Agriculture ca first. Roman could live without gold, but never without grain.
Westeros still grew its food the old way—n, oxen, and simple tools. The iron shortage was finally solved.
The long sumr was still going strong. It was the perfect ti to stockpile.
When Roman returned to Harrenhal, Lady Shella was waiting outside the gates. The mont she saw him she pulled him into a fierce hug.
"My lady, you're getting stronger. That hug nearly broke my ribs."
"I think you're the one who's been working too hard. Co inside. I've had the kitchens prepare a proper feast."
The great hall hadn't seen this much life in years. The Pyre Tower burned again, but this ti the white fla gave off a warm, steady glow instead of death. The new milky-white bricks had wiped away the old gloom. Torches fueled by dragonfla lit the room bright and clean.
Everyone who mattered in Harrenhal sat together—eating, drinking, laughing, and swapping stories about how their villages were changing.
Lady Shella watched it all with quiet pride.
"Child, you've done well. The servants keep telling how much better life is back ho. You're starting to look like a real lord."
Roman sipped his watered wine and shook his head.
"I've still got a long way to go, my lady. Harrenhal is going to be better than this."
Later, when the feast wound down, Roman and Lady Shella stepped aside with Maester Tom to talk serious business.
"My lady, I've been looking at the tax rolls. We're taking four parts in ten from the farrs. That's too much. I want to drop it to two parts in ten."
Maester Tom nearly choked.
"My lord, cutting the tax in half so quickly? Our fixed costs are already high!"
Roman waved him off.
"I know, Maester. But the blast furnaces are running. We can make farm tools faster than ever before. Once the farrs have proper iron plows and better equipnt, their yields are going to jump. The grain will more than make up the difference."
He spread out the latest production reports.
"We control salt, iron, clean water, and timber. Even at twenty percent we'll still co out ahead on the other goods."
Lady Shella and Tom still looked doubtful, so Roman added, "We won't announce the cut yet. Let's wait until after the second harvest and see the real numbers. Then we decide."
Both of them finally nodded.
Roman moved on to the bigger picture: House Whent would fund upgrades across every industry in the lands—farming, herding, forestry, orchards, fishing—while also building real industry and skilled trades.
"Step by step," he said. "First we make sure no one starves."
Out in the fields, farrs who had worked the land their whole lives were staring at brand-new iron plows like they were made of gold.
At first most of them refused to touch the tools. They were sure it was so new trick to raise taxes. Only when Roman rode from village to village himself and explained the policy did they finally believe him.
By then the second blast furnace was already finished—built in half the ti of the first, with a hot-air blast channel and a small converter furnace for making steel. It wasn't running at full strength yet, but it would get there.
For now most of the iron was going into farm tools. Roman didn't make the farrs pay full price. He gave them long-term, low-interest loans instead. Use the plow now. Pay when the harvest cos in.
More than one old farr dropped to his knees in the dirt, clutching the new plow and crying while he thanked the Seven for sending Roman.
Westerosi farming wasn't primitive, but the shortage of iron and the greed of most lords had kept the smallfolk trapped in poverty for centuries. Only the Reach had rich enough soil to survive high taxes. Everywhere else, war ant the common people died first and died hardest.
Roman hired traveling bards and paid them well to turn his policies and the changes in the villages into songs. He needed people—lots of people. Every new furnace ant more miners, coke workers, blacksmiths, and carpenters. Harrenhal was still desperately short on labor.
While he was thinking about recruitnt, the sound of laughter and cheering drifted across the fields.
Farrs were already working the new iron plows, whooping with joy as the blades cut clean furrows through the soil.
Maester Tom was practically bouncing.
"My lord, the increase in speed is incredible! At this rate your tax cut might actually work!"
Roman stayed calm.
"The plows are only the beginning, Maester. Tell the smiths to start designing other tools. And it's ti we got serious about the militia program."
Roman's plan was simple and practical: two layers of defense.
Farrs would train as militia during the quiet seasons—archery, basic formations, castle defense, and scouting. Harrenhal would use its tax money and training grounds to keep a smaller standing force ready year-round.
The militia would give the smallfolk a real chance to defend themselves in war and would serve as a ready pool of trained recruits.
Old Jesse had already sent instructors to the richer villages to begin training. Once those places had solid results and living standards kept rising, the program would spread everywhere.
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