I woke up at the crack of dawn.
Well that is a lie, I was in the training courtyard at the crack of dawn. I'm not exactly sure at what time I woke up, since there are no clocks here.
Childish enthusiasm pushed me out of bed way before the sun was out.
So, I picked up my personal halberd and dressed up.
Yes, in that order.
Once in the courtyard I picked up one of the training halberds and put it in a rack near me.
This early I could only spot Garth, the Moat's master-at-arms, and a few guards doing their drills. We exchanged quick nods. I could see one of the guards had a hangover, if I could see it this far, then Garth already knew and was about to make that particular guard's life hell for the next week or so.
Garth was a veteran of Robert's Rebellion and the Greyjoy Rebellion and had zero tolerance for this kind of shit from his recruits, so it was a surprise someone was stupid enough to get himself caught.
Play stupid games win stupid prizes I guess.
Since Ser Barristan wasn't here yet, I started with my warm up.
I picked up my personal halberd, and started my exercises.
Ever since a sword was put into my hands back in Winterfell, I decided I'd use a polearm. At the time I hadn't decided what type, now I can't imagine myself with anything but my halberd as a weapon.
The first prototype was forged after a few moons of first hearing about the King's mighty warhammer, more precisely about a week after swinging Ice.
I wasn't under any self deluded state in which I though I could replicate Valyrian steel, no.
What I wanted to test was Father's warhammer claims. Being so heavy he could barely lift it with two hands while Robert Baratheon wields it in battle?
Before Ice, I thought those were things adults say to children to make them go 'woah'. Similar to Santa or the Tooth fairy but Westerosi style.
After Ice I knew some sort of magical shenanigans were at play. So I commissioned a heavy halberd from Mikken. By heavy halberd I mean a halberd made entirely of steel, shaft and edge. At the time was unfeasible to make it of steel so I had to make do with Iron.
The thing was unwieldy as all hell, everyone either mocked me or laughed at my dumb choice of weapon. I would like to say that I proved them wrong but, the thing was too stupidly heavy for me to do use.
Alas this was an experiment because I wanted to test my hypotheses about the damned warhammer.
Hypothesis number one: Robert Baratheon is able to wield a HEAVY warhammer like it's nobodies business, then people in Planetos are way stronger than people in Earth.
Given the fact that Father could barely lift the hammer it's safe to admit that this first hypothesis is dicarded.
Hypothesis number two: Robert is special in some way, as in a single unrepeatable freak of nature.
In contradiction to this statement I present you Stannis Baratheon. I think that the King's brother could probably wield the warhammer effectively, this is my belief due to Father talking about how the Baratheon brothers had wrestling bouts against each other in their youth, what's special about this, is that Robert didn't always win. So maybe it has something to do with their genes? Still can't prove or disprove this.
At the time these two hypothesis were all I had on the warhammer issue.
So I was stuck.
However I had my own heavy halberd and even if I couldn't wield it to battle, I could use it for strength training at the very least. So I religiously used it as a training tool while using a regular spear for sparring and everything else.
It was two years later that I found myself flabbergasted.
Something had changed and I could wield my 'waste-of-iron' of a weapon in a semi-competent way. At first I thought that it was due to me becoming stronger, so I went to Robb to finally crush him in arm wrestling, but I lost.
Next thing he knew, he had my iron halberd in his hands with me enthusiastically asking him to swing it. Robb was confused but in the end he listened to me.
The thing was still unwieldy as all hell.
I took it from him and once again I was able to do my spear drills. It took effort and left me breathless, but I still could.
Next thing I knew I had commissioned another halberd, this time it was steel forged. At the time it was possible due to the Winterfell steelworks first batches.
Once I had my newly forged steel halberd, I felt like a kid on Christmas about to play with a new toy and ran to the training yard.
However I couldn't wield it effectively.
It was then that I came up with a new hypothesis.
Hypothesis number three: Some magical shenanigans happen between a man and his weapon of choice.
Maybe Robert had difficulty wielding his warhammer at first. Maybe he had to go through the 'adapting phase' before magical shenanigans happened and the weapon 'bonded' with him.
That's how I ended up training with my steel halberd. Days that became weeks that became moons and years of consistent strength training, weapon drills and even spars, turned the unwieldy 'waste of steel' into a real and effective weapon in my hands.
