Chapter 79: Oaths, Trade, and Alliances
The banquet hall inside Winter's Titan was warmer than any hall in the North had a right to be.
Not merely from fire.
From design.
Heat flowed through hidden systems beneath the floors and walls, spreading evenly throughout the enormous chamber without smoke choking the air or servants endlessly feeding fireplaces. Soft golden lights hung from iron fixtures above, steady and unmoving despite the sea beneath them.
The Northern lords noticed everything.
Because every detail reminded them they were no longer standing inside an ordinary kingdom.
Massive steel pillars supported the ceiling high above them, engraved subtly with the crowned direwolf of Winter's Heaven. Long blackwood tables stretched across the hall, polished so cleanly they reflected torchlight like still water.
And at the center—
Jon Snow sat calmly beneath the banner of Winter's Heaven.
Not on a throne.
Yet somehow above every man present regardless.
The atmosphere felt different tonight.
Less fear.
More caution.
The Northern lords had already seen enough military power to understand resistance was meaningless. Now, they studied something else entirely.
How Jon ruled.
Servants moved quietly through the hall with disciplined efficiency, placing silver platters across the tables one after another. Not a single servant stumbled. Not a single order needed repeating.
Even that unsettled some lords.
Because chaos existed in every large castle.
But not here.
Wyman Manderly inhaled deeply as the first dishes arrived.
Then his eyes widened.
"Gods…"
The smell alone overwhelmed the hall.
Freshly roasted meats coated in rich sauces unlike anything the North possessed. Thick soups filled with vegetables completely out of season. Soft breads still steaming with warmth. Golden butter. Cream sauces infused with herbs no Northern lord recognized.
Then came the seafood.
Perfectly preserved despite the journey.
Crab.
Lobster.
White fish soaked in fragrant oils and spices.
And finally—
Fruit.
Actual fresh fruit.
Several lords stared openly at the platters.
"In winter…" Galbart Glover muttered in disbelief.
"How?"
Jon answered simply.
"Preservation systems."
No one even asked further.
They were becoming used to impossible answers.
Greatjon Umber grabbed a roasted meat slab immediately and bit into it.
Then his eyes widened.
"By the gods…"
He pointed toward Jon while still chewing.
"If this is how your people eat, I'm moving beyond the Wall myself!"
Laughter finally spread through the hall.
Real laughter this time.
Even Jon allowed the faintest hint of amusement to touch his face.
Wyman Manderly looked close to tears as he devoured one dish after another.
"This sauce…" he whispered reverently. "This beautiful, beautiful sauce…"
Maege Mormont shook her head while tasting warm bread softer than anything Bear Island had likely ever produced.
"You feed your soldiers like this?"
Jon nodded once.
"As often as possible."
Several lords exchanged glances immediately.
That mattered.
Armies marched on food.
And Winter's Heaven clearly understood that better than the South ever had.
Roose Bolton ate quietly.
Observing.
Calculating.
Everything within Winter's Titan reflected planning beyond Westerosi standards.
The heating systems.
Food preservation.
Discipline.
Infrastructure.
Military organization.
Nothing here depended entirely on Jon's personal strength anymore.
That realization disturbed him most.
This kingdom would survive even after Jon died someday.
Roose lifted his wine calmly.
"You built something extraordinary," he said respectfully.
The hall quieted slightly.
Because Roose Bolton rarely praised anyone openly.
Jon met his gaze evenly.
"We built it," Jon corrected calmly.
Not arrogance.
Not ego.
That answer alone shifted several opinions further.
Maege Mormont noticed it immediately.
He speaks like a ruler protecting his people, she thought.
Not like a conqueror using them.
Further down the table, Greatjon slammed another cup empty and laughed loudly.
"Hah! I've decided."
Several lords looked toward him.
"I like this boy."
Jon raised an eyebrow slightly.
Greatjon grinned.
"You've got strength, wealth, soldiers, giants, and enough food to drown the bloody Reach."
Several lords chuckled.
Then Greatjon leaned forward seriously.
"And you don't speak like a coward."
That, from Greatjon Umber, was close to an oath.
Wyman Manderly wiped grease from his beard before speaking.
"White Harbor is prepared to begin trade immediately."
That caught the entire hall's attention.
Wyman continued calmly.
"Storage docks can be expanded. Dedicated northern trade routes established."
His eyes gleamed with excitement.
"Wealth on this scale could transform the North within years."
"Or chain it," Harrion Karstark muttered.
Jon answered before Wyman could.
"The North will never be forced into dependency."
His voice remained calm.
"If grain prices rise unfairly, agreements end. If trade becomes exploitative, agreements end."
He looked across the room evenly.
"I have no interest in weakening the North."
That mattered more than any display of strength tonight.
Because the Northern lords understood exploitation.
The South had practiced it for generations.
Robb watched Jon carefully across the table.
Every lord in this hall is already moving around him politically, he realized.
Not because Jon demanded it.
Because power naturally pulled men toward it.
Eddard Stark noticed the same thing.
And deep within himself, Ned understood a truth he could no longer deny.
The North was changing.
Not slowly.
Not eventually.
Now.
Jon had returned from beyond the Wall not as a lost son—
But as the beginning of a new era.
Servants continued bringing dishes endlessly.
Smoked meats.
Rich cheeses.
Warm desserts covered in honey and crushed nuts.
By the end of the feast, even suspicious lords looked visibly softened.
Not weak.
Not submissive.
But willing.
Jon finally stood.
Instant silence followed.
"The trade agreements of Winter's Heaven are simple," he said evenly.
"Grain, cement, preserved food, timber, and future technological cooperation."
He paused.
"In exchange, Winter's Heaven purchases livestock, horses, wool, northern resources, and opens permanent trade with White Harbor."
Alex stepped forward with prepared parchments.
"Initial pricing agreements have already been drafted."
The hall became intensely focused immediately.
One by one, the lords studied the documents.
And one by one—
They realized the same thing.
The deals heavily favored the North.
Not unfairly.
Strategically.
Jon was investing.
Not exploiting.
Wyman Manderly signed first.
Without hesitation.
"The future belongs to those who move early," he declared proudly.
Greatjon Umber signed next.
"Hah! If this grain reaches my lands before winter, I'll drink to your name myself."
Maege Mormont followed calmly.
Bear Island needed stability.
And Jon offered it.
Even Roose Bolton eventually signed.
Slowly.
Carefully.
But he signed.
Because refusing would isolate House Bolton from the future already taking shape.
One after another—
The North aligned itself with Winter's Heaven.
Not through war.
Not through fear.
But through inevitability.
As the final agreement was sealed, a soldier quietly approached Jon and knelt beside him.
A message.
Jon read it once.
Then his eyes lifted slightly.
Robb noticed immediately.
"What is it?" Ned asked calmly.
Jon folded the parchment.
"The South has heard about Winter's Titan."
Silence spread across the hall again.
Different this time.
Heavier.
More distant.
Because suddenly the world beyond the North no longer felt far away.
Jon's voice remained calm.
"The Seven Kingdoms," he said quietly, "are beginning to look north."
And somehow—
That felt like the true beginning of everything.
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