One trouble after another

The North, Sea Dragon Point Peninsula, House Flint's castle.

Eddard looked very handsome that day. He wore a white silk undershirt beneath a gray belted robe, with a finely crafted leather jacket over it, adorned with beautiful patterned buttons and metal fittings. His gray cloak bore the crest of his House Flint.

He wore silk trousers on his lower half, and the leather boots on his feet were exquisitely made from lizard-lion hide from the Neck. The pattern of scales on them looked very attractive.

When Rogers Ryswell entered the Throne Room, he was met not with eager, welcoming gazes, but with searching, appraising looks. His heart sank at the sight.

This was nothing like what Rogers had expected. After some thought, however, he suppressed his doubts. Unlike his cousins from House Ryswell's main branch, Rogers was a man who used his head. He would not stubbornly blurt out things better left unsaid.

"Good day, honored Lord Edd Flint. I am Rogers Ryswell, an envoy from Barrowton, and I bring Lady Barbrey's most respectful greetings. As we in Barrowton have recently received some troubling news as well, Lady Barbrey hopes to offer House Flint some assistance under the kingdom's laws concerning 'mutual aid between vassals.'"

Rogers spoke very steadily. His manner, neither servile nor overbearing, raised Eddard's opinion of him somewhat. There was a saying in the Rills in the North:

"The Ryswells have as many ideas as there are colors on their coat of arms."

With control over the lush pastures of the Rills, House Ryswell had always been the largest owner of grazing land in the North. It had always ranked among the foremost houses in the western North, and its current lord had even secured marriage alliances with House Dustin of Barrowton and House Bolton of the Dreadfort.

Yet their growing strength had brought the family few tangible benefits. Instead, the heirs of House Ryswell had all begun to think themselves extraordinary. Rogers Ryswell, however, did not suffer from that failing. He also understood very clearly what sort of man he was and what he could hope to possess.

"Hahaha! We thank House Dustin for its concern. House Flint may be small in number, but these warriors under my command can still handle a few mountain bandits who wield nothing but bone clubs. You needn't worry about that. We are doing very well, and there are no problems in our lands."

After answering Rogers, Eddard exchanged a glance with Maester Albert. House Dustin's intentions were exactly as they had suspected: it was scheming to get its hands on the mines in the Western Mountains.

"Lord Eddard, there is really no need to put on a brave face. Sea Dragon Point borders the Iron Islands, after all. Those worshippers of a false god will never truly submit. Then there are the barbarians in the Western Mountains. As long as these two threats remain, your lands cannot develop normally. That is why I still hope to reach an agreement with you on Barrowton's behalf. It would benefit us both."

Clack... bang... clatter!

No sooner had Rogers Ryswell finished speaking than a heap of ornaments and weapons was thrown onto the floor below Eddard's throne. The belongings of the Clan Warriors and Ironborn pirates lay piled there like a small hill, leaving Rogers momentarily speechless and frozen in place.

Then Arthur Stone, captain of the guards, stepped out of the ranks. He picked up some of the spoils and showed them to Rogers before saying:

"The soldiers of Flint's Finger are brave, fearless warriors.

"We can face a challenge from any quarter. Any enemy who dares trample our territory will end up a corpse!" "Uh..."

Rogers glanced at the spoils on the floor and silently cursed the fur merchant who had supplied his information several times over. He had thought he could come to their aid like a savior, only to arrive and discover that they did not need his "help" at all.

For a moment, Rogers stood at a loss in the middle of the Throne Room. His mind felt like a muddled mess, and he had no idea what to say.

Before long, however, Rogers worked out the reason. Although Flint's Finger had fewer standing troops than Barrowton, this was House Flint's home ground, after all. With sufficient preparation, they could indeed defeat the mountain bandits and pirates.

"Very well. If there is nothing else, you may leave after lunch. Of course, if you wish to take in the sights of Flint's Finger, you are welcome to do so! See our guest out!"

As he watched Eddard prepare to rise and leave, countless thoughts flashed through Rogers Ryswell's mind. For the sake of his future standing and wealth, he decided to make another attempt.

"Please wait a moment, Lord Eddard!"

Seeing everyone looking at him, Rogers swallowed instinctively. Then he collected himself and spoke slowly.

"Your mine must have suffered very serious losses! I hear that many miners in the outer district no longer intend to work there. That must severely affect your ore production. I think you should consider accepting House Dustin's help.

"After all, the mine's output was not particularly high when you took over. If you let House Dustin run it instead, the able-bodied young men under your rule would have more opportunities for work, and you would no longer have to trouble yourself over the mine's safety."

At these words, Eddard stopped in the act of rising. Then he listened to Rogers's proposal with interest.

"And Barrowton would not be concerned about that problem?"

A glimmer of excitement flashed through Rogers's eyes at Eddard's question. As long as the other man was interested, there was still hope. Rogers believed that if he laid out all the drawbacks and difficulties of House Flint retaining control of the mine, Eddard would eventually take an interest.

Rogers then gave everyone from House Flint a comprehensive account of the mine's problems: costs, labor, security, transportation, and processing. His manner of presenting his views was quite interesting. He did not expressly disparage House Flint, but instead listed its shortcomings, hoping to make Eddard recognize the problems indirectly.

An ordinary lord, of course, would probably have eagerly begun discussing profit shares and rent after Rogers's sales pitch. Eddard, however, would not. He was saving all his iron and copper mines for the future construction of his territory. In other words, he had never intended to sell ore.

