The candlelight flickered as Wylis unrolled another set of blueprints across the long oak table.
Lord Wyman Manderly sat at the head, his usually jovial expression replaced with a contemplative frown. Beside him, Maester Theomor and Ser Barth Whitesmile examined the designs with varying degrees of skepticism.
"This is a warship," Lord Wyman finally said, tapping a meaty finger on the parchment. "No, not just a warship—this is a trader and a warship in one."
Wylis nodded. "A carrack, father. Larger than any cog in Westeros, but swifter than the Braavosi galleys."
Wyman leaned back, rubbing his chin. "And you want to build dozens of these?"
"He's weighing the cost," Odin murmured in Wylis's mind. "Show him the return."
Wylis gestured to another set of diagrams. "Look at the hold space. More cargo means more profit on every voyage. But more importantly—look at the hull reinforcement."
Theomor adjusted his spectacles, his brow furrowing. "This isn't standard timberwork…"
"It's reinforced," Wylis confirmed. "With steel ribs forged in our new furnaces. Stronger than any ship in the Narrow Sea."
Wyman studied the plans in silence, his mind clearly working through the implications.
The Lord's Judgment
Finally, Wyman exhaled. "You are asking for an enormous investment."
"Yes," Wylis admitted. "But it's an investment in White Harbor's future. We will have ships faster, stronger, and more profitable than anything Westeros has ever seen."
Barth let out a low whistle. "And the other lords? The Starks? They'll ask why we need such a fleet."
Wylis smiled. "We tell them the truth—trade. Prosperity. Growth."
Then he let his voice drop lower.
"But if war ever comes… we'll be ready."
Wyman studied his son carefully.
Then, slowly, he nodded.
Odin's Whisper
Later that night, as Wylis stood by his window, watching the harbor lights flicker, Odin spoke again.
"You have convinced him. Now, you must deliver."
Wylis exhaled. "Then let's start building."