Chapter 80: 11
Chapter Eleven
Eastwood
Mid 52 AC
I found myself wandering through the corridors of my Keep in the early hours of the morning. Sleep had been elusive the night before and I eventually found myself leaning on the railings of a balcony on the fourth level of my Keep. From my balcony, I had a spectacular view of the town of Eastwood. The fires of lamps and braziers lit up the town in the night and the smoke from chimneys created dancing patterns as they faded away into the darkness of night.
The town was a far cry from what it had been when I had first arrived here a little over four years ago. The streets were wider, cleaner and made of cobblestone as compared to the bare dirt tracks that they had been previously. Proper, well built and spacious houses newly made of stone and wood were now of a comparable number to the shoddy buildings and thatched hutments that the town originally comprised. In the distance, the silhouettes of the Eastwood Whisky Complex and the Eastwood Soap Complex were clearly visible.
The Eastwood Municipal Authority had done excellent work in cleaning up the town over the past few years. Several projects and initiatives to improve the town infrastructure had been initiated over the past year and a half since my marriage. The Town Hall had been demolished and a new, expanded complex was being built in its place to house the offices of the Eastwood Municipal Authority and the Magistrates Court.
The Town Guard led by Ser Jarett were doing their best to keep the peace. The Town Guard had been fitted with proper equipment and trained to a level wherein even Ser Morden had declared his satisfaction with their competence. With Eastwood's population increasing to nearly four thousand residents, the Town Guard had been expanded and now comprised fifty full-time guardsmen.
Southwood, Stormtower and Daegon's Valley saw similar growth. Daegon's Valley in particular was thriving as the iron mine that had been discovered during the census was finally yielding substantial amounts of ore that had significantly boosted the local economy. The Valley's smithing industry was now working overtime as the supply of iron ore was now increasing every quarter. While metalworks and weapons were initially only sold to Storm's End and Haystack Hall, increased production had meant that I had been able to begin exporting to Bronzegate and Tarth as well.
Stormtower was slowly transforming into a hub of commerce and trade. With the wave breakers having been set safely, ships now plied near-daily between Tarth and Stormtower Port. The Eastwood Tarth Trading Company had been an excellent investment and Eastwood Products were now being easily transported by ships across the Crownlands and the Vale.
My various businesses were doing very well. Eastwood Whisky was now consumed by nearly every Noble House and wealthy merchant in the Stormlands. Even those who did not like the whisky all that much, bought it to serve guests. Since Lord Rogar's return to Storm's End last year, it had become apparent to every Stormlord that their Lord Paramount very much loved Eastwood Whisky and it had become a staple of Rogar's Court at Storm's End.
Lord Tarth himself contributed greatly to our expansion. The name and backing of a House as ancient and storied as Tarth alone had greatly improved our business prospects. Lord Tarth however went above and beyond and personally reached out to old allies and friends in the Crownlands, Riverlands and the Vale to promote the Eastwood-Tarth Trading Company. The Company's ships now docked at Gulltown, King's Landing, Driftmark and Maidenpool to sell our goods.
On the other hand, Eastwood Soap had not turned out to be as profitable as I had hoped. Even though I was selling thousands of bricks of soap every month, the low price had resulted in revenues not being as substantial as I had hoped. While the business was profitable, the gains were paltry in comparison to Eastwood Whisky. However, as the soap was affordable for smallfolk, it improved hygiene standards in my lands in addition to generating employment so I kept it active.
The greatest achievement thus far had been the crop rotation method that I had introduced a few years ago. While initially it was applied in only some parts of my fief, as the yields of the said lands grew and the method's efficacy was verified and validated, now, more and more farmers across my lands began following my edicts. Eastwood's agricultural productivity had increased by nearly twenty per cent in the past years and my grain production was high enough that I had begun exporting produce to Griffin's Roost as well.
