The victory at sea had bought Deepwood Keep safety but it had not bought warmth.
Winter had truly arrived.
The snow was now four feet deep in the Wolfswood. The roads were impassable. The ox carts carrying coal from the mountain mines were getting stuck every hour. Several oxen had frozen to death in their traces.
The blast furnaces were hungry.
Andar stood in his office looking at the production charts.
"Coal reserves are critical My Lord," Cullen reported his breath misting in the cold room. "We have three days of fuel left. If the deliveries stop the furnaces go cold. If the furnaces go cold the liquid steel solidifies inside the vessel. It will destroy the factory."
"We cannot rely on oxen," Andar said. "Flesh is too weak for winter."
He walked to the large map on the wall. He traced the line he had drawn weeks ago. Twelve miles through the forest.
"Is the track bed graded?" Andar asked.
"Yes My Lord," the chief engineer replied. "We cleared the trees. We laid the gravel ballast. But the snow..."
"Ignore the snow," Andar ordered. "Lay the sleepers. Lay the rails. I want the line operational in forty eight hours."
The forest became a scene of frantic activity.
Two thousand workers were mobilized. They were not fighting enemies. They were fighting the ground.
They laid heavy wooden beams made of treated pine every two feet. On top of them they placed the new steel rails.
These were not the fragile cast iron rails of early history. These were rolled steel rails made from the Bessemer converter. They were flexible. They were strong.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
The sound of sledgehammers driving iron spikes into wood echoed through the frozen trees. It was a rhythm of progress.
Andar rode up and down the line.
"Keep the gauge exact!" Andar shouted. "Four feet eight and a half inches! If it is too wide the train derails! If it is too narrow the wheels bind!"
The workers did not know why the measurement had to be so specific. They did not know it was the standard gauge of Rome and the future. They just obeyed.
By the second night the two lines of steel stretched from the factory gates all the way to the dark mouth of the coal mine.
In the main assembly hall of the factory the beast was waiting.
It was the Deepwood No. 1.
It was a 0-4-0 locomotive. It was small by modern standards but to the people of Westeros it was a titan.
It was painted black with the Stark Direwolf painted in white on the tender. It had a tall funnel stack to catch sparks. A massive cowcatcher on the front looked like a steel jaw.
"Pressure is up," Mott said checking the boiler. "One hundred pounds per square inch."
Andar climbed into the cab.
It was warm inside. The heat from the firebox was a luxury in the freezing winter.
"Open the doors," Andar ordered.
The massive factory doors groaned open revealing the snowy night.
Andar pulled the whistle cord.
WHOOOO-OOOOOO!
The sound was piercing. It was louder than a dragon. It woke every sleeper in the fortress.
Andar pushed the throttle lever forward.
Hiss.
Steam shot from the cylinders.
Chug.
The massive steel wheels slipped for a second on the cold rails sending a shower of sparks. Then they bit.
Chug... Chug... Chug.
The locomotive rolled out of the factory. It moved onto the main line. It picked up speed.
The workers lined the tracks cheering. They threw their hats in the air.
Andar drove the engine into the dark forest. The single oil lamp on the front cast a yellow beam onto the snow.
He reached the mine in thirty minutes. By ox cart it took six hours.
"Hitch the wagons!" Andar yelled to the stunned miners.
They loaded twenty huge hoppers with coal. Fifty tons of black fuel.
The little engine groaned under the weight but it pulled. It chugged back through the woods trailing a cloud of white steam.
When Andar returned to the fortress he did not just bring coal. He brought salvation.
"Dump it!" Andar ordered.
The coal was unloaded directly into the bunkers of the blast furnace. The fires roared back to life.
Andar stood on the footplate of the locomotive. He patted the warm metal.
"We have solved the logistics," Andar said to Cullen. "Now we can build an army."
[Quest Complete: The Iron Road]
[Infrastructure: Railway (Standard Gauge)]
[Logistics Speed: +1000%]
[New Unit Unlocked: Armored Train]
Dragonstone
Three thousand miles to the south the air was not cold. It was hot with the smell of the volcano.
In the Chamber of the Painted Table Stannis Baratheon stared at the map of Westeros.
"Renly plays at war," Stannis ground his teeth. "Robb Stark steals my northern half. And I sit here with a pile of rocks."
"You are the Prince that was Promised," a voice said smoothly.
Melisandre walked out of the shadows. Her red dress seemed to glow in the dim light. The ruby at her throat pulsed.
"The flames do not lie Your Grace," Melisandre said. "I have looked into them. I have seen your victory."
"Show me," Stannis demanded. "Show me my enemy."
Melisandre walked to the great brazier. She threw a handful of powder into the fire.
The flames leaped up twisting and dancing.
"Look," she commanded. "Look into the heart of R'hllor."
Stannis stared. He expected to see Renly. He expected to see King's Landing.
But the fire showed something else.
It showed snow. Endless snow.
And in the middle of the snow it showed a pillar of grey smoke. Not the smoke of a wood fire. But the smoke of something unnatural.
"What is that?" Stannis asked squinting. "Is it Winterfell?"
"It is the North," Melisandre whispered. Her eyes widened. She saw a fortress of grey stone that looked like a star. She saw a black worm crawling through the forest screaming like a demon.
And she saw a man.
A man standing in the smoke holding a weapon that spat lightning.
The vision shifted. She saw the Others. The White Walkers. They were marching. But they stopped. They looked at the smoke with fear.
The fire died down.
Melisandre stepped back. She was trembling.
"What did you see woman?" Stannis barked.
"I saw... another fire," Melisandre said softly. "A fire not lit by the Lord of Light. A cold fire. A fire of iron."
"Is it an enemy?"
Melisandre touched her ruby. It felt hot against her skin.
"The Great Other brings the cold," she murmured. "But this man... he brings the industry. He is building a god of steel."
She looked at Stannis.
"We must watch the North Your Grace. The war for the Iron Throne is a game of children. The true war... the war for the dawn... might not be fought with swords at all."
Stannis frowned. He did not like riddles.
"Robb Stark is a traitor," Stannis said. "If he has a new weapon I will take it from him."
Melisandre looked back at the dying embers.
"If you try to take it," she thought, "it might burn you."
Deepwood Keep
Andar sneezed.
He rubbed his nose.
"Are you getting sick My Lord?" Jory asked concerned.
"No," Andar said looking South. "Someone is talking about me."
He turned back to the blueprints on his desk.
"The railway is done. The navy is secure. Now we need to deal with the Boltons."
He pointed to the Dreadfort on the map.
"Roose Bolton is quiet. Too quiet. He is waiting for us to fail. He is waiting for the Ironborn to kill us."
Andar picked up a pencil.
"We are going to send him a message. Not a raven. A train."
[New Quest: The Traitor's Due]
[Objective: Neutralize House Bolton]
[Method: Political Pressure / Military Show of Force]
....
Author Note
Hi guys! Thank you for reading my fanfiction.
I wanted to let you know that I'm releasing bonus chapters for Power Stones. Here are the goals:
25 Power Stones: 1 Bonus Chapters
50 Power Stones: 1 Bonus Chapters
75 Power Stones: 2 Bonus Chapters
100 Power Stones: 2 Bonus Chapters
Thanks for the support!