50 AC
Winterfell
Third Person Pov
The afternoon sun slanted through the tall, arched windows of Lord Stark's solar in Winterfell, casting long shadows across the room. Brandon Stark, his face etched with the familiar lines of responsibility, sat behind the ancient desk carved with the likeness of snarling direwolves. Opposite him, Theon Stark, his eldest son and heir, listened intently, his own features reflecting a similar gravity as father and son discussed the ongoing matters of the North.
As the meeting progressed, Theon shifted slightly in his seat, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Father," he began, his voice measured, "I have been giving considerable thought to the future of the North, to the education of our lords and ladies."
Brandon raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "And what thoughts have you come to, my son?"
"I believe we should construct a university, here in the North," Theon declared, his gaze steady. "A place of learning, where the sons and daughters of our noble houses can receive a comprehensive education, one that goes beyond the traditional training in arms and lineage."
Brandon leaned back in his chair, considering the proposal. "A university... that is an ambitious undertaking, Theon. We have always relied on maesters from the Citadel for our scholarly needs."
"And that is precisely the problem, Father," Theon countered. "We are dependent on the South for knowledge. Our lords and ladies learn what the maesters deem important, not necessarily what is most relevant to the North. A university here would allow us to shape their education, to instill in them the values and skills that will best serve our people."
"And what manner of education would this university provide?" Brandon asked, his curiosity piqued.
"A broad one," Theon explained. "Etiquette and diplomacy, of course, for those who will one day rule. Health and healing, to ensure the well-being of our people. Mathematics and history, to understand the world around us and the lessons of the past. But also," he added, his voice firm, "training in all forms of combat, with every weapon imaginable. Our lords and ladies must be both learned and skilled in battle, ready to defend the North against any threat. They will be learning from the best the best instructors in their craft"
"...Our lords and ladies must be both learned and skilled in battle, ready to defend the North against any threat," Theon concluded.
Brandon nodded slowly, absorbing the ambitious scope of his son's vision. "It is a bold plan, Theon, and a costly one. But I see the merit in it. A well-rounded education for our nobility would undoubtedly strengthen the North."
Theon pressed on, his enthusiasm evident. "And it should not be solely for the highborn, Father. We should also allow talented individuals from the smallfolk to attend, if they demonstrate exceptional ability."
Brandon raised an eyebrow, a hint of surprise in his expression. "The smallfolk? That is... unprecedented."
"But think of the advantages, Father," Theon argued. "There are undoubtedly brilliant minds and skilled warriors among the common people, individuals who could serve the North with distinction if given the opportunity. This university could be a beacon of hope, a path for them to rise above their birth."
"And it would benefit the lords as well," Theon continued, anticipating his father's concerns. "If a lord has a promising lad in his service, a boy with a talent for numbers or a natural aptitude for swordplay, he could send him to the university. We would no longer have to rely solely on chance or wandering hedge knights to find such individuals."
"It would create a pool of talent, ready to serve," Theon emphasized. "A meritocracy, to some extent, where ability is valued above birth. It would strengthen the bonds between the highborn and the lowborn, fostering loyalty and unity within the North."
Brandon leaned back in his chair, stroking his beard as he considered the implications of Theon's proposal. He saw the wisdom in it, the potential to unlock hidden potential and create a stronger, more unified North. But he also recognized the challenges, the potential for social upheaval and the resistance from those who clung to the old ways.
"It is a radical idea, Theon," he admitted. "But perhaps... a necessary one. The North has always been different, a land of harsh realities and close-knit communities. This university could embody that spirit, forging a new path for our people."
"...forging a new path for our people," Brandon mused. "But where would such a university be built? It would require a significant amount of land and resources."
"I have considered that as well, Father," Theon replied. "Just outside Wintertown, I believe. There is ample land there, and it would be close enough to Winterfell to benefit from its protection and resources, yet far enough to allow for growth and expansion."
Brandon nodded, his expression thoughtful. "It is a strategic location. And when do you propose we inform the other lords of this... ambitious project?"
"At the next gathering, Father," Theon suggested. "We can present the plan in detail, explain the benefits, and address any concerns they may have. I believe that once they understand the potential, they will see the wisdom in it."
He paused, a hint of excitement flickering in his eyes. "There is something else I have been working on, Father," he added, his voice dropping slightly. "Something... more personal. An invention, you might call it."
Brandon raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "An invention? What manner of invention?"
"It is difficult to explain," Theon admitted, a rare smile playing on his lips. "It is still in its early stages, but I believe it has the potential to revolutionize... everything. To usher in a new era for the North, and perhaps for all of Westeros."
"That is a bold claim, Theon," Brandon said, his tone a mixture of skepticism and curiosity.
"It is," Theon acknowledged. "But I am confident in its potential. It will take time to perfect and refine. But I believe it will be ready... or at least, ready enough to be unveiled... by the next harvest festival."
A thoughtful silence fell between them, broken finally by Brandon. "The university is an ambitious project, and this invention of yours... it is intriguing, to say the least. But there is a more immediate matter to discuss. When do you plan to depart for Skagos?"
"In a moon's time, Father," Theon replied. "I want to ensure that all the necessary preparations are made. The journey is long and arduous, and we will be carrying... valuable cargo."
"And who will accompany you?" Brandon asked, his gaze sharp and assessing.
