Harrentown, located on the northern shore of the Gods Eye, was a sprawling settlement situated just outside the massive walls of Harrenhal.
In the original timeline, this vital economic hub was destined to be violently burned and destroyed during the War of the Five Kings. But today, under Roman's leadership, it was undergoing a total rebirth.
With the autumn harvest recently concluded, the smallfolk of Harrentown were enjoying a rare, brief moment of leisure.
Roman seized this crucial window to organize the townspeople for a massive infrastructure overhaul.
His blueprints included digging proper irrigation canals for the fields, stone-lined drainage ditches for the streets, a standardized three-compartment septic tank system for every household, reinforced cobblestone roads, and massive, water-powered grain mills.
Initially, the exhausted townspeople were deeply reluctant to perform heavy labor for their new lord, especially since they had finally earned a break from the fields. However, Roman publicly decreed that if they provided the labor to build these structures, the new infrastructure would be permanently available to the public entirely free of charge.
This single decree completely ignited the townspeople's enthusiasm.
Historically, the smallfolk were forbidden from baking bread in their own ovens or grinding flour at their own homes. They were legally forced to use the lord's designated mills and ovens, where they were charged extortionate usage fees simply to prepare their own food.
It was a classic, crushing medieval tax loop that Westeros had rigidly preserved for centuries.
Furthermore, standard feudal corvée labor was essentially slavery. The smallfolk were forced to build roads and walls for the lord without pay. Because they reaped no personal benefit from the grueling work, they naturally put in the bare minimum effort, just going through the motions to avoid the lash. If a man broke his back hauling stone for the lord with no compensation, his entire family would starve during the winter.
Under those miserable conditions, it was no wonder the peasants were historically "lazy."
But now, Lord Roman had officially decreed that the new mills and clean water canals belonged to them, free of the crushing usage taxes. What else was there to say? They eagerly grabbed their shovels and got to work.
The entire town was soon buzzing with chaotic, joyful activity. The only people who felt like weeping were the former monopolistic millers and the corrupt shop owners who had profited off the old system.
Reports from various foremen indicated that the purified white stone dismantled from Harrenhal was serving as a flawless, indestructible foundation for the town's new infrastructure, and the renovations were rapidly expanding outward layer by layer.
Roman had originally planned to build several brick kilns to fire standardized red bricks for the new houses. However, Maester Tom astutely advised him not to waste the time or coal, pointing out that Harrenhal possessed such a staggering, seemingly infinite supply of pre-cut, purified stone blocks that they wouldn't need to fire new bricks for decades.
Roman did not sit idly by in his castle while the smallfolk toiled. Though he was no longer personally hauling mortar, he rode through Harrentown every single day to closely supervise the progress.
He was constantly shadowed by a dozen loyal, quick-witted servants and literate squires, each carrying a ledger to meticulously record the logistical key points of Harrentown's reconstruction.
These young men had been specially handpicked by Roman at Lady Shella's recommendation. Roman planned to train them directly in the field. Once they understood his modern administrative concepts, they would become the grassroots bureaucrats tasked with advancing his industrial plans across the rest of the Whent territories.
These young men came from families that had served House Whent for generations; some were even the sons of senior stewards. Earning Lord Roman's personal attention was a massive honor, and they followed him everywhere, learning with desperate diligence.
"Study these logistical problems carefully, and summarize your experiences with one another every evening," Roman instructed, pausing his horse to look at his scribes. "The future development of our entire territory will soon depend heavily on your competence."
He reached down and firmly patted a few of the nearest scribes on the shoulder, filling the young men with overwhelming pride.
"My lord!" one of the squires vowed, his chest puffed out. "I will study night and day! Even if it costs me my life, I will help you build a prosperous kingdom!"
"Let us not be so melodramatic," Roman laughed, interrupting the impassioned speech. "I need you alive and healthy. If you all drop dead from exhaustion, Lady Shella and I will have to lay the bricks ourselves. Do you really want to see your lord mixing mud?"
The joke shattered the tense, formal atmosphere, and amidst the warm laughter, the young bureaucrats' loyalty and respect for Roman grew even stronger.
The common residents of Harrentown were equally moved, primarily because Roman truly traveled to every miserable, muddy corner of the settlement.
He did not just visit the wealthy merchants. He knocked on the rotting doors of the poorest families to personally investigate their living conditions.
Do you have enough grain to feed your children?
How did your family survive the last long winter? Did the roof hold?
What is the average wheat yield in your northern field? Is it enough to sustain a family of six?
Are the new coal rations convenient for heating and cooking? Have you experienced any lung issues from the smoke?
Roman's relentless, empathetic questioning not only won over the absolute devotion of the townspeople, but it also provided him with a wealth of vital, ground-level inspiration, allowing him to quickly devise practical solutions to everyday problems.
