Chapter Synopsis: A bit of medieval tech uplift, and a solid dose of petty revenge. All the makings of a productive Winterfell stopover.
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Last Time: … As Lord Edwyle looked over the gathered hoard in front of him in astonishment, he couldn't help but feel that luck was on their side, and quietly gave thanks to the Old Gods for their grace.
… It was no Lannister gold hoard, in-fact he was sure it was fairly modest compared to many of the great houses. It was likely just a portion of the kingdom's treasury at the time they bent the knee. It would have been suspicious to the conquering Targaryen's if Torrhen Stark had hidden the entire treasury.
The piles were, however, a mite larger than the gold piles he would usually have gathered together in preparation for the start of winter. This was quite the boon.
With winter having just passed, the Stark treasury was largely depleted. He thought, with a smile, that this gold could drive a far stronger start to the usual frenzy of summer building activities. He'd be able to afford more seed for planting, with plenty of gold left-over to set aside for much needed infrastructure projects.
He suspected many of the suggestions from Harry and Maester Garrick could be funded with this gold. It was like a weight lifted off his shoulders, he felt lighter than he had all winter.
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Chapter 14: Back to the Grind Stone
Despite wanting to spend more time on the First Men scrolls they had recovered from the crypts, Harry had made a commitment to Lord Stark to offer valuable knowledge that could help his kingdom.
Each night, after a day with the Maester, Harry would delve further into his own tent library, focusing on the history section to gather ideas on low-tech improvements he could introduce to this medieval world. It was all quite mentally exhausting, but it would be well worth it for the quality-of-life improvement he knew could be achieved for the smallfolk of these lands.
Ultimately, he'd only be sharing a small number of the ideas he'd collated, with the most impactful being the mills and crop-rotation. Most of the other concepts were focused around taking advantage of those innovations. Though Sirius occasionally chipped in with his own thoughts, like cheap animal fat soaps he'd noticed were worryingly absent in this world.
He felt, this evening, that he was thankfully reaching the finish line in terms of how many new ideas the smallfolk could reasonably be expected to stomach in such a short time, even under orders from their Lord to implement them. Change could be a dangerous thing after-all, and Harry had no intention of creating unrest.
Having shared Sirius's soap-making idea with Maester Garrick, he turned his attention to one final concept, that of introducing Roman road-building methods to Westeros. He knew that true productivity and prosperity would come from open trade facilitated by faster, easier trade routes.
After all, the romans controlled a vast empire with their improvements to trade and travel through their roads. After the Romans fell, the Venetians, Dutch, Portuguese, and then the English built their own global empires each taking over from the other as they developed better seagoing vessels, roads, and eventually rails to dominate the trade routes.
Forget wars, trade ultimately built these empires. Harry had no interest in an industrial revolution, so rail was off the cards, but roads, rivers, canals and sea routes all offered room for improvement. He'd yet to see any canals in the North, but noted that the river system was vast. He scratched down a note to look into that later.
Harry had already begun considering the benefit of starting his own trading company for these reasons. For the Northerners he would start with roads.
As he researched, Harry confirmed his vague recollection that Roman roads were remarkably long-lasting and hard-wearing, even in extreme climates. After all, the Roman road network extended all the way from the frosty moors of Scotland down do the sandy dunes of the Sahara Desert. Harry could easily see the same building techniques working in the North or even in the drier lands he'd read about in Dorne. Roman roads were designed with a keen eye for efficiency and durability, which contributed to their success in connecting their vast Empire.
Though they would require some level of engineering oversight, and he wasn't sure such knowledge existed in the North. Thinking of the towering walls around Winterfell, Harry figured they must have some kind of specialist skills in building with stone in the North. Though, despite the absurd size of the castle, it was ultimately just a pile of loose stone carved and stacked together with some wooden support beams. Similar to the medieval castles that dotted Europe.
Northern construction seemed to lack the nuanced complexity seen in the soaring domes of Roman palaces, or the strength and utility of roman cement constructs. Harry recalled that even with all the examples of roman domes still standing in Europe, it took 700 years after the fall of Rome for medieval engineers to regain the skills for making them. At least building roads wouldn't be too much of a step outside the comfort zone for Northern builders.
Nonetheless, he would leave instructions to give them a good starting point, and allow the Maester to train some smallfolk in the additional skills they needed. He dropped any of the more complex skills and focused on methods of surveying and planning in his instructions.
