With the successful completion and ignition of the third Whent blast furnace, an unprecedented volume of massive iron ore purchase orders began flooding out of Harrenhal, spreading into the Westerlands, the Vale, and even the Reach.
This highly unusual, aggressive economic move immediately drew the suspicious attention of the surrounding Great Houses. Some of the individual purchase orders Roman submitted exceeded the entire annual iron consumption of several minor noble houses combined.
Deep within the Westerlands.
Inside the impenetrable fortress of Casterly Rock, Lord Tywin Lannister summoned his younger brother and most trusted lieutenant, Kevan Lannister, to his solar.
Tywin handed his brother a thick stack of trade reports gathered from their various mining vassals.
"Brother, what am I looking at?" Kevan asked, glancing at the parchment.
"Harrenhal's recent iron ore orders."
Kevan frowned, still wondering what was so unusual. The Westerlands were famously rich in minerals. Although their legendary gold mines had supposedly begun to slowly deplete in recent years, their raw iron and copper veins were still incredibly plentiful.
But when Kevan finally looked closely at the ledgers, he immediately understood why his brother had summoned him.
The astronomical figures written on the purchase orders made Kevan blink, thinking his eyes were playing tricks on him. He rubbed his face and gripped the parchment tightly, his fingers trembling slightly.
After repeatedly confirming the math, he was forced to accept the terrifying truth: Harrenhal was buying up virtually the entire surplus iron supply of the western continent.
"By the Seven! Brother, when did Harrenhal become this financially powerful? What exactly is happening in the Riverlands?"
Tywin and Kevan were both brilliant, utterly ruthless men. They both knew exactly what a sudden, massive surge in iron ore demand meant: a corresponding explosion in heavy steel production.
And in Westeros, steel production directly equated to military strength.
Kevan quickly reviewed Harrenhal's purchase history over the past few months. He noticed that the volume of the Whent orders had been increasing exponentially week by week, clearly indicating that Harrenhal had somehow unlocked a method of rapid, mass-scale iron smelting.
"Brother, should I issue an immediate embargo? Should we forbid our bannermen from trading with the Riverlands?"
Kevan felt a strange, creeping fear of the sleeping giant awakening in the east. He couldn't begin to fathom the sheer size of the army Harrenhal could equip if they turned all that raw ore into weapons and marched on the Golden Tooth.
Tywin, however, slowly shook his head. "No. We cannot arbitrarily forbid our own vassals from selling their surplus iron ore, especially when House Whent is paying them heavily in Whent silver. Harrenhal has not broken any of the King's laws. Imposing a sudden embargo would only make House Lannister look economically weak and politically unreasonable."
Tywin steepled his fingers, his green eyes cold and calculating. "However, intense surveillance is absolutely necessary. That is why I summoned you, Kevan. I want you to organize a highly specialized, covert intelligence team. Infiltrate Harrenhal's staff and uncover exactly how they are processing this much ore."
Kevan had spent his entire life loyally executing Tywin's will. Now that his brother had given the command, Kevan harbor no doubts. He immediately sat down with Tywin to draft the espionage strategy.
Meanwhile, high in the Vale.
Ser Brynden the "Blackfish" Tully had also received the troubling trade reports. Stationed at the Bloody Gate, Brynden frequently overheard the Knights of the Vale gossiping about the bizarre economic shifts in the Riverlands.
"I cannot fathom what madness has gripped Harrenhal lately," a Valeman knight muttered over ale. "House Whent seems to have lost its mind. They are buying up massive quantities of peasants, raw minerals, and even bizarre things like specialized clay from across the continent."
"Who knows?" another knight laughed. "Perhaps they are trying to smelt iron?"
"Does simple iron smelting require a mountain of ore the size of the Eyrie? Unless the Whents have started feeding their smallfolk rocks for lunch, I cannot imagine what they are doing with all that iron!"
The Blackfish knew exactly who was responsible. During his brief encounter at Riverrun, news of Roman's massive infrastructural overhaul of Harrenhal had already begun to spread. But at the time, Brynden hadn't fully grasped the terrifying scale of the boy's ambition.
Roman Rivers is a vastly more dangerous player than we realized. To expand Harrenhal's industrial capacity this rapidly requires the mind of a true conqueror!
However, because Brynden was bound by his sacred duty to guard the Bloody Gate for Jon Arryn, he could not easily abandon his post to return to Riverrun and formulate a counter-strategy. He could only pen a highly urgent, coded warning to Hoster Tully, urging his brother to keep a paranoid eye on the Whents.
As for the wealthy lords of the Reach, they reacted with relative indifference. If the strange Riverlands bastard wanted to waste his treasury buying rocks, they were happy to sell them to him. The Tyrell bannermen were wealthy enough that they simply viewed the Whent trade surge as eccentric, pointless meddling.
Back at Harrenhal, however, Roman's situation was becoming increasingly stressful. For the first time since his arrival, he was experiencing the agonizing, triple-threat bottleneck of heavy industry: a severe lack of raw materials, a desperate lack of trained manpower, and rapidly dwindling liquid funds.
