A few weeks later the victorious lords arrived at Winterfell to the cheers of the crowd with as much pomp and celebration as the North could stomach which wasn't very much.
The feasts the northern's throw may seem dull compared to the feasts by the Southerners with their mummer shows, expensive cakes, and barrels of sweet summer wines. However, this does not mean that the feasts in the North are any less enjoyable or festive. While they may lack the theatricality and extravagance of the southern feasts, the warmth, and hospitality of the northern hosts more than makeup for it.
The scent of sizzling meat filled the hall, and the sounds of laughter and good-natured banter echoed off the walls. The tables were groaning under the weight of roasted meats, stews, and hearty breads, all accompanied by enough supply of ale and mead for the lords and their retainers to eat and drink all night; Lord Umber had every intention to do so.
As the sun rose over the Stark stronghold the next morning, the sounds of groans and muffled curses could be heard coming from the guest quarters. The maidservants moved quietly among them, offering water and Maester's herbal remedies to ease their discomfort. Even the hardiest and most seasoned of the lords and knights, accustomed to long nights of drinking and carousing were hungover after the feast the previous... except for a few.
Lord Stark had been looking forward to spending time with his family ever since arriving at Winterfell, so when Lord Umber started hollering for a drinking competition, he took the opportunity to make his exit. Since he had taken an early leave he was one of the few who was up and about and was already making his way up to his solar to catch up on the work that had been piled up in his absence.
And Lord Bolton would take an arrow to the heart before he let anyone get drunk and wasted so he was in his room telling his master-at-arms to prepare for a return journey that very day as he was very uncomfortable in this castle and wanted to go back to Dreadfort and its dreadful silence as soon as possible.
And one other such Lord was the Lord of White Harbor, Lord Manderly. Lord Wyman Manderly was a man in his fifties and while he could still ride a horse, he was fat enough that he only needed to get a bit fatter for him to be known as the Lord Too-fat-to-sit-a-horse.
At the feast the previous night he had partaken in the ale as much as the next lord but somehow he was right as rain even though he knew that Lord Umber next door was still nursing a headache. He didn't know why though, he had never been one of those who could drink as much as they want without a hangover.
'Maybe his capacity was increasing without him knowing,' he thought with a smile.
After breaking his fast in the great hall Lord Wyman was moving toward a smaller courtyard in the castle that was a bit out of the way because he was promised that he would see an astonishing thing if he went there.
What had happened was that when he had just woken up and was half asleep, he heard the maids whispering to each other and gossiping about a wondrous invention that they had seen in the castle.
They said that it was a horse that was made of wood and that didn't need feeding and that it could move very fast too. And that they didn't need to spend to learn like with horses and that anyone can learn it easily.
So Lord Manderly's curiosity was around and he immediately asked the maids politely if what they were talking about was true or not. The maids swore that they were talking truly and even pointed him towards the place where he could see such things and that was where he was going right now.
As he reached the courtyard, even before going in he could hear hoots and whistles from inside, and as he went in his attention was immediately attracted as he noticed that some kind of race was going on.
An auburn-haired boy which he knew to be Lord Stark's son from last night's feast was racing on a wooden contraption that the maids had been talking about. The boy's competitors were two girls, one of which was the boy's sister Sansa and the other was a blonde girl he didn't know but he heard someone yelling 'Faster Becca,' so he guessed that it was her.
The one shouting and cheering them on was a black-haired boy standing just in front of him. The boy seemed a bit familiar to him but he hadn't seen him at last night's feast so he had no idea who he was.
Lord Wyman approached the boy while watching the race curiously, "Do you know what this contraption is called?" he asked the boy who turned around to notice the large lord who had joined him.
"It's called a Starkhorse, My Lord," the boy answered with surprising politeness and elegance. His manners and his way of speaking made Wyman suspect that he was highborn or at least had the same education, "Go Arya," the boy shouted turning back.
It was only then the Lord noticed that Robb wasn't only racing two girls but three as he looked at Lord Starks second daughter paddling on a smaller similar Starkhorse way behind her Brother and Sister with a gummy smile with a brown-haired following behind closely on her feet and making sure that she didn't fall down.
"Can anyone learn to use that?" Wyman asked after a few seconds, his merchant senses were tingling violently in his head at the prospect in front of him.
"Yes, Anyone can," Jon answered easily, "if they are good they can learn it in under an hour and if they are bad at it then they may take a day or two but anyone who is able to can easily learn it,"
Now that he was looking at him from up close Lord Manderly suddenly realized who the boy looked similar to and asked unconsciously, "Are you Lord Stark's bastard?"
"Yes," He answered with a smile, "My name is Jon Snow,"
Wyman didn't see any bitterness in the boy's smile at being called a bastard, it was as if he wasn't at all bothered by his birth which the lord knew was a rare thing among bastards, he just attributed it to Lord Stark's teaching.
"Do you know where these Starkhorses could be bought from and how much they cost?" Lord Manderly asked going back to the topic he was interested in.
"Why? Do you want to buy them?"
"I am thinking about it,"
"Then come with me," Jon said gesturing with his hand and walking out of the courtyard, "I will lead you to the one who can sell them to you,"
Wyman took one last look at the race that had ended with Robb's win and followed the boy out. Jon walked through the hallways of the castle and took a few complicated shortcuts that only the people who lived in Winterfell would be able to use and before long they were climbing the steps to a room that Wyman had visited more than a few dozen times in his life.
"Are you taking me to the..."
"Yes, My Lord," Jon replied with a cheeky smile before knocking on the door to the Lord's Solar. Almost immediately a voice came from inside, "Come in,"
He opened the door and gestured to the lord inside, "Ah... Lord Manderly, I was expecting you," Lord Stark said while looking at the huge Lord entering his solar.
"You were..." Wyman asked confusedly.
Jon didn't enter and instead closed the door behind the Lord of White Harbor and went back. He knew that he looked too young someone to take him seriously in a negotiation so he enlisted the help of his father in dealing with the sale of his very first batch of Starkhorse.
Lord Stark had been very surprised when he learned about the things Jon had accomplished while he was gone and had told him multiple times that he was very proud of him and he had happily accepted the task to be the face of his business.