To celebrate this year's bountiful harvest, Riverrun was throwing a feast. It would also give the Tullys a chance to et with their vassals and hear how the lands were faring.
Lady Shella was busy preparing her speech, the honor guard, and the gifts they would present to House Tully.
And Roman? He was in the kitchen baking a cake for Fili.
Fili had been glued to Roman's side ever since the day he brought her to Harrenhal. She fard when he fard, drove ravens and handled logistics when he hunted bandits, and marched north with him when he took supplies to the Wall.
So whenever he could, Roman carved out a little ti off. Partly to recover his own strength, partly to make sure the girl didn't run herself into the ground. Even when she insisted that "once the other apostles arrive everything will be fine," Roman just chalked it up to another one of her dreams.
Harrenhal's farms had co a long way. From the very beginning Roman had set aside plots for vegetables and fruit trees. He'd placed beehives and mushroom logs in the forest villages and started intensive livestock operations that gave them at, eggs, milk, wool, and plenty of manure for the fields.
Now the people of Harrenhal ate a wide variety of foods. With a balanced diet they didn't need to stuff themselves on bread the way they used to. Even pastries—once a luxury—were affordable for ordinary folk. The larger towns already had several bakeries, and every day you could see all kinds of people lining up for sweet treats.
This ti Roman made Fili a lemon cake, a long-sumr favorite. Flour, sugar, eggs, and fresh lemons were all easy to co by. It was also Sansa Stark's favorite, though Roman doubted the girl had ever tasted one this good.
Fili took a tiny bite, closed her eyes, and smiled like she'd touched the Seven themselves. She wanted to savor every crumb, so she nibbled like a mouse. Roman couldn't help laughing.
"Pastries aren't so rare treasure anymore. Even commoners in Harrenhal eat them now and then. You don't have to be so stingy."
"But I don't want to turn greedy. If I'm not careful I'll end up like the gluttons in the stories."
Roman's chest tightened with a strange mix of feelings—pity for how careful she had to be, respect for her self-control, and quiet gratitude that he'd found a girl like her. He ruffled her golden hair and held out his pinky.
"Then we'll keep each other honest. Neither of us lets bad habits sneak in."
Fili's bright blue eyes sparkled. She grabbed his hand so fast she forgot to wipe the cake crumbs from her mouth.
"Deal! And that ans I get to keep an eye on you too, Lord Roman. I'll make sure you take care of yourself!"
"You little—don't go expanding the rules on !"
For a few precious days they set the heavy burdens aside and simply enjoyed the rare holiday that harvest ti gave them.
Once their energy was restored, Roman threw himself into building the water-managent system. The Riverlands were full of rivers—that was no secret—but not every place had easy access to them. So high-ground villages still carried water by hand. Other rivers ran only a few hundred yards apart, yet boats had to sail for miles around bends.
Roman's goal was simple: dams, dikes, canals, and aqueducts for drinking water, flood control, irrigation, and transport.
While Riverrun prepared for the feast, Harrenhal's people began digging. The first to benefit were the workshops. Instead of hauling coal and ore with teams of oxen, they now had small canals wide enough for two barges. Raw materials floated straight to the forges, and finished goods floated straight to docks and waystations.
The farms gained even more. Roman's canal network brought the irrigation rate across Harrenhal lands to a staggering ninety percent.
Lady Shella spent her days gathering supplies for the feast until the Tullys finally sent out invitations. Then Roman and Lady Shella set out for Riverrun together with the other eastern Riverlands lords.
Riverrun.
Hoster Tully stood on a high balcony watching the banners of his vassals below.
"Edmure, have the eastern lords arrived yet?"
"No, Father. Lady Shella said they're bringing a lot of cargo. It's slowing them down."
Hoster's eyes flashed with irritation. House Whent—or more accurately, Roman Whent—was making him very uneasy. He knew Lady Shella hadn't turned Harrenhal around by herself. Only that boy had the talent to turn a ruin into gold.
The eastern Riverlands were knitting themselves into a single bloc. From God's Eye to Maidenpool, everything was slowly coming under Roman's hand. A group of defeated royalists was gathering strength again. If they added a marriage alliance, it would be the old wolf-deer-fish-eagle pact all over again.
For the first ti Hoster understood how the Mad King must have felt facing that coalition. And he had no good reason—or power—to stop Roman.
The other nobles had already been waiting several days. The fact that the eastern lords were taking so long only made everyone grumpier.
Finally, on a bright sunny morning, Lady Shella and her party rode into view.
The mont the Harrenhal column appeared, every noble in the courtyard sucked in a sharp breath.
In front marched the usual honor guard—singers, flower children, colorful banners, and bread distributors. Behind them stretched an endless wagon train loaded with goods and gifts for the Tullys. Flanking the entire procession were eight hundred armored infantry and five hundred heavy cataphracts, plus support troops and hired laborers.
The Riverlands lords reached the sa conclusion at once:
Never fight Harrenhal in open battle.
Those heavy cavalry alone wore equipnt that would have made most knights jealous. Now an entire ford unit rode like that. No single house in the Riverlands could stand against them.
Darry and Mooton arrived right after, making it obvious the three houses were now standing shoulder to shoulder.
"Looks like this harvest feast won't stay peaceful."
"Why did they bring the heavy cavalry? What are they planning?"
"I heard Harrenhal's taxes alone equal everything between Riverrun and God's Eye combined. They're showing off."
Roman and Lady Shella ignored the whispers. They walked straight to Hoster and bowed.
"My lord, we brought a great deal of cargo for the feast. It slowed us on the road. Please forgive the delay."
Lady Shella handled the pleasantries while she sent Roman off to unload the wagons.
Roman no longer played the quiet attendant. He and Fili coordinated the work crews, and with Maester Tom's help he began greeting the other lords personally.
Every noble he spoke with looked nervous despite his friendly manner. They kept glancing at the cataphracts and imagining what those ironclad riders would look like charging at full speed.
Hoster watched his own son chatting animatedly with Roman about Riverlands gossip and felt a wave of dizziness.
The gap between people could be that wide?
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