The prospective officials trailing behind him frantically recorded the residents' complaints and Roman's corresponding coping strategies.
By mobilizing the sheer willpower of the Harrentown residents alongside the specialized blacksmiths and craftsmen he had brought from King's Landing, the town was transformed at an astonishing speed.
Collapsing thatched roofs were replaced with sturdy timber and slate. The muddy, rutted roads were leveled and paved with smooth, white Harrenhal stone. The chaotic, disease-ridden water supply was completely separated from the newly dug drainage ditches.
Furthermore, Roman frequently brought Maester Tom down to the main town square to deliver aggressive, mandatory speeches on public sanitation.
Roman did not expect the illiterate smallfolk to fully grasp the complex medical theories of germ transmission. Knowledge was simply too precious and rare in Westeros. He didn't need them to understand the science; he just needed them to obey the new laws.
"Do not drink unboiled river water!" Maester Tom shouted from a wooden platform, reading from Roman's strict decrees. "Lord Roman has provided every household with ample coal! There is absolutely no excuse not to maintain a rolling boil!"
"Stop dumping your chamber pots into the main streets! This is your first and only warning. If you are caught dumping waste a second time, you will be sentenced to a week of hard labor sweeping the gutters. A third offense will result in a crippling silver fine!"
"Why has your family not dug a proper septic tank yet? Do you lack the strength to hold a shovel?"
"All animal carcasses and household trash must be carted to the designated landfill outside the town limits! Anyone caught tossing refuse into the alleys will be flogged!"
"Why are you staring at me like that? Do you have a problem with Lord Roman's laws?!"
As Harrentown was physically rebuilt, Roman assigned the most astute and capable of his young scribes to permanent, local administrative posts.
Following Roman's strict centralized requirements, these new bureaucrats began aggressively regulating the production, sanitation, and daily life of the townspeople. They were given the budget to recruit local guards and assistants to enforce the new laws.
A rudimentary but highly effective bureaucratic machine was finally born. These young officials served as the capable tentacles of Harrenhal, extending Roman's direct will into the countryside.
The sprawling Riverlands territories, previously governed by loose, apathetic feudal traditions, were finally being brought under the absolute, centralized control of House Whent.
On the day the Harrentown renovations were officially declared complete, the locals walked their paved streets in sheer disbelief. Their settlement had become shockingly clean, efficient, and beautiful.
Looking at the pristine water canals and the roaring public mills, the residents finally realized just how agonizingly hard and miserable their previous lives had truly been.
With Harrentown successfully established as a flawless, working model, Roman planned to systematically replicate the exact same administrative and infrastructural overhaul across every single village and town under Whent control.
Currently, because House Whent had lacked the military and administrative influence to directly manage their outer territories, they had historically relied on granting localized fiefdoms to petty mayors and village headmen.
Under the old system, local disputes, criminal trials, and tax collection were entirely handled by these unchecked, often corrupt local leaders. House Whent only ever interacted with these villages once a year to collect their cut of the taxes.
"This decentralized system is fundamentally flawed and breeds corruption," Roman lectured his remaining squires as they prepared to ride out. "Study the Harrentown model meticulously, because in the coming years, you will be the ones directly managing those outer territories in my name."
For these young servants, this opportunity was nothing short of a meteoric rise. They were being elevated from common, landless castle staff into powerful local governors directly responsible to the Lord of Harrenhal himself.
With the town finally stabilized, Roman prepared to ride back to the fortress to deliver his progress report to Lady Shella.
However, as Roman and his retinue reached the main gates of the town, they found their path completely blocked by thousands of cheering townspeople.
The entire population had gathered to see Lord Roman off.
Looking out at the sea of enthusiastic, tear-filled smiles and listening to the deafening, joyous cheers echoing across the lake, one of Roman's young squires rode up beside him.
"My lord," the squire whispered in absolute awe. "I do not believe even Aegon the Conqueror ever commanded this level of genuine love and respect from his people."
It was the undeniable truth. The number of truly benevolent, capable rulers in the bloody history of Westeros could be counted on a single hand. A powerful lord like Roman—who actively sacrificed his own comfort to personally elevate the lives of the peasantry—was a mythical rarity.
Roman had arrived in a backward, muddy slum carrying nothing but raw stone and timber. When he left, he left behind a gleaming, modernized town, and in return, his wagons were completely overflowing with gifted food, ale, and flowers the people had forcefully pressed upon his guards.
Seeing his squires utterly stunned by the overwhelming display of public devotion, Roman smiled softly and snapped his reins.
"Come along, lads. Do not let the cheers make you complacent. We still have a kingdom to build."