77 AC
Winterfell
Artor Stark Pov
The familiar chill of Winterfell nipped at my face as I made my way through the stone corridors. My boots echoed on the ancient flagstones, a sound that had been a constant backdrop to my life. Today, however, there was a different rhythm to my steps, a sense of purpose that quickened my pace. I was on my way to Father's solar for a meeting, a meeting that I knew would be of great importance.
The familiar chill of Winterfell nipped at my face as I made my way through the stone corridors. My boots echoed on the ancient flagstones, a sound that had been a constant backdrop to my life. Today, however, there was a different rhythm to my steps, a sense of purpose that quickened my pace. I was on my way to Father's solar for a meeting, a meeting that I knew would be of great importance.
I passed several guards, their faces grim and watchful, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords. They nodded respectfully as I went by, their eyes following me with a mixture of deference and curiosity. I knew they sensed the gravity of the occasion, the weight of responsibility that hung in the air.
The solar door, a massive oak portal carved with the sigil of the direwolf, loomed before me. I paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. Inside, my father, Lord Theon Stark, awaited me, along with several other key figures in the North.
I pushed open the heavy door and stepped inside. The solar was a large, rectangular chamber, dimly lit by a crackling fire in the hearth. The air was thick with the scent of old parchment and beeswax candles. My father stood at the far end of the room, his face etched with a mixture of weariness and determination.
"Artor," he said, his voice a low rumble. "You're here. Come, we have much to discuss."
"It's a bold undertaking, Father," I said, leaning forward. "But I believe it's a necessary one. A railway connecting Karhold and Barrowtown would open up vast new opportunities for trade and development in the eastern and central regions of the North. It would also make Winterfell an even more vital hub, further solidifying our position as the heart of the North."
Theon nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on the dancing flames in the hearth. "That is my hope, Artor. But it will not be easy. The terrain between Karhold and Barrowtown is rugged, and the winters are harsh. The cost in terms of both coin and labor will be significant."
"We've overcome challenges before, Father," I reminded him. "The construction of the existing railways was a monumental task, but we persevered. We have the knowledge, the skill, and the determination to build this new line as well."
"And the College," I added, "will be instrumental in this endeavor. Their engineers and scholars have made great strides in improving the efficiency of our steam engines and developing new techniques for construction. They can help us overcome the obstacles we will face."
Theon's expression softened slightly, a hint of pride flickering in his eyes. "You're right, Artor. The College has been a boon to the North in ways I never fully imagined. Their contributions to our progress have been invaluable."
"Then we are in agreement?" I asked, my voice hopeful. "We will proceed with the construction of the Karhold-Barrowtown railway?"
"Aye," Theon affirmed, a decisive note entering his voice. "We are in agreement. The Karhold-Barrowtown railway will be built. It will be a testament to the strength and ambition of the North, a symbol of our progress and our determination to forge our own destiny."
I paused, a question lingering in my mind. "And what of the petition, Father?" I asked, my voice carefully measured. "The petition to the Iron Throne, requesting a decrease in the taxes levied upon the North? Has there been any response?"
Theon's expression darkened. "No," he replied, his voice grim. "There has been no response. Not a word. It's as if our concerns are of no consequence to them."
My blood began to boil. "This is outrageous, Father!" I exclaimed, my voice rising. "We have been loyal to the Iron Throne, and this is how they repay us? With indifference? With increased taxes that cripple our economy and breed resentment among our people?"
Theon raised a hand, his gaze firm but weary. "Artor," he said, his voice low but commanding, "I understand your anger. I share your frustration. But we must not let our emotions cloud our judgment. We are the Wardens of the North, and we have a responsibility to our people. We cannot afford to act rashly."
He sighed, the weight of his position evident in his every word. "For now," he continued, "all we can do is acquiesce. We will continue to pay the taxes, as unjust as they may be. We will focus on strengthening the North, on building our infrastructure, on educating our people. We will make ourselves so strong, so prosperous, that the Iron Throne cannot afford to ignore us."
"I understand your caution, Father," I replied, my voice still laced with anger, "but I fear it may not be enough. The lords of the North are growing restless. They see the prosperity we have achieved, the strength we have built, and they resent the Iron Throne for taking a share of it without offering anything in return. If this continues, I fear that acquiescence will not be enough. They will start to talk of rebellion."
"I understand your caution, Father," I replied, my voice still laced with anger, "but I fear it may not be enough. The lords of the North are growing restless. They see the prosperity we have achieved, the strength we have built, and they resent the Iron Throne for taking a share of it without offering anything in return. If this continues, I fear that acquiescence will not be enough. They will start to talk of rebellion."
I looked at my father for a long moment, seeing the weariness and resolve etched on his face. "I understand, Father," I said, my voice softer now, but no less firm. "I know our duty. But all I am saying is that if this continues, if the Iron Throne continues to ignore our concerns and exploit our prosperity, then a rebellion will be in our hands, whether we approve of it or not. The lords, and the people, will not tolerate such injustice forever."
