A few days later, Ser Willis Wode, Lord Raymun Darry, and Lord William Mooton all received highly formal, gold-sealed invitations from Lady Shella Whent, requesting their immediate presence at Harrenhal to discuss mutually beneficial trade and military cooperation.
Ser Willis Wode, a landed knight fiercely loyal to House Whent, was deeply fed up with the chaotic banditry spilling onto his fiefdom. Roman's paved highways allowed the Harrenhal Vanguard to strike down bandits with terrifying speed, but the Wode lands lacked such infrastructure, rendering his own defenses painfully slow and ineffective. He desperately needed his liege lord's military assistance.
When Lord Raymun Darry received his invitation, he immediately ordered his fastest horse saddled and rode out without hesitation. During Robert's Rebellion, both House Darry and House Whent had fought fiercely as Targaryen loyalists. Now that both houses were politically suppressed and financially squeezed by the new Baratheon regime, forming a unified Riverlands coalition was an incredibly strategic opportunity.
As for Lord William Mooton... the wealthy Lord of Maidenpool was notoriously, canonically cowardly. Completely overwhelmed and terrified by the swarms of bandits pillaging his coastal lands, he was entirely helpless to defend himself. He had no choice but to beg the legendary "Harrenhal Demon" for salvation.
The three noblemen set off from the north, south, and east, eventually converging on the Whent borders.
As they crossed into Roman's domain, the three veteran lords were absolutely shocked to discover that the territory surrounding the Gods Eye had become completely unrecognizable.
The first massive shock was the ground beneath their horses. After suffering for days on the muddy, rutted, miserable dirt paths of the Kingsroad, the three nobles finally experienced the true luxury of Roman's macadam highways. Because standard Westerosi noble carriages were suspended on leather shock-absorption straps, traveling over Roman's perfectly smooth, compacted stone roads felt like gliding over glass. There was absolutely no bumpiness.
Looking out into the distance, they saw a utopian landscape. Sprawling, mathematically perfect grids of golden farmland stretched to the horizon. Dozens of highly organized, red-brick villages dotted the green sea, and massive, sloped-earth star forts guarded every major traffic hub.
The towering, ten-meter-high rammed-earth walls of the forts were visibly reinforced with indestructible Whent stone and layered with specialized, waterproof grey mortar.
Beyond the jaw-dropping military architecture, the foreign lords were mesmerized by the bustling, paved waystations, the complex geometric irrigation canals flooding the fields, the massive herds of fat, healthy livestock, and the heavy clusters of massive, water-powered mills churning along the riverbanks.
When the entourage finally arrived at the shores of the Gods Eye and looked up at Harrenhal itself, even the fiercely stoic Lord Darry couldn't help but gasp in pure, unadulterated awe.
Harrenhal had been completely reborn. The cursed, towering walls, which had historically been a horrific, melted mixture of charred black slag and crumbling yellow mortar, had been entirely purified. The fortress now gleamed with a breathtaking, majestic milky-white radiance under the autumn sun.
Furthermore, the lords immediately noticed that the five legendary, melted towers of Harrenhal actually appeared noticeably shorter; Roman's massive demolition crews had expertly dismantled the highest, unstable ruins to harvest the stone.
As the three forces gathered together and nervously approached the massive main gates, Lady Shella and Roman were already waiting to receive them, flanked by a massive, terrifying Whent honor guard.
Lord William Mooton possessed the sharpest eyes of the trio. He was the first to analyze the horrific military implications of the Whent Vanguard.
The Harrenhal honor guard was completely alien to standard Westerosi military doctrine. The heavy infantry were clad head-to-toe in gleaming, standardized steel lamellar armor, leaving absolutely no vulnerable flesh exposed. They carried heavy, curved sabers on their belts and wielded either massive, interlocking tower shields or devastatingly thick heavy pikes. Behind them stood ranks of lethal crossbowmen carrying impossibly large, steel-cranked arbalests.
