Jon Snow's time in White Harbor had been a whirlwind of activity and intrigue. The bustling port city, with its majestic walls and thriving markets, was a far cry from the cold, rugged landscapes of the North. Yet it was here, amidst the city's lively trade routes and glittering harbor, that Jon had come to meet a figure from his past—Tai Lung, a friend from the distant empire of Yiti. Their meeting had been long anticipated, for Tai Lung had promised something that could change the fate of the North.

The day had come at last. Jon stood in his spacious warehouse, a place where the distant echoes of traders and merchants blended with the scent of maple syrup and freshly ground coffee. His eyes, sharp and calculating, surveyed the twenty barrels of rice stacked neatly against the wall. Tai Lung had delivered on his promise. The grains were not ordinary; they were rice, a crop that could transform the North's agricultural landscape. Rice could thrive in swampy areas, making Moat Cailin, with its damp surroundings, an ideal location for its cultivation.

Jon's fingers traced the edges of the barrels as he considered the implications. This rice could end the North's food shortages and challenge the South's dominance over trade. But Jon had always been pragmatic. He wanted to ensure that this prosperity came with a share for him. He was not merely content with the North's advancement; he wanted to be at its center, leading and benefiting from the transformation.

The warehouse, filled with the rich aroma of Northern Honey and coffee, was more than just a storage facility; it was a symbol of Jon's ambition. As he walked towards his office, he saw the stack of ledgers and the book Tai Lung had gifted him—"The Art of Cultivating Rice." Jon had already begun pouring over the text. It detailed methods for planting, maintaining, and harvesting rice, and it was a roadmap for what he intended to achieve in Moat Cailin.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. It was one of his trusted aides.

"Jon Snow," the aide said, "Tai Lung is here to see you."

Jon nodded. "Show him in."

Tai Lung entered with a calm demeanor, his robes flowing gracefully behind him. His dark eyes sparkled with the satisfaction of a promise kept. He was a man of his word, and Jon respected that.

"Jon," Tai Lung greeted with a bow. "I trust everything is to your satisfaction?"

"Indeed, Tai Lung," Jon replied, his tone warm yet measured. "The rice is exactly what I hoped for. This will change everything."

"I'm glad to hear that," Tai Lung said, taking a seat across from Jon. "I've heard that the North has been struggling with hunger. This rice could be a lifeline."

Jon leaned forward, his expression serious. "That's precisely why I'm here. I want Moat Cailin to become a model for this new agricultural approach. But it's not just about planting rice. It's about ensuring that everyone involved benefits from this venture."

Tai Lung raised an eyebrow. "And how do you plan to achieve that?"

Jon's eyes narrowed with determination. "I've already made arrangements. The barrels will be securely stored here in White Harbor until we're ready to begin planting. I want to ensure that the cultivation process is meticulously planned. Moat Cailin is the key location. Its swampy terrain is ideal for this kind of crop."

Tai Lung nodded. "And what do you need from me?"

"I need you to understand that this isn't just a gift," Jon said, his voice firm. "It's an investment. I want to make sure that as the North prospers, I am not left out. I intend to use this opportunity to strengthen my position and, in turn, secure better trade agreements and resources for the North."

Tai Lung regarded Jon with a thoughtful expression. "I see. You wish to ensure that you're part of the prosperity you're helping to create."

"Exactly," Jon confirmed. "I want to make sure that the North is not just fed, but that it thrives. But I need to be at the center of this change, leading and benefiting from it."

Tai Lung smiled. "Very well. I appreciate your honesty. As a token of my gratitude and in recognition of your support, I'd like to offer you something."

Jon raised an eyebrow. "What might that be?"

Tai Lung reached into his robe and produced a small, ornately carved box. He opened it to reveal a set of intricate, gold-embossed scrolls. "These are detailed accounts and strategies for further agricultural advancements. They might prove useful as you embark on this new venture."

Jon took the box, his curiosity piqued. "Thank you, Tai Lung. I will put these to good use."

Tai Lung then stood and prepared to leave. Jon followed him to the door, where he extended a hand.

"Before you go," Jon said, "I have a gift for you as well."

He signaled to his aide, who brought forth five barrels of Northern Honey and coffee powder. Tai Lung's eyes widened with appreciation.

"These are to thank you for your help," Jon explained. "Northern Honey and coffee are the finest products of the North. I hope you find them as delightful as I do."

Tai Lung accepted the barrels with a nod of gratitude. "Your generosity is much appreciated, Jon Snow. I look forward to our continued partnership."

With that, Tai Lung departed, leaving Jon to his thoughts. He looked around the warehouse, considering the immense potential of the rice and the impact it could have. His mind was already working on the logistics of getting the rice to Moat Cailin, the preparations for cultivation, and the broader strategy for leveraging this opportunity.

Jon knew that the road ahead would be challenging. He would need to navigate the complexities of introducing a new crop, manage the expectations of those who had supported him, and ensure that he remained a central figure in the North's transformation. But he was ready. He had always thrived on challenges and used them to his advantage.

