The Revolution of Westeros: How an Engineer Views Plebeians

by YaboiNateDawg

Anomalies, that's what they were. But they were more than that. They are heralds of something terrible, and yet in devastation there is salvation. A boy awoke with memories of another life, a girl died in a sea of green only to rise again to adhere to her House's words of "Growing Strong." This was the End, and yet the beginning. SI kinda, chapters 1&2 are still being redone.

2. Bows and Power

The Revolution of Westeros: How an Engineer Views Plebeians

Bows and Rotational Energy Make the World Go Round

Eddard always knew that Jon was an odd child. Ever since he took the boy from his mother's arms, he knew the child was different from any he had ever met. He was calm. That was the first thing that the Stark who was never meant to be Lord of Winterfell noticed when he first laid eyes on Jon. The babe was altogether too calm. He looked around with a sort of awareness that caused Eddard to think a man grown was taking in the world around him.

Eddard was further proven correct on his view of Jon when maester Luwin started to teach Jon and Robb their letters and numbers. Robb found them difficult, as he should. He was only five when the teachings began. Jon, on the other hand, took to them like a natural. No, more than that. Jon knew them before he was even taught them. It was frightening. Had someone been teaching him secretly?

Lord Stark knew that wasn't the case. If someone had been teaching the child, then he would have known. It was rare for the smallfolk of Westeros to be literate, so it was most definitely not them. His household lacked people who could read or make sense of numbers, and it definitely was not his lady wife. Lady Catelyn wanted nothing to do with the child. It wasn't her fault, how could he expect her to take the child in and shower him with love when he was, in the eyes of the world, the proof of his broken vows?

Lord Stark sighed. At times it was hard to keep up this charade. He'd seen the way Cat had treated Jon, how she scorned him, the hateful things she'd say. To her, he didn't belong. And yet, she never went beyond words.

Ned would be worried for Jon's temperament if it weren't for how the boy reacted. He knew the child did not allow the words of his lady wife to affect him. Whenever she ranted and raved at him Jon would simply bear it. Some would have thought him to have a will of iron, yet Lord Stark saw through the blank face to the expression that lay beneath.

Ned never understood why, but Jon seemed to find amusement in the harsh words that Cat bequeathed him with. It was peculiar. Eddard found himself paying close attention to Jon when the child, most likely, thought no one was looking. He gazed at Lady Catelyn with a sort of pity. As if she were being fooled and only Jon knew it.

Eddard was scared of his nephew-son at times. There was an intelligence in his eyes that caused Lord Stark to think there was more to him than met the eye. Jon would play often with Robb; they were practically inseparable. In fact, when Catelyn tried to put a wedge between the two, Robb all but threw a tantrum to keep Jon beside him. The entire time, Jon watched with a quiet amusement in his eyes as if the world were his plaything, and Robb was his playmate.

Even so, Ned knew that Jon didn't really care to play. Mayhaps that was incorrect. Jon enjoyed playing, but he only enjoyed it with Robb or his siblings. Eddard was always busy, but he did his best to be there with his children so as to entertain them every so often. From his few interactions with Jon when the child would play, he quickly grew to realize a startling fact about his dark, curly haired son. Jon never suggested what they should play. He always, always, deferred to his siblings.

It was so small an interaction that Lord Stark didn't understand why his mind pointed it out. Jon's behavior was strange around his siblings. He indulged them; Ned realized. Jon never played with them for his own enjoyment. Instead, it seemed that Jon took enjoyment in his siblings finding enjoyment.

For that, Ned felt a strange mixture of pride, love, and sadness. Pride, because his son put others that he loved above himself. He was selfless, and any fear that Catelyn had about him usurping his siblings was locked away under a thousand locks. Jon could never do that. He loved them too fiercely. Love, because Jon was so much like Lyanna who loved her family deeply. Jon proved that he was his mother's child when he indulged Robb, Arya, Sansa, and Bran. Yet he felt sadness, because so many had mistreated him simply because he had to live under the falsity of being a bastard.

This lie, this mummer's farce that he lived with for years would forever haunt him. No one so good should have to endure what Jon had faced. Yet, every day the child grew older and showed as much of Rhaegar as he did Lyanna. As much as he hated this lie, he'd carry it with him to his grave if it meant keeping Jon safe.

Ned knew that Jon was intelligent. He always seemed to know how to do even the most complex tasks before he was even told what the task would accomplish. Again, in times like this, Ned knew that Jon was special. Blessed by the Gods, Luwin had told him when he was perplexed by the vast intelligence that Jon held.

