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Tallow candles flickered in the maester’s chamber.
After listening to Ned’s plan, Maester Luwin shook his head and sighed.
“My lord, the desire is admirable, but Winter Town will never become a city like White Harbor. White Harbor commands the mouth of the White Knife, and the White Knife reaches deep into the North. Every day, boats bring pelts from upriver, timber from the Wolfswood, and all manner of food. Ships from the south bring grain and honey from Highgarden, gold from the west, fruit from the Vale. Ships from across the Narrow Sea bring foreign spices and gems.”
“White Harbor is the mouth of the North. In winter, the people of Winter Town huddle shivering around their hearths, while White Harbor can keep moving because its port does not freeze. It became the youngest city in the Seven Kingdoms because of its location, House Manderly’s wealth, and nearly a thousand years of patient labor. Winter Town has none of those things.”
Ned looked down at the map of the North spread across the table.
His gaze came to rest on Winter Town.
“I know raising a town into a city will take time,” he said.
“But the first step still has to be taken. Once Winter Town can draw enough people to live there, I will set my people to building.”
Maester Luwin touched the chain at his neck and gave a bitter smile.
“My lord, I fear your first step may fail before it begins. Summer has entered its sixth year. The North has had several good harvests, and the latest was finished only this month. Your people have food enough. Why would they leave their homes and come to Winter Town?”
“Winter is the only reason they come. It has been so for thousands of years, and it will remain so.”
At supper that evening, Arya and Sansa sat on either side of Ned, while Theon, Robb, Bran, and Jon sat across from him.
Ned told the children his plan.
Sansa’s eyes lit up.
“Father, when Winter Town grows lively, will singers come?” Songs and singers had always been her great love.
Arya curled her lip.
“I don’t care about singers. Father, will there be mummers and performers?”
Ned smiled.
“I believe there will.”
Robb pulled a face.
“Father, once Winter Town has more people, we should form a town watch, like the gold cloaks in King’s Landing. Jon, Theon, and I could command it and keep the peace.”
Theon stuffed a piece of beef into his mouth.
“What would they need a watch for? Those villagers can protect themselves. Besides, they’re poor as dirt, and most of their daughters are ugly besides. Who would bother with them?”
Jon gave Theon a look of open disgust.
“Winterfell should protect every person in the North.”
Ned rested a hand on Jon’s head.
“Once my invitation goes out, I expect Winter Town’s houses will fill. Do not worry, Jon. We will protect them.”
Maester Luwin sent out ravens.
Ned also sent horsemen directly to nearby holdfasts and villages, inviting the smallfolk of Castle Cerwyn, House Tallhart’s Torrhen’s Square, Hornwood, and the surrounding lands to settle in Winter Town.
On the first day, three families came, twenty-one people in all.
After that, the number dwindled.
By the fourth day, not a single person arrived.
Walking through Winter Town’s empty streets, Ned felt his mood sink.
“How did this happen?”
Maester Luwin stood beside him.
“My lord, I told you before. Unless winter is coming, those people would rather sit at home, guard their granaries, and enjoy the sun. Perhaps you should send men among them and ask why.”
“No,” Ned said.
“I will go myself.”
The next day, he changed into dirty leather armor, hid his face beneath a hood, and rode out of Winterfell in the guise of a wandering swordsman.
Ned came to a village he vaguely remembered as part of Lord Cerwyn’s lands.
A middle-aged man was working in a field.
The harvest was barely finished, and already the farmer had begun to till again.
Ned swung down from his horse.
“Friend, I am looking for the road to Winter Town.”
The man had a tangled head of brown hair and a rough beard.
He studied Ned from head to toe.
“Follow the kingsroad north. What are you, then?”
“A wandering swordsman,” Ned said.
“I thought I might find work in Winter Town. I heard the Lord of Winterfell has invited his people to settle there. With luck, I could buy a house and a bit of land.”
The man showed a mouthful of rotten teeth.
“Take my advice and don’t go. Winter Town is only lively in winter. If Lord Eddard is inviting folk there now, he likely wants commoners to work for him for free. These noble lords drive us like oxen when they want hard labor. I’d rather stay home and tend my fields.”
Ned frowned.
“Lords calling on their people for labor is unavoidable. Would it be any different if you remained here?”
The farmer wiped sweat from his brow and leaned closer.
“Home is easier. Lord Cerwyn is a good man. If a man slips into the woods and takes a boar or a deer now and then, he looks the other way. Try poaching in the Wolfswood near Winter Town. It’s too close to Winterfell, too many eyes. Someone reports you, and you lose a hand or get sent to the Wall in black.”
“I knew a fellow from the next village. Last winter in Winter Town, he went hunting in the Wolfswood. They caught him for poaching one boar. He begged and begged, but Winterfell’s soldiers sent him to the Wall all the same.”
“If I go to Winter Town, I farm. If I stay here, I farm. At home, I can still take a little game on the quiet. Here I pay taxes to Lord Cerwyn. There I pay taxes to Lord Eddard. What’s the difference? Winter Town is full of strangers besides. No, thank you.”
Later, Ned sat in his study with Maester Luwin across from him.
“It seems I must offer a policy with real weight behind it if I want my people to settle in Winter Town. Very well, Maester Luwin. Send word that for one hundred copper pennies, a family may buy a house in Winter Town and one acre of land. Any wasteland they clear and cultivate for five consecutive years will be theirs to use. After every harvest, Winterfell will open the Wolfswood to Winter Town’s residents for one month of legal hunting.”
Boars had been multiplying through the Wolfswood of late.
Opening the forest for a month after harvest did not seem much of a loss.
Four houses in five stood empty in Winter Town.
Most belonged to Winterfell.
In winter, many who came to shelter there rented them for a tenth of what a common inn would charge, then left when spring returned.
Maintaining those houses cost a startling amount, and even when winter filled them, the rent brought in little.
Ned might as well sell them cheaply and use the price to draw permanent residents.
Maester Luwin smiled.
“At such a price, and with the right to hunt after harvest, I believe some people will come.”
Ned stood.
“Maester Luwin, tell my people that once the houses are sold, Winter Town will have no empty roofs for those who chose not to come.”
“Tell them that once the houses are gone, Winter Town will accept no new residents. When winter comes, they will have to find their own way through it.”
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