Chapter 4: The Trade Gambit
The manor's great hall was quiet except for the crackle of the fire and the steady scrape of Ivar's quill against parchment. He was sketching plans for his next move—lines and arrows marking routes across a map of the Riverlands. Trade was the lifeblood of any prosperous land, and his island, though isolated, could become a hub of commerce if he played his cards right.
Timothy Sunrise stood nearby, arms crossed as he studied the map. "You're ambitious, my lord," he said, a faint smirk on his face. "Trade routes through the Riverlands, exports to the Vale and Stormlands... That's no small task."
"It's not ambition," Ivar replied without looking up. "It's necessity. The crops will take months to grow, and the villagers need to see immediate results. Trade will keep them fed—and remind them why they follow me."
Timothy nodded. "And what exactly are we trading?"
Ivar smiled, leaning back in his chair. "Soap and alcohol."
The First Industries
The following morning, Ivar summoned his council to the manor. The ten enhanced soldiers, now functioning as his advisors, gathered around the long oak table.
"Our next step is industry," Ivar began. "We have the resources—fat from livestock, wood ash from the hearths, and water from the river. With these, we'll produce soap. Cleanliness is a luxury in Westeros, and there's profit in luxury."
Roland Emberhill, the military tactician, frowned. "Soap? That's your plan?"
"Soap," Ivar said firmly, "and alcohol. We'll distill spirits from the grains we grow. Both products are simple to make, easy to transport, and in high demand."
Lysa Blackthorne, his head of intelligence, raised an eyebrow. "You'll need skilled workers to produce those things at scale. The villagers barely know how to patch their own roofs."
"I'll train them," Ivar said. "And if they need help, I'll hire skilled craftsmen from the mainland. The system will provide the knowledge we need to teach them."
The council exchanged glances, their skepticism clear. But Timothy's voice cut through the doubt.
"If Lord Sunblode says it will work, then it will work," he said. "We've seen what his plans can do."
The room fell silent. One by one, the council members nodded their agreement.
Training and Production
Ivar spent the next several days working alongside the villagers, teaching them the basics of soap-making. Using his cheat system, he purchased detailed guides on the process, as well as tools to speed up production.
The villagers were skeptical at first. Many had never seen soap before, let alone considered it valuable. But as Ivar demonstrated its use, scrubbing away grime and dirt with ease, their attitudes began to shift.
By the end of the week, the first batch of soap was ready. Bars of smooth, fragrant soap lined the shelves of a makeshift workshop, their pale surfaces gleaming in the sunlight.
"This," Ivar said, holding up a bar, "is more than just soap. It's proof that we can do more than survive. We can create. We can prosper."
The villagers murmured their approval, a flicker of pride lighting their tired faces.
Alcohol production followed soon after. Using grains from the fields and simple distillation techniques, Ivar's team began producing clear, potent spirits. The first bottles were crude but functional, their contents strong enough to satisfy even the most hardened drinkers.
The Merchant's Visit
Word of Sunblode Isle's newfound productivity spread quickly. It wasn't long before a merchant ship arrived at the island's docks, its sails bearing the crest of House Frey. The merchant who disembarked was a thin, wiry man with a sharp nose and a calculating gaze.
"My lord," the merchant said, bowing deeply as he approached Ivar. "I am Calder Ryn, a humble trader from the Twins. I've heard whispers of fine goods being produced here, and I thought I might see them for myself."
Ivar studied the man, his expression unreadable. He knew Calder's type—opportunistic, shrewd, and not to be trusted. But he also knew the value of allies, even temporary ones.
"You've heard correctly, Master Ryn," Ivar said smoothly. "Our island has recently begun producing soap and spirits of exceptional quality. I believe you'll find them quite profitable."
Calder's eyes gleamed. "I'd be delighted to see a sample, my lord."
Ivar gestured to one of his men, who brought forward a crate containing bars of soap and several bottles of spirits. Calder examined the goods with practiced precision, sniffing the soap and taking a cautious sip of the alcohol.
"These are fine indeed," Calder said, a smile spreading across his face. "You've a rare talent for quality, my lord."
Ivar returned the smile, though his eyes remained cold. "And you, Master Ryn, have a rare talent for recognizing opportunity. Shall we discuss terms?"
Negotiations
The two men sat in the manor's great hall, the flickering firelight casting long shadows on the walls. Calder leaned forward, his hands steepled as he spoke.
"I can offer you thirty silver stags for every crate of soap and fifty for every barrel of spirits," Calder said. "A generous price, considering the distance I'll need to travel to sell them."
Ivar's expression didn't change, but his voice was sharp. "Generous? Your offer is barely half what these goods are worth. A crate of soap can fetch sixty stags in Riverrun, and spirits this pure are worth a hundred."
Calder frowned. "With respect, my lord, you're new to this game. You may produce fine goods, but without established trade routes, your reach is limited. My ships can take your products farther than you ever could."
"That may be true," Ivar said, leaning back in his chair. "But my goods will speak for themselves. Once word spreads of their quality, other merchants will come to me. If you want exclusivity, you'll have to pay for it."
Calder hesitated, clearly weighing his options. Finally, he sighed. "Very well, my lord. Forty stags for the soap and seventy for the spirits."
Ivar's lips curled into a faint smile. "Now we're getting somewhere."
Success and Ambition
Over the next month, Calder's ships carried crates of soap and barrels of spirits to the Twins, Riverrun, and beyond. The profits began to flow in, filling the manor's coffers and allowing Ivar to reinvest in the island.
New workshops were built, more villagers were trained, and the island's production capacity grew. Slowly but surely, Sunblode Isle was transforming from a forgotten corner of the Riverlands into a thriving center of commerce.
One evening, as Ivar stood on the docks watching Calder's ship disappear into the horizon, Timothy approached him.
"You've done well, my lord," Timothy said. "The people are starting to believe in you."
"They should," Ivar replied, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "This island will be more than just a home. It will be a kingdom."
Timothy raised an eyebrow. "A kingdom?"
Ivar smiled, his eyes gleaming with ambition. "One step at a time, Timothy. One step at a time."