"The second aspect of my proposal is entertainment and enjoyment," Lucas continued. "Nothing dramatic about it. You know what I mean."
"My wine. I will supply the North with my wine," he stated. "And though only Noble Houses would be able to afford it, it will still be a significant part of our trade pact."
Ned nodded. This was something he had already expected. As Lucas had said, there was nothing dramatic about it.
"And there are a few more aspects to it," Lucas added, "which we can discuss as we work out the details."
Ned nodded again in a gesture for Lucas to continue.
"And my final proposal," Lucas said, "is the one I believe you will be most interested in."
Ned raised his eyebrows with curiosity as Lucas continued.
"I can solve one of the biggest problems that grapples the North," he said. "The problem of the lack of food and grain to feed its people."
Ned's eyes widened slightly at this remark, but he did not respond immediately. He held himself back from outbursting. He continued looking at Lucas, who sat there with a smile, a smirk, one might say, on his face.
"That is a heavy claim you make, Lord Lucas," Ned finally responded, his tone grave and extremely serious. "You are making a very bold statement. The North has struggled with the problem of food grains since the beginning of time. Almost every man who has occupied the seat of the Lord of Winterfell before me has tried to find a way to solve it. So, too, have all the other Lords in their own respective castles. And yet, no one has succeeded. We still remain at the mercy and pleasure of other realms to supply us with grain, especially when winter strikes."
"And yet you claim that you can solve this problem?" Ned questioned, his hardened eyes boring straight into Lucas. "I hope you realize the gravity and the seriousness of your words."
"I do, Lord Stark," Lucas responded, his voice brimming with confidence and his face did not flinch despite Ned's hardened stare. "And I assure you that every word I have spoken has been thoroughly considered."
Although there was barely a change in Ned Stark's expression, inwardly his breath had hitched. It was hard for him to maintain his composure and not simply lash out at Lucas to demand how he intended to achieve this.
Compared to the promise of superior weapons, the chance of solving the North's food crisis was a monumental prospect. He would be willing to pay almost any price to solve this problem. It was about survival, a survival with dignity, where the North would not have to look toward other realms to fill its stomach, and where they would not have to bear the scorn of others just so they could sleep with full bellies.
"How are you going to do it?" Ned finally questioned. Though his question was short, the weight behind it was enormous.
"How?" Lucas repeated. He stood from his seat and approached the window, his eyes fixed on the humongous expanse of land stretching toward the horizon.
"I will supply the farmers and the smallfolk of the North with superior farming tools," he said, turning back toward Ned. "The tools they currently use are not sufficient to till the earth effectively. The hard, frozen land of the North requires better equipment than any other realm."
Ned's eyes dimmed at this.
"While that may increase the productivity of the land and that to a great extent," Ned sighed, "I do not see how it could truly solve the grain problem of the North. It would not be sufficient. It will not end our dependencies on other realms."
"This is but one aspect, Lord Stark," Lucas responded with a smile.
Ned narrowed his eyes in response and waited for Lucas to continue.
"Irrigation," Lucas said. "A great number of farmers are unable to irrigate their land on time or with the required amount of water. Though the concept of canals exists, there are very few fields actually connected to a river or a lake. Fields only that are located close to big towns."
"Even then, there are too many preconditions. The slope of the land, the location of the field, and the fact that if the temperature drops even slightly, the water freezes. Then there is the sheer effort required to maintain a canal through a Northern winter."
"To solve this," Lucas continued, "I will install water pipes in a phased manner, making irrigation possible at all times and in a far easier fashion. This will grant the smallfolk a great deal of free time. Spare time they can use to cultivate extra land. And land is the one thing the North does not lack."
Ned nodded. This, combined with the first method, seemed to him to have the potential to alleviate a portion of the problem that had been strangling the North for millennia. But it was still not enough to be a total solution.
"Do you have anything else?" Ned questioned, his voice stern, yet his eyes betrayed a flicker of hope. He wanted something more, desperately, for his problems to be solved.
"Yes," Lucas nodded. "The final and most important aspect of my third proposal."
"What is it?" Ned questioned, the hope rising in his voice despite his efforts to remain stoic.
"Better seeds," Lucas replied, his smile growing more mysterious.
"Better seeds?" Ned repeated, not quite understanding what Lucas meant.
"I will supply you with superior quality seeds," Lucas explained. "Seeds that are specifically bred and suited for the harsh climate and the unforgiving soil of the North."
Ned still looked confused. This was a concept he had never heard or discussed.
"From where will you acquire these seeds?" Ned asked, posing the most logical question that came to his mind. "And by how much will productivity increase because of them?"
Lucas merely smiled, maintaining his enigmatic air.
"Leave the logistics to me, Lord Stark," Lucas said. "As for the increase in productivity, I believe I will let the results speak for themselves."
Ned narrowed his eyes, searching for any sign of deception.
"If you require proof," Lucas added, "you can inquire with your contacts in King's Landing. I have already had a few farmers cultivate fields near the new city I am building. The yields there will give you the answers that you seek."
Ned merely nodded as a heavy silence settled between them. He was weighing the impossibility of the claim against the potential salvation of his people.
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