Fili quietly entered Roman's solar, carrying a silver tray with fresh sweetbiscuits and a cup of steaming herbal tea. Seeing that Roman looked deeply exhausted and worried as he stared at his ledgers, the girl set the tray down and gently began massaging his tense shoulders.
"Fili? Ah, thank you. You always know exactly when I need a break."
"Hmph," Fili pouted playfully, puffing out her cheeks. "If my Lord Roman refuses to hire proper maids, then I suppose I am the only one left to take care of you."
Roman couldn't help but laugh at her feigned annoyance.
He had to admit, Fili was growing quite beautiful. Though she was still incredibly thin from her years of starvation, she possessed striking, delicate bone structure. Once she ate properly and fully matured, Roman was certain she would be stunning.
Thinking of Westerosi beauty standards, Roman's mind naturally drifted to the famous women of the lore.
Cersei Lannister? The books explicitly described her as the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms, but Roman knew her soul was pure, toxic poison. He would be eternally grateful if that stupid woman never crossed his path again.
Margaery Tyrell, the Little Rose? The book version of Margaery was mostly innocent and sweet, with only a touch of Tyrell cunning. But the television show version was an absolute, hyper-competent political mastermind. He would have to wait and see which version existed in this reality before dealing with the Reach.
The women of House Baratheon and Dorne were geographically too distant to matter right now.
And then there are the Starks of the North, Roman mused. Sansa is currently just a naive, lemon-cake-obsessed child who suffers terribly before Littlefinger eventually molds her into a ruthless politician. As for Arya... well, given my martial habits, she and I would probably end up being great sparring brothers.
"Wait a minute," Roman muttered aloud, shaking his head. "I am supposed to be solving a crippling iron ore deficit. Why in the seven hells am I sitting here evaluating the noblewomen of Westeros?"
Roman's sudden, bizarre outburst startled Fili. "My lord? What are you saying? Are you considering a political marriage alliance?"
"A marriage? No, no, I was just wildly distracted," Roman laughed, waving off the misunderstanding.
But Fili's comment had suddenly sparked a massive realization. He had been thinking about the North—and the North was ruled by Eddard Stark. Ned's wife, Catelyn Tully, was the daughter of Minisa Whent. This meant Lady Shella was technically related to the Starks by marriage. Catelyn had even canonically recalled fond memories of Lady Shella's warm hospitality.
"Fili, you absolute genius! You just solved my problem!" Roman cheered, jumping up from his chair.
"Huh? What did I do, my lord?" Fili blinked, completely lost.
Roman had completely forgotten to tap the North! The logistical route was actually incredibly cheap. Heavy northern ore could be loaded onto ships at White Harbor, sailed safely down the eastern coast to King's Landing, and then hauled directly up the Blackwater Rush into the Gods Eye.
Furthermore, the unimaginably vast, mountainous territories of the North possessed exactly the raw mineral resources Harrenhal desperately needed.
Roman grabbed the utterly confused Fili by the hand and practically dragged her down the hall to Lady Shella's chambers to pitch his new trade strategy.
"My child, you wish to open a massive trade route with the North?" Lady Shella asked, looking over Roman's hastily scribbled map.
"I do," Roman nodded firmly. "Lord Eddard Stark is famously honorable and straightforward. It will be vastly easier to negotiate fair, honest trade agreements with him than it is dealing with the treacherous, price-gouging jackals of the Westerlands and the Vale."
Lady Shella thought for a moment and slowly nodded her agreement.
"It is a sound strategy. Furthermore, House Whent has a long-standing tradition of supporting the Night's Watch. You have not yet been formally introduced to the Warden of the North. Why don't you personally lead our next supply caravan up the Kingsroad and visit Winterfell to negotiate the trade deal in person?"
"As you wish, Mother. That is exactly what I was hoping you would say."
According to Lady Shella's ledgers, Harrenhal wouldn't have the surplus grain and steel required to properly support the Wall until after the autumn wheat harvest. This gave Roman a few crucial months to prepare the Whent treasury for the expedition.
He needed to plan for a long-term partnership. The North was unimaginably vast and rich in deep-vein minerals, but the climate was brutally harsh, meaning they were perpetually starved for the very agricultural tools Harrenhal was currently mass-producing. It was a perfect, symbiotic trade opportunity.
Roman could only hope that Lord Wyman Manderly of White Harbor would be willing to act as the primary shipping hub for the raw ore.
"The North... Winterfell," Roman murmured to himself as he walked back to his solar. "The Stark children are probably all just toddlers running around the courtyard right now. It will be fascinating to finally see them with my own eyes."
Fili had absolutely no idea about the complex, blood-soaked web of noble politics Roman was navigating, but seeing the genuine, excited smile on her lord's face made her smile foolishly in return.
In a fantastic mood, Roman reached over and playfully pinched Fili's cheek.
"Stop grinning like an idiot, Fili. You still haven't cleared my desk or washed the tea plates."
"Ugh! That is only because you dragged me out of the room by my arm, my lord!"
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