The newly built Main Hall of Moat Cailin was hosting a feast for a King for the second time in its history.
Yes, I was still salty of not having been here the first time. I really want to see that warhammer.
Maybe that's why the coin I've spent on this feast was so high.
That amount of coin could provide for the Moat Steelworks for two moons and then some. All in all, around fifty percent more coin than the budget for the first feast for the Royal retinue when they were on their way to Winterfell.
Tonight the special sauce I've spent a fortune in spices for, would make its debut. Yup I brought mayonnaise to this fine land.
Funnily enough making this Snowsauce (named by the Moat's cooks) costs a fortune due to the overpriced spices from the far away Summer Islands.
However judging by the reactions I could discern from the High Table, I think it was worth it. All that coin, all those hours trying my hand with the Moat's cooks to replicate the mayo of my first life was worth it to see the Royal party dipping everything on snowsauce.
The lower tables were enjoying the Moat's more innovative dishes as their main course. Dishes like deep fried chicken, chicken wings and grilled chicken served with northern fries and generous amounts of Mayo.
Yup I said northern fries, sorry not sorry French. Here, nobody knows what 'French' is.
Of course I didn't lack common sense, I didn't serve these as the main course for the High Table, these 'innovations' were side dishes over there.
These dishes, served a secondary function, which was to lower the costs of the feast. Yup, even with the absurd budget spent in this dinner, it wasn't enough to get all the meat needed to feed the whole Hall, blame it on the spices. I for sure know I will. Therefore the more affordable meat was the main dish on the lower tables.
Nobody complained tho.
Seeing the high nobility knights inhaling the chicken wings with snowsauce and stuffing themselves with the grilled chicken (also with Moat's sauce) gave me an inkling as to why nobody protested.
All's well that ends well.
From the corner of my eye I could see Sansa whisperscreaming at Arya for eating with her bare hands, only for her to lick her fingers when she thought nobody was watching.
Heh, kids gonna kid.
However, a good feast can't be complete without drinks. And this feast wasn't going to be the exception.
The serving staff had pitchers of vodka, classic and flavored.
I don't remember knowing anything about distillation in my past life, but once the thought of 'It would be nice to create whiskey' entered my mind, instantly I knew how to make vodka.
That was a weird experience.
Maybe I was a distiller's son in my previous life but I don't remember or maybe the gods just thought to bless me with the gift that keeps on giving, the gift of distilled alcoholic beverages.
Whatever is the reason, Westeros had vodka, or as locals came to call it 'firewater'. Of course, Winterfell's coffers were growing fatter by the day.
The drink was especially popular with the Lords close to mountain ranges, since they can easily access ice all year round.
And better be, the amount of work the blacksmiths back in Winterfell put into making proper column distilleries was crazy and don't get me started on how much of a pain in the arse was to figure out charcoal/carbon filters.
Another factor that made this feast have such a big budget was related to our firewater. We served it with ice.
It took a lot of trial and error but we were able to make wagons to transport ice. Icewagons we called them, very creative I know. We haven't tested them past the Neck yet, but ice trade was a promising future prospect.
And seeing the delighted and enthusiastic toasts the King and his retinue were making I'd say our flavored firewater was a success.
Hell even Father seemed impressed. I gave him a brief warning before dinner. "The flavored vodka gets to your head faster, way faster than the normal one." Seems he heard my warnings and seems like the King did not listen to him.
Oh well, it is what it is.
Maybe if he gets sufficiently drunk I can ask him about his warhammer without causing offense.
One can only hope.
The feast was progressing smoothly, well almost, but smooth enough to let my mind wander to earlier this afternoon. Specifically to when I paid my respects to the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Cersei Lannister.
Just now, separated by multiple tables, I dared to peek at her. She is a stunning woman. Only blind men, nay only blind humans could say otherwise.
Yet, I only sneaking a glance or two, never a full appreciative gaze. Yes I was afraid of the Queen and for that I got Ryk to blame.
