Wyatt Gregory was walking to his apartment after a long day at university when he tripped and fell. His head smacked against the concrete and he blacked out for at least a few seconds, though he found himself in a hospital bed, or so it seemed. He reched up to smooth his shaggy black hair only to find short hair. His beard felt different, less on his chin, more on his lip.

It was at that moment that a woman in medieval attire entered with a cloth and bucket of water, only to drop it in shock. "Lord Wylis is awake! Quickly! Fetch the Maester!" He grunted and got up, looking down at himself to find a quite fat body and a walrus mustache. This confirmed his suspicions that he was indeed in the world of ASOIAF.

It took him some trouble to get up off his bed, but he managed it and shuffled through his clothing to find a good tunic or something. He pulled on some breeches and a doublet, and he put on his boots with an effort. I definitely need to start an exercise regime… He made his slow way forward to find a young man stooped over a bit due to the weight of his chain. "Ah, Lord Wylis! You are up and about. You don't seem to have any problems, excellent. Are you feeling alright?" The maester queried him about this and that until he allowed him downstairs into the main hall.

His… brother, Wendel gave him a grin. "You gave us quite a scare there, brother. Good to see you are alright!" His voice was quite loud indeed. "What happened to me, exactly?" He replied, looking at his new brother. Wendel looked at him quite confusedly but shrugged it off. "Why, after father died, when you were walking up the steps to the throne, you tripped and hit your head. We feared the worst, but it seems you are, ah, mostly all right." Wyatt nodded his head. "Well, I suppose it's time for me to ascend to the lordship, then." Wendell nodded at him.

It took him a few weeks, but he got himself on a steady exercise regime along with practicing with a sword. He tried to watch what he ate in that time, and it was starting to pay off. He was feeling quite a bit better and he wasn't always puffing and huffing after a walk. He had also been setting up a general plan, which he refined each day. It was quite general based on his knowledge, but he wrote it down and stored it away in an unused desk drawer, taken out when he wanted to add to it. The current plan was easy to read.

Phase 1: Exercise a lot more, eat healthier - do not want to die in six years. Begin reforming tax and tariff codes to bring in more income for future plans.

Phase 2: Try to introduce a printing press to the society - might increase literacy. Worth a shot.

Phase 3: Train and drill army heavily. Reduce the amount of high income people, more middle income people would be preferable. Introduce plows to increase possible harvests. Maybe try refrigeration?

Phase 4: Increase population steadily. Probably assassinate Ramsay Bolton or Walder Frey, help Robb as much as possible. The last Phase was hidden away so if anyone snooped on it they could not accuse him of anything wrong.

And underlined and bolded, DO NOT, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, INTRODUCE GUNS.

Simple enough, it seemed.

It had been perhaps three months. He had slimmed greatly, now at a very healthy weight. Eddard Stark had sent good fortune a few months before after he had recovered. He had not been just working on swordplay and his weight, however. He had been going over the tax codes and tariffs. He had thought long and hard and decided to find anyone literate and send out messages to all his vassals requiring them to give him extensive tax reports about their villages, mills, farms and other such resources. Stamping all the messages became a chore, so he also had some people help with that too. When that was done, he looked at the tariffs and grimaced heavily.

It turned out that unfortunately for Wylis, corruption had been seeping it's ways into his port officials - they had been heavily racketeering for protection and insurance - against what, he could not gather. He had his city guard arrest them all, and, remembering the books, sent them off to the Wall. He then started to look through his city watch, now that loyal and honest officials were once more in place. He found that many of his men and their commanding officers were corrupt as well, though it was harder to root them out after he had shut down the port officials. It took him a few weeks, but he did manage it - thank the Gods - and he had them sent to the wall as well. He placed honest men as commanding officers and began to refill the ranks of his guard, though he had his men screen them more carefully.

In the end of the year, he had extensive reports on the incomes of his vassals as well as increased tariffs - at least fivefold - all in all, he found, it was going extremely well. With the increased incomes he began to fund the first printing press. He found a Braavosi who was willing to assist him for some pay, and after a time deciding what he wanted to pring first, he decided he needed to codify some new laws and as such set his literate workers on putting the letters in the print in copy of the original - which had taken seemingly forever, but he finally finished it with the help of his, gah, he needed a new name for the literate men of his army. The Readers, he decided. He finished it with the help of his readers, and then they set to work putting together the first copied book. It took just three hours to print it now, and he deemed it successful, ordering twelve more to be put together.

This, of course, did not come without dissent. The Septons, who had been making a steady profit off of the copied books they sold, became outraged and tried to riot, though his men put it down.

At the end of thirteen and a half months, Wylis had changed himself and White Harbor completely. With twelve new printing presses chugging along, he had finished the codified laws and had them passed out to as many literate folk as possible. The problem was that the books were drawing closer and he still had to get the plow going, not to mention improve literacy amongst his peasantry. So he set literate men to work with pamphlets, teaching anyone who was willing the basics of reading. It was not successful at first, only drawing ten or twenty people a month, though he predicted in just three or four years they would have many more.

It was then that Ned Stark sent him a letter, requesting his presence at his main hall to speak of all the changes to White Harbor.