After lunch, I met with Harald Orm, from whom I hoped to hear interesting news about what was happening in the world. His affairs were progressing—not badly, but not especially well either. The right people in all the key cities of Westeros were not appearing as quickly as we would have liked. Against this backdrop, however, one thing was genuinely encouraging: Asio Copin had proven to be a real stroke of luck, and we were receiving reports from him with enviable regularity. In fact, thanks to just one man and his network, we now possessed a fairly complete picture of the situation along the entire eastern coast of the Narrow Sea.
Orm worked tirelessly. His exhausted appearance and gaunt face made it obvious that he was driving himself relentlessly. Such initiative deserved encouragement.
"Have you thought about acquiring a castle of your own, Harald?" I asked once we had discussed all the major issues and he had brought me fully up to date. At the time, we were seated in my chambers—after the discovery of the listening passages and the craftsmen sealing them off, it was now safe to speak freely here.
I had set aside one of the rooms as a study. All the while I was traveling to Riverrun and back, it was being remodeled — an additional door cut into the wall so that those I invited would not disturb Margaery and could freely enter and leave. Heavy bolts were fixed to the door, and I no longer worried that it could be opened from the corridor. As for myself, I could enter here through the door from the hall in my private chambers.
Several large cabinets, reaching up to the ceiling, stood in the study, along with a dozen comfortable chairs. Tapestries adorned the walls, parquet flooring had been laid, and as the crowning touch to all this splendor stood a massive oak desk, fitted with numerous drawers, an inkwell, and a tabletop covered in burgundy leather. I was very fond of the desk, but what delighted me even more was the enormous map set into one of the walls, rendered as a mosaic of precious stones. The sketch had been drawn by a maester responsible for its accuracy, and the masons worked strictly from the finished design.
And now, sitting in the chair, I would every so often cast a glance at the map. The piece turned out not only to be very beautiful, like a true work of art, but also undeniably useful.
In truth, I had even considered presenting Westeros with such a novelty as a globe—something still entirely unknown to the locals. But that idea could wait.
"A castle, Your Majesty?" The question startled Orm and made him shake himself a little—he had nearly nodded off.
"Are you planning to marry?"
"In time," he replied evasively, tucking his hair behind his ear.
"That's exactly my point," I said, rising and walking over to the map. "Which means you'll need somewhere to live. I've weighed the options and decided to combine the pleasant with the useful. Come here."
Orm stepped up to the map, and I began to bring him up to speed.
"You work tirelessly, and I see it. As a token of gratitude, I want to sponsor the construction of your future castle. It will stand here," I said, tapping the spot where a river flows out of the Gods Eye. "This is where we'll build it."
"I'm deeply grateful, Your Majesty," Orm said, studying the map closely, "but you can see it yourself—there's nothing around here. It's practically the middle of nowhere."
"For now," I laughed. "Here's my plan: there's no direct road to Riverrun, and I learned that the hard way—losing at least a couple of weeks getting there, and just as many coming back. That won't do. So after the war, I'll lay a more direct route to Riverrun. It will first follow the Kingsroad, then turn west toward your future castle, run along the southwestern shore of the Gods Eye, reach the Acorn Hall, and from there—through High Heart—stretch all the way to Riverrun."
"In that case, everything changes."
"Exactly. Now you see," I said with a satisfied breath. "We'll build a bridge over the river, and your castle will become an important strategic hub. You'll be able not only to control the new road and levy tolls for it, but also to float goods down the river to the Blackwater and King's Landing."
"Thank you for the honor, Your Majesty," Orm bowed, a pleased smile flickering across his lips.
"You earned it yourself," I said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You've done well, and I'm pleased with you. We'll just have to wait a bit before construction begins—we must finish off our enemies first."
"That's understandable," he nodded.
"On the bright side, materials won't be a problem—the ruins of Whitewalls will provide everything you need. I think you could end up with a very beautiful castle, Harald."
When the elated Orm had left, I cast another glance at the map. To be frank, I had no right to grant Orm a stronghold in that location: those lands belonged to Harrenhal, and their owner was not me, but Petyr Baelish. He knew nothing of this yet, but his future had already been decided. Which meant there would be no need to concern myself with his property. When Littlefinger is stripped of Harrenhal, I will take advantage of the fact that these holdings are left without a master and grant a portion of the land to Orm, at the same time annexing it to the Crownlands.
(End of Chapter)
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