Chapter 14 - Establishing the Trade

The ride back to Winterfell was long but satisfying. Robb, Jon, and Lyanna rode ahead of their party, the towering walls of their home coming into view as the sun dipped toward the horizon. The success of their venture weighed heavily on Robb's mind, but so did the looming conversation with his father. He had proven that the ice trade was not only viable but incredibly profitable. Now, he had to see what Lord Eddard Stark would make of it.

As they entered the courtyard, stable hands rushed forward to take their horses. Robb handed over Storm's reins and gave a brief nod to the gathered servants before making his way inside. Jon and Lyanna followed, their expressions mirroring his own anticipation. The Great Hall was warm and bustling with activity, but all three made straight for Lord Stark's solar.

Ned Stark stood by the hearth, his usual reserved expression in place as he turned to greet them. "You have returned sooner than expected," he noted, his keen eyes studying his son. "I trust that means there is good news?"

Robb nodded, placing the ledger detailing their trade results on the table. "The trial run exceeded our expectations, Father. The Braavosi merchant was not just impressed—he was eager to establish a permanent trade agreement." He opened the ledger to show the detailed accounts. "We're looking at profits of over two hundred gold dragons per shipment. The cost comes to about six to nine silver stags per block of ice, and the Braavosi are willing to pay twenty silver stags per block."

Ned's eyebrows rose slightly as he studied the numbers. "And these figures account for all expenses? The harvesting, storage, transport?"

"Yes," Jon interjected, stepping forward. "We calculated everything—from the workers cutting the ice to the sawdust needed for packing. Even including the tariffs in Braavos, we're looking at profit margins between fifty-five and seventy percent."

Ned took the ledger, his fingers tracing the columns of figures. "This is a considerable sum," he said at last. "And you funded the trial run yourself, Robb. That means all profit from it is yours."

Robb stiffened slightly. He had not expected his father to say that so plainly. "I did it for the North, not for myself."

"Even so, you took the risk, and you should reap the rewards." Ned's expression grew thoughtful. "But this... this could change everything for the North. We must handle it carefully." He closed the ledger with deliberate slowness. "I will call a council of Northern lords. This affects all of us, and we must ensure it strengthens rather than divides us."

A fortnight later, Winterfell's Great Hall was filled with the banners of the North's noble houses. The atmosphere crackled with curiosity and speculation as lords and their representatives gathered to hear of the new venture. Robb stood beside his father at the high table, watching as the last of the lords took their seats.

Lord Eddard rose, his presence commanding immediate silence. "My son has brought an opportunity to the North, one that could change our fortunes for generations. The ice trade has proven successful beyond our initial expectations. Now we must decide how to oversee it, to ensure it benefits all of the North."

Robb stepped forward, spreading out maps and ledgers. "We're looking at a trade worth hundreds of gold dragons per shipment," he began. "But to make it work, we need organization, investment, and security." He detailed the logistics—the sources of ice, the transport routes, the profits. "Each block of ice costs us six to nine silver stags to harvest, store, and ship. The Braavosi merchants pay twenty silver stags per block. With proper management, we can send multiple shipments per month."

Lord Manderly, seated near the front, leaned forward. "White Harbor stands ready to handle the shipping, my lords. We have experience with the Braavosi and other merchants, and our shipwrights can modify vessels specifically for ice transport."

"And what of the rest of us?" Lord Karstark called out. "How do we share in this bounty?"

Ned raised his hand for silence. "Each house will have its role, according to its resources and location. The ice trade will be controlled directly by Winterfell, to ensure fairness and prevent competition that could harm us all. But the profits will benefit everyone."

He began assigning roles. The Umbers and Karstarks, with their access to frozen lakes, would oversee ice harvesting in their regions. The Glovers and Tallharts would provide lumber and workers for building the specialized ice wagons and storage houses. The Dustins and Ryswells would oversee road improvements along the trading routes. The Manderlys would handle shipping and relations with Braavos, while the Mormonts would provide security for the ice caravans.

"Each house will be compensated fairly for their contributions," Ned continued. "Workers will be paid from the trade's expenses, and participating houses will receive a share of the profits, with the rest going to Winterfell to be reinvested in the North's development."

Lady Maege Mormont stood next, her spiked mace at her hip catching the torchlight. "House Mormont will ensure the safety of these shipments," she declared in her fierce voice. "The ice roads will be as safe as the paths of Bear Island. Any brigand foolish enough to threaten Northern prosperity will answer to our steel." Her eyes glinted as she turned to address Robb directly. "Though I hope you've considered the Ironborn, young lord. They may see these regular shipments as tempting targets."

Robb met her gaze steadily. "We have, my lady. That's why we'll be working with Lord Manderly to ensure our ships travel in protected convoys. The Braavosi have also agreed to provide escort vessels on the sea route."

Lady Mormont nodded approvingly. "Good. You think like your father. Bear Island will provide trained warriors for both the land routes and ships. My daughter Dacey will oversee our forces personally." She gave a grim smile. "The Ironborn and bandits alike will learn that Northern ice carries Northern steel with it."

Lord Bolton's pale eyes studied the assembly. "And what of those who might try to establish their own ice trade?"

