For the Braavosi, my ostentatious feathered headwear, with the right-hand brim curved up to keep it out of the way of one's sword arm, had become the quintessential piece of a bravo's costume. The more colorful the felt and the larger and more exotic the feather, the more a bravo would pay to own one.
Felt shoes and slippers were not as popular as the hats, but cobblers across the Seven Kingdoms were steadily purchasing felt to make fine shoes for the wealthy.
And, with the opening of new markets across the Narrow Sea, demand for all of the wool cloth I and the other Houses of the North could produce had shot up. Even undyed cloth was in demand; likely the dyeworks in the Free Cities snapped it up, dyed it, and resold it for a significant profit. And every House in the North practically sang my praises as coin flowed into their coffers.
"Vayon's idea to make loans to the smallfolk was a good one," Ned agreed. Every farm within eyesight had a farmer pushing a seed drill across a field. "Old Gods permitting, this year's harvest will be a good one."
"Old Gods permitting," I echoed in agreement.
"You wanted to see me, my Lord?" Vayon asked as he stepped into Ned's solar. Seeing me in the room, he added "My lady."
"Aye, we did," Ned replied. Gesturing at one of the chairs across from his desk, he asked, "Won't you take a seat?"
"As you wish."
"Vayon, you and your family have served House Stark for generations," Ned began. "To be honest, your family should have been rewarded long ago. However, given the state of the North until recently, we didn't have the means."
"But, thanks in part to your excellent stewardship and guidance, that is no longer the case," I interjected.
"My lady, does this… I mean, are you…"
"Aye, it does," I reassured him with a smile. "Ned?"
"I spent quite some time with Maester Luwin, pouring over old maps," Ned continued. "There is a village on the northwest shore of Long Lake. Unfortunately, it was destroyed in a wildling invasion before my grandfather became Lord Stark."
"Despite its state, it has an advantageous position," I cut in. "Long Lake is teeming with fish, and the lands near the shore are rich and fertile. The King's Road passes within a mile of the old site of the village on the way to Castle Black, and a river runs out of the south of Long Lake into the upper waters of the White Knife. That river is navigable, though you'll want to use boats with a shallow draft."
"I can see the advantage," he conceded. "But the King's Road that far north gets little traffic, and there is little that the village could produce that White Harbor wouldn't already have."
"There have been rumors of amber being found in the region," Ned countered. "And the eastern shore of Long Lake runs right up to the base of the Wolfclaw mountains."
"Isn't that part of the Umber and Bolton lands?" Vayon asked.
"The Umber lands hold the Lonely Hills, the northern foothills of the Wolfclaw mountains. The Sheepshead hills, part of the Bolton lands, are the southern foothills of the same range. The mountains themselves are part of the Stark domain. The area around Long Lake, including those mountains, will be part of your holdfast."
"Understood, my Lord," he nodded.
"If you do find any amber, it isn't uncommon to find deposits of jet alongside it," I added. "If you do find jetstone, please let me know right away; I would be very interested in it."
"If I find it, you'll be the first to know, my lady," Vayon replied with a kind smile.
"In that case, here," Ned said, placing a rolled up piece of parchment on the desk, then placing a small iron-banded wooden chest next to it. "Your deed and titles, a map of your lands, and a sum of coin to help you establish yourself."
"Thank you, my Lord!"
"We will start sending smallfolk your way," I told him. "Skilled craftsmen too. And, if I might make a suggestion?"
"Of course, Lady Cat," he agreed.
"You should marry Anna sooner rather than later," I told him. Vayon gasped, likely unaware I even knew about his ongoing courtship of the pretty household maid. "I think she would make a fine wife."
"Aye… aye, my lady," Vayon replied, his voice a little unsteady. "I'll… I'll ask her tonight."
"Then good luck, Lord Poole," I replied, stressing his new title.
Vayon lightly blushed, but he grinned back at me. He knew as well as I did that a title would make Anna much more likely to accept than she already was. And I was sure it was already a done deal; he just hadn't known it yet.
Summers in the North weren't as warm as the ones in my old life, but that didn't make them entirely comfortable. Still, it was important that I come here in person, along with Ned.
"Lord Harclay," Ned greeted the rough-looking man standing in front of a longhouse.
"Lord Stark," the man gruffly answered in return. "Be welcome in my hall; my meat and mead are yours for as long as you remain."
"I thank you for your hospitality. Me and mine will bring you no dishonor while we remain your guests," my husband replied. The somewhat formalized greetings were a bit different than the norm, but the mountain clans followed even older traditions than the Starks. The hold of the Old Gods and the Old Ways were strong in the Northern Mountains, even here in the foothills bordering the Wolfswood.
Per custom, we were introduced to his wife and children, and Ned introduced me and the guards that accompanied us. After that, we were ushered into the hall and seated at the high table. Despite the roughness of everything in the building, it had a certain rustic charm to it that I found appealing.
After food had been served and mead poured into drinking horns, Lord Harclay finally got down to business.
"When your Maester sent us a raven describing rocks, we thought you had lost your senses, Ned," Carrew Harclay said in his rough voice. "But, as it so happens, your Maester was right."
Carrew dumped out a small bag into the table, and light gray rocks shot through with rust red lines tumbled onto the table.
"My hunters found a few places within our lands where this kind of rock juts out from the hills," he explained. "In times past, we would grind it down and use the dust as a paint."
"May I," I asked, halfway reaching for one of the rocks.
"Go ahead, my lady."
I picked up one of the fist-sized chunks and held it close in the dim light of the hall. A little more than half of the rock was a light gray sedimentary rock, but it alternated with bands of a rust red sediment. I knew from my old science classes that this was a sample of what was known as banded iron formations.
In Earth's history, when the first photosynthesizing bacteria began releasing oxygen into the early oceans, the oxygen bonded with dissolved iron in the water. The resulting iron oxide precipitated to the ocean floor, where it formed a sediment. As the iron and other minerals precipitated out of the water, the early bacteria died off, causing a resumption of the regular sediment deposits. The end result, over millions of years of deposition, was a sedimentary rock with alternating layers of iron-rich bands and more typical marine sedimentary bands.
While not quite as good as a hematite deposit, the banded rocks were much easier to identify. Of course, a lodestone deposit would have been even more ideal, but beggars can't be choosers. The rocks could be split, and the iron-rich rust red bands could be crushed into gravel, which could be rather easily smelted into good iron. Even better, the crushed gravel could be fed into a blast furnace.
'But I'd need a source of coal for that,' I mentally complained. 'If Vayon finds those jet deposits, we'll have coal…'