It was midday when they arrived at the mines, their horses and mules rode through the rotted buildings along the weed infested road in the shadow of the mountain overhead. The ten or so men and women they gathered stepped off the cart and aimlessly wandered for a few minutes, until Mya reminded him that he had to give them orders on what to do.
"Gather up." Jon said from atop his horse, a moment later, all eyes turned to him. "From the quarrymen, I want an estimate of how many men the mines can support, from the carpenters I want to know which structures can be saved and all the ones that need to be torn down, the cooks can start a fire and make everyone a warm meal."
He jumped off his horse after that, the men at arms, still half drunk, began to wander about, they didn't have much to do, but better they be here than back at the tavern. Mya and Domeric approached him, Millicent had elected to stay in Willowbrook and conduct a small prayer at the sept, as well as putting out word that they needed bodies for the militia and the mines and that Lady Eleanor had given her blessing.
"You wish to rebuild the houses here?" Mya asked, and Jon nodded.
"It seems a sound idea, the trip here by cart takes more than thirty minutes." Jon said.
"I think it would be too costly for now, and everyone's families are back at in the village." Domeric said. "And we need to be back in the village to train that militia every day."
"Mayhaps you're right, but 'We'?" Jon asked. "You've been a great help so far Dom, but are you sure you want to stay around to train some levy spearmen?"
"My other option is wasting away at the Gates." He said with a shrug. "Until the roads are safe enough to make a trip to Redfort, I'll be here with you."
"I'm also going to stay." Mya said, mockingly raising her hand. "Glad you're not taking me for granted."
"I've conscripted you, you've no choice." Jon said with a smile, waving her off, but she punched him in the arm again.
The next few hours passed by uneventfully, the carpenters went from building to building examining every beam and wall. One of them was an older man nearing his fifties, he had graying hair and half glazed eyes, two younger men followed him about, nodding at everything he said. Domeric told him the carpenters were rather easy to recruit, the smith's apprentice even more so, with little steel there was little work, and with little work his master had little need of him.
The young man in question started a fire in the clay furnace, then spent hours trying to stitch together the ancient bellows with patches of leather and string so it could blow enough heat into the furnace to smelt the scraps of iron they had, before finally declaring that the bellows were beyond repair, they would need new ones, alongside a new anvil if they wished to work any iron into steel.
It was enough equipment that Jon was half tempted to forgo having a steel workshop and a smith all together, and just send the iron ore back to the Gates. But that wasn't an option, they needed to make frequent repairs to their pickaxes and shovels, as well as the countless construction tools they might need to rebuild the houses, he would just have hope that a fortress like the Gates had a spare anvil or two as redundancies.
As for the quarrymen turned miners, most of the tunnels they explored were poor in ore, but there were deeper paths they couldn't safely go down without beams, and even more buried behind cave ins. They would need both wood for the beams and more bodies to dig out the cave ins before they could truly start work, but they still mined a few pounds of ore if nothing else.
A trip to a sawmill or forestry, a trip to the Gates and recruiting more men.
The activity soon wound down however, after all, they had only arrived at the mines at noon. Soon they would return to the village, but before then everyone sat about eating freshly baked break, roasted chicken, onion stew and cups of beer from a barrel Mya had bought.
"Did you know King Robert Baratheon rode through here a lifetime ago? Alongside lord Stark he did." The older carpenter said, he sat on a large rock near the fire, Jon's eyebrows perked at the mention of his father, he noticed Mya's did as well.
"What was the king like?" she asked, and the man began gesturing with hands.
"Loud, very loud and very big, like you." He said, pointing up at Jon. "The lord Stark was a quiet sort, the opposite really, but they got along well, they only stayed the night then rode further north, they wished to hunt in some forest or climb mountain or some such, I forget."
"Was the king into many women?" Mya offhandedly asked, Domeric gave her an odd look.
"Aye, he tried to get the Lord Stark together with Leta, back then she was the fairest girl in the village, but Lord Stark would have none of it, so King Robert had her himself."
How did my mother tempt him? Jon wondered. And what coincidence is it both their bastards are friends decades later?
"Wait." Domeric whispered in a voice too low for the carpenter to hear, looking Mya in the eyes as her face flushed. "You're the king's daughter!?"
"Jon!" He heard a new voice call out to him, it came with the neighing and clattering of a galloping horse, on its back was none other than Tristan, he rode up to them waving his hand, interrupting Domeric's short-lived realization. "I thought you'd be here."
"Tristan." Jon said, smiling at the man. "Did you happen upon Gilbert and Stewart?"
"Aye, they were furious, tried to recruit me into hanging you." Tristan said, jumping off his horse. "But then they cooled off and began wallowing in self-pity, and I left them to come find you."
"What for?"
"Orders." He said naturally. "If the blackfish put you in charge, then I wish to help with the militia, this mine, wherever you need me."
