Chapter 124. A big piece of land.

Chapter 124: Chapter 124. A big piece of land.

Lord Stark looked out over the land. The North was a harsh land, the largest region in all of Westeros, and also the most sparsely populated. The Northerners were a strong people, hardened by necessity. It was a brutal process of natural selection: if you weren’t strong enough to survive the winter, you wouldn’t live to see the summer.

But perhaps things would change; Jaehaerys had said that 25,000 acres would be used for farming. According to the prince, everything was ready. Ned looked at the land; it looked the same as before, but it felt different.

"Have you ever thought about how plants are grown, Lord Stark?" the prince himself asked, striking up a conversation.

"You want to talk about crops and not the wildlings you plan to bring into your territory? We’re preparing a raid beyond the Wall... I might be looking for something else, but for the Lords, we’re going to rescue Daemon from the clutches of the wildlings," he said in a firm voice; Aemon’s letter had arrived a few days earlier, and he’d almost believed the old maester had gone mad.

"Ahhh, we can discuss that later. The heaviest topic should come last," Jaehaerys sighed as he spoke. "Do you have an answer, Lord Stark?" he asked, referring to his initial question.

"A seed sprouts beneath the earth, and a plant is born," he said as if it were common sense.

"Why is it born?" Jaehaerys asked.

"Water and earth make them grow," he replied stoically.

"And why don’t we just eat water and earth?" the prince asked with a smile.

"Start answering your own questions, Your Grace," he said to change the subject.

"The earth is the plants’ food. Not all of it, of course; there are certain foods in the earth," he couldn’t think of a better way to explain it, "that plants take in through their roots. That is their way of... hunting," he explained with a metaphor.

"Hunt?" asked Lord Stark.

"Yes, Lord Stark," affirmed the prince. "Hunt. Just as we hunt deer, boar, rabbits, and other animals, plants hunt for their food. That food isn’t as elusive as a deer, but the concept is similar. If humans always hunt in a forest, the animals’ population will decline," the prince concluded.

"You’re saying plants do the same thing? Is that why the land gets tired after being cultivated several times?" He was a sharp-minded man, though that didn’t translate to politics.

"That is correct, my Lord," the prince nodded.

"So we shouldn’t farm all year round, even though the ancient gods may bless the land. We’ll end up unable to grow anything—is that your warning?" Ned nodded, understanding the prince’s words.

"That’s one way of looking at it, but the soil recovers those nutrients very slowly; they can be helped."

"With manure," Eddard nodded.

"That would work. But it’s not the only thing. Not all plants ’eat’ the same thing, so to make better use of the soil and not exhaust it, you can plant different crops," the prince concluded.

Eddard thought he would discuss it with the maester later. He noticed the prince’s unease; he had always been that way—ever since he was a child, he seemed to seek ways to explain his knowledge in a way that others could understand. At first, it seemed to him that the prince was treating him like a fool; now he was grateful for it.

"I appreciate your knowledge, my prince. I’ll speak with the maester," said Eddard.

"I’ll give him a list of options, though, of course, it’s your land—you can do whatever you want with it," the prince dismissed his observations.

"So, Jaehaerys, shall we talk about the wildlings?" Ned knew Jaehaerys was probably thinking about how to convince him as he explained the crops.

The prince sighed. Eddard could see his eyebrows furrow, thinking about his words. Lord Stark doesn’t want the wildlings in the South; there is not a single Lord in Westeros who wants that. But Jaehaerys, he was always different. Ned prefers Jaehaerys’ madness, which was used to create incredible things, instead of Aerys’, which was used to burn.

"What’s the difference between a Bravosi and a Northerner?" Jaehaerys asked him. "The place where they’re born," he didn’t wait for his answer. "You can do the same thing anywhere. Your customs are shaped by where you grow up. You follow the Old Gods because your parents seeded it in you. If I’d stayed in King’s Landing, I’d have worshipped the Seven—or at least pretended to," the prince scoffed at the idea. "It’s a good thing I came north," he admitted.