Lord Stark was a staunch follower of the Old Gods, yet even he didn't know if they were able to impart such wisdom on a child of only eight namedays. Even so, this development concerning Jon had changed his plans dramatically for the boy. Such intelligence would be wasted at the Wall. Perhaps the child should receive his own holdfast and be a bannerman for Robb? He had always wanted to repair Moat Cailin.

Over time Eddard came to accept the strange intelligence Jon had. When he heard the complaints of the smallfolk, he expected Jon to remain silent, keeping his own counsel within his mind. He noticed the frown on his face and knew that Jon had something to say. He knew that Jon had frequented the glass gardens often, so maybe the child could offer some insight? It would be amusing, at least, to see what his son had to say.

At first, Ned wanted to dismiss what Jon said. He was a child, how could a boy of only eight namedays think to know more than the Lord and maester of Winterfell? Yet… he knew that Jon was a smart lad. The contemplative expression that Luwin wore when Jon spoke was enough for him to let the boy speak his thoughts.

If it wasn't for Luwin agreeing, even slightly, with Jon, then he might not have given any thought to Jon's idea. Yet he did. And Ned was glad that he listened to Jon on this. Going forward, he made an effort to see what the boy thought. Jon made for an interesting conversationalist when speaking about serious issues. He had a sort of starved look when he had conversations of substance with Lord Stark. It made Ned wonder if anyone had ever asked the boy for his opinion on any important matter.

The council that Jon gave was a boon to house Stark and the North. For the first time in its history, the North was able to sell part of the surplus of food gleaned from the growing season. While not much, the added income meant more security for the future.

Even so, Ned wasn't foolish. The North could never rival the Reach in terms of food growth, but the North could now be less reliant on them. This, more than anything, brought a sense of comfort to the Lord of Winterfell.

The North was a peculiar member of the seven kingdoms. They were easily the most prideful, yet the ones who most definitely couldn't stand on their own when winter came. It was necessity, not a want for open relations, that forced the North to join more closely with the other kingdoms. If the North could become more equipped for whenever winter came, then Ned would always welcome such actions.

Recently, Eddard had begun to take Robb along with him to more and more meetings. Mayhaps it was time to start teaching Robb and Jon, together, how to manage a castle? Lady Catelyn would certainly be upset, but Ned couldn't help but want to see if Jon had any new insights that might lead to improvements for the North. After all, even though Jon was his son and he loved him dearly, Eddard Stark was first and foremost Lord Stark of Winterfell, Warden of the North. If he was Warden of all the North, then it was his duty to make sure that the North was as well-equipped as it could be. If Jon had more insights, then, Ned promised himself, the North would listen.

It was peculiar. After Jon had given his lord father and Luwin his first nugget of knowledge, they almost hounded him for more. Well, that isn't really the correct description. They didn't ask directly for his thoughts, but they made an obvious effort to listen when he spoke. It was… refreshing.

Most recently, Lord Stark had begun to take Robb and Jon into his solar for lessons twice every sennight. He talked of managing keeps and castles, how to ensure the smallfolk are cared for, and many other topics. Of course, Jon knew much about logistics and supply chains, so these discussions felt archaic when compared to the techniques that he had been accustomed with. Jon felt his interest rise though, when the talk turned to the levvies and how many troops the houses of the North could raise.

"House Manderly is one of the more populated houses in the North. They could, if required, field over 4,000-foot soldiers, more than 1,000 horse, nearly 1,300 pikeman, and more than 100 knights. " Eddard said as he lectured both Robb and Jon on the levvies that the North could call upon.

"Do they not also have war galleys, Father?" asked Robb as he scrunched his face up in a thoughtful expression. It was adorable to Jon; Robb was a smart boy (he should be if Jon had been the one to train him) but he always had the queerest facial expressions.

Eddard smiled at his first-born son, "aye, a total of 23 war galleys."

Jon sat in contemplation. He had been training with the sword and bow since he had attained six namedays, but he knew that in the North archery was viewed as a lesser pursuit in comparison to the art of the sword. Even so, he couldn't help but notice how his father said foot soldiers, not men-at-arms or archers. Why would they be lumped together? They were night and day, and in Jon's humble opinion, well trained archers could destroy a larger force if the conditions were correct. A good case study was Agincourt where the British routed the French.

"Father," Jon began, "you spoke of foot soldiers, but a distinction between their type was never made. Are they men-at-arms, archers, or a mixture of the two?"