I turned my head to Eastwood's South Gate and saw the concrete road that connected Eastwood and Southwood in the distance. For all my successes, my road construction project was proceeding at a dismal pace. Where I had originally projected that the road to Southwood from Eastwood would be completed around this time last year, the road had only been completed a moon's turn ago, being over a year behind schedule. Similarly, the road to Daegon's Valley which I had originally projected to be completed in the seventh moon of 53 AC was delayed by nearly a year as well.
Where I had originally hoped that the road to Stormtower would also be completed before the autumn storms struck, I would now have to push the project to next summer. That alongside the delays in construction were causing me to haemorrhage gold as the payments to the Iron Bank for the loan and Lord Swann for limestone would have to continue on schedule regardless. Fortunately, the roads seemed to be well built and were already yielding results as the transport time between Eastwood and Southwood had been cut in half since the road was completed.
I was rather proud of my progress. In my short tenure of a little over four years, I had taken a backwater fief in the hinterlands and transformed it into a growing hub of industry and commerce. But I had not done so alone. Despite my issues with him, Maester Armon had been invaluable to me the past few years. His knowledge, experience and pragmatism had prevented me from making many a foolhardy mistake in the initial years. Warren had been nothing short of a godsend with his administrative expertise and loyal diligence. Ser Morden, despite being a spy for Storm's End had been an extremely effective Master of Arms and ably managed the martial affairs of my lands.
Amongst the younger generation, I seemed to be developing a loyal and competent cadre of retainers. Of Warren's sons, Fred had been at the Citadel for a year now and was reportedly doing well whereas George was now on the verge of being knighted by Ser Jarett. Young James Potter had benefited immensely under the tutelage of Maester Armon and Ser Morden and I was considering having him take on some administrative duties as well. Olyvar had completed his apprenticeship in the Eastwood Whisky Complex and was now serving as a supervisor in the retail division.
The most recent additions to my household had also proven their worth. Serwyn more so than Elena. Elena, as Lady of Eastwood, had taken well to her responsibilities and after a brief learning period, was now well settled in her responsibilities of running my household. With me being extremely busy during the day due to my responsibilities and due to my habit of sometimes keeping odd hours at night, there was still little love between us. But we had an understanding and I would reluctantly perform my marital duties from time to time. While she had not yet conceived, I could not blame her as our attempts to conceive had not been very frequent due to my own reluctance.
Serwyn Tarth, who I had expected would be a burden to my household, turned out to be a diamond in the rough. While he may not have even a lick of talent in the martial pursuits, and his nervous disposition was not well suited to commanding men, he had a keen mind and was a dab hand at logistics and arithmetic. I had initially assigned him fairly nominal responsibilities, but he had quickly proven himself far more capable than I had thought. Much of the progress made in the development of the Town over the past year could be attributed to him.
As the first rays of sunlight made their way past the horizon, I sighed and exited the balcony and made my way down to the sparring yard. Perhaps a morning spar would help me drain some tension.
I placed the practice sword in the rack as Ser Morden called an end to sparring for the day. I nodded respectfully at George as he and I sat down on a bench nearby as we caught our breath.
"A good spar my Lord," said Ser Jarett's squire. He would occasionally drill with me in the yard when he was not busy with his duties in the Town Guard. He had an excellent sword arm and we were fairly matched when we sparred.
"Aye. Perhaps next time you will finally be able to land a blow on me." I said teasingly. At seven and ten I was a year older than him. Now standing at six feet and two inches, I towered over most people in my household.
"Well my Lord, I try to be gentle. If I accidentally marred your pretty face then the Lady would be most annoyed with me." He said as I laughed along. While I had definitely grown taller and filled out with muscle, my face refused to abandon its effeminate appearance. Many a time Ser Morden would mock me teasingly for my inability to grow any facial hair beyond a light stubble.
As I exited the yard, I nodded at the servants and guardsmen who passed my hallways. With a larger, renovated keep and a wife to boot, my household had expanded considerably over the past year. I had invested heavily in the construction of the Keep and the results were now visible. The newly built castle forge operated at full capacity and my stables were now manned by an experienced stablemaster.
