A slow ache gnawed at my head again, the thumping was slowly leaving, but was still present. I believed this was from warging into Hedwig too often, though I couldn't stop myself, though.
The waiting was wearing me down, day by day. Weeks had passed since Benjen rode north to the Wall with his brothers, tasked with conveying to the Lord Commander Mormont the reasons to let the Thenns and giants cross south to bend the knee and serve the starks and the north with him he carried the contract, sealed with Father's own hand, and a letter explaining why this mattered to the Starks, and to the North as a whole as well as perhaps elevating some pressure front the wall. The silence since then hung heavy. I did not like having my plans out of sight, but I wasn't worried about Jeor Mormont stirring trouble.
He'd want to scrub clean the shame his son Jorah left on their name. Even clad in black, sworn to forsake his house, I knew the old bear still felt the weight of the shame and disappoint meant he had for his sons actions and In Westeros, blood ties didn't snap so easily, no matter the vows—be it to the Night's Watch, the Faith, Maesters or the Kingsguard. I'd seen it in the show: septons of the Hightowers, maesters of noble lines, all still tugging strings for their kin. Jeor would be no different. Jorah's fall to slavery after the Ironborn rebellion had gutted the Mormont honor. With that sting still fresh, I had no doubt he'd back Benjen and arrange the meeting. Sooner rather than later, I hoped, though I knew the Wall would have its own troubles with finding the Thenns, tracking the giants, and giving them time to argue among themselves before coming to terms with a decision. They'd come, though, that I was sure. The Starks' name stretched back thousands of years, echoing on both sides of the Wall for good or bad, depending on who you asked, but it still provided weight and respect. It would help as a lure, a promise of safety from rival clans and worse. They'd bend the knee for that alone.
I stood up from the chair in the guard post I was occupying for my thinking, my joints stiff from too long sitting, and as I stepped into Winterfell's bustle I let my eyes take in my surroundings as I saw maids hauled water in sloshing buckets, guards clashed steel in the yard and preatced my training methodes, and I could aslo hear the wind whistling through the broken tower's jagged gaps. It was one thing to watch this world flicker on a screen, I thought to myself, but to live it, the cold stone underfoot, the sharp fresh air in my lungs was something else entirely. A medieval fanboy's dream, and though I wouldn't be able to change Europe's history like a god playing Age of Empires, or change the fate of the Romans as well as any of the 16 German states, I would take this chance to change Westeros. Especially since I was lucky enough to be made the heir to a house older than memory. I let the thought settle, then turned my mind to one of the other project plans I had wanted to work on with the remaining time I had, which was Wintertown.
It wasn't much in the books or show—just a refuge for clans and villagers when winter bit too hard. But it could be more. I'd set up a meeting with Vayon Poole, the steward who kept Winterfell's books and oversaw the town's upkeep. I found him at the gate, wrapped in furs against a chill that barely touched me anymore. I wore only a tunic, leathers, and a cloak, the cold a faint whisper against my skin, just another quick that I have gotten used to, and so did the residents of Winterfell, as I did not see too many questioning looks about my normally light apparel.. I stopped beside him, noticing him kicking at a lump of mud frozen solid in the churned street. "How've you been, Vayon?" I asked, keeping it easy in my mind as I haven't made a habit of chatting with him unless it came up in a chore or as a request from others like Jory about equipment, "I've got some ideas for Wintertown I would enjoy to talk to you bout as well as get your opinion "
He smiled, pleasant and warm. "Mostly free today, my lord, since I knew we'd meet. What's on your mind?"
"The roads leading and going through Winter Town and as well as the surrounding settlements," I said, nodding at the mess underfoot. "Ever think there's a way to make them less of a mire? Father has permitted me to improve the town, but it's got to be cheap. No big costs, just clever fixes."
Vayon scratched his beard, thinking it over. "Better roads would help, but the North's mud and snow fight back. Weather undoes most efforts."
"True," I said, crossing my arms. "But I've been talking with Maester Luwin. We found some older Riverlands and Northern tricks for shifting water and mud to keep the ground firm, which gave us some ideas to improve the roads here based on those older tricks. They've got rivers aplenty down there, and it seemed to work for them in the past."
He frowned, curious. "Shift the water? How? Digging?"
"Shallow trenches along the sides," I explained. "Runoff flows away instead of pooling. Add sawdust to pack the earth—merchants could drop bags of it on their way out, spreading it over the main paths. Keeps things solid, speeds up travel, especially in town."
Internally, I cursed the North's endless snow. If it weren't for that, I'd suggest wooden tracks, like the ones used in Westerosi mines. They could link the North's hubs, but snow would bury them fast, and I didn't know enough about steam engines to dream bigger, not that I would be even capable or want to change that much of this society and culture.
Vayon nodded. "Trenches could work. Maybe gravel with the sawdust is cheaper than buying it, though it's more labor. Who'd do the work? Your father does not like spending coins which could be used for stocking up on grain for longer winters, so too many hired hands are out."
"Smallfolk from town or the castle," I said. "They'd take a bit of coin for extra work, even if it's just spare hours. And the guards, off-shift, could pitch in. Call it training, they pay a bit. Keeps them fit, boosts morale. Doesn't need much to sell it that way."
He laughed, a rare sound. "Paid labor as training? Never heard that one, Robb. Sharp thinking. I'll talk to the townsfolk, some craftsmen, maybe Jory about the guards."
"I'll leave it to you, then," I said, clapping his shoulder. "Even short-term fixes like better roads to nearby settlements or keeps could mean more trade and prosperity for the smallfolk as well as an easier travel for them, so they should be willing to better themselves with backing, more easily traveled roads mean more strength when mustering an army. And remember this project doesn't need to be finished quickly, just steadily for now, and thanks for handling this for me, your efforts won't go unnoticed by the people and father, I say with a goodbye."