There were times were my hands had blisters on its blisters and my bandages were painted red. But it was all worth it, now I had a probably magical weapon only I could use.
On the other hand, I still couldn't win an arm wrestling match against Robb. Weird how things work.
Also on the other other hand, I couldn't convince Robb or Father to use steel polearms. Which, fair, the amount of time it took me to effectively wield mine was a big barrier for them.
I could, however, convince Father to make the men at arms and regular militia at Winterfell to train with polearms and eighteen feet pikes.
So I still took that for a win.
Through all this trip down memory lane, I was doing my halberd drills, once I finished my last slash, I heard someone whistle.
"So that's the weapon you wield" Ser Barristan said. "Your not-exactly-a-spear, was it?"
"Yes Ser, this is my halberd," I presented it with both hands to Ser Barristan.
"The shaft is forged steel? Quite the heavy weapon lad," he said while his eyes latched on the axe-like head. "I can understand your interest for His Grace's warhammer now."
I scratched the back of my head before answering.
"Every child in the North has heard the stories and songs of Good King Robert's battles Ser. I was fascinated by his warhammer," but mostly its, very likely, magical mechanics.
"Hhmm. Well then, I think it's time for our spar, don't you think so Lord Steward?." Ser Barristan said with an encouraging smile.
"Ahh, just let me get my normal-."
"I've seen your drills lad. I know you can control your halberd well enough to not harm me."
With that settled, I put on my helmet and drew a long breath.
This is it. This will be the first time I'm sparring a real master swordsman.
Hopefully I won't disappoint myself or Ser Barristan.
I put myself into a middle guard stance. Point forward, hook and blade tilted at an horizontal angle and legs bent.
I threw a probing thrust to the knight's face.
A shield parry, quick footsteps and boom! I was down on the ground.
Holy polearms, he hit me with the pommel in the chest some time in that exchange.
That was fast.
"Let this be a lesson lad," he chuckled and gave me a hand. "Now, we can't have the Moat's steward outpaced by an old man can we?"
"Yes, Lord Commander!" I took his hand and got myself again in the same stance.
The thrust I did got me compromised, Ser Barristan took a step forward the moment I started the thrust, otherwise his shield parry wouldn't have broken my stance.
Normal enemies never would've thought to step forward while I tried to stab them, nobody normal has that kind of confidence. Except, Ser Barristan is not someone normal.
Now I see that I should change the weight distribution in my legs to let me react to something like that crazy shield parry.
Gods, it was only one exchange. One exchange that I completely lost and now I have a clear path forward.
Time for round two.
I would like to try that thrust again. If I'm right, and I think I am, the shield parry won't get me this time.
But I think he knows that too.
So I threw a feint to his visor, he didn't buy it and kept his hands steady.
We rounded up each other, I tried another thrust, this time to the side of his shield.
He moved his shield to throw me off and prepared his sword to strike. I took a sidestep to my left, blocked his sword and hooked his shield with the lower part of my blade.
Before I could use his sword as fulcrum, he let his shield slide off and quickly moved back.
That threw me off for a bit. I didn't expect him to drop his shield.
"Well done lad, you surprised me there," he said and I could hear the grin behind his white helmet.
I didn't respond. I couldn't, it would be way to embarrassing if I get distracted and find myself on the ground because of that. Besides I think he wants to grab his shield.
"Don't mind the shield, an enemy wouldn't let me retrieve it afterall," I think he saw me looking at his shield. How? I don't know, did I turned my whole body?.
I nodded.
I'll try with thrusts again.
The first one was dodged by footwork, the second one was a feint and the third went directly to his chest.
The Lord Commander parried it. I twist my halberd to trap his sword between the upper part of the blade and its point, push it to the sid-.
Ser Barristan adjusted his sword position instantly and slid it off my halberd.
That, that was insane. What kind of reflexes does he have?
"Since you took my shield, I thought you wanted to take my sword too," he hummed. "Your helmet movement gave it away."
I unclenched my jaw and took a breath.
Focus, focus gods damn it. There's nothing else in the world, nothing else but you and your opponent. With this newfound clarity I can see he wants to rush me, rely on his vambrace to protect him and take me by surprise.
Not if I strike first.
I step forward and slash, he parries hard.
Just as I wanted.
My forward hand lets go of the halberd and I let it rotate in a one-eighty before I stabilized it once again.