I entered my solar and found Elena waiting for me. I glanced at Elena and the usual feelings of guilt and chagrin swelled in my chest. Our marriage had not been the best. More so recently. While I fulfilled my marital duties and treated her with respect and kindness, it was obviously nowhere near what she had imagined marriage to me would be like.
The initial months had been awkward and uncomfortable. My household ran like a well-oiled machine and she had found it difficult to adjust. Add to that the fact that her husband was distant at best and cold at worst probably made that time nigh on intolerable. I had tried to reach out to her but there was little that we had in common. Mentally I was over thirty years old while she was just seventeen.
A few moons ago we had stopped sharing quarters and I had arranged for separate quarters for her to sleep in. Something that was common among westerosi nobility but had not done much good for our marriage.
The two of us had settled into an uneasy routine. I performed my tasks. She performed hers and we only ever interacted during mealtimes and when we needed to perform our marital duties. It had been a year and a half since our marriage. I needed to conceive an heir soon. Not only would it secure my House's future, but it would also further bind the Tarths to me. Something that was critical considering that they were my most important trading partners.
I walked to my seat and sat down. Meeting Elena in the morning was not unusual. However, she seemed rather nervous and flustered and that made me extremely curious and wary.
"Elena.." I coughed as I spoke awkwardly, "I did not expect to see you this early." A master wordsmith I was not.
"I wanted to speak to you privately before you began your day. You see...I have some important news." She said, biting her lips.
"Sure, why don't you take a seat," I said as I gestured at the chair across the table. As she sat, I could see that while she was most definitely nervous, there was an undercurrent of excitement in her eyes.
Even as she sat, she remained silent, as though she was mustering up the courage to say something. "Go on then, what is this news?" I encouraged her to speak up. '
"I'm with child."
There was a pause as my brain rebooted.
"Child?" I whispered, cursing myself for lack of eloquence.
She nodded. "I haven't bled in two moons. The Maester confirmed it yesterday. I am with child Aelon."
Child. Father.
The words resonated in my mind as my brain struggled to process the words. Obviously, I had expected it. She was bound to conceive sooner rather than later. But for some reason, my brain had never connected the idea of her bearing my child with me being a father.
I could see her looking at me expectantly, awaiting my response. As my brain rebooted, for some unfathomable reason, the image of a baby entered my head. A baby with silver hair and violet eyes. My child.
Pure unadulterated joy and happiness filled my being. I was going to be a father. While the thought may have been daunting if I had actually been seventeen, I was in fact over thirty.
"A baby. We are having a baby!" The joy that I was feeling must have been visible on my face as Elena's face broke out into a brilliant smile. She nodded frantically as I kept repeating those words.
I leapt out of my chair and swept her up into my arms in a moment of frenzied joy. She burst out in tears seeing my response. The distant rational part of my mind, which wasn't drowning in euphoria, noted that she had probably been nervous about my reaction to the news. As we celebrated the news I couldn't help but think.
Never would I have ever imagined that I would be celebrating the fact that I got a seventeen-year-old girl pregnant.
Eastwood
Mid 52 AC
The past moons since Elena had announced that she was pregnant had passed in a flurry of excitement and activity. My household had received the news with much enthusiasm and joy. Elena was currently around four moons along. In the modern world, the expecting parents would already be preparing a baby room and buying clothes and other baby products at this point.
Unfortunately, this was not the modern world. This was Westeros. With its high infant mortality rates and poor healthcare. Facts that terrified me. Despite all my knowledge from the modern world, there was little I could contribute to the situation. The Maester had assured me that he had safely birthed several children over the years and that Elena was receiving the best care possible.
With me being unable to do much but fret and worry on that front, there were other pressing matters to be dealt with. And it was thus that I found myself in my solar along with Ser Morden, Warren, Serwyn and Maester Armon. The four of them being my closest advisors served as a sort of an unofficial small council when we dealt with matters of such import.
"Could you repeat what you just said Warren?" I said, scarcely believing what I had just heard.
"Lord Buckler has decreed a unilateral tax on all Eastwood goods entering his lands, thereby increasing excise duty on such exports nearly threefold. He has also increased the tax on all exports of ale from Bronzegate to Eastwood," said Warren with a slight tremor in his voice.
