"Lord Stark, Lady Stark," Vayon Poole greeted us as he dismounted from his horse.
Lordship seemed to suit the man; he was wearing a finer doublet than before, dyed in shades of dark and light blue. The house crest, a blue circle on a white field with a gray tressure (a narrow border near the edges of a crest) was proudly emblazoned across his chest, and he wore a fine longsword on his hip. Though I noted he wore one of my more subdued styles of felt hats, a style that had started becoming popular in the North. It was a design that was about halfway between a Stetson hat of cowboy fame and a fedora. Wide, flat brim with a decorative hat band, but with the dip and crease of a cowboy hat at the top. Vayon's hat's dark blue color neatly matched the color of his tunic.
Given the chill of the early spring, he was dressed rather lightly. Then again, Vayon was a Northman; he could probably handle the cold far better than I could.
"Lord Poole," Ned greeted him with a solemn nod, though I could see the twinkle in his eyes. "Welcome back to Winterfell."
"It's good to be back, my Lord," Vayon replied with a bow."
"It's good to see you, Vayon," I greeted him. "What brings you here?"
"This, my lady," he replied and held up a small leather pouch.
"What is it?"
"Jet," he answered, a grin creeping onto his face. "I believe you were interested in it, weren't you? As promised, you are the first to know."
I beamed at him. "Show me!"
After some convincing, I managed to talk Ned into riding with me to Vayon's lands so he could show me the seam of coal he'd found. Of course, he didn't know its true value; he simply thought it was a strange dark rock that has both amber and jet stones embedded in it. Part of my reason for being here was to see what kind of coal it was, but another part was to show both Vayon and Ned how useful it could be, and why mining it would be worthwhile.
"Good, good," I murmured as I examined the seam. "Yes, this will do nicely."
Perhaps a quarter mile from the northeast bank of Long Lake, a stream had carved a small valley between two steep hills. At some relatively recent time (and by that I mean within the last decade or so, and perhaps in the last two or three years) the stream had swelled and flooded. The rapid erosion must have caused a landslide, because there were mudflats (now choked with weeds) extending all the way down to the lakeshore, and the bare rock of the hillside had been exposed. The rocky, almost sheer cliff face was where the thick seam of coal, half again as tall as me, had been exposed.
"What will, my lady?" Vayon asked.
"Hand me that pick, if you please," I commanded. Ned, somewhat bewildered, complied, and I used the mining tool to break off a few fist-sized chunks.
I brought my modest harvest over to a clear area and found a stick. Using a borrowed knife, I whittled some tinder off of the stick and stacked it on the small pile of coal. Using some flint (though it took a few tries) I managed to light the tinder.
"What are you doing, Cat?" Ned pressed, looking concerned.
"Just watch," I implored with a smile.
Soon enough, the tinder started to burn down. Only, rather than extinguishing, the coal caught and started to burn.
"By the Others!" Vayon swore as the 'rocks' began to burn.
"This, my lords," I said with perhaps more smugness than was appropriate, "Is a type of rock called coal."
"... A rock that burns?" Ned asked. He seemed confused and wary.
"Aye," I agreed. "It is perhaps a bit harder to set alight than wood, but it burns hotter and longer than charcoal. While the North has forests aplenty, there are better uses for the timber than merely turning it into charcoal."
"The smoke stinks," Vayon complained, trying fruitlessly to wave it away from his face. "I doubt you'll find many people willing to burn this in their homes."
"Perhaps," I agreed. "But, much in the same way wood can be turned into charcoal, coal can be turned into coke. It is lighter, burns with less smoke, and doesn't have the same terrible smell."
"How do you know all these things, my lady?" Ned asked.
"I read," I deadpanned.
As it turns out, coal wasn't entirely unknown in Westeros. However, knowledge of it was relegated to the study of the earth and alchemy; outside of the Maesters and the Alchemists, it was more or less unknown and unused, but those two scholarly orders were aware of it.
The type of coal Vayon had found was called bituminous coal. This particular seam, given the texture and the presence of amber, was formed by ancient trees in the eras before fungi and bacteria that causes wood to rot had evolved. The amber was, of course, preserved tree sap, and the coal was the compressed remains of the wood. Bituminous coal was softer and easier to mine than anthracite, which burned hotter and cleaner, but it would work just fine for my purposes. And, if I could get a coking operation set up, I could hopefully figure out a way to build blast furnaces, which were much more efficient than the refractory ovens I'd built in Clan Harclay's lands.
'The hard part will be the compressed air,' I mused. 'A double bellows would work, but the leather would wear out rather quickly. A piston pump would work better, but without rubber seals, I'd have a lot of gas leakage. I suppose I could use leather washers as a seal, but that would wear out rather quickly too…'
I set the thought to the side; I'd worry about that once I actually got around to building a blast furnace. Before that point, there was no use worrying about it.
"And where, exactly, did you read about something like this?" Ned asked, almost demanding with how suspicious he was at the moment.
"Some time ago, when Maester Luwin and I were researching types of stones to help us describe iron deposits, like the ones we found in Clan Harclay's lands, I came across a description of this coal," I replied. It wasn't even a lie; the book On Stones and Earth, written by… some Maester whose name I've forgotten, had a brief description of coal and how it can be turned into coke. "Jet is basically a hard, highly polished piece of coal, and amber is often found embedded in a coal seam. I knew that if Vayon had amber and jet in his lands, he would have coal."
"... I see," Ned replied, but he looked doubtful.
I wondered for a brief moment if he suspected something. I hoped not; explaining that I was, in essence, possessing his wife wouldn't go over very well, I think. 'Maybe I can play it off as some kind of prophetic dream?' I wondered. 'Stuff like that isn't uncommon in both Northern and Southern folklore. Hell, Daenys the Dreamer is said to have had dreams that led her and House Targaryen to flee Old Valyria before the Doom…'
If it ever came up, that would probably be the least dangerous and most believable story to go with. It fit Westerosi lore and religious beliefs, so I hopefully wouldn't get burned at the stake as a witch or something.
"Well, Vayon, I suspect that, in addition to the amber and jet you can mine from it, this coal deposit will be quite profitable for your House," I said with a smile.
"I suppose, my lady," he answered, though he looked doubtful. "The smoke is rather foul…"
"Turning it to coke will fix that," I replied with a negligent wave. "Besides, even if it doesn't replace wood fires in the home, every blacksmith is going to want to use coke; it burns hotter than charcoal."
"If you say so, my lady…"
"Well, how about we build a small coking oven and you test it for yourself?"
Vayon sighed. "As you wish, Lady Stark."