As he glanced at the book on rice cultivation, Jon felt a surge of anticipation. This was not just about ending hunger; it was about reshaping the North's future and securing his place at the forefront of that change. With Tai Lung's support and his own relentless drive, Jon Snow was poised to make a lasting impact on the North.

The next steps were clear. He would ensure that Moat Cailin was prepared for the rice, coordinate with his allies, and begin the work of transforming the North's agricultural landscape. And as always, he would remain vigilant, ensuring that as the North prospered, he would be at the heart of that prosperity.

With renewed determination, Jon Snow turned back to his work, ready to face the challenges and opportunities that lay ahead.

The arrival of Jon Snow back at Winterfell was marked by a quiet determination. He returned from his journey with a deep sense of purpose, eager to immerse himself in the daily rhythms of the castle while keeping his recent endeavors under wraps. His family welcomed him with warm embraces and eager curiosity about his travels, but Jon kept his responses measured and his thoughts guarded.

Winterfell was abuzz with the anticipation of the Harvest Festival, a celebration that drew lords and ladies from all corners of the North. The festival was not just a time of feasting and revelry, but a crucial opportunity for Jon to blend seamlessly into the fabric of the North's elite, without revealing his more strategic intentions. He busied himself with the preparations, ensuring that he was visible among his family and their guests, but always with a careful eye on the broader picture.

Jon's return was a stark contrast to the recent news that had spread across the North. It had reached every corner of the North with remarkable speed—Bear Island, long known for its rugged terrain and isolation, had recently discovered a significant salt mine. This development was nothing short of revolutionary for the North, where salt had always been a valuable and scarce commodity.

The news had been met with a mixture of awe and excitement. Thorfinn, one of Jon's staunchest supporters on Bear Island, had stumbled upon this treasure while collecting wild berries for his own use. The discovery was hailed as a blessing from the old gods. In a land where sunlight was scarce and evaporating sea water was a formidable challenge, the discovery of a salt mine was transformative. No longer would the North have to rely on the expensive and often unreliable salt supplies from the South.

Lord Jeor Mormont, the leader of Bear Island, had reported that the salt production was not only sufficient to meet the needs of the island but was also being distributed throughout the North at remarkably low prices. The influx of salt had quickly become a boon for the local economy. The Mormont family, once rugged and remote, was now living in unexpected prosperity. Jorah and his wife, who hailed from the South, were enjoying a life of newfound luxury amidst the cold expanse of Bear Island.

This news was accompanied by tales of how Jon Snow's ventures had consistently brought prosperity wherever he had been involved. From the transformation of the mountain clans' nomadic lifestyle into prosperous, settled communities to the sudden and unexpected wealth flowing from Bear Island, Jon's name had become synonymous with fortune and favor from the gods.

Yet, Jon himself remained focused and purposeful. As the Harvest Festival drew nearer, he was consumed by thoughts of how best to leverage the opportunities it presented. He had grand plans for the festival, not just for his personal gain but for the broader future of the North. While the North reveled in the newfound salt wealth and the burgeoning prosperity of Bear Island, Jon was quietly setting the stage for his next move.

The festival's preparation was a time of visible activity and camaraderie, but Jon's mind was occupied with strategic thoughts. He planned to use the festival as a cover for his more subtle and calculated moves, aligning his actions with the celebratory spirit while ensuring that his strategic goals remained hidden.

Winterfell's great hall was decked out in festive colors, and the air was filled with the sounds of laughter and the aroma of roasting meats. Jon participated in the festivities, exchanging pleasantries and enjoying the revelry, but his thoughts were always a step ahead. He was acutely aware that the Harvest Festival would be the perfect time to make his intentions known, subtly and effectively, without drawing undue attention.

As Jon navigated the festival preparations, he remained ever-mindful of the delicate balance he needed to maintain. His plans for Moat Cailin and the future of the North were in motion, but he knew that patience and discretion were key. The upcoming festival would provide the perfect backdrop for his next moves, and he was ready to seize the opportunity with careful precision.

The North was abuzz with prosperity and excitement, but Jon Snow's thoughts were firmly rooted in his strategic vision. With each passing day, the festival drew closer, and with it, the chance to solidify his plans and secure his place in the North's unfolding future.

The Harvest Festival had always been a grand occasion, a celebration of the bounty of the North. But this year, it was especially significant. The festival grounds were abuzz with activity, the air alive with the chatter of lords, ladies, and children who had all come together for this annual event. The excitement was palpable, a reflection of the recent changes and prosperity that had swept through the North, particularly with the Mormont's newfound wealth from the salt mines.

The Great Hall of Winterfell was filled to its brimming capacity. Lords and ladies mingled with one another, their voices a steady murmur of conversation. The atmosphere was electric with anticipation. The hall was adorned with colorful banners and the scent of roasted meats and baked goods filled the air. The festival was a display of Northern hospitality and pride, and this year, it was more than just a feast—it was a statement of resilience and unity.