As I leant back in my chair to process the news, I observed the reactions of the rest of my advisors. Ser Morden was visibly angered and was gnashing his teeth in a very Stannis-esqe manner. Serwyn had gone pale as his sharp mind immediately reached the same conclusion that I had. Maester Armon seemed calm but underneath that, I could see a hint of worry in his eyes.
This was not good. Affairs with the Bucklers had been tense ever since the beginning of my reign. The vast majority of smallfolk that migrated to Eastwood came from Buckler lands and I had been concerned that I may be accused of poaching smallfolk. Things had gotten worse when my cotton yield had increased to the point wherein I had greatly reduced the import of it from Bronzegate which would have put a not insignificant dent in their coffers.
The fact that he had not attended my wedding, nor sent any representative should have been a warning sign, but I had not taken it seriously. More recently, with the iron mine near Daegon's Valley beginning to become productive, I had received a massive uptick in immigration from Buckler lands, which were just bordering the new mine, as more and more out of work miners sought employment in Daegon's Valley.
I turned to Warren, still avoiding addressing the elephant in the room, I said. "What would be the financial impact on our exports?"
He looked down at the books of records that he had carried with him. After leafing through the pages for a bit he said. "Not too severe my Lord. Our primary exports to Bronzegate are whisky, charcoal and leather. With the increase in tax, the demand will drop substantially in Buckler lands and our losses in sales would amount to a few hundred dragons a month for the next year or so before we can create alternate sales channels to redirect the supply. A temporary setback my Lord, but we should recover from it within a year."
"And what about the impact on our import of ale?" I said. And that was the million dragon question. Ale was the lifeblood of smallfolk in my lands. None but the wealthiest of merchants could afford my whisky. So even in Eastwood, smallfolk across my lands continued to drink ale. The Bucklers were the largest producers of ale in the Stormlands. If the price of ale increased to the point that it was unaffordable to my smallfolk then I might face significant blowback.
"That will be more severe, my Lord. The price of ale will increase almost twofold and become unaffordable to most smallfolk. It will create significant dissatisfaction and will undoubtedly affect your various enterprises. Crow's Nest also produces much ale, but it will take time for them to step up production to match our demand." Replied Warren with a severe look on his face.
It was clear what this was. Before I could voice my thoughts, Ser Morden spoke up, "This is an escalation. That bastard Buckler is spoiling for a fight."
"But is it a fight we can afford to pick? The Bucklers of Bronzegate are economically and martially much stronger than us." Serwyn chimed in, ever the voice of reason.
"Aye, they are stronger, and they underestimate me because of it. This action will cost us thousands of dragons, and even a year ago it may have been ruinous for House Eastwood. But today, our incomes are robust enough to take the hit. And Bryce Buckler is not stupid enough to break the King's peace by taking any aggressive actions. He cannot escalate any further. And he has made a mistake. Tarth receives its ale from House Buckler as well, which is transported through Stormtower Port. His actions will aggravate Lord Brynden as well." I replied.
"We should petition Lord Baratheon, my Lord. Such actions would disrupt the economy of the Stormlands and as Lord Paramount, he would be duty-bound to step in." Responded Maester Armon. While the suggestion was sound, it would also present me as weak. I needed a decisive response lest the Stormlord's get the impression that I was a weak lordling that they could walk all over.
"No, if I were to petition Lord Baratheon, I would appear weak. We shall handle the matter internally. And as far as the matter of ale is concerned, Maester Armon, write a letter to the Morrigens of Crow's Nest and enquire about purchasing ale from them instead." Purchasing ale from the Morrigens would take time. In the meantime, I would have to find a way to deal with the issue of increased ale prices in my lands.
It was at this point that Serwyn voiced his thoughts, "Actually Aelon, we may not need to purchase ale from the Morrigens."
I raised my eyebrow and gestured to him to continue.