The point of the lower end is inches apart from Ser Barristan's neck.
Silence envelops the training yard. At least until the Lord Commander chuckles softly.
"Nicely done lad," I lowered my halberd, my arms feel like a mud cake. "Now, why don't we try once again?"
This was awesome. Never before my mind felt as tired as my body after a bout. I gave everything I had. Honestly, I just want to lie down and review every single detail of this spar.
But, if Ser Barristan the Bold asks you for another round, you spar another round.
"Yes, Ser Barristan!"
The Lord Commander's martial skills are as sharp as Valyrian steel.
That is to say, Ser Barristan is a monster swordsman.
I found myself trounced to the ground many times that morning. And I couldn't find it in myself to mind it.
I learned a lot on how to fight real prodigies, I think picking up the sword can help me understand how a swordsman thinks and moves.
Know your enemy and something something, win.
Our sparring session took about an hour, afterwards I took a quick bath and on the Main Hall I found Father, Arya and Sansa breaking their fast, so I joined.
It took and hour or so from that point for the King's retinue to gather their bearings to continue their long journey South.
The Stark family waited in the courtyard so I could bid them farewell.
To Arya with a smoldering hug that helped cover her tears.
To Sansa with an overtly dignified bow as was proper for a Lady of her status, I leaned so far into my dramatic side that I could feel her rolling her eyes at my theatrics, once I stood up, I could see she had a small smile and Arya was trying and failing to contain her laughter.
And then, Father.
He sent Arya and Sansa ahead and turned to me.
"Jon, we won't be seeing each other in a while."
That's an understatement if I ever heard one.
"Hands have served Kings for long span of years when competent, Father, and I never heard anyone call Lord Eddard Stark incompetent."
"King's Landing… I think it changed Robert, back in the Barrowlands… I'm not sure how it will change me."
Father had a distant look on him. He closed his eyes and turned to me once again.
"Jon, I'm proud of you. I've seen you grow since you were but a babe and I saw that when you focus on something, you have this light behind your eyes that seems everlasting, and someway or another you end up finding a way to make your idea a reality, Out of all my children you are the wisest and the most stubborn too, and mayhaps it's because of that, that you are the least likely to ask for help, even when needed," he saw the protest that was about to leave my lips. "Asking for assistance or advice is not the same as asking for help Jon. I won't ask you to help your brothers, because I know you will regardless. What I'm asking you, is to ask them for help. You may not bear the same name but you share the same blood."
That was, a lot.
"Is my mother alive?" I blurted before I could stop myself, but then the words kept coming out. "Does she know about me? Where I am… does she care?"
There was a pause and a clenching and unclenching of jaws.
"The next time we see each other, we'll talk about your mother. I promise."
And with those words, they left.
Hours after, I couldn't rid myself of a sudden nostalgia in my chest. So I did the next best thing.
"Hatten, prepare me the report about the experimental Wintermer process at the Moat's steelworks."
"Yes, Lord Castellan," I had just informed my closest aides on my new position. Only Amanda and maybe Garth seemed to grasp the broader significance of my appointment as Castellan of the Moat.
A steward has the duties to run the keep and look after the land.
Basically make sure the keep has enough food and firewood, organize the keep's staff, provide appropriate clothing and weapons to the keep's guards and make sure the taxes are paid to the keep and to the keep's overlord. In short, make sure all matters of logistic and accounting run smoothly.
That is the expected duties of an appointed steward, however, I added the development of the land and its populace to my duties. In short, invest now, profit later.
The initial capital investment needed for land development came directly from Winterfell, and it was only possible due to two factors.
First, my previous successes made Father confident enough to open Winterfell's coffers to invest on some of my crazy ideas.
(No stuffy lord number nine and twenty, giving your smallfolk farmers better equipment in order to increase their productivity and in turn increase your land's tax revenue is not crazy.)
I have to inhale slowly to calm myself.
In.
Out.
Alright.
Where was I? Ah, yes.
Second factor, Father's exceptionally amicable relationship with the Neck's overlord Howland Reed.
There is some sort of pact of non-intervention between lords. Which means an overlord can't overstep and dictate how a vassal handles their lands and internal affairs unless explicitly asked to do so by said vassal or if the vassal committed a heinous crime.