Theon met his father's gaze steadily. "I intend to take Morgan and Artor, of course. And Harrion, he is old enough now to see something of the world. My wife, Diana, will also come; she has a keen interest in healing and may be of assistance. Jonnos will be there, and my sons Torrhen and Alaric. My sister Lyra and her husband, Rickard Karstark, and their sons, Eddard and William."
He paused, then added, "We will bring them all, if they are willing, to see the dragons. It may be that not all of them will form a bond, but we should at least give them the opportunity."
Brandon nodded slowly, a mixture of pride and concern in his eyes. "It is a dangerous undertaking, Theon. But I understand your reasoning. The dragons... they are a force unlike any other. If more of our family can bond with them, it would strengthen us all."
"That is my hope, Father," Theon said. "And I believe it is a risk worth taking."
The two men continued to discuss the details of the journey, the supplies they would need, the men they would take as guards, and the potential dangers they might encounter on Skagos. They spoke of the logistics of transporting so many people, including the children, and the need to ensure their safety at all times.
As the hour for the midday meal approached, Brandon rose from his chair, signaling the end of their discussion. "We will continue this later," he said. "For now, let us break bread."
Theon nodded, rising as well. "There are some things I need to see to in Wintertown," he said. "I will take the children with me. They have been eager to stretch their legs."
"See that they stay out of trouble," Brandon cautioned, a hint of a smile on his face.
"I will, Father," Theon assured him.
And so, Theon departed the solar with his sons, Morgan, Artor, and Harrion, the four of them heading towards the bustling activity of Wintertown. The midday sun shone brightly on the ancient stone walls of Winterfell as they made their way through the courtyard, the sounds of their laughter and chatter echoing in the crisp Northern air.
The midday sun shone brightly on the ancient stone walls of Winterfell as Theon, Morgan, Artor, and Harrion made their way down the winding path towards Wintertown. The air was crisp and cool, carrying the scent of woodsmoke and roasted meats from the bustling settlement below. The boys, eager to escape the confines of the castle, chattered excitedly, their voices echoing in the clear Northern air.
As they entered Wintertown, the vibrant atmosphere enveloped them. The narrow streets teemed with people from all walks of life: merchants hawking their wares, craftsmen displaying their skills, farmers selling their produce, and townsfolk going about their daily business. The sounds of bartering, laughter, and the rhythmic clang of a blacksmith's hammer filled the air.
The first stall that caught their attention was a colorful display of fabrics and textiles. Morgan, ever the discerning one, ran his hand over a bolt of deep blue velvet, his eyes widening in admiration. "Father, look at this! It's finer than anything I've ever seen."
Theon examined the velvet, acknowledging its quality. "It is indeed beautiful, Morgan. We shall acquire it for a new tunic." He spoke to the merchant, a stout woman with a shrewd eye, and paid the marked price, recognizing the value of the fabric.
Artor, meanwhile, was drawn to a stall filled with gleaming weaponry. He picked up a finely crafted dagger, its blade shimmering in the sunlight. "Can I have this, Father? Please?"
Theon examined the dagger carefully, testing its balance and sharpness. "It is a well-made piece, Artor," he conceded. "But you are still young. Perhaps a practice blade for now, and a real one when you are older and have proven your skill." He bought Artor a sturdy wooden training sword instead, much to the boy's delight.
Harrion, the youngest of the three, was captivated by a stall overflowing with sweet treats. His eyes widened as he gazed upon the colorful array of honeycakes, sugared plums, and candied ginger. "Father, can we get some of those?" he pleaded, pointing to a particularly enticing-looking honeycake.
Theon smiled indulgently. "Of course, Harrion. But not too many, or you will spoil your appetite for dinner." He purchased a selection of sweets for the boys, who devoured them with gusto, their faces smeared with sticky goodness.
As they strolled through the town, Theon took the opportunity to teach his sons about the people and the goods they encountered. He explained the origins of the various wares, the skills of the craftsmen, and the importance of trade to the North's economy. He wanted them to understand the lifeblood of Wintertown, the vital role it played in supporting the castle and the surrounding lands.
They stopped at a leatherworker's stall, where a skilled artisan was meticulously crafting a set of intricately tooled gloves. Theon, impressed by the quality of the leather and the craftsmanship, purchased a pair for himself. The gloves were supple and strong, perfect for riding or handling weapons.
At a potter's stall, they admired a collection of beautifully crafted bowls and jugs, their surfaces adorned with delicate patterns of swirling lines and stylized animals. Theon purchased a set of sturdy earthenware mugs, perfect for enjoying hot cider on a cold winter's night.
As the afternoon drew to a close, Theon led his sons back towards Winterfell, their arms laden with their purchases. The boys chattered excitedly about their adventures in Wintertown, their faces flushed with the thrill of exploration and the joy of acquiring new treasures.
Theon, too, felt a sense of satisfaction. The outing had been more than just a chance to indulge his sons; it had been an opportunity to connect with the life of Wintertown, to reinforce his ties to the people he would one day rule. And it had been a reminder of the vibrant spirit of the North, a spirit that he was determined to nurture and protect.
As they approached the gates of Winterfell, the ancient castle loomed before them, a symbol of strength and resilience. Theon gazed upon its familiar walls, feeling a deep sense of belonging. He was a Stark of Winterfell, a lord of the North, and he would do everything in his power to ensure the prosperity and security of his people, both within the castle walls and in the bustling town below.