He told me that the Queen absolutely despised bastards, not unlike a certain someone.
Seeing how the King had a wench sitting on his lap right in front of Her Grace… I could reluctantly understand where she was coming from. She is angry at her royal husband but realistically can't do anything directly to him so her anger is directed to more acceptable targets.
What a fucking mess.
I guess it's time to make the vodka flow.
I made eye contact with Amanda and gave her a nod. She understood, she's capable like that.
A few moments later serving maids came into the Hall, offering pitchers of vodka to anyone. It is an unwritten rule in Westerosi culture, a polite way of saying 'kids and killjoys to bed'.
I'd give it at most ten minutes for the kids leave and another ten for most ladies to leave the Main Hall. I gave Father a look, he nodded.
"Take care of things for a while," I said to Hatten. "I've got some gifts to handle."
He gave me a lazy nod. "Aye, Lord Steward."
"Ryk," he sat straighter in a blink, sadly I didn't actually have anything prepared for him. It was just habit that I called him, so I just invented something on the fly. "Keep an eye on the knights."
Something ambiguous, not necessarily telling him to do something. Yup good enough.
Once outside I could appreciate the Main Hall. The thing was modelled after Winterfell's Great Hall, but instead of stone, our Hall was made with brick and its columns and beams were made out of steel rods and quickstone.
Honestly the building The biggest challenge was to make our big gray building aesthetic. We painted it with redish ochre put arches in every door and the quickstone of the floor was shaped as individual stones perfectly cut and assembled like a perfect puzzle.
I finally slipped away and asked for a servant to bring me my sisters' gifts from my office. I chatted and encouraged the servants that passed me by, hopefully they didn't see me as an overbearing and micromanage-y kinda boss. Aaaaand I just saw how the last maid started walking a bit faster. Crap.
People say they are terrified of becoming their parents, the real existential terror is becoming your boss.
Gods, please I don't care if I become like Father, but Old Gods forbid I become my boss.
"Lord Steward. Here, the items you requested."
My plan was to make him assist me to bring this to the Stark's apartment. But now that I think about it, isn't that something my old boss would do? "You are doing a great job Owen. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise, not even me." There, nobody would expect cranky bossman Richard to say something like that.
Apparently Owen didn't expect it either.
He just stood there, frozen.
"Hey Owen," he didn't respond. Well whatever, he earned a little break.
I took the three packages with me and started strolling to the Stark apartment.
On my way to hand my sisters their new favorite belongings. I made a quick stop on the kennels.
"I'm sorry buddy," I said to my bestest, most favorite friend. "I promise it's just for today".
Around three moons ago, after witnessing Lord Stark deliver justice to a deserter of the once noble Night's Watch, we found direwolves.
A whole litter of them.
The mother had died with a shattered antler piercing her throat.
Did we trigger a flag?
I think finding not one, not two, but six embodiments of the Stark sigil cancels that.
Six pups, six sons and daughters of one Lord Stark.
The Old Gods couldn't be more clear if they had screamed directly into our ears. To make it more damning, I was scheduled to leave for the Moat the next week.
Looking around the kennels I couldn't see Lady or Nymeria, my sister's direwolves, here. They must've taken them to their rooms.
I heard a low growl from my albino wolf.
I sighed and kneeled in front of him, "I'm really sorry buddy, I didn't want people to find fault with you." My boy didn't stop his growl. "Alright, alright. Yes, I'm a big dummy dumdum who doesn't deserve you," I rolled my eyes at my offended friend. "I promise I'll make it up to you. Now here." I gave him all the fried chicken I had on me. It wasn't enough, it would never be enough for this glutton.
"Do you need more blankets?"
He gave me the equivalent of a shrug.
"Aight, need something else?"
"Woof, Woof!"
"Once we are back in my room, I'll give you more chicken. Remember, that's just for today."
"Woof!"
"No buddy, you'll grow fat."