It didn't escape Harry that the few tracks that were more than mud were still exceedingly winding and rambling. No real engineering seemed to be involved in their roads to-date. He'd heard that the King's Road might have been a proper engineered construction, which was reflected in its fairly direct route on the maps, but those he spoke to in the taverns seemed to think it was still a mess of mud for the most part, just straighter and wider.
Unlike the winding tracks they'd encountered here in Westeros so-far, Roman roads were known for their straight and direct routes, designed to ensure the shortest and most efficient travel between destinations. This naturally helped travellers save both time and effort, making trade and communication across vast distances more feasible.
Leaving the notes on surveying and route planning to the side, Harry looked into the construction methods. As he recalled, the Romans employed a multi-layered structure that contributed to their longevity, which was a must in a world with no real concept of road maintenance. The base layer consisted of large stones, followed by a layer of smaller stones or gravel. Above that was a layer of compacted sand or fine gravel, and finally, the top layer was composed of large, tightly fitted paving stones.
Thankfully, all of these materials could be found throughout the North, which meant any construction crews Lord Stark sent out wouldn't have to lug rocks and other heavy materials with them, they could forage in-situ.
Proper drainage was also crucial to the roads' durability and formed a whole page of Harry's notes. The lack of drainage further explained why many of the tracks they'd found were almost impossible to follow after the winter snow. Many were just mud-pits pretending to be a road.
To accommodate drainage, these new roads would have to be built with a slight tilt, or camber, allowing water to run off the surface and into ditches on either side. This would ensure the roads remained usable even in wet conditions, preventing them from becoming waterlogged.
Finally, Harry added a proposal for Stark sponsored waystations and inns along major routes, to offer rest stops, food, and shelter to weary travellers. Despite travelling most of the North, the trio hadn't spotted any inns or guard posts along the roads between towns in the North, and the distances between towns were often too vast to cover in a day, even flying. Travelers seemed to accept that camping by the roadside was a necessity.
Harry had initially sent Sirius out to ask the locals about the lack of inns along the routes, thinking they may have just missed them somehow. It was a quite exasperated Sirius that had subsequently informed him "there's apparently only one such inn on the whole continent, and it's apparently so well known that it's simply referred to as 'THE crossroads inn'."
"Really?" Harry asked in resignation, "THE crossroads inn? do they only have the one inn, or the one crossroads? Actually, I've decided I don't even want to know." Harry just shook his head and jotted down some more notes for the Maester, mumbling under his breath about 'primitive economies' and 'medieval sensibilities'.
The waystations would bring in a much needed boost to trade, while also allowing for better policing of the land. They would support the surrounding smallfolk, and movement of information and goods.
With all of the benefits, roman roads seemed like a no-brainer, but Harry could see this would be the hardest project to pitch. The cost of such a project would be immediately prohibitive. Nonetheless, he'd push hard to get Lord Stark onboard, if only due to the guaranteed lift in trade and economic prosperity it would deliver for the region. Maybe he'd encourage them to start on a road to their biggest port first.
With that final note, Harry struck a line under his last page, signed it, and rolled the parchments up, letting out a sigh of relief.
Harry felt no qualms in giving such tech advantages to the Northern kingdom above the other kingdoms in Westeros. While he hadn't yet ventured to the South, he had already started to feel a kinship with the people of the North. From the stories of the Thenn and those he and Sirius had heard so far in the North, he also concluded that the North was the closest in culture to the Thenns, and most likely to accept those of magical heritage.
Harry wasn't yet ready to consider settling down anywhere, but strong allies in the North would always be a boon to Harry and the Thenn, wherever they ended up.
With a sense of satisfaction, Harry called Dobby to send the parchments up to Maester Garrick's desk in the Castle, knowing the good Maester was more of a morning person, and would read through them all before he made his way up the next morning.
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The tent library had become a cosy and growing sanctuary for Harry and Sirius. Surrounded by shelves filled with books on various subjects, they had transformed the space into a haven of knowledge and comfort. Soft rugs covered the floor, while plush armchairs and a small table occupied the centre of the room. A magical, ever-burning hearth provided warmth and a soft, flickering light that cast a gentle glow over the pages of the books and scrolls they studied.
Sirius looked up from the dry material on Roman road construction that Harry had roped him into helping with, his thoughts starting to drift. Racking his brain for something, anything that might be more interesting to occupy his time, Sirius' mind turned to that fellow Padric. The smarmy Master-of-the-Market that had just been asking to be pranked.
Knowing how short of food they were in Northern winters, the pudgy nature of this fellow, who was clearly skimming from the top, just rubbed him the wrong way. The man simply reeked of all sorts of minor corruptions. Actions that likely left others to suffer just that bit more during winter. He smirked at the thought, Sirius was a self-proclaimed pro at petty revenge, and here was a deserving target.
