When the last person in the caravan crested the low mountain pass known as the "White Ridge," the view suddenly opened up before them.
The God's Eye Lake lay like an enormous sapphire set into the green fields, stretching out peacefully under the pale autumn sunlight, its misty waters so vast that the far shore was invisible.
Along the southern bank stretched a gentle, fertile plain dotted with patches of woodland and adow.
The exhausted travelers, who had marched for twenty-three days, felt tears well up at the sight of this broad, tranquil water and the rich land.
The end of their hopes seed finally within reach.
The column followed the lakeside path for another half-day's difficult trek. In the afternoon they finally caught sight of their destination—White Stone Town.
It was called a "town," but it was really little more than a slightly larger village. Dozens of crooked wooden-and-stone houses clustered together, surrounded by low fences and unevenly cleared fields.
A small stream diverted from the God's Eye flowed beside the town, serving as its water source.
At the highest point stood a dilapidated stone tower overgrown with vines—the only remaining symbol that a lord had once ruled here.
The whole settlent radiated an air of decay and silence.
When the enormous, motley caravan approached, the few remaining residents—mostly the elderly, won, and children—fled back into their houses in terror, peering out through door cracks and window lattices.
Luke ordered the column to camp on a relatively flat stretch of wasteland outside the town and strictly forbade any harassnt of the locals.
Cooking smoke soon rose in curls. The weary migrants began erecting makeshift shelters. Children finally ran about freely; though the surroundings were strange, the solid ground beneath their feet brought peace of mind.
Luke, accompanied by Arthur, Bronn, Syrio, and several guards, rode into White Stone Town.
The so-called "mayor" was actually a very old man, nearly toothless, who had once served as steward to the late knight.
After examining the parchnt docunt bearing the royal seal and the seal of the Master of Coin (Petyr had handled the actual fief allocation), the old steward stared with cloudy eyes for a long ti before shakily kneeling.
He handed over a set of rusty keys and a tattered tax ledger—symbols of authority—to Luke, mumbling vague blessings and farewells.
He planned to move with his family to relatives near Harrenhal.
The takeover was quiet, almost lancholy.
The town and the vaguely defined "hundred-li" lands around it thus changed hands.
Before leaving, the old steward revealed that more than five hundred residents were officially registered, but actual able-bodied n were extrely scarce. Most had either fled to Harrenhal for work after the previous lord's death or had beco "free folk" in the hills.
Those left behind were mostly the old, weak, won, and children, barely surviving on poor fields and rundown houses.
After one night of rest, Luke imdiately went into action.
He sent out literate and quick-witted guards, paired with veteran rcenaries familiar with the region, dividing them into teams that radiated outward from White Stone Town in every direction.
Their mission was simple: map every settlent within a hundred li—villages, manors, hunters' cabins, and so on.
They were to record population size and composition, primary livelihoods, and… potential threats.
Such as bandit lairs or unruly wildling groups.
He wanted a thorough census of both population and social structure.
Nominally his fief was only the area around White Stone Town, but as he had thought—"we're already here."
To Luke, the vast, weakly governed lands west of the Kingsroad and south of the God's Eye already belonged to House Jaqenion.
He needed to know exactly how many people lived here and what kind of people they were.
At the sa ti, Luke himself got busy.
He found a high vantage point with a clear view and took a drone equipped with a high-definition cara from his "mysterious space."
Under the awed and curious gazes of Arthur and the others, the drone buzzed into the air and began a wide-range aerial survey of the southern shore of the God's Eye.
The crisp footage stread live to the tablet in his hands.
"With a drone… who says I'm not an alien?"
The topography of the southern God's Eye shore appeared clearly: vast stretches of flat, fertile alluvial plain, though most were still covered by dense forest… several winding rivers feeding into the lake.
One of the widest was a tributary of the Blackwater Rush.
There were tracts of virgin forest and brush, scattered farmland and villages, and… huge expanses of untilled wilderness.
Comparing the images on the screen with everything he had seen on the journey, Luke felt a surge of emotion.
The land utilization rate in this world was shockingly low!
Such flat, water-rich, fertile soil had simply been left to waste.
He could guess seven or eight reasons:
Land ownership was concentrated in the hands of a few nobles, and many—like House Whent—had declined and lacked the strength to develop it. Others only cared about their core holdings. Every blade of grass and every tree still technically belonged to the nobility, so the poor were forbidden to farm it.
Productivity was extrely low; effective tools, draft animals, and farming techniques were lacking. A single peasant could only cultivate a limited amount of land.
Add in Westeros's bizarre "long sumr" and "long winter" climate cycles—winters lasting years at a ti could destroy any accumulated wealth, causing periodic population collapses that further worsened land abandonnt.
Another geographical factor hindered developnt: a low mountain range beside the Kingsroad blocked easy access. Every trip in or out required detouring through Harrenhal or the White Ridge pass…
"A complete waste of heaven's gifts," Luke murmured.
He felt a pang of sorrow for the common people of this world, and a mont of silent mourning for the countless lives that would starve in the coming chaos and long winter.
But those emotions were quickly replaced by even fiercer ambition.
This place would be the starting point that changed everything.
After three days of ticulous scouting and data comparison, Luke finally found the ideal location.
It was a gentle high ground on the southern shore of the God's Eye, roughly twenty li from the lakeside.
