Game of Thrones: The Frozen Throne

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"Lord Eddard, Winterfell will never have to worry about running out of candles again."

Inside the candle-making workshop, Klar excitedly showcased the burning honey wax candles to Eddard. Nearby, the candle makers were busy with their work.

Klar was dressed in a sky-blue robe adorned with golden threads, a pure gold chain around his neck. Eddard, in contrast, wore a black fox fur coat with the direwolf sigil of House Stark on his chest. Among the soot-covered candle workers, they both stood out in their fine attire.

Eddard picked up a candle and asked, "How many of these can be produced in a day?"

The master candle maker, Cayo, was the head of the workshop—an elderly man with a full head of white hair and a frail frame.

"Lord Eddard, we can produce just under two hundred candles a day. However, this is because many of the workers are new to candle-making and have never worked in this trade before. Rest assured, my lord, I will train them well. With practice, they will improve, and in a month, our output will double."

Eddard and Klar left the candle-making workshop and walked through the bustling marketplace of Winter Town, accompanied by Captain Jory Cassel and his guards.

A scrawny boy was selling freshly baked bread, a fisherman was calling out the price of freshly caught fish from the White Knife River, and a group of farm women haggled over a cage of clucking chickens. The Duke of the North frequently inspected Winter Town, and its residents had long since grown accustomed to his presence—no one stopped to gawk.

Eddard and Klar arrived at the cattle farm. The farm was divided into two areas: an open-air cattle pen enclosed by wooden fences, where the cows were brought out daily to bask in the sun, and a cowshed made of bricks and clay, with a wooden roof, where the cattle were sheltered during cold nights or harsh weather.

The farm's overseer, Given, was examining a dairy cow, while a milkmaid was busy milking another. Nearby, carts were already filled with barrels of fresh milk.

Eddard asked, "Given, are these the cows you recently purchased?"

Given smiled and approached. "Lord Eddard, I've already sent a cart full of milk to Winterfell. Are you satisfied with the quality?"

Eddard nodded. "The whole family is pleased. Sansa said she never expected to drink milk produced by our own cattle. Where did you buy these cows?"

"Some came from villages near Winterfell, others from the Barrowlands, but the majority are from the East Coast. Many farmers, fearing that their cows would be stolen by Ironborn raiders, were eager to sell them. Through a series of trades, they eventually ended up here."

Klar rubbed his hands together. "The cattle traders must have made a good profit. But rest assured, Lord Eddard, when they bring their cattle to Winter Town to trade, our tax officials will ensure they pay their dues."

Given then led Eddard and Klar to the sheep pens. During Rickon's birthday feast, a Northern mountain clan leader had gifted Winterfell a herd of dairy goats. Eddard quickly realized that these goats produced an abundant supply of milk, and from that moment, he had been planning to raise them on a larger scale.

With the establishment of the livestock farm, Eddard instructed Given to acquire more dairy goats. Fortunately, as Winter Town expanded, many mountain clan shepherds had settled nearby, and their herds included a fair number of dairy goats. Given purchased a batch on the spot.

"We currently have over sixty dairy goats in the pens, along with more common goats. Both cow's milk and goat's milk are delivered to the Stark household kitchen and the Stark Tavern. We also have dedicated market stalls for selling them. If we make a good profit, Lord Eddard, I suggest we expand by raising sheep. Their wool can be used to make clothes, and thick woolen garments would sell well in the North."

Eddard replied, "I will seriously consider your proposal. How is the preparation of winter feed progressing?"

When winter arrived, livestock and poultry often died in large numbers due to food shortages. Eddard had always placed great importance on stockpiling animal feed.

Given responded, "The feed preparation is going well. We've purchased straw, grass, and leaves from farmers at low prices, processing them into feed. Several storage barns are already full."

Eddard was pleased to see piglets huddled around their mother in the pigsty and maids collecting baskets full of eggs in the chicken coop.

According to Eddard's plans, a slaughterhouse next to the farm would be responsible for butchering animals and delivering meat to the marketplace. At present, however, the slaughterhouse had very few butchers, as the farm was still new, and few animals were ready for slaughter. Most of the meat processed at the slaughterhouse still came from hunters returning from the Wolfswood.

In the future, the slaughterhouse's meat would be sent to a sausage-making workshop for processing. The workshop had recently begun trial operations, but its first manager had been dismissed by Eddard after producing poorly made sausages under unsanitary conditions.

The workshop's new manager was a woman named Phoebe, a plump, cheerful woman in her forties who had lived in Winter Town for many years. She had made a living raising pigs and producing ham. In the past, Winterfell had always sourced its ham from her. With her extensive experience in sausage-making, Catelyn had recommended her for the position.

Eddard observed the workers loading manure onto a cart from the pigpen.

Given explained, "As per your orders, Lord Eddard, we are collecting manure from the livestock farm and transporting it to the Stark estate for fertilizing the fields."

In addition to providing meat, the livestock farm also produced manure as a byproduct.

Hullen, the master of Winterfell's stables, had been promoted to oversee the new stables in Winter Town. Some of these stables had already been completed, and Eddard had tasked Hullen with breeding high-quality horses for the North's cavalry. Fine horses from the nearby regions—Streamlands, Dreadfort, and White Harbor—had already been brought to the stables.

Eddard shaded his eyes with his hand and looked out at the farm bathed in sunlight, the distant fields, the Stark estate, and the thriving Wolfswood.

"Manure improves soil fertility, promotes crop growth, and increases food production."

Given chuckled. "Lord Eddard, the problem is that the overseer at the Stark estate told me they don't need any more manure. The horse stables' manure is also being sent there for fertilization. It seems we'll have to dig a large manure pit."

Urban development inevitably brought sanitation issues. Even cities like King's Landing and Oldtown struggled with waste management, and Winter Town would not be an exception.

Eddard waved his hand decisively. "There's plenty of land in Winter Town. The farmers' fields will need fertilization. We can set a fixed price and sell the manure to them cheaply."

Given forced an awkward smile. "Lord Eddard, these farmers barely make enough from their harvests. Do you really expect them to spend money on manure? That's impossible."

Eddard sighed. "Then we'll give it to them for free. Fertilizing the land is still a good thing."

Given shook his head. "Many farmers don't even understand the benefits of fertilization. They just plant crops, pull weeds, and rely on the weather for their yield."

Eddard thought for a moment. "I'll have Maester Luwin write some simple educational pamphlets on fertilization. We'll distribute them in Winter Town and nearby villages. Do you think that would help?"

Given shrugged. "Do the farmers even know how to read? I doubt you'll find many who can. You'd be better off sending servants from Winterfell to explain it to them in person. That way, they might come to the farm and take away the manure themselves."

Eddard and Klar left the livestock farm and walked back toward Winterfell.

"Klar, did you see that? Our farm is thriving. It will surely bring us great profits in the future."

Klar, unimpressed, muttered, "Lord Eddard, I wouldn't be so sure. There's an old saying among farmers: 'No matter how rich you are, if it has fur, it doesn't count.'"

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