Shooting one last glare at the book that had been slowly torturing him with boredom over the last two hours, "10 exceedingly mundane facts about road construction you never thought you'd need to know", he picked it up and threw it back into the waiting pile. With a stretch and a wide yawn, he hopped up and made his way to the magic section in search of inspiration.
After a few false starts, Sirius found exactly what he needed in a book on illusions. This spell would cause the target to look like a house elf, to all parties bar themselves. In-fact it had a bit of a similar effect to the amulet they'd made for Dobby, but it would be temporary.
The original spell was created by a pureblood as a form of deep insult, but Sirius felt it would be suitable here in making people think the Master was one of the mythical Children of the Forest. Which of course he would vehemently deny, creating exactly the type of confusion and chaos Sirius preferred.
"Hmm" Sirius mumbled to himself, scratching his chin in thought "surely Harry wouldn't be too worried about the blatant use of magic in the prank if it could be mistaken for one of the North's existing legends. It's not like anyone would link it back to us anyway."
Thinking he could make this a bit of a longer-term deterrent, Sirius also pulled down a book on Magical Contracts. If he could get the Master to sign a contract, he could use it as an anchor for the spell effect, causing it to re-occur whenever a term of the contract was broken.
He'd just need to set the terms to say something along the lines of 'the signee will refrain from overcharging merchants' and every time the term is breached, he'll know it, and that self-knowledge will trigger the contract, until such time as the contract is destroyed or no longer gathers enough ambient magic to operate.
The marauders had done something similar to Ethel Prewett in Ravenclaw when they'd learned she had a habit of stealing supplies from first years. With the help of the contract, the spell would re-trigger every time she knowingly stole again. It was a simple case of adding the terms in between some boring an innocuous legal jargon on a contract they prepared for anyone ordering Honeydukes from the Marauders. This wasn't even hard to arrange, because all the students knew the Marauders ran a small sweets and goods acquisition service for a price, which they ran in-between Hogsmeade weekends when students had no easy access to town.
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The following day, Sirius woke with a renewed sense of purpose. He had spent most of the night researching magical contracts and refining his plan for the prank.
Though he had lost himself much deeper in the research than he had initially intended when it occurred to him that they could probably use these contracts to their advantage throughout Westeros. It would be much easier to rely on automatically enforced contracts than to just blindly place their trust in the wide range of people they would inevitably engage with in their travels.
Even just maintaining secrecy about a topic could be enforced through agreement in the contract, preventing loose tongues. Sirius put that research to the side for future reference, he was sure it would come in handy.
After getting Harry onboard with this bit of mischief over breakfast, Sirius set about getting his scheme in motion.
Harry simply gave him the gimlet eye and moved off to the Castle to meet with the Maester for something or other. He was such a Nerd sometimes, but Sirius loved him like a son nonetheless.
Sirius made his way into the marketplace, where he knew he would find the rotund, smarmy Master of the Market. The man was always there, keeping a sharp eye on his numerous ventures and ensuring his pockets were well-lined. Though Sirius did note he looked a bit more dishevelled than the last time they spoke. Sirius considered it might be the result of the Master 'misplacing' the 10 leprechaun gold coins Sirius had paid him previously, wishing he'd been there to see the result in person.
As Sirius approached the Master, he put on his convincing facade of a simple, bumbling merchant, seeking advice from a more experienced professional. Sirius not-so-quietly mumbled to himself about having discovered a source of gold in his travels further north, while stretching his head and mumbling further that he needed to figure out what to do with this information. All this hapless mumbling was done well within hearing distance of the Master, knowing full well that the man's greed would see him insist on being brought in on this find.
Having been quickly accosted by the Master, and taken to a quiet tavern, Sirius spun a tale of vast profits from this hypothetical gold mine. Sirius allowed the Master to nudge and push his way into a joint partnership. This gave him the perfect excuse to bring out the parchment contract, explaining that it would ensure their partnership remained exclusive and that any shared knowledge would be protected.
The contract was simple, and the clause he needed wasn't even all that hidden, it simply stated that the signee would not knowingly commit any criminal act until the partnership expired, in two moons or until the gold is found, whichever period is shorter. Sirius didn't want this prank to go on too long.
Sirius had of course written the penalty clause in invisible ink, linking it to the charm that would illusion Padric as a house elf for a good few hours after every breach. Such a trick would be impossible in the wizarding world, where no self respecting wizard would ever sign a serious contract not written on goblin parchment, which would burn away invisible ink, and would glow red at any sign of trickery in the terms. How the goblins detected such things was beyond any Wizard's understanding, just as the Goblins liked it.
