A Stuffy Old Scholar

Davion did not have to wait long before a soft knock came at the door.

"Come in."

He leaned back in the chair beside the bed, his gaze resting on the doorway.

The door opened, and Pia came in, supporting an old man with graying hair.

The old man shuffled along, every step looking painfully difficult. Pia had to hold his arm tightly for fear he might fall.

Davion recognized him at once as Tosmio, the maester of Harrenhal.

House Whent's old maester had served at Harrenhal since Davion was young.

Tosmio looked to be in his sixties. He was thin and slightly stooped, yet he still stood a head taller than Pia.

Perhaps because he spent his days shut in his room pursuing his studies and seldom saw the sun, his skin was exceptionally pale.

He wore a gray maester's robe washed almost white. Its hem was somewhat frayed, but it remained clean and tidy.

A Maester's Chain made of linked metal rings hung around his neck.

It was the mark of the maesters of Westeros, as well as proof of their abilities.

Each metal represented a field of study. Only after passing the examination in a particular field could a maester add a link of the corresponding metal to his Maester's Chain. The more links he had, the greater his learning.

Tosmio's Maester's Chain contained only three kinds of metal links, which meant he had passed examinations in only three fields. He was no outstanding maester, but he was qualified enough to serve a house such as the one at Harrenhal.

Davion knew only this rule, not which specific field each metal represented, but he did not care.

Davion soon noticed something wrong. The old man seemed to be in poor health. His steps were unsteady and his breathing somewhat rapid; he was clearly gravely ill.

Supporting Tosmio, Pia slowly brought him to a stop beside the dining table in front of Davion. The old man bowed slightly and spoke in a hoarse voice:

"My lord Earl, what instructions do you have for this old man?"

Davion frowned slightly.

In his memory, Tosmio's voice had never been loud, but it had been clear and firm, never this hoarse and dry. It seemed the old man's health was even worse than he had imagined.

"Maester Tosmio, are you feeling unwell?"

His tone softened a little, and he gestured to Pia.

"Help the maester sit down first."

"Thank you for your consideration, my lord Earl."

Tosmio inclined his head slightly and slowly sat down with Pia's help. As he settled into the chair, he could not suppress two quiet coughs, his brows drawing together slightly.

From the moment Tosmio entered, Davion had been quietly observing him.

Apart from panting as he walked and frowning when he coughed, the old man showed no other expression, and his eyes were placid.

Only when he looked at Davion did a slight ripple appear in his gaze.

Davion silently formed an assessment of Tosmio: a stuffy old scholar.

Having reached this conclusion, he felt a little less prejudiced against Tosmio.

He knew all too well that maesters like this, wholly devoted to learning and research, were mostly poor at political scheming and would certainly not collude with a sinister, cunning opportunist like Wes.

Only after Tosmio had caught his breath did Davion slowly speak:

"Maester Tosmio, I asked you here today because I wanted to learn the specifics of my House Whent's lands, as well as the territory's current circumstances."

Tosmio's gaze had been wandering over Davion's head, his eyes full of curiosity.

He knew perfectly well how severe Davion's injuries had been. Anyone who suffered such wounds should have died.

Yet now, not only had he awakened, he could sit here looking full of energy.

Tosmio was truly curious about how Davion had survived and how he had recovered so well in such a short time.

Only when Davion spoke again did Tosmio abruptly come to his senses. He hid the curiosity in his eyes and inclined his head slightly:

"My lord Earl, the boundaries of Harrenhal's lands are clear. They reach the Kingsroad to the east, border the lands of House Smallwood of Acorn Hall to the west, extend to Lord Harroway's Town to the north, and encompass a little under half of the Gods Eye to the south."

"As for our circumstances, I believe you must have felt them keenly yourself, my lord Earl!"

Davion silently estimated the area of his lands. The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, and he nodded in satisfaction.

It was larger than he had expected. With proper management, it would be enough to support Harrenhal's gradual recovery.

He paid little heed to what Tosmio meant by his words and changed the subject:

"What are your thoughts on Harrenhal as it stands, Maester? If I wanted to restore Harrenhal and develop my lands, what would you suggest?"

Tosmio gave Davion a long look.

He finally realized that the Earl before him was utterly different from the ignorant, timid boy he had been.

The old Davion had never thought about "developing Harrenhal."

Yet now he was taking the initiative to consider his territory's future. The change was truly astonishing.

After pondering for a moment, Tosmio slowly spoke:

"My lord Earl, in this old man's opinion, if you wish to develop your lands, the first step is to become more assertive."

"In the Seven Kingdoms, the strong preying on the weak is the only law."

"Only with sufficient military strength can you deal and trade with other nobles without being bullied or mocked, and only then can you hold your lands and protect your people."

"Military strength has always been the foundation of every noble house's survival in Westeros! Without it, however vast your lands or great your wealth, they are merely ripe pickings in the eyes of others!"

Just then, Pia came in carrying two cups of honey water and gently set them before the two men.

Tosmio picked up his cup and took a large gulp. Once the dryness in his throat had eased a little, he continued.

"Once you possess sufficient military strength and have secured your lands, you can choose a profitable enterprise and accumulate wealth."

"Maester, is there any suitable venture you would recommend?"

"My lord Earl, your lands enjoy exceptional natural advantages."

Tosmio raised a hand and pointed toward the window.

"With the Gods Eye right beside you and the Red Fork close by, the surrounding plains have abundant water and lush grass. They are ideal for raising livestock! Keeping chickens, sheep, and cattle would supply the castle with meat, while any surplus could be taken to the nearby towns and sold for gold dragons."

"Besides that, Harrenhal lies in the heart of Westeros, making it a natural transportation hub."

"The Gods Eye leads directly to the Blackwater Rush, which you can follow to the harbor of King's Landing."

"The Red Fork leads straight to Gulltown. Whether you wish to travel south or cross the Narrow Sea to the Free Cities on the other shore, it is very convenient."

"Once your military strength is sufficient, you can also develop maritime trade and earn even greater wealth."

Davion nodded silently. He had already given some thought to the things Tosmio mentioned.

He knew that Harrenhal had originally been designed and built on the scale of a capital for the Seven Kingdoms. Its uniquely favorable location was its greatest advantage.

But everything Tosmio had described required patient management and gradual growth in peacetime!

And this was the Riverlands!

The wars of Westeros never spared this land. Whenever a major war broke out, the Riverlands became the main battlefield.

When that happened, cultivated fields would be destroyed by war, grazing livestock would be seized by passing soldiers, and painstakingly accumulated wealth would vanish overnight.

But Tosmio had been right earlier. Only after he gained the ability to protect his lands could these development plans truly be put into practice.

So strengthening his military still had to come first!

In this age of cold steel, fifty fully armored cavalrymen could ride roughshod over most places!