blueprint: Bessemer Converter (Primitive)]
[Required Materials: Firebrick, Iron Casing, High Pressure Air Pump]
Andar spread the drawing on the workbench.
It looked like a giant pear made of iron. It was massive, suspended on two axles so it could tilt. At the bottom were holes for air.
"This is the Converter," Andar explained. "We pour the liquid pig iron into the top. Then we blow cold air through the bottom."
Mott looked at the drawing skeptically. "Air? If you blow cold air into molten iron it will cool down and solidify."
"No," Andar smiled a dangerous smile. "The oxygen in the air will react with the carbon and silicon in the iron. It will burn. It will create heat. Massive heat. Hotter than any forge you have ever seen."
He looked at the roof of the factory.
"It will look like a volcano Mott. A pillar of fire reaching the sky. And when the flame drops the iron will be steel."
Mott stared at the drawing. He was terrified. But he had seen the cannons shatter stone. He had seen the muskets pierce plate. He knew Andar was right.
"When do we start?" Mott asked.
"Immediately," Andar said. "I want the first pour by the end of the week."
Andar left the factory and went to his solar.
He sat in his chair and exhaled. His body was tired but his mind was wired.
He opened the System map.
[Territory: The North]
[Resource Overlay: Active]
He looked at the distance between Deepwood Keep and the nearest major coal mine in the mountains. It was twelve miles.
Currently ox carts were hauling the coal. It was slow. It was inefficient. In winter the carts got stuck.
"The railway must come first," Andar muttered.
He drew a line on the map. A straight black line cutting through the Wolfswood.
If he could build a rail line to the mines he could bring coal in by the ton. If he had coal he could make steel. If he had steel he could make weapons.
It was a cycle of power.
Suddenly a red warning light flashed on the map.
[Alert: Enemy Movement Detected]
[Faction: House Greyjoy]
[Location: Pyke]
[Fleet Size: Massive]
Andar zoomed in on the Iron Islands.
The fog of war obscured the details but the heat map showed a massive gathering of troops.
Balon Greyjoy had declared himself King. And while Robb was busy in the South Balon was looking at the unprotected North like a starving wolf.
"They are coming," Andar whispered.
He had beaten Dagmer Cleftjaw's three ships. But Balon would bring the Iron Fleet. Victarion Greyjoy. The Silence.
The North had no navy. The Manderly fleet was on the other side of the continent.
"Cullen!" Andar shouted.
The steward rushed in.
"Yes My Lord?"
"Send riders to the coast," Andar ordered. "Evacuate the fishing villages. Everyone comes inside the fort."
"Everyone?" Cullen asked. "But the harvest..."
"There will be no harvest on the coast this year," Andar said grimly. "Only fire."
He stood up and walked to the window looking at the snow falling on his black city.
"The Ironborn are coming to take our home Cullen. They think we are weak because our King is in the South."
Andar clenched his fist.
"We are going to build them a welcome gift. A ship made of iron that breathes smoke."
[New Quest: The Ironclad]
[Objective: Build the first steam powered armored ship.]
[Time Limit: 3 Months]
Andar looked at the snow.
"Three months," he said. "Let us see who freezes first."
.....
Author Note
Hi guys! Thank you for reading my fanfiction.
I wanted to let you know that I'm releasing bonus chapters for Power Stones. Here are the goals:
25 Power Stones: 1 Bonus Chapters
50 Power Stones: 1 Bonus Chapters
75 Power Stones: 2 Bonus Chapters
100 Power Stones: 2 Bonus Chapters
Thanks for the support!