Eager to secure the supposed profits, and thinking that he could ignore the contract either way, Master Padric hastily signed the contract. Sirius was honestly impressed that he could even read, but he supposed that's how he got the job in the first place.
Sirius concealed his glee at a prank well executed, shook the man's hand, and wandered off, thinking he'd spend the rest of the day working on his DIY broom. It now reached 5 feet off the ground, which he was rather chuffed with.
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Over the next few days, whispers began to spread that Master Padric was actually a mischievous Child of the Forest in disguise. It honestly wasn't a glowing endorsement of Children of the Forest, because Master Padric was a bit of a dick, but it did seem to fit in with the tales their old folk told of magic being a double-edged sword. Not all magic beings would necessarily be friendly.
Some of the elders did have a few suggestions on how to purge Master Padric of evil, and hopefully return him to the shape of a man. Whether they were serious suggestions, or just sarcastic comments by previously burnt clientele of the good Master, no one was sure, but most of the locals were willing to try their suggestions either way.
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Nella hadn't heard any of the whispers in the town about Master Padric, she had been far too busy over the last few days, squirreled away in the castle desperately darning new pairs of socks for her lady. She never did find the old ones, but she would be a monkey's uncle before she let her lady go out with an odd pair of socks.
She was therefore very much surprised when she walked down to the town to fetch more yarn, only to find most of the townsfolk congregating in the godswood, with some sort of small festival underway.
The whole thing seemed to focus on a knot of people surrounding the central weirwood tree, upon which they had tied what looked from a distance to be a Child of the Forest wearing Master Padric's horrid hat and gold rings. They'd covered the creature from head to toe in the tree's red sap, and some were chanting an old-tongue lyric to ward away evil spirits.
Nella was speechless, what on earth was going on. There was no festival scheduled until the harvest. Following some frantic whispered questions to her kin and friends who all seemed to be in on this weird event, she was informed that they weren't honestly sure what to do about Master Padric. But they all agreed this was probably a good start.
Nella looked to the child wearing Padric's clothes, then back to her friends, and simply gave them a deadpan look. She knew that somehow her friends were involved in this suggestion, they'd all wanted to tie the man to a tree at some point, or worse, it just seems they'd suddenly found a reason.
That the Master was actually a Child of the Forest was a whole other rabbit hole she wasn't sure she wanted to go down. Though there was a lack of agreement on this. Some thought the Master had been kidnapped, and that this event was to get the being to confess and return the Master, though most didn't seem too keen on him being returned, they were just having fun with the process.
Others thought Master Padric was shapeshifted by a woods-witch as punishment for his corruption, and that this was an event to cleanse his corruption. Either way, they were all having lots of fun, so they generally agreed that everything was fine, and all agreed that tying him to a weirwood could only be an improvement to his snappy and slimy character; there were surprisingly few dissenters to this plan, and that's how this whole impromptu little festival started.
Nella now knew exactly what was going on, and yet somehow felt like she knew less than when she'd started, and certainly wished she hadn't asked. Though she could understand the festive atmosphere. Many townsfolk were still in high spirits due to the cheap fresh foods brought by those merchants, so she understood how even the first mention of a small cleansing ceremony quickly cascaded into the town festival Nella found before her.
Little local stalls had set up between small fire pits and children were dancing to some new songs about the Coming Sun and the Hungry Wolf. The place was definitely going insane, but Nella smiled anyway, it was nice to see so much happiness. Well, Master Padric didn't seem too happy, but that didn't bother her. She just hoped Lord Stark didn't hear of this insanity.
Handing over some coppers to a food vendor, she happily nibbled on something foreign called a potato jacket. She also saw a small shrine of flowers set-up by the second largest weirwood, along with a single flickering candle on a pedestal; next to all this stood a hawker that looked a lot like the maid from the Tavern in town, offering a dragon for any who could extinguish the divine flame of the old gods. Nella shook her head and decided she could do without buying yarn today, instead she'd head back up the hill to the relative sanity of the Castle.
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Chapter 15 Teaser:
…"Harry stepped into the ring in the middle of the training yard, his muscles warming up as he ran through a few of his sword forms and footing exercises. He had donned the boiled leather armour they had put together for him, and held the sword of Gryffindor, feeling the familiar weight in his hand.
Sirius, on the other hand, walked into the yard swinging the training sword they had loaned him with little form but a lot of confidence. He seemed to be more focused on putting on a show than preparing for the upcoming matches."
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