The Main Gate & Curtain Wall

[The Gambler]

"The Tower of Ghosts was a library once," Ser Simon interjected, pointing to the smallest of the towers, built into the curtain wall. "Books all burned in Balerion's flames."

"You're right about the guardsmen though. Castle this big can't be fully garrisoned with less than 300 men. It beggars most families trying to do so, so most make do with a skeleton crew of about 100."

[Maester Percival]

"With only one hundred men? Ser Simon you are a miracle worker. Have you any advice from the times before now?" Percival turned to study the knight. He truly respected a man as honorable as Ser Whent. It is too bad Whent was cursed to be born a riverlander. If he had been born in the West he would have been greatly rewarded.

[The Gambler]

"A hundred is hardly ideal. That would a be a full garrison in Winterfell or Storm's end," Ser Simon clarified, looking out over the God's Eye as he spoke. "In Harrenhal, we'd need triple that to make full use of the defense at our disposal, but we make use of what we can afford and have learned to make the best of being undermanned."

[Barley]

"That will not do. I appreciate that we need to increase the lands productivity, which is also why I wanted to show you this," Saesha turned, looking out over the land, the gods eyes to the right of them. "the land here in this part of the riverlands is some of the most fertile and farmable in the Seven Kingdoms. I want to maximise it's potential and create a proper irrigation system to yield better crops. I do not know much about farming, but I know about architecture and engineering, more growth means more money, means more means of provisioning the castle. I would also like the reduce some of the Godswood, to create a farm in the castle, it would be useful if the keep itself could be somewhat self sufficient."

[Maester Percival]

Percival stopped for a moment and closed his eyes. He played through his memory of the God's wood and decided he would not be at all sorry to see it go. "It is too small for a farm My Lady, but you could instal some green houses in there." He opened his eyes and looked back at Saesha, "Proper irrigation, and some other advances could work wonders for the local fields. Grain and food stuffs are not very good for trading. The only profitable coin off crop farmers comes from taxation. How much land have we been awarded and how much of it is not worked currently?"

[Jon Blackfort]

Jon arrived clutching a handful of ledgers, the steward already having committed himself to attempting to calculate Harrenhal's vast resources. "My Lady," he spoke, bowing low. A slight nod was thrown to the knight and maester, but etiquette dictated nothing more.

[Barley]

"You would need to ask the steward when he arrives." Saesha arrived, but she nodded at the ideas put forward, "we need a more efficient way of trading, We have the Gods eye, and beyond that, Kings Landing and the world. A proper port, for fishing and commerce would be beneficial."

she he smiled as Jon approached, "and here he is now, my Lord Steward, we are trying to figure out the best course for increasing Harrenhals prospects." 

[Jon Blackfort]

"Ah." That explained the last words he had caught from the maester as he approached. "I have been taking stock, but cannot yet give you a number. For all we know there could be a second treasury hidden away in the giant castle." He gave a light tap to his ledgers, "My lady, in my experience trade is what makes one wealthy."

[Maester Percival]

Percival stared at Jon dismissively. The steward barely seemed able to add to twenty and clearly the man had never had that many gold coins in his life. He dressed like an actor in one of those companies, he wore what he thought a prosperous merchant should wear but it was patchy and years out of date. Also he reeked of turnip. Percival hated turnip. "Besides gold mines, trade is the best way to generate coins. We are going to have many obstacles to making Harrenhal a center of trade though. Trade routes are very static because most merchants are invested in the routes they use. We are too far from the sea. In addition many men will be wary of coming here because of the dark rumors about the hall's legacy."

Percival smirked at the Turnip Farmer before looking back at the lady. "Our first course of action should be trying to entice some master craftsmen to move their trade to Harrow town. If we get true masters then their work could entice traders."

[Jon Blackfort]

The steward listened intently to the wise maester's advice but was ultimately disappointed with the conclusion. He had grown a fond dislike for maester's, following his own expulsion from the Citadel as a boy. Those grey old pigeons branded themselves masters of knowledge when most had never stepped a foot beyond the Citadel, nor the keep they might make their nest in. This one seemed particularly dowdy, and as a man well travelled, he had not failed to notice the Valyrian Steel link hanging from the grey man's chain. "You've clearly never worked as a merchant, maester. Men with a taste for gold will go where there's gold to be made. And there's gold to be made where there's people to sell to. After the war and all that's happened here, "he glanced at Ser Symon before turning back to his lady," encouraging the smallfolk to rebuild and grow in number should be our first priority."

[Maester Percival]

Percival looked at the Turnip Farmer with a just a hint contempt. He fought to hide the pity and the derision he was feeling. Was this man proud of being a merchant? Did he truly believe it was some great vocation to scratch out a living buying and selling other people's work. Percival forced a smile before replying. "If you had arrived on time you would have heard us discussing that very subject." Percival shook his head before going on in the lecturing voice he used to teach. "Any barely educated child from Casterly Rock could tell you that while it is essential to have many vassals serving in the fields, they contribute almost nothing directly to the treasury. It is the landed Knights who pay the taxes. So until we have more lands to invest, no number of common folk will generate more coin." Then Percival shrugged, "I understand why a former merchant would have little knowledge of taxes. All the merchants I have known made great efforts to never pay their own taxes." Percival gave the Turnip Farmer a warm smirk as he finished speaking.

[Jon Blackfort]

"Well then perhaps we should send you off into the hills maester, so you can use that Lannister nose of yours to sniff out some gold for the treasury. I'd wager any barely educated child from Casterly Rock could do that." Jon bit back.

[Barley]

"Please let's keep professional please, we all need to work together to achieve our ends," the more time she spent worn the blackforts and their kin the more she realised she was their den mother.

"The way I see it, trade will bring merchants here. Or if anything kings landing is a short boat away, we could go to them before they start seeing the value in coming to us. I only came up here for some perspective to see if there was anything glaringly obvious, I am going to create a council to help decide on what we should be focusing on."

[Maester Percival]

Percival nodded to the lady. He should have known a Targaryen would have little concept of trade. No doubt the Grand Maester had not forced the children at the royal court to attend their lessons. His uncle Damon had made similar mistakes, but Percival's father had not allowed any child to miss a single lesson. He was going to have to take this radiant woman under his wing later; when the Turnip Farmer was not around to taint the learning with his homespun ideas.

Percival nodded, "That is a good idea my lady. You should also start considering sending envoys to your neighbors. It is never too early to start that relationship." The Maester turned to Ser Simon. "Ser Simon, you must know the neighboring lords quite well. What do you have to say of them?"

[Jon Blackfort]

Jon's eyes flickered between Saesha, the maester, and the knight. Whatever he thought of the new Lady of Harrenhal, her choice in companions was appalling. He was about to speak before the grey lion cut him off to start with his brown-nosing.

"Has Lord Belric ordered the formation of such a council?" He asked, purposely speaking before the maester's questions could be answered.