Eddard IV

Lord Victarion departed at the change of the tide, making Eddard sigh with relief, yet he left behind his costly gifts, as well as his brother and niece, to stay at court for a time. Robert was delighted to entertain them, so pleased he was with what the Greyjoys brought. The lord of Winterfell wasn't so sure.

The prince attended Small Council meetings more often of late, when he wasn't on his "surveying" trips, which had gone as far as Stokeworth and Duskendale. Sansa and Jon were never far from him, which warmed Eddard's heart, but the Lady Asha joined them on the latest excursion, which he knew not what to make of.

At least Joffrey talked Robert down from holding a tourney for his fifteenth nameday, he thought in relief. On the contrary, the prince persuaded his father to part with some of the gifts and pay down a portion of the debt to the Iron Bank.

"Foreign creditors should be prioritized," the lad explained, "the Iron Bank most of all. I'm not worried about owing my grandfather money."

True enough, Lord Tywin was not like to be overly demanding of his grandson. Eddard had to remind himself that dangerous, ruthless, ambitious Tywin Lannister shared ties of blood and affection with the prince. Joffrey wouldn't see things the same way as him, who saw the murdered babes in a Lannister cloak.

There was one matter which Robert absolutely insisted on: the Valyrian steel. The knives and oddments Lord Victarion brought were melted down and reforged into his son's black axe, making it a battle axe for true, heavy, and double-bladed, though quite a bit lighter than a similar weapon of ordinary metal. It was a princely gift, Eddard had to admit, and much admired by all his children.

Sansa was growing into a lovely young lady, and more confident all the time, some might say regal. Her wolf Lady had grown alongside her, big as a destrier, yet mild as a lapdog, unless commanded elsewise. Ghost and Nymeria submitted to her, as befits a queen.

My daughter, the queen, he thought fondly. They were growing up, all of them. Robb was wedded and bedded, with a young wife new with child. Eddard Stark would be a grandfather this time next year, if the gods were good. Jon had been knighted by the king himself after spending a night-long vigil in the Red Keep's godswood, which made Eddard prouder than he could say. Even Arya was proving to be a fair bravo, according to Syrio Forel. She could don mail and boiled leather, and give better than she got in the yard against the squires of the castle. Lyanna would be proud, though Eddard despaired of her marriage prospects if she kept shaming boys by besting them. Lady Asha was a terrible influence, but he couldn't find it in his heart to forbid Arya her company.

Things slowed down at court in winter, though proper winter had not fallen quite yet, not this far south. Late autumn, Maester Pycelle said, would last for perhaps another year. It was cold, but nothing to a son of the North, and there were a few warm days here and there. There were fewer petitions, fewer visitors, and little to do at all on some days. This Small Council meeting might be the last for a moon's turn.

"Good morning, my lords," Eddard greeted the assembly. Robert was with Lyra, who was with child again herself, but that mattered not. The prince had already talked over the plan with his father, who acceded over dinner. They were here to put it before the rest of the council.

Petyr was friendly enough, though he always smiled as if he was party to some secret jest known only to him. The man helped arrange buyers for the Greyjoy gifts, which was a great boon. Varys, he liked not at all, who oft brought tidings of war across the narrow sea. Daenerys Targaryen warred with Volantis, he said, and the carnage might yet spread up the river Rhoyne. Lord Barristan said but little. Stannis remained grim, and his brother Renly joined him.

Winter did not at all agree with Renly Baratheon, Eddard concluded. The man, so often with easy smiles and careless quips, spoke but little these days, and smiled less. He and Euron Greyjoy kept company at times, which seemed to be the only thing to cheer him. What troubled the young lord so? He wondered.

They were joined at last by Prince Joffrey, who wore a fur cloak against the chill. Lady hunted the bear for him. When the lad passed the Valyrian sphinxes that stood at either side of the entrance to the Small Hall, Joff smiled. Ser Loras trailed behind, which made Lord Renly frown. They used to be fast friends, but now they could hardly stand one another. It puzzled Eddard.