Eddard turned his attention to Jon and said, "the larger part of the force would be men-at-arms. The Northern houses often see archery as a craven's path. The way of the blade is much more common, which is apparent when the bannerman are called."

Jon couldn't help the snort that he let loose.

"Are you amused Jon?" Lord Stark asked with a raised eyebrow.

Jon looked at his father and brother with an incredulous look and said, "it's just that archers can be deadly on the field. Think of the longbowman that are commonly found in the North. A typical draw is close to an estimated 120 pounds. If men could be trained up to the draw that I am training towards, 160 pounds, then chain mail would prove useless. Only plate could possibly stop an arrow that is shot with such force."

Eddard had a pensive look on his face. If this proved true, then perhaps the lords of the North would need to train their men in a different way? This investigation would be an interesting one. Jon obviously would not be able to fire such a bow currently, but perhaps a strong worker in Winterfell could?

"It seems sound father, " Robb began to say, looking from Jon to Eddard, "to at the least investigate if what Jon said is true."

Lord Stark nodded, "you make a fine point Jon, but few men could ever pull a bow so taxing."

Jon knew this, but with enough training, anyone could do it.

"Train them," Jon began, "if it is made compulsory that every archer must be strong and able to pull back such a bow, then the Northern forces would wax much stronger. Mayhaps, the archers could be made to meet once a sennight to ensure that able archers are ready for when war inevitably comes. Because war is always coming, and it harms the least prepared the most. When it finds the North, let it meet a sky blotted out by the thousands of arrows seeking the blood of those who dare to harm us."

Eddard nodded, but he made a note to check if such a bow could indeed make chainmail nigh arbitrary. If this proved feasible, then the North could better deal with the Iron Islanders who continued to attack and raid the coasts of the kingdoms, most notably the North. Balon Greyjoy swore that the attacks were carried out by deserters, but Ned was not sure of the truth of Balon's words.

"We shall test it. If it is true, then an edict will be written," Lord Stark acquiesced.

Jon's idea, again, was proven. The longbow with a draw of 160 pounds, or what was assumed to be 160 pounds due to the lack of proper scales wherewith to check the draw weight, was able to pierce the mail and gambeson. Such a weapon would prove deadly in a skilled archer's hands. With the new longbow tested, the edict was promptly sent out to each of the houses in the North.

It was a late night when Eddard approached the crypts of Winterfell. When he found sleep to allude him, he would often go down to the crypts and visit Lyanna, Brandon, and his father. He was surprised to find the path alight as he grabbed a torch and continued on his path. He was more than a little surprised to see Jon standing in front of a statue with a torch in his hand. As he stopped and looked to where Jon was looking, he felt his pulse quicken.

"She was more beautiful in person," Jon began, "they failed to capture her beauty," he finished in a pained tone.

Ned was more than confused, how could Jon know what Lyanna looked like?

"And how, Jon, could you know the looks of my dead sister?" Eddard asked as he shuffled up next to him.

Jon fixed him with a hollow, mirthless stare. "I know them because I see them every time I look at my reflection."

"I…" Lord Stark began to say, but he couldn't say anything. The only thought going through his mind was 'how.'

"Uncle," Jon began, and Eddard knew in that moment a dread like none other. If a child of nearly nine namedays was able to piece it together, who else could? There was no point in even denying it now, his hesitation to speak gave Jon the answer if he didn't already know. "I know. I've always known," Jon said as he confided in Ned, "ever since I awoke in this world I've remembered. My first memory was the day that you held me, and my mother died. The mother I never knew in this world. I knew because I remember."

"You… you must hate me, " Lord Stark said as he deflated. How could Jon ever forgive something as dark as this? He'd passed him off as a bastard. Yes, it was for his protection, but it surely still hurt the child in different ways.

Jon laughed, "hate you? Why would I ever hate you?"

"Because of the life my inaction and failure has caused you to live. I meant to take the secret to my grave. At first, I was scared for you, then I loved you so I kept the secret longer. I thought 'maybe it doesn't matter, maybe he really can be mine own.' I loved you dearly, and now I cannot accept the pain of not being your father," Jon's uncle said as he let the guilt sink into his very being, allowing tears to come to his eyes.

Jon turned to his uncle, and in an expressive action of love hugged him tightly. It was rare for Jon to be so close to his uncle, rarer to have a hug returned in this life.

"Uncle, father, does it matter? You did what you did to protect me. My siblings were slaughtered, and you would not let me be slaughtered with them. I've never held animosity towards you because I've known you were my uncle from the beginning. Yet, you are also my father. You were the one who raised me and kept me safe. You are the one who is here, you are my father as much as you are my uncle," Jon said as his eyes glazed over with unshed tears.