Theon sighed, running a hand through his greying hair. "I know," he said, his voice heavy with the weight of responsibility.
After a long moment of silence, a small smile cracked across his face, easing some of the tension in the room. "Enough of this grim talk," he said, his voice softening. "Tell me, Artor, how fares the training of my grandsons? Are they showing promise?"
"It's going well, Father," I replied, a touch of pride in my voice. "Young Rickon has a good eye for archery, a natural talent. And Antares is showing himself to be very skillful with the blade, displaying a surprising amount of discipline and focus for his age."
Theon's smile softened, a hint of tenderness entering his eyes. "And how is my granddaughter, Lyanna, doing? Is she well?"
"She is," I replied, my own smile mirroring his. "She's growing stronger every day. My lady-wife, Elara, dotes on her, of course, and even the wet nurse remarks on Lyanna's vigor. She has a strong cry, that one, and a grip that could hold a wolf pup."
Theon chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. "A true Stark," he said, his eyes twinkling. "May she grow to be as fierce and loyal as her namesake. The North will need strong women as well as strong men in the years to come."
He paused, the smile fading slightly as his gaze returned to the fire. "Speaking of the future," he continued, his voice becoming more serious, "we must also consider the education of your sons. They are the future of House Stark, and they must be prepared to lead. I've been thinking... they will go to Winterhold."
I nodded in agreement. "That was my intention as well, Father. Winterhold offers opportunities that even Winterfell cannot match. The breadth of knowledge, the exposure to new ideas... it will serve them well in the years to come."
As we spoke, a sharp knock echoed on the heavy oak door of the solar. Father and I exchanged a brief glance. "Enter," he called out, his voice regaining its usual commanding tone.
The door swung open, and a guard, his face stern and unreadable, stepped into the room. He held out a sealed letter, the sigil of a three-headed dragon emblazoned on the wax. "A message from King's Landing, my lord," the guard announced, his voice respectful.
As we spoke, a sharp knock echoed on the heavy oak door of the solar. Theon and I exchanged a brief glance. "Enter," he called out, his voice regaining its usual commanding tone.
The door swung open, and a guard, his face stern and unreadable, stepped into the room. He held out a sealed letter, the sigil of a three-headed dragon emblazoned on the wax. "A message from King's Landing, my lord," the guard announced, his voice respectful. He then bowed and withdrew, closing the heavy door behind him.
Theon took the letter, his brow furrowed as he broke the seal. He unfolded the parchment, his eyes scanning the contents. As he read, his face grew increasingly grim, the lines around his mouth deepening. He then handed the letter to me.
I took it, my heart sinking as I read the words. When I finished, I turned to my father, my voice tight. "So," I said, "the Queen is coming to the North."
"Aye," Theon confirmed, his voice low and heavy.
I looked at him, my mind racing. "Now what, Father?"
A strange glint appeared in Theon's eyes, a mixture of defiance and grim satisfaction. "Now," he said, a low rumble in his throat, "the South will learn more of the North's prosperity. They will see for themselves what we have achieved. Perhaps then, they will understand the injustice of their demands."
"Or," I countered, my voice sharp with concern, "they will simply want a larger piece of it. They will see our wealth and find new ways to exploit it, to tighten their grip on the North. There's a reason we've kept the Maesters at arm's length, Father, never allowing them to send messages beyond what we've approved. And there's a reason we've been... observing them, watching for any leaks of information. We've found something."
Theon nodded, a hard edge to his voice. "Aye. This situation with the Maesters... it will continue only until the present ones pass. After that, there will be no more Maesters in the North. We will begin appointing scholars from Winterhold to take their place. Men and women whose loyalty is beyond question, whose knowledge serves the North, not some distant Citadel."
I added, "And we haven't shown them everything, Father. We've kept the steam engines and the railways largely hidden from Southern eyes. Southern merchants are mostly restricted to the docks and port towns; they aren't allowed inland. They have no idea of the true extent of our industrial capacity."
A grim smile touched my lips. "If the Queen sees all this... all that we've kept hidden... she'll lose her mind."
Theon's own lips curled into a grim smile that mirrored mine. "Well," he said, a low chuckle escaping his throat, "we have tried to be as secretive as we could, for as long as we could." He paused, his gaze hardening. "But the North will open its borders to the Queen. She will see what we have built. And then... we shall see what she intends to do."
He turned to me, his expression resolute. "Send ravens to the lords of the North. Inform them of the Queen's impending arrival and command them to be present at Winterfell to receive her. And send a message to Jonnos at Moat Cailin. Tell him to prepare to receive the Queen and her party. They are to travel by railway train, of course. We will show them the speed and efficiency of Northern engineering."
"Aye" I replied, a sense of grim purpose settling over me. The Queen's arrival would be a turning point, a moment of truth for the North. We would show her our strength, our prosperity, and our resolve. And then, we would see what the future held.
With the orders given, we began to plan. The arrival of a Queen, with all her retinue, was no small matter, even for Winterfell.