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"Right!" Joff clapped his hands, which shocked a dozing Maester Pycelle into wakefulness. "Thank you all for coming. Autumn is here, my lords, and before it flees, I have a proposal."

"Let me guess, another road," Lord Baelish japed.

"Yes, and no, my lord!" Joffrey answered cheerfully. "But first, I must pose a question to my Uncle Renly. What is the wealth of the Stormlands?"

Renly was staring angrily at Ser Loras, knight of the Kingsguard. It took a while for him to realize he was being addressed. "The Stormlands? Er, well, my incomes..." He trailed off.

"...Are not as high as they might be!" Joffrey finished for him. "Every one of the Seven Kingdoms has a basis for its wealth. Dorne has fruit and wine. The Reach, Riverlands, and the Vale boast rich harvests of grain. The West and Iron Islands have their mines. In the North, they have wool. Isn't that so, Lord Stark?"

"That's so," Eddard confirmed. "Most of the cash a lord of the North has comes from wool profits. We have great empty lands, and flocks of sheep with heavy coats."

"I have some ideas on that," Joffrey said. "There's almost certainly ore in the Lonely Hills, and you could be a great builder of ships, if you had a mind for it."

"I'm sure you've written Robb already," Eddard said mildly. Joffrey was always full of ideas, even for others.

"Aye. In Spring, I think much could be done. But there is a place where we need not wait for spring! I ask again, Uncle Renly, what is the wealth of the Stormlands?"

Renly frowned in thought. "My smallfolk raise grain and cattle, much the same as other folk. There is fishing, some mining in the Marches."

"Not near enough. Ser Loras, if you please." The knight unfolded a stand of wooden rods and placed a map upon it. Lord Renly's expression grew thunderous. "See here? The Stormlands are held back by Shipbreaker Bay. There's no safe harbor anywhere near Storm's End, where most of the people are. Down Cape Wrath way, by the Weeping Town, things are different, but that peninsula is isolated. Until now."

With a dagger, Joffrey outlined a route from Storm's end, through the Rainwood, down to Weeping Town. "I propose a Rainroad, from here to here. This far south, it's still quite possible to work, mayhaps into early winter. Weeping Town could see a much greater volume of trade, bypassing the perils of Shipbreaker Bay entirely. That's not all. I've spoken with Lord Euron Greyjoy."

"Him too? Is there no one you won't..."

Joffrey didn't appear to hear, talking over his uncle. The enthusiasm had taken him. "Euron has been beyond the Straits of Qarth, into the Jade Sea, and far Yi Ti has a climate not unlike the Stormlands, hot and wet. Rice could be grown. There are Yi-Tish merchants in the Free Cities who know the method of making terraces and rice paddies. Cotton would also suit. Myr, across the Narrow Sea, has many artificers who are cunning with gears and machines. With my knowledge of Valyrian engineering, we could devise an engine to strip the seeds from raw cotton fiber. Imagine, my lords, cheap cotton in abundance. There is also a certain plant from Sothyros which can be used to make blue dye, of very high quality. It grows in like conditions. Of course, we first must have the road."

"You have an awful lot of notions about my land, boy," Renly said testily.

"For doubling or tripling your income, Uncle! I could make the Stormlands rich! It's the kingdom with the most growth potential. Imagine the Weeping Town growing into a great seaport! Ships from as far away as Qarth and the Port of Ibben would come, seeking after your merchandise, putting coin in your purse, more than you could spend. The Iron Throne would get its share, and why not? We'll have a hand in your rise. Outgrowing our debt starts with the Stormlands. What say you, my lords?"

Everyone already knew King Robert had agreed to this before Joffrey said a word. There was but little debate, only a few clarifications of details from Lord Baelish.

"I suppose you've thought of everything, nephew," Renly said woodenly, never looking away from Ser Loras.

"I will depart with haste, then. I thank you all. We'll finish the Rainroad before winter, this I vow!"