Ned nearly sighed in relief. His boy was still his boy. Yet…

"You say that you've known from the start," Eddard began as he pulled away from his nephew-son. "How is that possible? I have never met a person that can claim such a thing." Was Jon truly blessed by the Gods?

"Father," and it nearly made Ned weep that Jon still called him that. "I have a confession. I am more than who you see before you. Aye, I am Jon, but I am also so much more than just the bastard boy, Jon Snow…" and so Jon told his tale to Lord Sark.

"You mean to say that you remember being born because you had the mind of a man grown when you were still a child?" Ned asked incredulously as he looked at Jon. "And that the knowledge you have regarding everything is due to this old world being much more advanced?"

Jon shivered when he remembered the experience. It was the weirdest moment of his life. One moment he was on his death bed, the next he knew only darkness until he saw a great brightness and a younger Eddard hovering over Lyanna. It was… it was terrifying.

"Aye and be thankful you cannot remember your own birth. It is… creepy," Jon said as he gave off another shiver.

"Aye, I suppose it would be," Ned said as he chuckled slightly. "It's a fantastic tale you weave, Jon. More than fantastic, it seems magical in its entirety."

That caused Jon to pause. Magic? Sure it couldn't be proven false, but Jon never believed in the hocus pocus magical ninjutsu that was claimed to be authentic even when he was on Earth. It seemed much more likely that a cosmic event had caused some sort of anomaly to carry throughout the multiverse and force baby Jon to produce the exact chemical pattern of old Jon. But he couldn't exactly tell his father that.

"Mayhaps, mayhaps," Jon said as he stroked the non-existent beard on his chin. "Whether that is the truth or not, do you believe me?"

Ned took a moment to respond. It was a fantastic tale. It gave credence to why Jon knew much more than he let on, but was it true? "I… I don't know Jon. Your tale is fantasy, yet it explains much."

"Well," Jon began, "let me prove it to you."

"Oh," Lord Stark began as he raised an eyebrow in unbelief. "How would you do that?"

"Father," Jon said as he looked up at Ned so as to look him in the eye. "I was content in this world to just be stagnant. If I could have, I would have done nothing but play with Robb as much as I could. Yet, when there was a chance to help the smallfolk, I couldn't find it within me to resist. I want to take the North forward in technology, in warfare, in wealth. If you'd let me use my knowledge, I'd do my best to make this the most prosperous kingdom and the safest for our families."

"And how would you begin this quest Jon?" Eddard asked as he looked at his nephew.

"I already have, Father," Jon said. "If the current way of doing things were to continue, then it's likely that crop rotation would have been discovered in the next one or two-hundred years. I'm just moving these things along. Remember when I said that archers could prove deadly to any army when used correctly?"

"Aye," Eddard said, "you seemed insistent on having the archers train regularly."

"Father, there was a kingdom in my old world that had its primary soldier as longbowmen. They were formidable, and in time they shoved back their enemies and even went on to influence the entire world. There were stories of how archers from this kingdom could sometimes even pierce plate armor. Do you wander the draw on those war bows?" Jon asked as he started to pace slightly around the crypts.

"In order to pierce plate armor? I haven't a clue, Jon," Eddard said in disbelief.

Jon smiled at his father, "160 pounds. The stories said that plate could be pierced with such a bow. Now," at this Jon raised his hands in a placating manner, "is that proven? No, but that is not the point. The point is, with such war bows only plate armor can stop our arrows. Raiders will never be able to harm us if we have such fierce archers at our command. A volley would be able to tear apart the men-at-arms, and could injure even knights if the arrows find themselves in the unprotected areas or in the visors of the helms. With archers like that kingdom, we could hold off armies twice our size, and even have a chance at victory. The British, the kingdom made of archers, was able to decimate knights when in the right terrain. I hope to bring more advancements, however small to our homeland."

Ned took a moment to think. More advancements would be great, but it would be hard to explain the newfound interest in warfare. How could he explain the new technology if the southron kingdoms accused the North of preparing for war?

"I like these ideas Jon, but we can't start improving our military might without just cause. The longbowmen can be overlooked, but can you say the same about these other ideas you have dancing around in your mind?" Ned asked in a gentle tone.

"Father," Jon began with a snort,"military growth is the last thing I care about. I simply saw an opportunity to give advice and I gave it. If the time came where I could improve our forces so that no threat could ever befall us, I would. But no," here Jon shook his head," I mean to turn the North into a self-sufficient kingdom. Then, perhaps the rest of Westeros will follow in our footsteps."

