There was no doubt that the capital of the North was Winterfell, but Winterfell itself was only three hundred meters wide and five hundred meters long.
As a castle for noble lords to reside in, it was large enough.
But as the capital city of an entire kingdom, it was far too small and unqualified.
The real Winterfell was actually divided into an inner and an outer city, with the castle in the inner city and the town outside the walls.
Outside Winterfell were houses built of logs and natural stone, arranged in neat rows. Along the muddy streets were many wooden stalls rented out to merchants.
In summer, the area was very open and sparsely populated, with only one-fifth of the houses occupied by nearby farmers and traders. When winter came, however, it became crowded, and even mountain clans from north of the Wolfswood would come.
But no additional ring of walls had been built around the town. Part of the reason was poverty, and part was that the construction work would have been far too massive to afford. Even within Winterfell itself, many towers had fallen into disrepair over time and were abandoned.
For example, the tall tower where the story began, the one where Cersei and Jaime went at it.
Of course, with the ten-thousand-year history of House Stark, if they had built ten meters of wall every year, over several thousand years they could have constructed a magnificent great city.
Unfortunately, a great city required an enormous number of soldiers to defend it.
King's Landing, for example, had three thousand Gold Cloaks.
Winterfell could not afford to maintain that many standing troops.
Without city walls, there was no defense. After being ravaged in succession by the Ironborn, the flayers, Stannis, and Jon, there were almost no people left.
Especially Ramsay. To cover up the truth of his burning of Winterfell, he directly slaughtered Winter Town once.
Winter had already lasted nearly a year, yet Winter Town was extremely empty, with very few people. This winter, many Northerners had gone to White Harbor, while those closer to the Wall had gone to Mole's Town.
The Dragon Queen's practice of handing out silver coins to the men of the Night's Watch every month was far too extravagant. With several thousand brothers of the Watch, that meant spending over ten thousand silver stags each month. How many jobs would that generate?
If Daenerys were to become Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, she would never grant land to the Night's Watch. The New Gift and the Old Gift together were larger than the territory of South Korea, yet they could not even support a thousand brothers of the Watch.
The climate of the North was harsh, but winter wheat, apple trees, and turnips could all be grown. Neither cash crops nor food crops were lacking.
In the end, it was still a matter of the communal pot system and the lack of specialization.
If the Night's Watch could farm and support themselves, would they still commit crimes and then be caught and sent to the Wall?
It would be better to pay them high wages. High wages would bring high consumption, high consumption would create a large number of jobs, and the population would grow accordingly. With a sufficient population base, would there still be any fear that commerce and agriculture could not develop?
Then, as a lord, one could levy commercial taxes and agricultural taxes and occasionally engage in some real estate development in Mole's Town.
Not only would the Night's Watch's wages be covered, the king would probably even make a profit.
"So there are no townsfolk for the wyvern to injure. Instead, it is more likely to be harmed by the severe cold," said the red-faced fat man.
His name was Theomar. He wore a maester's chain and came from White Harbor. He had thin lips, a ruddy face, and curly blond hair. Like Lord Eel, he was also fat.
After Maester Luwin of House Stark was killed by Ramsay, Winterfell never brought in a new maester from the Citadel.
For a long period of time, Winterfell remained desolate and uninhabited after being burned by Ramsay.
White Harbor, as the wealthiest fief in the North, had prosperous trade and frequent contact with the outside world. Therefore, Maester Theomar had several apprentices under him.
In fact, raven correspondence between Braavos and the North passed through White Harbor as a relay.
After the Dragon Queen exposed the dark side of the Citadel, people across the world knew that maesters were no good. Jon knew it too. But like all nobles, he could not do without a maester.
Therefore, long ago he asked Lord Eel to help arrange for a shrewd and capable apprentice to come to Winterfell as a temporary replacement.
When Maester Theomar learned of this, he immediately volunteered.
Lord Eel was very unwilling, but he had no way to object.
Winterfell had only one maester but two masters, so Theomar often appeared in Stannis's guest keep as well.
Stannis burned the statues of the Seven and drove away the priests of the Faith, yet he still could not do without a maester.
The vitality of maesters was truly remarkable.
"The wyvern comes from the rainforests of Sothoryos and prefers the southern climate of high temperature and high humidity.
"Of course, wyverns are extraordinary creatures. Even southerners can come north to live, so they can too. However, His Majesty Aegon's Balerion has suffered severe injuries.
"If you do not wish to lose that precious wyvern, you should immediately treat its wounds and build a shelter to keep it from the cold," Maester Theomar advised earnestly.
Jon asked worriedly, "Will it go mad again?"
"Well…" The maester's red, fat face showed a trace of embarrassment. "I don't know. We at the Citadel, we maesters, do not know much about wyverns either.
"For the past several thousand years, everyone knew that there were wyverns in the rainforests of Sothoryos, but no one had ever seen one."
"It is utterly exhausted and will not go mad again," said Melisandre.
She then turned to Stannis and suggested, "Sacrifice Theon and eliminate future trouble once and for all."
Jon flew into a rage at those words.
Without waiting for Stannis to speak, he bluntly warned, "King Stannis, Priestess Melisandre, you need to understand this clearly. You are merely guests in Winterfell.
"Theon has never been your prisoner. You have no right whatsoever to dispose of him.
"I previously agreed to leave him to you for judgment only because I once swore fealty to you.
"Judgment does not mean execution."
Stannis's gaze sharpened. "Are you threatening me?"
Jon sighed, his voice softening somewhat, and asked in return, "Your Grace, does the promise you made earlier still stand?
"Before entering Winterfell, at Tyrion's request, you promised in front of everyone that you would not privately sacrifice Ramsay or Theon."
