After quietly getting rid of the Old Flayer, Roman and his n returned to White Harbor.
The whole thing had been clean. Only Fili and probably the Three-Eyed Raven knew what really happened.
Wyman Manderly grabbed Roman's hand the mont he stepped off the ship.
"I heard what you did from your soldiers. That was reckless!"
"Lord Manderly, I couldn't let him insult Lady Shella. And he only had to apologize. What's the harm?"
"No!" Wyman shook his head hard. "I ant you should have finished him. Roose Bolton is cruel and holds grudges. You should have—"
He pointed at a nearby butcher hacking at, making his aning very clear.
Roman put on a shocked face. "Seven save us, Lord Wyman! I could never do sothing so dishonorable. No matter how much I dislike Lord Bolton, I would never cross that line!"
Wyman gave him the look usually reserved for people who had lost their minds, then let out a long sigh.
"Fine. Just be careful from now on. Roose Bolton is no gentleman."
Roman thanked him for the warning, then got straight to business—negotiating ore and timber shipnts.
Harrenhal needed massive amounts of both for the next stage of industrial growth. In return, Roman offered glass and porcelain at bargain prices for White Harbor and Winterfell. Both sides walked away happy.
The ships were soon loaded. They sailed for ho without incident.
The mont the column rode through Harrenhal's gates the entire castle erupted in cheers. After months in the frozen, miserable North, even the poorest village in their lands felt like paradise.
Roman went straight to Lady Shella and gave her a full report, including the changes to his own body.
She ran her fingers over the small horns now visible in his hair, her face grave.
"Child, you need to prepare for what cos next. Dragon blood ans sothing in Westeros. Without overwhelming strength the Iron Throne will never tolerate you."
Roman nodded. He laid out his plans for the future of the lands. Lady Shella didn't understand half of it, but she trusted him completely and told him to do whatever he thought best.
After he left, Fili ran in to complain. She told Lady Shella everything that had happened at Castle Black in embarrassing detail.
Lady Shella laughed and patted the girl's head.
"Silly child. These things rarely happen on the first try. Roman's mind is on the lands right now. Stay close, help him with the small things, and it will happen when the ti is right."
She spent the next hour teaching Fili a few useful tricks. The girl left red-faced and clutching her hands.
Roman wasted no ti starting his next project.
He gathered every failed maester apprentice in the lands and brought them together to tackle public health.
"Gentlen, Harrenhal is wealthy now and we control our lands far better than before. It's ti for the next step."
He laid out a collection of glass instrunts the craftsn had made to his exact specifications—including the first crude microscopes.
Then he dropped the concept of microorganisms and let them look for themselves.
The idea, backed by visible proof under the lenses, hit like a bomb. The apprentices fought over the microscopes like starving n over bread. One actually got punched for refusing to share.
Watching them, Roman thought about how absurd Westerosi dicine could be. They could perform a cesarean section, yet so nobles still practiced bloodletting. Roose Bolton himself had let leeches drink his blood because he believed they removed "bad blood." People had even called him the Leech Lord.
These apprentices might look bookish, but each of them had real skills. Roman only needed to give them the right direction.
Once they accepted germ theory, they listened to every word he said.
"Clean water is life. It's also the biggest source of infection. We need to purify it."
"Boiling, settling tanks, and proper disinfectants will solve most problems."
He laid out every basic hygiene and epidemic-prevention thod he knew, then told the maesters to test and refine them.
He also put Maester Tom in charge of producing dicines and antiseptics.
"Yes, my lord! I will not fail you!"
Tom was completely won over. He had once hoped to use Roman to climb higher in the Citadel. Now he realized Roman was building sothing that would need its own scholars and maesters. The Citadel would never be enough.
"I may live to see a second Citadel rise in my lifeti."
Over the next few months Roman balanced running the lands with writing a public health manual alongside the maesters.
By harvest ti the first complete manual was finished. At the sa ti the printing workshop had improved woodblocks and ink enough for mass production.
The manual went straight into print, though word of mouth still spread faster.
Roman gathered every educated person in the lands under the excuse of "public health training." The maesters taught them the new rules. Because the manual was written in plain language, the lessons stuck quickly.
These newly trained health workers fanned out across every village and town, teaching people to stop the stupid habits that made them sick.
Prevention ca first. Treatnt second.
Roman also spent heavily to open proper hospitals in every town and smaller clinics in the villages. Harrenhal covered most of the cost. They used only proven, low-toxicity dicines.
Drawing on Westeros's own unique plants and dical knowledge, he created real anesthetics, antiseptics, and strong new sutures.
Inside Harrenhal itself he built a large teaching hospital that doubled as both treatnt center and research facility.
Within months the number of sick people across the lands dropped sharply.
Roman discovered that Westerosi plants were ridiculously effective. So only needed to be crushed, mixed, and filtered to beco powerful dicines. He had planned to shock everyone with aspirin. Turns out they already had better options—they just never shared them with commoners.
Now the expensive ingredients were suddenly affordable.
Word spread fast. Soon the entire Riverlands—and parts of the rest of Westeros—knew about Harrenhal's dical reforms.
What Roman didn't know yet was that a flood of sick people from other regions had already started heading his way.
They were coming like wolves scenting fresh at.
User Comments
0 comments from readers