Wells stood outside the Merman's Court of the New castle overlooking the sea and the White Harbour as he awaits the summons from Lord Manderly. Soon he was informed by a guard who came from inside that Lord Wyman Manderly wishes to see him.
Inside the hall, The merman sigil of House Manderly flies behind the Lord's chair, the lavishly furnished walls decorated with ship portraits, broken shields and rusted swords from past victories along with wooden figures from the prows of ships here and there.
Lord Menderly sat upon his chair, a fat man, fatter than buffalo with a pie in his hand's oil still on his white beard. He glanced up at the young man from Winterfell. "So you are from Winterfell sent by young lord Alaric Stark."
"Yes, milord; he has a trade proposal for you," Wills called for two men outside the hall. two men appeared inside the halls with two items on two plates. "milord, these are the gifts lord Alaric sent for you."
Two servants place the two plates covered with clothing on the table of Lord Manderly. Lord Manderly Uncovered the clothing on both plates.
There was a glass bottle of wine or something like that and a stack of empty white papers. Lord Manderly took the wine bottle in his hand gulped a mouthful as he felt a blast of freshness within himself.
"It's good, and these paper; never seen them so smooth and white."
"Yes, my Lord, they are produced in Winterfell. I am here to work with you on its sale."
Unlike other Lords, Lord Manderly is a quasi capitalist. He may look amiable, bulky Oldman, but if he wants to be ruthless, only a handful of men across Westeros are his opponents; lucky for everyone, he doesn't play the game. He could smell the huge profits contained in these two products. No way Starks could sell these things without him or bypassing him; it's not worth the efforts or trouble. It easy to sell things from White Harbour. " Fuck! the arbour gold, this wine is the best." Lord Manderly said aloud as he took another mouthful.
Both man then argued about the partnership ship until Lord Manderly got impatient. "You get 70 on it, and I take 30 on both. It's non-negotiable."
Lord Manderly wouldn't say non-negotiable, but it's the private behaviour of Alaric, and him taking 30 is already giving enough face.
"I accept Milord," replied Wells; because it was under Alaric's prediction and tolerance. Since the deal reached, there was no reason for Wells to stay here.
No one would have thought that the casually made deal would make both Starks and Manderly's pretty rich, making other lords of the north and the entire Westeros drool.
...
Six Months Later
In the early morning before dusk, cold wind blew as two men with their heads and limbs covered stood outside the house of a peasant with two more men holding two big iron dram covered with an iron lid on top of a cart. They knocked on the door until the peasant came out. " We have been ordered by young Lord Alaric to collect animal excrement throughout the Winterfell and the surrounding Villages. You will be reimbursed for the trouble." said one of the men, as the peasant scratched his head in confusion. It took a while for the farmer to understand what was going on. Such scenes were happening all over Winterfell and its surrounding areas to be transported towards the so-called industrial area established by Alaric thanks to the profits from Vodka and Paper. The area has become most important after Winterfell that requires the deployment of forces from Winterfell. As the Profits rolled in, trouble followed Baelish, Varys, Reach, and Tywin sent their spies to the north. Alaric had to convince his father to invest up to a hundred thousand golden dragons. Which was one-fifth of Stark treasury; as a loan allowing him to expand and kick start various projects to the east and south of Winterfell along the white knife river. He had already sent Wills to invite Tobho Mott and Qyburn by hook or crook to the north.
In a conference room, Alaric held a close-knit woollen sweater in his hand as he gazed at the mountain clans and tribal leaders. He can only come here one time in three days, thanks to the orders of Eddard Stark. These guys are the clan vassals of house stark, who live in the mountains and remote areas with absolute loyalty towards house stark. Only the head of house Stark can command them because these stubborn mountain folks won't listen to anyone else. The only reason he was able to get them here was thanks to the command of Eddard Stark, loved by these mountain folks. "Dear Lords, here I have A woollen sweater in my hands to bring comfort to you when winter arrives even though you have furs to protect you, this sweater." Alaric asserted with a hint of childishness in his voice as he threw the sweater towards the tribal and clan leaders. One of the reasons they stayed loyal to the house stark because of just and fair treatment and the way house Stark treated the leaders of these clans and tribes as part of the nobility. As the savage Lords clad in animal fur clothes felt and caressed the woollen cloth in their hands and murmured among themselves about the quality of the cloth in their hands.
Alaric raised his hand and beckoned them to stop.
"My lords, you may have already noticed the quality of this woollen sweater. It's manufactured from the ten different species of sheep's wool found in various parts of the north."
Without waiting for them to think, Alaric finally threw the main bomb of today's meeting.
"Winterfell will also provide you with food whenever needed."
After another round of murmur among the clan and tribal Lords, one of them with a big white beard, towering height clad in black furs, finally came forward. "Milord, I fought and bled in a war far south under your grandfather. Answered your father's call for revenge down south. In my experience, I have learned nothing is free or without a but." Alaric laid his eyes upon the old Warrior. A scar ran across his cheek, probably a souvenir from the war.
" Yes, Lord Flint, there is big but here. In exchange for all food and clothing. I want you all to send your extra hands to Winterfell as full-time soldiers. They will be paid by Winterfell, Supplied by Winterfell, trained by Winterfell, and equipped by Winterfell after ten years they and sent back to you with everything along with the small amount of retirement funds in gold." This is Alaric's attempt to create an elite force after his father spanked his arse for demanding some soldiers in Winterfell be placed under him after he failed to express his true thoughts to Eddard Stark but still allowed him to recruit mountain clans if they agree to follow him.
After another round of chatter among mountain clan and tribal Lords, they finally agreed because they didn't have anything to lose but; everything to gain, from winter clothes to food in exchange for extra mouths to feed in winter. It's a good deal in their eyes. After both sides reached a deal, they entered into a discussion about the number of men they will send and the amount of food and woollen clothes they need. Clans and Tribal lords became curious when Alaric Swore an oath to the god of war and wisdom to stand by his words and honour the agreements reached today, asking about the diety. Alaric just smiled and explained to them about the King of old Gods who watches over the first men through the sacred trees. His mystical hall in Valhalla awaiting fallen warriors where mead and food along with other warriors throughout the ages who believe in old gods await the fallen warriors.
Alaric gazed at the river White knife and the supposed Industrial area, which keeps expanding every month at a monstrous speed. The only he need to now is to get Qyburn, Tobho Mott and marginalised Mountain Clan warriors of the Vale.