"Well, making ale is much easier than making whisky. The ingredients for it we have in plenty. And with some modifications, the Eastwood Whisky Complex could easily begin manufacturing ale within a couple of moons. Plenty of the staff working at the complex were hired because they used to produce ale previously. With their expertise and the facilities at the complex, Eastwood could within six to eight moons be feasibly producing enough ale to meet the demand of your lands as well as Tarth's." He finished speaking.
All around the table, eyes turned to him and he gulped nervously. Both my eyebrows were raised at this point as I considered the idea. It would be a fitting response to Lord Buckler's actions and would definitely not be perceived as weak. It was at times like this that I truly counted myself lucky that Serwyn had found himself in my service. Lord Tarth had been a fool to not see his potential. He may have been weak and even a little craven, but he had a knack for thinking out of the box.
"The idea does bear some merit my Lord, lots of people produce their own ale, though not always in quantities large enough to support themselves entirely," said Warren.
"The amount of grain that would be needed to produce that much ale would be substantial, my Lord." Maester Armon added. "While your crop rotation method has undoubtedly greatly increased our productivity, we might not be able to meet our export requirements if we begin manufacturing ale as well."
"Not really my Lord. The crop rotation method has not yet been fully implemented across your lands. Warren and I believe that we can expect further growth of five to six per cent in the coming harvest. That should be enough to offset the requirement for producing ale." Rebutted Serwyn confidently. Looks like my goodbrother was growing a spine finally.
"We would have to dip into our stores for winter in the meantime my Lord. I do not need to explain to you how dangerous that could be if the Serwyn and Warren's projections do not come true." Replied the good Maester attempting to serve as the voice of reason.
The next few minutes passed in silence as I considered the idea. Manufacturing my own ale was very appealing. It would cost me heavily in the short term, but so would any other method of dealing with this situation. The risks were also great. I would have to continue purchasing ale from House Buckler in the meantime and while Lord Tarth was my goodfather, he also possessed an obligation to his own people. He would expect me to subsidise the price of ale that would have to be purchased by him in the meantime before I could begin supplying Tarth as well.
Furthermore, if I subsidised the cost for him, I would also have to do so in Eastwood as well. Even if I was able to create the supply within six moons, it would still cost me thousands of dragons. But ale was a profitable business. I would make that money back in a few years. More importantly, this would put a severe dent in House Buckler's coffers. Even with just Eastwood and Tarth no longer purchasing ale from Bronzegate, that would still be a massive loss for him. If my ale was good enough, I may even be able to convince the Errols to buy from me instead of the Bucklers and that would cause Bryce Buckler all kinds of pain.
As I mulled over the idea, the appeal increased more and more. The risks were great, if the manufacture of ale took longer than six moons, the impact on my finances would be very severe. If the harvest was not as bountiful as expected, I would have to cut down on exports which would strain my relations with my allies. But the benefits outweighed the risks. My decision was made, I outlined my plan to my advisors. After much discussion and input from them, we finally agreed on a final plan.
"Very well. Warren, issue an edict that all goods imported from Buckler lands will also face an increased tax. Set aside funds for the subsidies that we will have to provide as well as for the manufacture of ale. Serwyn, I want you to speak with Bryan at the Whisky Complex and get the ball rolling on manufacturing ale. I want a plan of action by the end of the day. Warren, give the order for grain to be diverted towards the production of ale. Maester Armon, write a letter to Lord Tarth informing him of our plan and seek his cooperation. Ser Morden, while I am confident that Lord Buckler is not stupid enough to break the King's peace, it is better to err on the side of caution. Step up patrols along the Buckler border and increase drilling of our men at arms. I want to be prepared in case Bryce Buckler is stupid enough to try something."
As they left to implement my orders, Maester Armon stayed back.
"Are you sure about this plan my lord? It is unusually aggressive my Lord. Even for you." Said the Maester.