I headed back to Winterfell, skipping past the training yard as I'd swung my blade at dawn and had done a couple more exercises already, so I aimed for the library instead. I liked keeping busy, pushing my goals forward, but right now, it was a waiting game. I couldn't reshape the North overnight, just make smaller changes, mostly trying to stay in the background, and keep everything on Canon's route, doing some things in the back, like getting rid of Ramsey and training in the old tongue, as well as setting up the meeting and working on the contract for the thenns and giants would surly bolster me in the future once Cannon begins. But it would also not change anything to harm my meta knowledge of what was to come, as well as things like improving Wintertown's roads, longer-term projects which would not shake anything up, but instead be used to set the stage without rippling into canon. The south, especially the Lannisters, would still see us northerners as barbarians, grumpkin-haunted and backward, my best shield when rumors of giants would undoubtedly surface. And I doubted it would even be brought up, but if it was, we would mention that Father had allowed a more civilized free folk clan to settle north. With no mention of giants, which Father and Luwin had allready agreed on.
My thoughts paused as I stepped into the library and saw Theon, hunched over a book. He'd been digging into his grandfather Quellon's ways lately, trade, numbers, and Ironborn history, which Maester Luwen would talk to me about how he was also helping the Greyjoy in his more recent and recurring studies. I took a seat across from him, waiting until he looked up with that Greyjoy smirk, the one his more troublesome uncle and sister shared. "What are you doing here, Robb?" he asked. "Looking for a book to kill time," I said, leaning back. I hadn't read every tome here and never planned to, but I had the hours, and in my old life, I'd been a reader enjoying the escape good novels gave me in my older years while my body was growing more fraile and; here, I had to balance that with steel and presence as a capable leader needed both, though tipping too far into scrolls could irk the more martial lords I did like and maintained the studios reputiant I had as being a smart aswell as martial heir as I was just regarded as gifted and a favored stark by athe old gods with my devotion being played up a bit more than most people in the north did it helped me though and so I would keep at it but I enualty respond to him with. "Anything catch your eye with what books you have in front of you, Theon? More trade, or Ironborn roots?"
He grimaced. "Yeah. Seems my uncle and grandfather were more aligned than I previously thought, though I knew my uncle supported my grandfather already, I have taken your advice, and wrote to my mother's side of my family, and Uncle Rodrik's been open more so than my father, who hasn't answered a single letter. He says with a heated tone and a clenched fist,"
I nodded, keeping my face steady. Balon Greyjoy had all but written Theon off, show or not, he'd raid the North with or without his son, condemning him to death. Though in the show, he basically considered his son already dead, which made him look like even more of an idiot since his son was taken for his failed rebellion, and wouldn't he rather have the honorable and quite wolf take his last remaining son than the infamous Tywin Lannister? His character just made no sense, but seeing Theon lean toward the readers and his grandfather's view, even more so, seeing him become somewhat engrossed with it was a win. "Good, he's racing out and looking to see after you. What has been said so far? Can I ask?"
"My mother's healthy, but not well," Theon said, voice dropping. "Thinks I'm still a boy who'll come home. Uncle says it's normal for women who've lost sons to cling to memories or be lost in them like that. Father's stuck in old glories, bitter from his rebellion. And my sister… she's shaping up to replace me. Like I'm already dead."
I reached over, gripping his shoulder, seeing him getting depressed, I would use this moment to cheer him up and deepen his bonds for a better future, as I spoke with a brotherly tone. "Theon, Kraken of Winterfell, honorary Stark. You're not dead, and I won't let you go down easy. Your family might forget, but the North won't, and if they try anything, I'll make sure to have your back, that I'm sure of. You're the true heir to the Iron Islands. With my backing, maybe Uncle Edmure's too, and your uncle's connections as well as your birthright, we'll show them if they step out of line. Ironborn and North together mean better trade and strength for both our future lands. We'll hammer it into them if we have to."
He smirked, shaking my arm off. "Wait, as the eldest, shouldn't I be comforting you? Thanks, Robb. Means a lot. Ned's been more of a father than mine, who won't even write."
I stood, grinning. "Need a distraction? Show me up with that bow. I could use the practice, and you're still Winterfell's best shot."
He smirks at that while getting up as we leave the library together, his mood lifting. Inside, I saw the bigger game. The Ironborn would fracture two factions, maybe three factions, with Theon at the head of one, his uncle the crows eye on the other, and his sister as well if she did not join with Theon to beat their uncle but If I could get Theon to take Casterly Rock with his uncle's men and ships with perhaps some help from Manderly men and ships, I could hit the Westerlands hard like in cannon by passing the Golden Tooth witht he goats path, I could sack Lannisport while Theons group, used the under cliffs' secret entrance that Tyrion talked about in the show on his way to the wall. For how he would sneak in, Prostitutes. With this meta knowledge, I'd outmaneuver Tywin, completely shattering his reputation and increasing my own even more than in the show after beating his first two armies.
Which made me think of the other future opportunity I would have, like maybe killing the Mountain early with a hidden crossbow unit hidden in the vanguard of the distraction army that was originally led by Roose, but I would have Karstark lead it this time around and if things played out nicly I would have the rock and a dead moutuon to exaggerate. Rob's cannon advantages and victories over the Lannisters. Also, if theon could claim the rock from he lions for the krakens, he would surely earn the support of the rest of the islands as well, and with these thoughts in my mind and a smirk on my face, I followed behind theon to practice with the bow once more the Previous ache in my head, as well as the. Annoyance and slight worry about waiting for a response from Benjamin are long gone from my head for now.