Stannis glared at Jon, his jaw clenched tight, his teeth grinding with a harsh rasp.
The Onion Knight hurriedly stepped between them and said, "Duke Stark, you have misunderstood. His Majesty never intended to break his promise.
"Priestess Melisandre was only considering the matter from a professional standpoint. Sacrificing Theon would have produced the best results, but His Majesty consistently refused."
"The wyvern belongs to my husband. Does the so-called 'ransom' only redeem him alone, and not include the wyvern, his armor, and his weapons?" Sansa demanded angrily.
Well, the Valyrian steel armor Aunt Dany had prepared for her grand nephew, and the Blackfyre sword Illyrio gave to King Aegon, all ended up in Stannis's hands.
However, Stannis neither wore the armor nor carried the Blackfyre sword.
Seizing the wyvern could still be excused on the grounds of urgency.
Wearing Aegon's armor, however, would be a complete betrayal of Westerosi tradition.
Unless he planned to do what Tywin once did: eliminate Aegon and Aegon's heir. Once the bloodline was cut off, there would be no need to return the armor or weapons.
Davos glanced at the resolute Stannis, sighed bitterly inwardly, and then spoke gently to placate Sansa. "Your Grace, the wyvern is too special and too valuable. Unless another wyvern is offered in exchange, it cannot be returned. The Dragon Queen surely will not miss one or two wyverns, will she?"
"That is shameless, utterly shameless!" Sansa's pretty face flushed crimson with rage.
"There is precedent for this," Davos said, his old face reddening with embarrassment. "Fine armor carries a high ransom, and a Valyrian steel sword raises it another tier."
Indeed, fine armor does command a higher ransom.
But since ancient times, there has never been a custom of ransoming armor with armor, or a Valyrian steel sword with another Valyrian steel sword.
More often, out of respect for the defeated, the victor not only refrains from demanding a ransom, but even takes the initiative to return the fallen's remains and belongings to their family.
For example, Ned.
After Ned slew Arthur Dayne, he obtained the Dayne family's ancestral greatsword, Dawn.
Valyrian steel swords are not rare, but the pale blade Dawn is unique in the world.
Yet Ned never sought to keep it. Instead, he immediately returned the sword to Starfall and personally informed Arthur's family of his death and burial place.
Count Dayne and Ashara also bore Ned no resentment for killing their brother on the battlefield. On the contrary, the two houses forged a deep friendship as a result.
Ned entrusted the mother of his bastard, who was also his lover, to Count Dayne. Count Dayne found her a good husband, perfectly tied up all loose ends for Ned, and even named his own son Ned.
This was the true way of the Westerosi knight under the teachings of the Seven.
But now—
Suddenly inspired, the Onion Knight quickly proposed, "What if we use Tyrion's wyvern to settle the debt?"
Sansa shook her head. "Tyrion will not agree. Besides, his Tessa also bears the mark of a holy knight. You will not be able to break that either."
"Tyrion is not dead?" Davos asked in surprise.
Sansa froze for a moment before realizing that she had not seen the dwarf for a long time.
Could he be dead?
She turned an inquiring gaze toward Jon.
"Tyrion…" Jon scrunched up his face, thought for a moment, and said hesitantly, "He is probably not dead. At least, he was not dead at the time."
Then Jon looked to Maege and the others for confirmation.
"Yes."
"Probably."
"Maybe."
The group replied thoughtfully.
Maege scratched her head and said awkwardly, "Where was Tyrion placed? These past few days I have been focused on King Aegon's affairs and completely forgot about him."
Mormont truly was an honest soul.
Everyone had forgotten, but she was the one who said it outright.
Poor dwarf.
The red-faced, plump maester said, "Lord Tyrion suffered severe burns over his entire body and is recuperating in the small sept. I change his dressings every day."
This was precisely the role of a maester. Everyone else was focused entirely on King Aegon and forgot about the dwarf, but treating the wounded was a maester's duty. No lord needed to order them; they would do it of their own accord.
"So he is in the small sept. No wonder…" Jon gave an awkward smile. "How is he doing?"
The Starks worshipped the Old Gods. For thousands of years, Winterfell had never had a sept.
But Catelyn was devout in her faith in the Seven, so Eddard built a small sept for his wife in a secluded corner behind the main hall of the keep.
Catelyn was the only one in Winterfell who worshipped the Seven, at most little Sansa accompanied her a few times. The location was extremely secluded, so it was no surprise that Jon and Maege and the others had overlooked the dwarf. Of course, if someone truly holds another dear, no distance in the world would matter.
Maester Aemon cast a wary glance at the red-robed woman and said, his plump red face trembling, "Lord Tyrion had fire-resistant ointment, which is a sacred remedy for treating burns. Unfortunately, his injuries were such that the flames burned from the inside out, and his internal organs were almost completely charred."
"So terrible?" Sansa's face went pale as she cried out.
Maege shot a quick glance at Aunt Mel and said in fear, "At the time, Tyrion was completely engulfed in flames. When he screamed, red fire and black smoke poured from his mouth. I thought he was as good as dead."
Melisandre frowned slightly, puzzled. "He should have been dead long ago. How has he managed to hold on until now? Could it be his constitution…"
The red-robed woman was never a kind soul, and Tyrion had countless reasons to deserve death in her eyes.
He was a wyvern rider, the strongest fighting force under Aegon.
He was exceptionally clever and deeply trusted by Aegon.
He harbored hostility toward Stannis.
He had destroyed all of Stannis's efforts at the Blackwater.
He was ugly and wretched, yet often secretly stood on tiptoe and ogled her ample chest with lecherous eyes.
More importantly, he had dared to try to murder her!
(End of chapter)
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