"Excellent." Jon said, "Do you know many of the farmers, the villagers, their sons?"
"Aye," Tristan said. "I've been here a few months, and Willowbrook is no great metropolis, I've met most of everyone."
Someone to help divide up the young men we get, Jon thought. He can also watch over the mines and command the men at arms when we make trips for supplies.
Their caravan departed sometime later, arriving in Willowbrook before the skies had darkened. Their workers went home to their families, Mya and Domeric sat and drank in a corner of the tavern, and the men at arms finally paid for rooms to stay in.
Jon meanwhile sat at the bar of inn, greeting an endless stream of farmer's and quarrymen's sons, Tristan told him of their strength and discipline from watching them in the farmlands, Millicent knew more of their character from growing up in the village with them.
The majority strongly preferred one assignment over the other; Millicent told him she'd been approached by countless young men who asked all manner of questions about him after word of his confrontation with Stewart and Gilbert had spread, and the idea of being trained by a tournament finalist and squire of the legendary Blackfish seemed almost fantastical to them.
In reality, the blackfish had little enough time to train him personally, and Jon would have even less time to train them. But that didn't seem to matter much, their faces still brightened when he assigned them to the militia, and their eyes still sunk when he assigned them to the mines.
In the end, he had a twenty for the mines and thirty for the militia. He had gone with fewer miners than he would have liked, but there wasn't much work to be done before trips were made, supplies were bought and more pickaxes were crafted, and by then he could always recruit more from out of town.
But I would need somewhere to house them…
The next morning, he bid Domeric and Mya goodbye as the two departed with the rest of the workers towards the mines, with them they took more food for the day as well as some timber he had secured from local lumberjacks so they could begin digging out the cave ins and laying foundations for the houses.
Jon meanwhile, went to fields outside of the palisade with Tristan to begin training Lady Elanor's militia, they found Stewart and Gilbert waiting for them. He kept his satisfaction hidden, no point lording it over them, they had gotten the stick, now for the carrot.
Their recruits were all healthy young men, but Jon still put them through rigorous physical exercises, they had strength from their menial labor, but lacked the endurance or fitness needed for combat. It would take weeks before they developed a stamina and agility he happy with.
Then he began familiarizing them with weapons, they would eventually wield spears, but with the steel shortage, they had none at the moment, so they used quarterstaffs. He taught them how to hold their weapons, as well as basic strikes and thrusts, then ordered they split into groups of two to practice.
"You're holding your spear like an axe." He told one particularly tall and well-built young man, he moved to correct the boy's handling. "You must only care about the tip, not the whole handle."
"Tighten your grip."
"Thrust, don't swing."
"Too slow, you're stabbing, not digging."
And so, he moved up and down the files of men, alongside Tristan, Gilbert and Stewart, correcting many mishandles, mistakes and poor thrusts as they did. Soon the cool morning breeze abandoned them as morning turned to midday and the sun bore down on them, but still they worked and drilled.
After a few hours, they moved to teaching them some form and footwork, Jon knew from experience this would be the most challenging to both teach and learn, something which could only be perfected after years of drilling. But he still tried his best, tripping countless men into the dry dirt and grass as they near tumbled over themselves trying to move and advance.
Before the sun nearly set, he told them to stand shoulder to shoulder and try marching in synch. Good discipline and coordination were essential to any fighting force, but instead, they moved like a mob, stepping on each other's feet, falling over, hitting one another, before tripping over in a wave. It was the first time that day he couldn't resist the urge to bellow in laughter, a laughter which the men on the ground and the knights surrounding him shared. In their current form, the clansmen could just watch as the militia defeated itself.
All in due time. He thought, no great fighter was trained in a day, he knew as much.
They all returned to town, exhausted, bruised and battered and feasted themselves on the generous meals their Lady provided them. They were tired, but merry, exhaustion tended to do that to people.
"Tristan." He said, approaching the knight surrounded by a few other boys, all of them laughing and boasting about something or other. "Tomorrow, you're in charge of the training, run them through the same drills we did today."
"Where are you going?" Tristan asked him, though his face looked somewhat crestfallen.
"I've some trips to make, supplies for the mines." He said, as if on cue, the party from the mines arrived at the tavern, and he spotted Domeric and Mya coming through the door. "Keep Gilbert and Stewart honest for me."
"I think they'll be alright." Tristan said, pointing his head to where the two knights were drinking and talking with some of the boys they were training today. "Stay safe, Snow."
"You too, Trist." He said waving goodbye to man and moving towards Domeric and Mya, they sat in between the flickering oil lamps and the hum of chatter of both the miners and militiamen. The tavern seemed too small to handle so many people, but to Jon that only made the atmosphere cozier. "You two have fun at the mines?"
"The day was good, we mostly watched them work, Domeric helped with the furnace at one point, I helped with the food." She said, then laughed into her cup and turned to Jon. "You friend has an obsession with horses."