Any vassal would either feel suspicious or fear for their standing in the realm when their lord reappropriates land that was left to their purview and appoints a Lord Steward who is directly connected to said lord by blood.
Any vassal but Howland Reed.
Lord Reed never raised any complaint and even helped to smooth out the worries of other lords when the Warden of the North decreed the reappropriation of the Moat to House Stark.
When the works of renovation of the Moat started, I was a bit anxious and thought that maybe Lord Reed would make things difficult.
Those worries were completely unfounded as Lord Reed was nothing but helpful to the Moat's refurbishment efforts and land development.
Hell, Lord Reed even jumped early on to the 'land development' bandwagon. And Father was happy to provide very generous loans.
The smallfolk on his lands learned to poultry farm and fish farm in a remarkably short time.
The crannogmen even developed methods to build suitable platforms for their 'dry poultry' but otherwise they raise ducks.
There's also what I heard from some of the crannogmen guards in the Moat, that there are some frog farms too.
Once they had a direction and funds, Lord Reed's smallfolk showed, once again, the indomitable human adaptability.
All in all, Lord Reed is awesome.
And no, I'm not saying 'awesome compared to other lords'. I'm saying awesome by his own right.
Thinking of all this, I just realized something.
Since Bran is the future lord of the Moat, it would be a good thing to cultivate a amicable relationship between him and Lord Reed's heir.
It would be ideal if Bran were fostered in Greywater Watch, that would send a clear message.
But, due to Bran's current condition that path is closed. Therefore the next best thing is to have the Reed heir foster in Winterfell and then the Moat, once Bran comes here.
I have to write to Robb and Father about it, any contact will have to be clear that it is Winterfell the one requesting the fostering.
"Ryk, bring me parchment, I've got a friendship to architect."
"Huh?" What do you me-. "Right away Lord Castellan."
Hhhmmm, it seems Ryk is learning to be more competent by the day.
I give a short nod of approval to his tutor, Hatten in turn gives me a confused nod.
Well, enough Howland Reed glazing for the day.
As I was saying, the duties of a castellan are the same as a steward with the only difference being that in the absence of the keep's lord, the castellan is the one who raises the banners and mounts to battle, so, in classic Westerosi fashion, they are better regarded than stewards, by a lot.
So the position of castillan gives me 'weight' in lordly tables.
Obviously not the same as a proper lord, but at the very least my opinions will be listened, if maybe not considered.
It's not all advantages tho.
Yes, the position gives prestige and power, but just as whenever someone ascends the feudal ladder, there will be detractors. I'm certain some lord or another will go and 'raise his concerns on the appointment of a bastard as the CASTELLAN of the Moat'.
Lucky for me, Father's position will greatly lessen any such 'concern' from the Northern lords and Lord Reed support will take charge of most dissenting voices from the Neck lords.
Unlucky for me, at some point in the future I'll interact with some lord or another who will act all high and mighty and try to do stupid petty shit.
Here's me hoping Bran is the Moat's lord by then.
Ryk came back with a fresh stack of parchment.
"Alright Ryk," I nodded in thanks. "I need you to compile the historical yields on the Moat's farm lands for the last four years. I think we can at last get an answer on the best agricultural practices."
"Yes Lord Ste-. Yes, Lord Castellan," I could see Hatten snicker from the side. Don't worry dudebro, I didn't forgot about you.
"Hey Hatten, how do you feel about checking the experimental manure production fields. Personally, I mean."
He let out a sigh and deflated on his chair. Good.
"I'll be off on the morrow Lord Castellan."
I nodded and started writing my letters.
"Why do you have to be petty Jon?"
"Because…" I locked eyes with him. "I can," I finished with a smirk.
"Yes, yes. The great Lord Castellan of Moat Cailin being a stuffy lord, what a surprise," my right hand man said with an eyeroll.
That would have given me pause once, not now tho, because "I'll be there with you Hatten, those experiments are important."
He gave an owlish blink and sighed, "Yes, Lord Castellan."
With that settled, I just know these next moons will be full of field work, the road and mill construction in particular.
At least those won't require outside interaction, probably.
A/N: I couldn't finish this arc in this chapter lol, too many small little things to go through or else I'll feel like the world is too empty.
Writing combat is hard, I rewrote the spar three or four times.
Anyways, thank you. Yes, specifically you, for reading. Also give me your comments, all of them >:D.