The look of shock on Lord Stark's face was amusing to Jon. But his incredulousness brought up a good counterpoint.

"How would you ever plan to do that Jon?" Ned asked with blatant disbelief in his voice

Jon smiled and shook his head. Oh, ye of little faith Eddard Stark.

"How else Father?" Jon asked rhetorically, "with food."

"Food?" Ned parroted.

"Food," Jon repeated. "More specifically, glass gardens."

"Jon," Eddard began in a hesitant voice, "you mean to build more glass gardens? Glass is an expensive commodity."

Jon scoffed, "glass isn't expensive. You just don't know how to make it. If you let me, I'll make enough glass gardens for there to be one in every household, keep, and holdfast in the North. I could even gift all of the Night's Watch a glass garden as well."

Eddard looked at Jon as if he had grown another head, "you know how to make glass?"

"Father," Jon began as if he were speaking to a child. "Glass is just melted sand. Get a furnace hot enough, pour sand in, and the cooled substance is all glass."

"What would you need to do this Jon?" Eddard asked. Let it not be said that he did not see an opportunity when it presented itself.

"Sand from Dorne or the nearest supply of sand, a windmill or watermill, men to help in the movement and creation, and a special furnace made to withstand extreme heat," Jon listed off.

"A windmill? Why would you need something used for grain?" Eddard said, perplexed by this part of the list of items needed.

"A windmill has many more uses than just grain," Jon began, seemingly frustrated by the complete lack of ingenuity he found in Westeros. "A windmill can be used to cause something to rotate. This energy created by rotation is a great help when producing products, glass or otherwise. The wind and water are perpetual resources if used correctly, and they can be a boon if used with creativity. A windmill can help manipulate the massive furnaces that produce large amounts of steel and, if made correctly, glass. A furnace cannot be exceedingly larger than the man wielding the stoker, but a furnace controlled by a windmill through the billows can cause fires much greater and hotter than thought possible. With these hot flames, the glass can be made, and steel can be more easily forged."

"If this is possible, then the lives of all northerners could be bettered Jon," Eddard said.

"Aye," Jon began, "I will draw the diagrams needed so as to ensure that you and others can bring this to pass."

"Would you not be helping?" Eddard said as he looked at Jon.

"Father," Jon said as he raised an eyebrow, "look at me. I have eight namedays, nearly nine. What man grown would accept any order that I give? I can watch and offer advice to you, but this must be carried out by individuals much more capable than I am."

"Well, we will see it carried out," Eddard said as he placed his arm on Jon's shoulder, patting it lightly. "I... I plan to give you Moat Cailin one day. I would have waited longer to inform you, but now I know you are much more a man grown than I knew."

Jon was surprised. His own fortress would be a boon. He could revolutionize the world with every person under his command listening to him.

"The entrance to the North? You honor me Father," Jon said as he smiled at his father. "It would not go over well with Lady Catelyn unless you give her the truth, Father, surely you see this?"

"Aye," Eddard began with a solemn look. "It is time your aunt learned the truth."

Leaving behind revolutions and secrets, both left the dark, cold crypts and made for their own chambers. One for sleep, the other to contemplate how to tell his lady wife a secret he has held close for years.

Author's Note

It's yaboi here! Welcome back, and thanks for reading the second chapter of this Fanfiction. I really appreciate all the reviews up until this point! Thanks for the support, and if you want more, just let me know! I write this story for my own enjoyment as well as the enjoyment of others, so your appreciation makes me work faster and harder.

On another note, people have complained about Jon being the one who is the SI. Keep in mind, this is not Jon Snow. This is someone who was born in another universe and ended up in Westeros. His personality is almost entirely different because Jon Snow knew something before he was ever taught that he "knew nothing." So, even if you hate Jon, that's fine! Because this is not Jon.

People made some good points in the reviews about things in the first chapter, so I went ahead and edited. Someone said something about the dialogue and making it sound like the actual characters. Sorry! I'm trying to keep it fluid and not make the dialogue too modern. Expect the chapters to be edited if people keep pointing this out. I will say, I'm trying to make a conscious effort, so forgive me if I have mishaps.

Also, these are going up nearly as fast as wet paint. I'm writing them, glancing over them, and posting them. So, please review! Your reviews let me make the story better and more cohesive by fixing the flaws that you guys find.

Again, review, follow, favorite, flame. Pick your poison! Flames will typically be ignored unless they have legitimate criticisms though, just putting that out there for y'all's information.