White Harbor, despite being known as the smallest among the five cities to the people of Westeros, remained the most significant settlement north of the Neck. However, unlike King's Landing, the frigid climate of the North ensured that the city never had to contend with unpleasant odours no matter how much its population increased.
The city of White Harbor was situated on the River White Knife's eastern coastline where it meets the Bite. It is a clean and well-ordered City, with wide straight cobbled streets that make it easy to walk around. The houses are built of whitewashed stone, with steeply-pitched roofs of dark grey slate.
Located on the central street, just a stone's throw away from the famous Fishfoot fountain of Harbor, was a modest two-story building. Although the building's owner, an elderly merchant, had recently passed away, he was able to fulfil his wife's final wish by arranging the marriage of his daughter, Danny, to Rogar, the son of his dear friend Sam, who was also a merchant from Wintertown.
The two-story building boasted a store on the ground floor, similar to the nearby buildings, while the upstairs area served as a living space. Danny was primarily responsible for managing the store, which mainly sold various types of food supplies suitable for long voyages. Given its strategic location in the biggest port in the North, the store was thriving and enjoyed a steady flow of customers.
Following the death of Danny's father, she and her husband Rogar resided in the building alone until a few weeks ago, when Roger's father, Sam, arrived from Wintertown to work and moved in with them.
The morning was still young, and the street lay deserted as Danny worked away in the kitchen, preparing breakfast. She glanced up when she heard footsteps and spotted her father-in-law emerging, dressed in his work clothes.
"Good morning, Danny," Sam greeted her with a warm smile, "Has Rogar already left?"
"Yes, he departed in a hurry since his ship is leaving for King's Landing tomorrow," Danny replied, returning to kneading the dough. She looked up again as Sam approached the door. "Where are you headed, Father? Breakfast is almost ready."
"I'm already running late, and there's a shipment due to arrive today," Sam explained apologetically. "Don't worry about wasting any food; I'll be back for lunch." Without waiting for a response, he closed the door behind him and hastened off to his destination.
As Sam scurried along the path, jostling through the throngs of early risers heading to their jobs, he found himself reminiscing about the day his fortunes had taken a turn for the better. It was a vivid memory, etched into his mind like a clear blue sky. At that time, he had been a little concerned about his younger daughter Becca, who was unruly and showed no interest in learning.
When Becca expressed a desire to learn from Jon, Lord Stark's son, he readily agreed and even paid a handsome fee to Jon, who was still a young boy at the time. His primary motivation, Of course, had been to establish a connection with his liege lord, Lord Stark, at that time. As any true Northener would attest to the value of any kind of connection to the Starks, no matter how tenuous.
But little had Sam known that this decision would become one of the best ones of his life and would ultimately pay immense dividends in the future.
Jon Snow had managed to create an exceptional invention, the Starkhorse, which served as an excellent alternative to horses in large cities while being much cheaper. Although it could not replace horses used by armies, knights, Lords, and the like. it was an ideal option for smallfolks who needed to travel within the city or move small items quickly.
When Jon offered him the opportunity to oversee the day-to-day operations of his Starkhorse business, he readily accepted the offer, recognizing the immense profit potential it presented. He had only been in town for two months since arriving from Wintertown, and he had already been sold out of stock five times. Fortunately, Jon always anticipated the demand and sent more stock than before.
At this moment, a new batch of freshly made Starkhorses was on its way to White Knife from Winterfell, and he needed to be there to ensure that everything went smoothly. He couldn't afford any mishaps, and he was determined to make the most of this opportunity.
As he made his way towards his destination, he spotted a commotion in the middle of a four-way street. As he approached, the clamour emanating from the crowd quickly revealed what was happening.
"Step right up! Witness the wonder of the North! Behold the Starkhorse!" a young teenager hollered enthusiastically, beckoning all onlookers to gather around.
Despite it having been over two months since these promotions began, the sight of people flocking to see the Starkhorse remained awe-inspiring. After all, such novelties were a rarity in the North.
The teenage promoter was putting on quite the performance, leaping and shouting dramatically in an attempt to convince the crowd of the benefits of purchasing a Starkhorse. The assembled crowd was entranced, listening with bated breath.
Abruptly, a middle-aged man muscled his way to the front of the crowd and shouted a question towards the young promoter. "Why the F*ck should I buy this...this...thing instead of a normal horse? At least a horse can walk on its own," he grumbled
"Good question!" the teen beamed, "Tell me then, Old Man, Does a horse need to eat,"
"Oh course it does," The man retorted, "What kind of horse doesn't need that,"
"Well, This one doesn't need any kind of feed at all," The teen waved his hand over the Starkhorse standing perched on a pedestal, "Now, tell me can a horse die? Can it fall sick? Can it easily get injured? Can it easily break a leg?"
"Y-Yes,"
"Ah, but this one cannot," the teen exclaimed triumphantly. "So you can purchase it without hesitation. And you want to know the cherry on top..." The teen said dramatically to the crowd, "It doesn't Shit! So no more waking up in the morning early to clean new shit every day," the crowd supplied the teen's enthusiasm with raucous cheers.
"So tell me, People of The North," The teen yelled as soon as the clamour had died down, "Is a horse better or a Starkhorse,"
"STARKHORSE!" The crowd chanted excitedly.
"And, as an added bonus, a Starkhorse is FIVE times less expensive than a horse," the teen pivoted to face the middle-aged man. "So, are you now ready to make a purchase?"
The man hesitated for a few moments before he said, "Ah! F*ck it! I'll buy one then," he announced, making his way toward the back of the teenage promoter. There, rows of Starkhorses were on display, with a man seated at a table taking payments and distributing Starkhorses.
Observing the man making a purchase, a dozen other hesitant individuals were tempted, and soon followed suit, clamouring to acquire their very own Starkhorses.