"Master?"
"Don't call master! Call my lord, or I'll throw you out!"
"Eek!"
Fili's yelp followed Roman out of bed. He had been exhausted from all the traveling, so he had given the guards a few days off and let them rotate rest.
By the ti he reached the washbasin, Fili had already laid out everything he needed. It felt strange. He had always done these things alone. Now the girl had quietly beco his personal attendant.
Lady Shella had tried to assign him servants before, but the mont she ntioned including that girl Pina, Roman had nearly choked. He had refused every offer until Fili showed up.
"Did you used to work as a squire or sothing?" he asked while washing.
"Mm—yes, my lord. I was an orphan. The place that took in trained as a servant, so I know how to do all this."
Roman frowned. "Then why did you want to co here? Because of the dream?"
Fili nodded, eyes dropping. "I had a nightmare one night. I dread bandits attacked the place where I lived and killed everyone. I was too scared to go back… and then the bandits actually ca. After that the dreams started leading toward you. The closer I got, the fewer bad dreams I had. Now they're almost gone. I think the Seven are protecting ."
Roman studied the girl. He ran through every major POV character from the books in his head.
No one like her. Is she special like ?
Through his white-fla sight most nobles and smallfolk looked the sa—weak, ordinary life sparks. Only the Baratheons stood out, probably because of whatever divine blood still lingered in their line.
He shook the thought away. He had more important things to worry about right now.
"Co on, Fili. Ti to work."
He turned and watched the 5'7" girl casually hoist his massive warhamr—taller than she was—and fall in behind him like it weighed nothing.
Yeah… this one is definitely not normal.
First stop: the blacksmith yard. Nearly two hundred new skilled workers had arrived with the latest group. Roman found Blackfinger Ben and asked how many sets of brigandine they could finish in a month.
"My lord, the first hundred sets used up all our stored plates. Now we have to make everything from scratch. If we keep this pace we should have enough armor and spares for five hundred n by the next harvest."
Roman had expected slower progress. The answer made him grin.
"Excellent. Keep that speed. Quality first. If you need anything, co straight to Lady Shella or ."
Ben's wrinkled face split into a huge smile. He grabbed a sheet of parchnt.
"My lord, your armor design gave an idea. Instead of separate pieces we can make one-piece articulated arm guards using the sa overlapping plates as brigandine. Soldiers won't have to fumble with two separate pieces."
He pointed at the sketch. "Also, the way you drew it puts all the weight on the shoulders. If we curve the hip plates inward and add a proper belt, the soldiers can carry the load on their waists instead. We should add solid chest plates too—keep arrows and blades out of the heart and lungs—and better protection under the arms."
Ben rattled off half a dozen practical improvents. Roman was impressed.
"You smiths are sharper than I gave you credit for. One rough drawing and you already found all these upgrades. Do it exactly as you said. Any problems, bring them to ."
Ben looked like he had just been handed a chest of gold. His dark hands rubbed together in excitent.
Roman left the yard with Fili and headed to the ruins-clearing site. The unskilled workers had been kept inside Harrenhal for odd jobs, but most were now tearing down the old wreckage. The salvaged stone traveled out along the new main roads to wherever it was needed.
With help from the castle's builders, Roman had already picked sites for new strongholds at key road junctions. They were building simple but effective fortifications: wooden fras packed with ramd earth, then faced with stone. Far cheaper than the traditional thick stone walls of Westeros, yet almost as strong.
"Too bad I don't have a builder's magic," Roman muttered. "I could really stir things up for the other Riverlands lords."
He chatted with the workers about crop progress while Fili kept staring at the black-scaled tail swaying behind him.
Everyone in Harrenhal assud the tail was just so noble affectation—a decorative piece Roman wore for show. But Fili could feel it was real. The thought made her fingers itch with curiosity.
"Fili? You coming? We still need to check the fields."
"Ah—yes! Right behind you!"
When she looked up she saw an endless sea of green. The wheat had just begun to sprout, neat rows of tiny blades covering the earth.
The blacksmiths, inspired by Northern plows, had designed a heavy three-share plow mounted on wheels. Two oxen or horses could pull it easily, turning soil far faster than before. Thanks to the white fla they could now cast tal molds and mass-produce the plowshares.
Blast furnaces and workshops ran day and night. Iron tools poured out in a steady stream, yet the demand was still enormous. Orders were already booked through next year.
Only then did Roman truly understand how valuable steel was in this world. He imdiately ordered construction of a third blast furnace.
He also spent heavily to recruit more blacksmiths and founded a craftsman academy right inside Harrenhal. There simply weren't enough skilled hands. Agriculture, industry, textiles, mining, slting—every field needed experts. Roman could give them ideas, but he couldn't do the work himself.
He stood at the edge of the fields, breathing in the clean scent of freshly turned earth, and felt the tension in his shoulders ease.
None of this would happen overnight. Better to stop worrying and go find more people.
"Ti to go fishing again."
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