"You know what the nobles call me when my back is turned, Armon? Little Lord Whisky. Edwell told me when he last visited. They think me an up jumped bastard. Little better than a commoner. My age and mercantile interests do not help. If I do not respond aggressively, the Stormlord's will never take me seriously." I said. That name hurt. Edwell had tried to soften the blow, but it had hurt still. I had thought that with my growing wealth, prosperous lands and marriage to Elena, I would be able to stand among the Stormlord's as a peer. But it seemed that even as they sat in their keeps and drank my whisky, they mocked me behind my back.
"Very well, my Lord. I'll write the letters. Let us pray that this is the right course of action," replied the Maester as he left.
Eastwood
Mid 52 AC
As I rode into the newly named Eastwood Spirits Complex, I could not help but breathe a sigh of relief. The past couple of moons had been beyond stressful. With Elena now almost six moons pregnant, I had been worried beyond belief about the health of the baby. Add to that the tensions with the Bucklers, I'd had little sleep recently.
While the bulk of my economy had been unaffected by the escalations on both ends, the risk of negative blowback had been high. Lord Tarth had written back immediately stating that he would support my plan, but if I were unable to yield results in six moons with the manufacture of ale, he would have to explore new options. Fortunately, I had been able to convince the Iron Bank to fork over the fourth instalment of my loan with them a little early and the infusion of an additional five thousand dragons into my economy had allowed me to continue funding my various endeavours while at the same time paying for the subsidies on ale.
I dismounted my horse and was greeted by Bryan. He had been pivotal to my efforts towards manufacturing ale and had done an excellent job so far.
"My Lord, we have been expecting you. The ales are ready for you to taste." He kneeled as he said to me.
Very well, let us not waste any time. You can brief me as we walk." I replied.
"Well my Lord, it hasn't been easy. Making ale in small quantities is not an issue. But as per your instructions, we started exploring options for creating a process for producing good quality ale in large quantities." That had been nearly two moons ago.
"Many parts of the process are shared with the production of whisky, the grain still needs to be malted and mashed, essentially the only part we don't have to do now is distilling it which makes it much quicker to produce than whisky. We initially struggled with increasing the volume we can process as ale is required in much larger quantities than whisky, but we've now got massive fermenting barrels made." He continued.
"So production can now begin?" I said.
"We have the final ale ready. We are just waiting for you to have a taste and then we can begin manufacturing in earnest," said Bryan as he
I smiled and took the offered flagon. Pouring a healthy amount of the amber liquid into a mug, I observed the colour and appearance of the ale. Bringing the mug to my nose I did a quick sniff test to see if it smelled like I would be heaving my guts up later on before taking a long draw. Swirling it around my mouth like a stuck up wine taster I swallowed and looked thoughtfully at Bryan.
Meeting his eyes I spoke, "Really not too bad, certainly good enough for general consumption I'd assume."
Bryan looked fit to burst with excitement as I handed the flagon back to him and clapped him on the shoulder, "Excellent, my lord. I hope we will be able to produce enough soon to supply all of your lands and Tarth too. The volumes are like nothing we have dealt with before my Lord. We will have to work overtime to ensure that the production of ale meets your targets while not affecting our whisky production as well."
And that was true. I sold a little over eight hundred barrels of whisky across the Stormlands, Crownlands and the Vale every turn of the moon. But that was nothing compared to the volumes of ale.
Eight hundred barrels of whisky was nothing compared to the thousands of barrels of ale that were consumed across my lands and Tarth every turn of the moon. And that was not even considering the other auxiliary products needed to manufacture and sell ale. Grain had to be repurposed, wood was needed for barrels and skilled manpower was needed for the manufacturing process.
There were so many moving parts needed to ensure that my plan was successful that a failure in even one aspect could lead to severe delays. Delays that I could scarcely afford.
I turned to the door to leave and cast my gaze back at the man, "I know you will Bryan. Your service is appreciated."
While I was still greatly concerned about being able to pull off my plan, I was nonetheless in high spirits as I left the complex. With the ale finally ready, I was already a little ahead of the schedule that Bryan and Serwyn had cooked up back then. Buckler could get fucked as far as I was concerned. Perhaps in time, I would be able to undercut his sales to other regions, truly giving him a kick to the balls.
I love it when a plan comes together.
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