Jon Snow, who had recently returned to Winterfell, was at the center of the attention. The buzz surrounding him was not without merit. Rumors had spread like wildfire across the North about Jon's supposed divine favor. Whispers spoke of his touch turning barren lands to fertile grounds and his presence bringing prosperity wherever he went. This acclaim had attracted many, eager to meet the man who seemed to be blessed by the gods themselves.

Jon, dressed in his finest attire for the festival, moved through the hall with a sense of purpose. His demeanor was polite but reserved, and he engaged in conversations with the various lords and ladies who approached him. Each interaction was marked by a careful balance of courtesy and strategic consideration. He was aware of the underlying motives of many who sought his favor, whether for alliances or for potential matrimonial proposals.

Among the visitors were many children, some of whom Jon had met during the Highland Games. The younger guests were excitedly reconnecting with their new friends, their laughter mingling with the music that played in the background. The sight of the young ones, running and playing, added a light-hearted touch to the otherwise formal proceedings.

As the evening wore on, Jon found himself seated in a prominent position at the head table, flanked by Eddard Stark and other notable figures of the North. The conversation at the table was lively, with discussions ranging from the recent prosperity of the North to the latest developments in various regions. Jon, though engaged, was distracted by the sight of a letter that had arrived earlier in the day. It was now resting on the table in front of him.

Jeor Mormont, sitting beside Jon, noticed the letter and leaned in, curiosity evident in his expression. "What have you there, Jon?" he asked, his voice low but inquisitive.

Jon unfolded the letter and began reading aloud, his tone steady but slightly tense. "It's a letter from Tywin Lannister. He's offering a substantial reward in exchange for a Valyrian steel sword. He promises to grant me a castle and lands in the Westerlands, and even a new title under a house of my choosing."

In reality the letter was written by Voran under Jon's instruction.The room fell silent as the gravity of Jon's words sank in. Jeor Mormont's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Tywin Lannister, always seeking a Valyrian steel sword. He'll do anything to get one. But Jon, you are a Northern man. We'd hate to lose you."

Jon's gaze was steady as he replied. "Think about it. I could secure a future for myself and my children, ensuring that they become lords in the Westerlands. I'd rather they have a future of prominence, not merely serve as cupbearers of nobles here."

The shock was palpable among the assembled lords and ladies. They began to murmur among themselves, realizing that Jon's potential departure could significantly alter the balance of power. The thought of Jon leaving the North was unsettling, and many began to consider the implications for their own lands and allegiances.

Eddard Stark's expression was thoughtful. He had always known that Jon's presence was a boon to the North, and the idea of him leaving for the Westerlands was troubling. "But Jon, if you were to move to the Westerlands, there's a risk that in the future, your children might have to fight against the North. What if the Lannisters seek to claim Winterfell through them? The North could be divided."

Jon nodded in agreement. "Exactly. If Tywin Lannister's desire for a Valyrian steel sword leads to my children being raised as Lannister bannerman , it's only a matter of time before they try to claim Winterfell. I cannot risk the North being divided in such a way."

The lords and ladies around the table were visibly agitated by the possibility. They began to offer Jon their lands and titles, eager to keep him within the North. Yet Jon was reluctant to accept their offers, knowing that the decision had to be carefully considered.

Eddard Stark, always a pragmatic leader, took a moment to gather his thoughts. "If you were to remain in the North, Jon, which land would you prefer to be lord of? I could write to King Robert Baratheon and request that you be given a title and lands. The North supported his ascent to the throne, and he might be inclined to honor our request."

Jon considered this offer carefully. The thought of holding a position of power within the North was appealing, but he had his own plans. "If it were possible, I would choose Moat Cailin. It is strategically important and could serve as a stronghold for the North."

Eddard's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Moat Cailin... that is a valuable position. I will make the request to the King and ensure that you are given the title of Lord of Moat Cailin. You will also be granted a new name, if you wish."

The room was abuzz with renewed excitement and speculation. Jon's potential new title and lands had created a buzz of possibilities and alliances. The prospect of him becoming Lord of Moat Cailin added another layer of complexity to the already intricate web of Northern politics.

After some discussion, it was agreed that Jon would take on the title of Jon Frost, Lord of Moat Cailin. The name, Frost, was chosen to reflect both his Northern heritage and his future role in the North. The decision was met with a mix of relief and apprehension, as the lords and ladies of the North processed the implications of Jon's new position.

As the evening drew to a close, Jon found himself reflecting on the events that had transpired. The Harvest Festival had been a success, and the support of the Northern lords had solidified his position within the North. The prospect of becoming Lord of Moat Cailin was both exciting and daunting, but Jon was determined to make the most of the opportunity.

The night air was cool as Jon walked through the halls of Winterfell, contemplating the future. The success of the festival and the support of the Northern lords had positioned him well for the challenges ahead. He knew that the road ahead would be filled with both opportunities and obstacles, but he was ready to face them head-on.

In the days that followed, Jon's new title and responsibilities would come into sharper focus. The North was on the cusp of significant change, and Jon Frost would play a crucial role in shaping its future. As the Harvest Festival came to an end, the echoes of celebration and anticipation lingered, marking the beginning of a new chapter in the storied history of Winterfell and the North.