The plateau itself was not especially steep, but it rose noticeably above the surrounding flat plain, offering excellent visibility.
Best of all, it faced directly across the lake toward the massive, ominous silhouette of Harrenhal on the northern shore. On clear days it was faintly visible—perfectly aligned on an invisible north-south axis.
About a hundred li to the east lay the tributary of the Blackwater Rush.
Though the river was not wide and its current gentle—making it nearly useless for shipping at present—it provided a reliable water source and future developnt potential.
Open fields surrounded the high ground, perfect for large-scale construction.
"This is the spot!" Luke declared, pointing at the marked plateau on his tablet screen to Arthur, Bronn, and the others. "Backed by the high ground, overlooking the plain, close to water, and slightly elevated to avoid ordinary floods. This will be the foundation where House Jaqenion takes root in the Riverlands!"
He consulted the oldest local villagers.
The elders recalled ancestral tales that the southern shore of the God's Eye was generally higher in elevation. Lake water was mainly fed by several large rivers on the northern shore and underground springs. In thousands of years there had never been a record of major flooding on the southern bank. Occasional heavy rains might cause small streams to overflow, but the water receded quickly.
With this crucial information, Luke no longer hesitated.
He imdiately issued his first construction orders:
"First, on the gentler eastern slope of the high ground, begin building a permanent barracks imdiately! It must be sturdy and able to house at least two thousand n. Use wood and ramd earth for now, while sending teams to locate suitable stone quarries nearby."
"Second, with the barracks as the core, lay out a temporary 'camp district.' All the craftsn who ca with us and their families, plus selected able-bodied migrants who have perford well and are willing to work on construction, will move into the camp district. Assign tasks uniformly and provide communal als."
"Third, at the summit of the high ground, begin preliminary surveying and foundation clearing for the castle. My castle will be built there!"
He pointed at the plateau, eyes blazing as if he could already see the towering fortress standing tall, banners flying.
Arthur recorded everything rapidly, his own eyes shining with excitent.
Bronn stroked his chin, studying the surrounding terrain and evaluating its defensive value.
Syrio maintained his usual calm smile, but his gaze now held clear approval of the young lord's decisiveness.
Even grander blueprints surged in Luke's mind.
This high ground would one day be not only the site of his castle but possibly the center of a great city!
The city could spread across the plains below the plateau, relying on the Blackwater tributary to beco a vital hub connecting the Riverlands, the Crownlands, and even the Vale.
The tributary could be dredged, widened, or even turned into a canal linking the God's Eye to farther waterways…
And the God's Eye itself was an enormous resource trove and natural barrier.
The endless southern plains offered nearly limitless space for agricultural expansion…
"Perhaps this really could beco the capital of a future empire…" A bold, wildly tempting thought took root in his heart.
The location was excellent, resources abundant, and the surrounding powers were in a vacuum.
House Whent had declined; the other great houses were currently too busy to interfere… It was practically a heaven-sent place to rise!
Yet no matter how many grand plans filled his chest, the most urgent reality remained the more than sixteen hundred mouths that needed feeding and the imdiate problem of shelter.
A magnificent blueprint still had to be built one brick at a ti.
For now, survival and order ca first.
"Arthur," Luke said, turning from the distant view to his steward, "move the craftsn and selected able-bodied n into the construction camp and get them working imdiately. Cut timber, level ground, build simple workshops. The rest of the migrants will remain in the camp outside the town for now. Organize them by family or original hotown and elect group leaders."
"Start them clearing the abandoned fields near the town. Distribute so of the long-storage seeds we brought from King's Landing—actually high-yield improved varieties from Blue Star, but mixed in with ordinary ones."
"Tell them that any land they clear now will later be allocated for their use based on performance and family size! At the sa ti, plan a new residential district on the edge of town and prepare to build the first batch of simple but sturdy houses."
"Food supply must be guaranteed. We will release our 'reserves' in reasonable, staggered batches. Set up a temporary 'communal canteen' to ensure everyone gets two basic but filling als a day. Have the maester's apprentice and a few clever children search nearby for edible wild vegetables and mushrooms to supplent the food supply."
"Bronn, take the guard company and rcenaries, mix them into patrol teams, and set patrol routes. One: guard against external threats. Two: maintain internal order and prevent theft or fights. For the first batch of enthusiastic, disciplined young migrants, recruit them into the outer periter of the guard for training with preferential treatnt."
"Syrio, stay with for now. At the sa ti, keep an eye on the migrants and locals for anyone with good skills or special talents—tracking, scouting, animal handling—and recomnd them."
One clear, precise order after another went out. The newly arrived fief, with everything waiting to be built, began to move slowly but steadily like a machine injected with powerful energy.
Cooking smoke no longer represented only the struggle for survival; it now mingled with the sounds of timber processing, ramd-earth piling, and rising dust.
On land that had lain fallow for who knew how long, the sounds of human labor rang out once more.
Luke stood at the edge of the high ground he had nad "Dragonrise Plateau," overlooking the bustling scene gradually unfolding below. He took a deep breath of air scented with lake water and rich earth.
A new chapter had officially begun.
The challenges were endless, but hope lay in the fertile soil beneath his feet that waited to be tilled.
The wheel of Westerosi history had quietly begun to veer from its original path because of this new foothold on the lakeside high ground.
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