The Whent cavalry was even more terrifying. Both the riders and the massive destriers were fully armored in flexible steel. While their sheer defensive weight wasn't as crushing as traditional Westerosi plate-knights, the riders were visibly robust, battle-hardened veterans, and their warhorses were violently healthy and aggressively disciplined.
A cold, terrifying sweat broke out across the backs of the three visiting nobles. Looking at the flawless discipline of the Vanguard, they knew with absolute certainty that if Lord Roman ordered an attack right now, his army could butcher their combined escorts in a single, bloody volley.
When Roman saw the pale, terrified faces of his guests, he immediately broke into a warm, charismatic smile and stepped forward to offer them the traditional bread and salt of Guest Right.
After the formal greetings, Roman personally escorted Lord Darry and Lord Mooton through the newly renovated lower courtyards, actively showcasing Harrenhal's staggering new wealth.
He proudly pointed out the newly rebuilt sept, the highly sanitary public bathhouses, the massive, charcoal-filtered water purification cisterns, and the complex sewage treatment ponds.
The two visiting lords were profoundly stunned to find that the historically cursed, impoverished ruin of Harrenhal was now the most technologically advanced, thriving metropolis in the Riverlands.
Roman's entire tour was a highly calculated show of force. He wanted to aggressively project Harrenhal's absolute economic and military supremacy, ensuring the visiting lords knew exactly who held the leverage before they even sat down to negotiate.
But in truth, Roman had slightly overplayed his hand; the sheer terror of the Vanguard at the gates had already broken their political resistance.
The formal negotiations, chaired masterfully by Lady Shella in the Great Hall, primarily concerned three issues: joint bandit suppression, the expansion of the macadam highway network into their lands, and exclusive trade agreements.
The process went incredibly smoothly. Harrenhal offered to provide the military manpower, the heavy engineering equipment, and the architectural blueprints. All the visiting lords had to do was provide the baseline funding and raw materials. There was absolutely no military risk involved for them, which was exactly the salvation Lord Mooton had been desperately praying for.
In the final moments of the summit, Roman finally played his ultimate trump card.
He reached into his tunic and placed a perfectly transparent, solid glass orb onto the dark oak table.
As the autumn sunlight streaming through the high windows struck the smooth surface of the sphere, it instantly scattered a blinding, dazzling array of prismatic colors across the dark hall.
Lord Mooton and Lord Darry stared at the impossible object, momentarily mesmerized.
"We successfully manufactured this," Roman stated simply.
That single, casual sentence was enough to drive the Westerosi nobles absolutely insane with greed.
"Lord Roman!" William Mooton instantly leaned forward, his voice dripping with obsequious desperation. "Whatever raw materials or logistical support you require of House Mooton, we will absolutely fulfill your request without question!"
Raymun Darry's face was flushed red with excitement, though he maintained enough aristocratic dignity to remain silent and wait for Roman to outline the terms.
Within the hour, the three Great Houses forged an ironclad industrial coalition.
House Darry would use its massive peasant workforce to aggressively dredge and wash ultra-fine river silica, providing the primary raw material.
House Mooton would heavily renovate the deep-water port of Maidenpool and aggressively harvest massive, oceanic quantities of coastal kelp and seaweed (to be burned for soda ash).
The profit margins were strictly defined: House Darry received 10% of the gross profits, House Mooton received 20%, and House Whent retained an absolute 70% monopoly.
Both visiting lords signed the heavily lopsided parchment without a second of hesitation. To them, dredging sand and burning seaweed were mundane, incredibly cheap peasant tasks. But pure glass was a legendary, impossibly expensive luxury item across the known world. If Harrenhal could mass-produce it, even a 10% cut would make House Darry obscenely wealthy.
Furthermore, since both Darry and Mooton secretly despised the ruling Baratheon regime, forming a massive, highly lucrative economic bloc with the powerful Whents provided them with profound political security.
After finalizing the logistics, Raymun and William departed the hall highly satisfied, leaving only Ser Willis Wode behind.
Roman glanced at Willis. The rugged, scarred face of the loyal Whent knight showed a deep, painful embarrassment.