"Woof, woof"
"Ghost, no! I agreed to give you chicken tonight and I'm giving you chicken now and later in my room."
He collapsed on his bed and started whining.
"Nah lil' bro. It won't work this time." I said while crossing my arms.
"Woof! Woof, woof!"
"Change in circumstances you say?"
"Woof, woof, awoooo!"
"Well, I thought your sisters were gonna be here."
"Woof," Ghost whisper-barked and started giving me puppy eyes.
I sighed. "Fiiiine, I'll give you some more on the morrow. But that's it."
"Woof! Woof!"
I got up with a feeling of being played by my albino friend.
I walked out of the kennels, gave a nod to the kennelmaster and grabbed my packages.
Enough time should have passed since my exit of the Main Hall so my sisters should already be on their rooms.
I adjusted my cloak and went up to the second floor of the three and a half floors complex.
The guards in the Stark apartment greeted me and the one in the left went inside to tell his ladies that their half-brother had arrived.
I didn't recognize this second guard, was he new?
"Greetings good man. I don't think I know your name, do you happen to be a new addition to the Stark household?"
"Yes milord! I became a guard on the eve of the King's coming."
"Your name?"
"My name is Coren milord"
"I'm no lord, my friend," if Lady Stark heard him, she would have his hide and my scalp. This guy was taller than me by half a head and his shoulder width was impressive. On strength alone he wouldn't lose to any southron knight. "It's good to see that Lord Stark and my sisters are protected by men like you, Coren."
The guy stood straighter and I could see him trying to suppress a smile.
If Lords knew it was this easy to build rapport with their household, would they do it? Or would they keep their holier-than-thou attitude?
It was a stupid question. I already knew the answer.
The door opened and the first guard exited, "The Stark ladies are ready milord."
"I'm no Lord," the guy held the door as I walked past. "Once your shift is over, go to either the Main Hall or the lesser hall next to it. I've left instructions for food to be served to any night duty guard."
"Thank you, milo-"
"Don't mention it," I cut him.
Thankfully the Moat's staff is conditioned to use my official full title on public, otherwise I fear Lady Stark would manifest here and demand, with a banshee-like screech, the servants head.
Exaggeration? Yes, but not by much.
Once I walked past the inner hall threshold the small voice of a girl trying her hardest to sound dignified and aloof greeted me. "Jon".
"Lady Sansa," I offered a bow as was proper.
"Jon!" Someone smashed me from the side, so obviously I had to crouch to return Arya's hug.
"Hi Arya, it's been a while."
"Shut up, Jon"
I messed up with her hair to give her time to dry her tears.
From the couch, Sansa looked at us with disapproval, I had suppress an eyeroll with all my strength.
Her mother's daughter indeed.
Sansa was the closest one to Lady Stark both in looks and action.
I couldn't find it in me to hate a literal child for following her mother's actions. Besides while Lady Stark was the embodiment of 'hate the player AND the game', Sansa was more like 'hate the… player? Or was it the game?'.
All in all, she looked adorable trying to imitate her mother.
After a few more seconds I could feel Arya had calmed down.
"Father may have already told you, but I got you gifts."
Arya instantly locked eyes with mine. Heh, so predictable.
"Here, this is for you." I gave her the lean scabbard I had hidden on my belt.
The room froze in silence, for a few heart beats at most before Arya was able to talk again.
"A sword," she said as if shrinking to herself. Then she stole a glance at Sansa.
Before my redhead sister could say anything, I cut in.
"I've asked Father before commissioning this sword of course," Sansa seemed like she wanted to say something so I barrelled on. "I asked around in White Harbor, they say swords like this are used by bravos in the Free Cities. It is a weapon of precision and patience."
I slowly drew the blade to let Arya appreciate her new possession. "As per Father's instructions, the blade doesn't have an edge, yet."
Once again, I messed up her hair, she was too engrossed to care.