"The wildlings and the northerners have hated each other for hundreds of years," Ned said, and he was right; it wasn’t a rivalry that would die out overnight.

"The whole North hated each other thousands of years ago. Everyone in the West. It was a collection of tribes fighting each other for more land. But the Starks conquered the whole North, and the Targaryens conquered the West. In the end, even with different customs and ideas, the First Men, the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the Valyrians were unified. Tell me, Ned, if it weren’t for the Wall, would the Wildlings remain Wildlings? Or would they be just another of your vassals?" Ned opened his mouth, but couldn’t come up with a logical answer; in the end, it all came down to emotions.

"Aren’t you afraid, Jaehaerys?" he asked in a whisper, his voice weary. "My daughter is in the south, just like your daughter; they’re in your castle, where you plan to bring the wildlings. Could your wife sleep soundly? Or will she lie with one eye open, waiting for the moment when they decide they’ve had enough of respecting your laws and want your lands for themselves?" Ned asked; he wasn’t naive enough to trust the honor of savages.

"They’ll be surrounded by guards. Surrounded by dragons. I fear for her life, of course I do, but I don’t fear that the wildings will be the ones to take it. I am confident I can change their ways, make them civilized. I am also confident I can reduce them to ashes if necessary," he told the man.

"Don’t you hate the Ironborn? I don’t see much difference between the two of them," said Ned.

"The Ironborn’s culture is based on taking what belongs to others; the Wildlings’ on survival. They are not the same. I don’t want to romanticize their culture, but I understand it. I’ll give them the chance to change it, to live better, but don’t take me for a fool, Ned—I’ll do whatever it takes to keep my people safe," Jaehaerys Lord Stark said, and when he finished, he sighed deeply.

He walked toward the field. Soon, Stark would have to call on peasants to till that land. Perhaps just a few—after all, tending so many acres would require a lot of hands. In time, if the gods were kind, those 25,000 acres would be full of crops.

"You don’t need my permission," Ned pointed out. "You could ask the King. His word would override any of my objections." He scooped up a handful of soil from the ground; it was softer than it looked.

"Because I don’t want to turn to the North as my enemy—we have a greater enemy, remember?" the prince told him.

"Of course I do... The North Remembers," Eddard said, dropping the soil to the ground. "How will you transport them? Even with my word, the other Lords of the North might not want them to pass through their lands."

"By sea. As for your vassals, I think I can convince them. At least, I’ve entrusted Mance with the task of finding evidence against the others. I also ordered him to search for traces of Daemon," he mentioned the man’s name; though he had no fond feelings for him, he was Eddard’s nephew and Lyanna’s son.

"Do you trust Mance?"

"Ah... you could say it’s a trial," the prince gazed at the sky. Moonfyre danced in the heavens; his eyes swept across the landscape in wonder, as if he could see the magic in the earth.

"It’s in your hands. Even if the proof doesn’t convince them, my words will make them obey," Eddard said firmly. "When will you depart for the south?" he asked.

"Soon... Dany is starting to miss the castle," the prince said.

"Will you take the direwolf puppies for Sansa and Rhaelle?" Lord Stark asked, just to confirm.

"They’ll be good guardians for them." Jaehaerys nodded.

"I’ll order them to start plowing the fields as soon as possible. If there are bountiful harvests before the wildlings head south, the lords will be more... kind," said Ned, sounding a little uncomfortable at the end.

"Kind?" The prince looked as if he were about to laugh. "Very well, Lord Stark, I will trust that the crops will be bountiful." It wasn’t that Eddard needed his vassals’ approval to make decisions, but it was his duty to make the best decisions for them. After all, the vassals swore allegiance, and he wasn’t going to ignore their oaths.

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Author Note: Do you guys think I should re-upload the entire story with grammar corrections?

I’ve been wanting to do it for a few days now, but I’m not sure how I should go about it. Should I delete all the Chapters and upload the corrected versions? Or should I create a new story instead?