With Maester Luwin's help, Cregan excused himself from the solar and made his way to the kitchens. When he arrived, he found Gage, the cook, and asked for whatever was left from lunch. Gage was very efficient, soon brought him a plate of typical Northern fare, freshly heated. Today's special addition was venison, a rare treat.
"Here you go, m'lord," Gage said, setting the food before him.
Cregan eyed the meal. The food was fresh, no doubt about that, but the taste was another story. The lack of spices in Winterfell's diet was something he found difficult to adjust to. Having grown accustomed to more flavorful meals in his previous life, it was a struggle to eat the bland food of the North.
Unfortunately, spices were a luxury in Winterfell, saved for formal occasions when lords visited. Cregan couldn't exactly grow them in his own backyard, so for now, he would have to endure the bland Northern fare.
As he mused on this, another thought struck him—he had never seen tomatoes or potatoes in Winterfell, or even in the books of Westeros. In fact, many of the vegetables and fruits that had been discovered in the Americas during his previous life seemed absent from Westeros. George R. R. Martin, it seemed, had crafted Westeros to mirror medieval Europe, where crops like tomatoes, potatoes, and maize were unknown.
Cregan wondered if these crops might exist somewhere beyond the known lands—perhaps in the exotic markets of Essos or the distant, untamed jungles of Sothoryos. If such crops were ever discovered, they could revolutionize the food supply, much like how they had changed the Old World after the Age of Exploration in his previous life. Potatoes alone could transform the agriculture of the North, providing a hardy and nutritious crop for the harsh winters.
But for now, in Winterfell, such foods remained a distant dream.
A sennight passed by in the blink of an eye. Much had happened in the past week. Maester Luwin, after working tirelessly to organize the ledger into the new format Cregan had provided, discovered several discrepancies. These errors had gone unnoticed for far too long under the old system, and now, with the clear structure in place, it became apparent that certain taxes had been misreported, and resources under-counted.
The discovery had been eye-opening, showing just how vital proper record-keeping was for the smooth running of Winterfell. Ned acted swiftly, sending Benjen and Jory to investigate and apprehend the stewards and officers who had been siphoning off money and food for their own gain.
Vayon Poole was then instructed to implement the new double-entry bookkeeping method across Winterfell and its surrounding lands. His task was to teach the other stewards and village chiefs this system, which would now become the standard for managing the North's finances and resources. Ned hoped that with this improved method in place, accountability and transparency would follow, ensuring Winterfell's future stability.
Meanwhile, the workers at Winterfell had made good progress with the agricultural tools. The designs weren't difficult to understand once they had the plans, and just yesterday, they had delivered prototypes for the curved scythe, the moldboard plough, and the seed drill. Though the rest of the designs were still in development, it would take another month or more to produce enough to meet the needs of the nearby villages.
Cregan was frustrated. As much as he admired his brother's leadership, there was one decision that gnawed at him—the order to build a sept in Winterfell for Catelyn. It wasn't that he disliked his good-sister, but a sept here, in the North, felt out of place. This was the land of the old gods, not the Seven.
Without delay, Cregan made his way to the Great Hall, where Ned was listening to the concerns of the smallfolk. He stood there for over an hour, waiting as patiently as he could. When the last villager left, Cregan wasted no time.
"Lord Stark," he began, his tone formal but urgent, "I wish to speak with you. Alone."
Ned raised his eyebrows, surprised by the tone. "Is it urgent, Cregan?" he asked, clearly exhausted from the day and, no doubt, hungry after hearing the smallfolk's complaints.
But the look on Cregan's face was enough to convince him. "Very well," Ned sighed, waving Cregan to follow him to his solar.
As they walked, Ned called for Maester Luwin to join them, thinking his counsel might be needed. Lady Catelyn, curious about what her brother-in-law wanted to discuss, followed quietly behind. She had grown impressed with Cregan, especially after hearing of the innovations he had shared—methods of bookkeeping, the moldboard plough, and the seed drill. She had even asked Ned if she could share these ideas with her father, Lord Hoster Tully, as they could benefit the Riverlands, of course for the right price. Ned had agreed after some thought and asked if she could get father-in-law to make some more concessions on food supplies from House Tully.
Cregan had no objection to Catelyn's request, so long as House Stark remained in control of their important inventions. Trust had been built, and Catelyn, understanding the value of these ideas, hadn't betrayed that trust. She was aware of the loom as well, but wisely never mentioned it, recognizing that her interests were now aligned with her husband's house, not her former family.
Seeing Catelyn follow them into the solar, Cregan felt a moment of awkwardness. He hadn't expected her presence for this discussion. No matter, he thought. It's better she hears and understands my concerns now, rather than stirring trouble later.
"Could we have Old Nan join us as well?" Cregan asked suddenly, catching Ned off guard.
Though puzzled by the request, Ned nodded. "Of course," he said, though he was curious about what could possibly require Old Nan's presence.
Once inside the solar, Ned took his place behind the table, with Maester Luwin and Lady Catelyn seated beside him. Cregan waited patiently across from them until Old Nan arrived. When she did, he stood and, in a gesture that surprised everyone, politely pulled out a chair for her.
"My, how polite you've become, m'lord. The Old Gods bless you," Old Nan said warmly, patting Cregan on the head. She hadn't expected such courtesy, but she appreciated it.
Cregan's manners earned approving glances from the others in the room, though none could quite place where this newfound demeanor had come from.
Feeling Cregan's urgency, Ned finally asked, "Now that we're all here, what is it you wish to discuss, Cregan?"
OOO
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