"It will be prohibited," Ned declared firmly. "The ice trade must be controlled by Winterfell to prevent chaos and ensure quality. Any unauthorized ice trading will be treated as a serious crime against the North's interests."

A murmur ran through the hall. Some lords frowned at this restriction, but most nodded in understanding. They knew the Starks' reputation for fair dealing and wise governance.

Lord Glover rose. "House Glover supports this plan. The Starks have always used their resources to strengthen the North. This will be no different."

One by one, the other lords voiced their agreement. While some clearly wished for more direct control, none could deny the logic of central organization. The North was changing, and they would all benefit from it.

As the meeting concluded, Lord Manderly approached Robb. "Well played, young lord. You've given the North something it has long needed—a trade that the South and the Free Cities cannot easily replicate."

Robb nodded, watching the lords file out. 

In the days that followed, ravens flew across the North as preparations began. Ice houses rose along the trading routes, ships were modified in White Harbor's shipyards, and roads were improved. The North was mobilizing, united in purpose if not in complete satisfaction. And in Winterfell, Robb Stark began planning the next phase of his trade empire, knowing that this was just the beginning.

*****

That night, the members of House Stark assembled for their evening meal in the castle's main dining chamber. While attendants circulated bearing trays of seared meats and warm loaves, Robb caught sight of young Eddric - the bread thief from before - assisting among the kitchen staff. Though gaunt, the lad appeared more presentable now as he diligently transported dirty dishes for washing. During Robb's most recent inquiry, he'd learned the boy's mother showed signs of recovery, and his wages now provided sustenance for both her and his sister. Their gazes connected momentarily, and Eddric dipped his head in a deferential nod.

Robb set down his fork. "Father," he said, his voice carrying across the family table. "I've been thinking about how to use my profits from the trial run."

Ned looked up from his meal, noting the familiar determination in his son's eyes. "Go on."

"I want to establish a community kitchen in Winter Town," Robb said, his eyes drifting back to where Eddric worked. "Any who are hungry and cannot afford food will be given a meal, free of charge."

Maester Luwin, seated near Lord Stark, set down his cup with concern. "My lord, while the intention is noble, people might take advantage of such generosity. It could encourage idleness."

"Look at that boy," Robb gestured subtly toward Eddric. "He stole because he was desperate, not because he was idle. How many others are there like him, suffering, too proud to steal but slowly starving?"

Arya, who had been pushing her peas around her plate, perked up. "Like that girl I saw in Winter Town yesterday? The one hunting for scraps in the garbage behind the tavern?"

Catelyn's face softened with concern. "Arya, you didn't mention this."

"I gave her my bread," Arya said defensively. "But she looked like she needed more than just that."

Sansa, who had been quietly listening, spoke up. "The septa says there are many families struggling, especially those with sick or elderly relatives. They're too proud to beg, but..."

"This is the North," Ned interrupted, his voice firm but gentle. "Our people are proud and honorable. They will not seek charity unless truly in need." He looked at Maester Luwin. "Those who would abuse such kindness are few, and I would rather feed ten undeserving men than let one honest person starve."

"I've thought about how to organize it," Robb continued, warming to his subject. "The old granary near the market square could be converted. We'd need cooks, servers, someone to keep records. Simple but nourishing food—bread, stew, whatever vegetables are in season."

"And what of winter?" Luwin asked, though his tone had softened as he watched Eddric carefully stack another plate.

"That's why we start now, in summer," Robb explained. "Part of the ice trade profits will go to stockpiling preserved foods. Smoked meats, dried fruits, grain. We'll build up reserves gradually."

Sansa clasped her hands together. "Me, mother and Lady Lyanna could help organize it."

"And what of the pride of our people?" Catelyn asked, though her voice held no criticism. "Many would rather go hungry than accept charity."

"Then we don't call it charity," Robb answered. "Those who can pay something, even a copper, may do so. Those who cannot might help with tasks—chopping vegetables, cleaning, carrying water. Everyone maintains their dignity."

Arya bounced in her seat. "I could help too! I'm good at finding things out—I could let you know if any families need help but are too proud to ask."

"Arya," Catelyn chided gently, though she smiled.

"Actually," Ned interjected, "that's not a bad idea. The people might be more willing to confide in the children of Winterfell than in officials."

As if to emphasize the point, Eddric passed by their table again, this time with a fresh pitcher of water. His movements were careful, deliberate, determined to prove himself worthy of the mercy shown to him.

"We'll need proper records, schedules, procedures," Luwin mused, his earlier doubts seemingly eased. "Perhaps we could arrange for a healer to visit regularly. Hunger often walks hand in hand with sickness."

Robb looked around at his family, their support warming him more than the hearth fires that blazed along the walls. "Thank you, all of you. This will work better with everyone's help."

"Winter is coming," Ned said softly, raising his cup in a small salute to his son. "But perhaps now, fewer will need to fear it."

"And spring always follows winter, Father," Robb replied, watching as Eddric disappeared back into the kitchens. "Perhaps it's time we helped our people prepare for both."

The family continued their meal, but now with a sense of purpose that hadn't been there before. The ice trade would bring gold, yes, but it was what that gold could do for their people that truly mattered. And in that moment, as the candles flickered and the evening drew on, the Great Hall of Winterfell felt a little warmer, a little more like the beacon of hope it was meant to be.