Once Eddard had deciphered Demon B'lack's magic circle, he would establish his alchemy workshop. At that point, large quantities of high-end products would flow out of Flint's Finger. What Eddard wanted to build was an immensely powerful magical city, not to hoard money and become a wealthy man.

"These problems you speak of are nothing in my eyes. My mine will resume operations in a few days, and its output will increase several times over."

Just as Rogers was looking at Eddard with an expectant expression, Eddard suddenly came out with those words. They swept away every bit of leverage Rogers had painstakingly amassed, leaving him at a loss for words.

"I know what other issue you want to raise. Mountain bandits and pirates will only make House Flint stronger. These men will not be hanged or sent to the Wall. They will simply become part of House Flint, and they will only be allowed to leave after undergoing sufficient reform through labor.

"I have been considering this plan for a long time. I will inform Winterfell of it and make House Stark aware. Whatever Winterfell decides, I will firmly enforce my policy until new laws and judgments arrive."

When Eddard saw that Rogers wanted to object, he put forward this view outright. The novel idea left Rogers momentarily unsure what to say.

"Rogers Ryswell, I think you are a very interesting man. If you ever find you can no longer stay with House Dustin, you may come to House Flint. Here, you will have more than you could imagine. All right, that will be all for today. I am leaving. Make yourself at home!"

With that, Eddard rose from his stone throne, while Rogers stood rooted to the spot in astonishment at his words. Eddard had spoken with complete conviction. He had not sounded as though he was boasting at all.

For a time, Rogers Ryswell did not know what to do. He simply watched Eddard leave the Throne Room.

The North, Sunset Sea, a hidden cave near the Stony Shore.

This was one of the Ironborn pirates' bases, jointly occupied by pirates from Lonely Light and Blacktyde in the Iron Islands. It was an extremely well-hidden limestone cave. House Mormont of Bear Island and House Glover of Deepwood Motte in the North had long relied on this sea route to trade goods with the First Men's Barrows.

Because the "Usurper," Robert Baratheon, had conquered the Iron Islands, there had been no large-scale Ironborn pirate raids here over the years. Some bolder merchants had therefore opened several trade routes along the coast of the Sunset Sea. Sometimes, even silk and spice merchants from the east appeared.

As time passed, however, some of the great houses of the Iron Islands had begun to entertain other ideas. This band of pirates also belonged to the group known as the "Sons of the Drowned God," while the pirates occupying this place came from several smaller houses in the more remote parts of the Iron Islands.

House Farwynd of Lonely Light and House Blacktyde of Blacktyde were both minor, insignificant houses in the Iron Islands. That was precisely why they had been sent north. The pirate leaders stationed at this secret base were Mord Farwynd and Emmy Blacktyde. Their combined force was somewhat stronger than that of "One-Eye" Billy and his men.

Between them, the two men had five longships and more than three hundred battle-hardened pirates. They had recently carried out a raid in Ironborn Bay and had been lying low here ever since. The North was truly too poor, though they did occasionally raid its merchants as well.

But once this trade route was cut off, there would be no point in remaining here. Thus, after completing their raid in Ironborn Bay, Mord Farwynd and Emmy Blacktyde had hidden themselves in this secret base.

"Come on, drink! Hahaha! We ought to pay the iron price for what these greenlanders have! Hahaha!"

"Chief! Chief!"

Just as the two men were laughing happily and flattering each other, a voice abruptly interrupted the people still feasting. Everyone looked toward the sound and saw a small, scrawny pirate with a shifty, ratlike face squeeze out of the crowd.

"Ahem. What is it?"

Mord Farwynd felt a flicker of surprise when he saw this subordinate. He had sent the man out that day to trade with House Goodbrother of Great Wyk. They had captured many able-bodied young men during their latest raid, and these men would be sold to House Goodbrother as slaves.

House Goodbrother's wealth came from mining rather than raiding. Although slavery was nominally forbidden in the Seven Kingdoms, many slaves from other places still worked in certain nobles' illicit mines behind closed doors.

The slave trade had always been an extremely profitable illicit business in this world. Jorah Mormont, heir to House Mormont of Bear Island in the North, had been sentenced to death by Eddard Stark of Winterfell precisely because he had traded in slaves. The man, however, had fled east to Essos with his wife well in advance.

"Chief Mord, we learned from those Goodbrother men that 'One-Eye' Billy and his crew have been wiped out by House Flint. There are rumors that House Flint also fought a battle against barbarians at its mine, and that a lot of people died."

"Oh! Really?"

Emmy Blacktyde, who was beside him, immediately grew interested at these words and asked directly.

"You mean House Flint has already lost a lot of men? Is that what you're saying?"

After hearing the pirate's report, Mord Farwynd offered his assessment.

"Hahaha! The Drowned God blesses us! I heard long ago that nearly everyone in House Flint was dead. Their current lord is a greenhorn from the green lands of the south. This is nothing less than the Drowned God's blessing upon us. Let's raid Flint's Finger!"

Emmy Blacktyde spoke to his companion Mord Farwynd, and Mord nodded in some agreement.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Amid a series of clangs as iron drinking cups struck the tables, Mord Farwynd and Emmy Blacktyde rose together.

"My Ironborn brothers, the great Drowned God has brought us a revelation! The sea is about to engulf Flint's Finger. Let us go there and pay the iron price!"

"Oh! Oh!"

As Mord Farwynd roared, everyone present roared along with him.