"Father is gonna get you proper lessons once you are in King's Landing. Until then you should get used to its weight and strengthen your arms."
"Truly?" My little sister was shocked.
"Yup, there's one last thing. Do you know how all best swords have names?"
Her eyes grew to the size of plates, "like Ice? Oh, tell me."
I gave her the best shit eating grin of my life and arched my brow. I think she got it.
""Needle!"" We said together.
Now, before Sansa can react.
"This here," I said while unwrapping the second package from under my hood. "Is for Lady Sansa."
Said lady stood from the couch with all the dignity and grace a girl on the edge of her teens could muster, which is to say not much, but I wouldn't forgive myself if I ever voiced that thought in front of her.
Sansa took her present from my hands, Arya gave the package a look before going back to test the feel of the sword in her hand.
The moment she opened the package I could see her eyes widen for a moment before she controlled her reactions once again.
"It's YiTish golden silk and a set of silver needles," this would've bankrupt the Moat had it not been for "Lord Manderly asked me to give you the silk as a betrothal gift."
"I'll have to write him thanks. This silk is lovely, they are in the colors of house Baratheon," She blushed saying the last part. "Jon, your gift is beautiful too."
Something twisted inside me. The whole betrothal culture in Westeros… I understand it and hate it with every part of my being. Sansa, my sister, is a child.
That's one of the biggest advantages of being a bastard. No betrothals for me, no political marriages unacceptable to my values. If I ever marry, it will be with a willing lass.
For some reason or another it was at this point that my mind decided to wander in the most peculiar of directions. My mind conjured an imaginary buff self proclaimed genius sorcerer to ask his signature stupid question: "What kind of girls do you like!?"
I think I need a lobotomy.
But first, "Aight girls. There's one last gift I got for you two."
They turned at once.
From my cloak I got my last package, my audience held their breath while I unfolded the rectangular bundle. "I got myself some free time and was able finish the book I wrote you about," I could see a little twinkle in their eyes. "This book, has the complete story of Lady Vin. From her starts in the slums of Luthadel to the final battle for the Fate of her world."
I could see they were about to snatch the book from my hands and very likely end up fighting each other over it.
So before disaster struck the Stark sisters, "Ah, ah, ah" I withheld the book from them. "Before I give this to you, I need you to give me an oath."
Was asking an oath to my sisters a little too serious? Perhaps, but I've known my sisters for a long time, one could say from their first breaths actually, and they've been at each other's throats from the day Arya started her needlework lessons. The only times they could sit together at peace in Winterfell were when Old Nan told us her stories.
There were times were Old Nan couldn't tell us her stories so I took over and thankfully my sisters kept the peace too.
Besides, Starks were a very serious lot.
They both gave me a look, a look at each other, and together they gave grave nods.
I responded with a grave nod of my own, "Alright, I need your word that you will only read this book together." I could see hesitation in their eyes. "Remember in Winterfell? Whenever Old Nan or me narrated, it was only when we all were together and, since only you two would be together in Kings Landing, I think it would do you good."
They considered my words, exchanged a single look and nodded.
Good. Now, to hammer down the point, "Remember what Father always says…"
"The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives," we all said together.
Great. I embraced my two baby sisters.
"Now, since we are together already, how about I tell you about what happened to Lady Vin after she was imprisoned in Fadrex?"
"Yay!""That would be acceptable."
Nothing beats the classics.
Arya likes that Vin is a fearsome warrior with no equal. Sansa likes that part too (even if she would never say it out loud), the chivalry of the main cast and, of course, the romantic subplot.
The sisters sat on the couch, they even leaned on one another. I smiled to myself.
I had about half an hour or so before needing to go back to the Main Hall to resume my duties. Enough time to resolve Vin's time in prison and the earring revelation, or at least I hope so.
I quick recap should help them remember the earring from way back in the story.
"Alright then. As you already know, Vin was a smallfolk girl and met Ser Kelsier on…"