North to the Wall

Several days later.

An army of five thousand Unsullied marched out of King's Landing, transporting a massive number of wagons and horses to Harrenhal.

Two crimson dragons circled overhead, their piercing cries echoing across Blackwater Bay.

Harrenhal, the farmlands.

"Quick! Before summer ends!"

"Cut down all the trees. Don't leave any manure pits behind..."

The farmers bent over the fields, swinging sickles to reap the summer wheat.

Not just wheat, but also immature soybeans, beets, potatoes...

Every crop that could be eaten or stored had been added to the list for early harvest.

In the end, they would all be transported to Harrenhal, the largest castle in the Seven Kingdoms.

Creak—

A towering pine crashed to the ground, and several raft-makers shouted as they scrambled out of the way.

Pines and poplars alike toppled along the shores of God's Eye Lake.

Clang! Clang!

Rhaegar stood in the mud by the lake, wielding an axe to chop steadily at a thick tree trunk.

The sun blazed overhead, and the temperature was still like early summer.

Rhaegar bent to his work, immersed in his own world.

Winter was coming. Food and firewood were top priorities.

Harrenhal occupied a vast expanse of fertile land, and a belt of dense forest grew along the shores of God's Eye Lake.

It would all become supplies for the cellars beneath Widow's Tower.

Light footsteps came up beside him.

Rhaenyra wore an ordinary black dress, a basket hanging from her arm. She smiled as she approached. "Take a break. It's time for lunch."

The move from King's Landing to Harrenhal seemed to have quietly changed everything.

The rustic farmlands and muddy paths offered a different kind of experience.

"Have the farmers eaten?"

Rhaegar set down his axe and grabbed a towel to wipe away his sweat.