"And you've an obsession with bison." Domeric retorted. "Can you believe she thinks mules are better than horses in every circumstance?"
"No, no, I elaborated horses are still better in jousts and gallops, which are rare mind you, but otherwise, they're just worse and more expensive."
"That's still madness." Domeric said, shaking his head, it was clear they'd been having this argument for hours. "If my aunt could hear you now."
"Actually, speaking of your aunt." Jon said, in part because he was not about to sit through an argument about horses and bison, and in part because he was genuinely curious. "Do you know of a man in her company with blond hair and a scar on his eye."
"Kellin? He's the commander of my aunt's household," Domeric said. "Why do you ask?"
"Just curious, I saw him in Winterfell once and he looked interesting." Jon said, lying, so they at least didn't figure out that I attacked her men at arms.
He hadn't given his clash at that northern inn much thought, beyond occasionally sending Zephyr to the Riverlands to make sure the couple he saved were in good health, but in hindsight, he could have made an enemy of a powerful northern house.
He had no regrets however, on that day, he had to do something.
"How was the training?" Mya asked.
"It's a start." Jon said, "But now that they've been put together, we can leave for the Gates tomorrow."
"Aye, we need to." Domeric said. "The miners dug through a cave in and found richer veins, they mined thirty pounds of iron, but the smith couldn't do anything without a bellows, and the carpenters used all of the wood we brought in the first few hours then went about cutting trees, they spent hours working the logs into lumber they could use."
"Too much wasted time." Jon said. "We can leave at the break of dawn, does Millicent still wish to return to the Gates?"
"She told me this morning she wished to stay for now, the commonfolk seem happy for the Sept to have a septa again." Mya said, "She'll make the trip back some another time."
And so, the next day the three of them set off on horseback towards the Gates, while Zephyr circled above them and allowed Jon to ride at ease, should they be walking into trouble, he would know.
Instead, his time was spent trying to change the conversation from the subject of horses and bison towards other matters, anything from childhood stories to food and weather to recent misadventures.
Jon was curious to hear about the Dreadfort and Domeric's father, their families' history was intertwined, and the Lord Bolton had an ominous reputation in the North, but Domeric spoke of him fondly. The other boy seemed just as interested in hearing about Winterfell, as well Mychel Redfort and his brothers, someone Mya seemed to be a resentful expert on, having known the boy far longer than him.
Eventually they arrived at the Gates and set about finding what they needed as quickly as they could, as they still had many other stops to make before returning to Willowbrook.
Mya arranged more wagons and bison for them, happy to be off of Gilbert's horse, Jon riffled through the castle's storehouses looking for a spare anvil and bellows, meanwhile Domeric looked for Tylis to find more men at arms to recruit.
They reconvened at the stables sometime later, Jon had a few men with him helping him load the anvil and bellows, and Domeric was able to get three more men at arms who could protect the miners and train the militia, they sat in the driver's seats of the carts Mya had prepared.
And as quickly as they arrived at the Gates, they left again, but on the way out, he'd caught sight of Blackfish. The man was standing on the ramparts overlooking the gates to the castle, Jon was rather tired and haggard from all the running around, the two met eyes for a moment, exchanged a nod, and moved along.
They then moved to the sawmill Jon had wanted to visit, they loaded the carts with wood and lumber matching the specifics given to them by the carpenters and began the long ride towards Willowbrook.
But on the way, they also stopped by whatever farms and hamlets they crossed and asked for any young men looking for work, and soon had close to ten more farmboys and laborers walking alongside their caravan. Jon was ready to bring along as many men as he could, if the veins turned out to be poor and there was no place for them in the mines, there was always place for them in the militia.
He woke early the next day to continue training the militia, who's form had gotten better, but by smallest, barest margins. At midday, he left them in Tristan's care and rode Grey towards the mine to see what progress they had made with their supplies.
He arrived in time to see their smith's apprentice hammering away at a lump of steel and shaping it into a shovel head, next to him was a small pile of shovel and pickaxe heads cooling down and a carpenter fitting them onto wooden handles, while two tall, well-built men took turns blowing the great bellows.
"The bellows are working then?" He asked, and the man turned to him with sweat in his brow, he used tongs to put the shovel head back in the furnace, then a dirty rag to wipe his brow.
"Aye, ser." He said. "I've smelted twenty pounds of steel, but the miners ordered more picks and shovels."
"Good man." Jon said, nodding to him and finding somewhere to tie his horse and headed for the mines.
Apparently, they had cleared several cave ins and found even richer veins deeper in, enough to support sixty more men, even more than he'd brought with, at full capacity they could dig out close to eight hundred pounds of iron in a day, though more than half of it would be lost while smelting it into steel.
Outside, he could see the carpenters hard at work, clearing away buildings and putting and repairing the foundations of others, he saw the cooks making roasts and stews double and triple the size, and he saw Domeric and Mya approaching him with waves and smile.
I might just pull this off.