Willis was a sworn, landed knight of Harrenhal. Yet, Roman had just handed the greatest economic miracles of the century to two outside lords, while leaving his own loyal vassal entirely out of the massive profits.
"Ser Willis," Roman said, his tone perfectly flat. "You must be deeply dissatisfied with this arrangement, correct?"
"I would never dare question my liege lord!" Willis panicked, instantly dropping to one knee.
Roman's voice was devoid of emotion, yet Willis felt an inexplicable, crushing psychological pressure radiating from the young giant.
Looking down at his terrified, deeply loyal vassal, Roman smiled warmly. He had just demanded that his vassals heavily fund the new road construction; naturally, he wasn't going to let his most loyal knight suffer a financial loss.
Roman snapped his fingers at Fili. The blonde Apostle quickly scurried over, carrying a heavy silver tray draped in velvet. She pulled the cloth away to reveal a pristine set of ceramics.
It was a master-crafted set of high-grade bone china tableware, featuring a wide, stable base and beautiful, glazed blue patterns. The bowls and teacups were a warm, milky white. When Roman held a candle behind one of the cups, a beautiful, translucent orange-yellow halo shined perfectly through the impossibly thin porcelain.
Roman gently forced the dumbfounded Willis to stand up and placed the delicate teacup into his scarred, calloused hands. As the knight touched the miraculous, perfectly smooth porcelain with trembling fingers, Roman clapped him firmly on the shoulder.
"Ser Willis, I am going to build a massive, heavily fortified porcelain workshop directly within your personal fiefdom. From this day forward, the highly lucrative tasks of raw material collection, kiln maintenance, and armed patrol will be entrusted entirely to House Wode."
Looking up into Roman's glowing blue eyes, Willis violently slammed his mailed fist against his breastplate, tears welling in his eyes.
"House Wode swears by the Old Gods and the New! We will protect your property and your industrial secrets to our absolute dying breath!"
Roman was deeply pleased; smart, fiercely loyal men were incredibly easy to manage. To solidify the bond, Roman formally invited Willis to dine privately with him and Lady Shella.
During the feast, Lady Shella expressed her profound gratitude, highly praising the historical loyalty and military sacrifices of House Wode. The continuous, genuine respect showered upon him deeply moved the tough, battle-hardened knight, and he finally returned to his fiefdom radiating absolute, fanatical devotion.
With the industrial coalition formalized, the four Riverlands factions acted with terrifying speed.
Harrenhal immediately deployed its heavy engineering crews and the Vanguard to simultaneously construct the macadam highways and butcher the remaining bandits plaguing the Darry and Mooton lands.
House Mooton completely mobilized Maidenpool, rapidly expanding the deep-water harbor and sending thousands of smallfolk into the Bay of Crabs to vigorously harvest kelp and seaweed for soda ash.
House Darry mercilessly mobilized its peasantry to frantically dredge the Trident for pure silica sand, transporting the raw materials back to Harrenhal by the wagonload along the newly secured roads.
Utilizing the massive influx of raw materials, Roman constructed specialized glass furnaces directly adjacent to the coking workshops. By utilizing a highly advanced, sloped double-roller die-casting technique, the Whent foundries successfully began mass-producing massive, perfectly flat sheets of pure glass.
Simultaneously, the Citadel dropouts Roman had recruited successfully engineered mechanical, pressurized blow-molding machines, allowing Harrenhal to churn out thousands of standardized wide-mouth bottles and complex glassware.
Meanwhile, deep within the heavily guarded Wode territory, massive, specialized tempering kilns were erected. Utilizing Harrenhal's endless supply of magical coke fuel and the highly precise mercury thermometers recently invented by Maester Tom, House Wode began firing massive batches of pristine, standardized bone china.
If the catchy songs sung by the traveling minstrels had merely made Westeros aware of Harrenhal's new wealth, the sudden, continent-wide flooding of these legendary, tangible luxury goods truly cemented the terrifying power of House Whent in the annals of history.
Now Get The FULL NOVEL at Once!
Get 20% OFF for limited time only.
@patreon.com/Authorizz/shop