A few days after its construction, The Stark family followed Owen through the cavernous factory floor, their footsteps echoing off metal walls. Steam hissed from copper pipes overhead while the rhythmic clanking of machinery filled the air. The automated production line stretched before them, a marvel of Dwemer engineering that left even the usually stoic Eddard wide-eyed.
"The process starts here," Owen gestured to where gleaming automatons fed pure steel ingots into blazing furnaces. "The Dwemer designed these furnaces to maintain the perfect temperature. Too hot or too cold and the steel becomes brittle or weak. But these automatons never make mistakes."
Arya darted ahead, pressing her face against a glass window to watch molten metal pour into molds. "How do they know what to do?"
"They have... minds of their own, in a way. Ancient knowledge put into them as soon as they are created." Owen explained, watching her fascination with a smile. "Each one knows its task and performs it perfectly, every time."
The molten steel moved along conveyor belts, passing through various stations where mechanical arms hammered, folded, and shaped the metal. Mikken shook his head in wonder as perfectly formed sword blades emerged from the process.
"In all my years, I've never seen steel worked so fine," the old smith muttered. "No impurities, no weak spots. Every blade identical to the last."
"The quality surpasses anything else in Westeros," Owen confirmed. "These blades could cut clean through castle-forged steel. And the armor..." He led them to another section where automatons assembled plates of gleaming steel. "It's virtually impenetrable to normal weapons."
Catelyn's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "And how many sets of armor and weapons can this factory produce in a day?"
"At current capacity? About five hundred complete sets - swords, shields, and full armor."
Robb whistled. "That's more than most smiths make in a year."
"And every piece masterwork quality," Jon added, running his hand along a finished breastplate.
Sansa hung back slightly, watching Owen with quiet interest as he explained the intricacies of each process. Though the technical details might have bored her normally, she found herself drawn in by his obvious passion.
"The automatons don't just shape the metal," Owen continued, pointing to various stations. "They temper it, quench it, polish it - all to exact specifications. The steel itself is purified to remove any flaws before it even reaches the forging stage."
"And you control all of this?" Eddard asked, gesturing at the busy automatons.
"In a way. I set the parameters and quantities, but the machines handle the actual work. They're... remarkable pieces of engineering." Owen led them past rows of finished weapons being sorted and packed. "Each one has safeguards built in. They can't be used to make flawed or dangerous equipment, and they automatically will stop working if anything goes wrong."
The family continued their tour, watching in amazement as more weapons and armor rolled off the production lines. Owen explained each step of the process, from initial forging to final assembly, detailing how the Dwemer machines ensured perfect quality at every stage.
Owen guided the group to another section of the factory where multiple production lines ran in parallel. The rhythmic pounding of metal filled the air as automatons crafted an impressive array of weaponry.
"Here we have Warhammers," Owen indicated a line where mechanical arms shaped massive heads of steel. "They have the perfect weight distribution. These will crush plate armor while remaining light enough for quick follow-up strikes."
The next belt featured axes being forged, their edges impossibly sharp. "The automatons fold the steel hundreds of times, creating a powerful serrated edge. They'll bite deeper than any conventional axe."
Arya's eyes lit up at the row of daggers emerging from their molds. The blades gleamed with deadly purpose, their balance perfect for both throwing and close combat. "Those look wicked."
"They're designed to find gaps in armor," Owen explained. "The tip is reinforced to punch through mail or slip between plates."
But it was the bow-making station that drew the most attention. Mechanical arms precisely layered different materials - wood, horn, and sinew - creating composite bows of extraordinary power.
"These can punch through plate at a hundred yards," Owen said as finished bows moved past on the conveyor. Beside them, another line produced arrows with heads of hardened steel. "The arrows are perfectly matched to the bows. They'll fly true even in high winds."
Jon picked up one of the finished arrows, testing its weight. "The balance is incredible."
Owen nodded. "Every piece is identical, crafted to the exact same specifications. No variation in weight or shape to throw off aim."
"And where will all these weapons be stored?" Eddard asked, surveying the endless stream of arms flowing from the production lines.
"I've designed an armory to house everything," Owen replied, leading them to a large drafting table. He spread out a detailed architectural drawing. "Three levels, with separate sections for different weapon types. The walls will be reinforced with Dwemer metal - virtually impenetrable. Multiple security measures to control access."
But it was the second piece of parchment that captured Eddard's full attention - the design for the new Northern armor. Owen's drawings showed a revolutionary design that combined protection with mobility.
"The plates are thinner than traditional armor," Owen explained, pointing out details in the sketches. "But the Dwemer steel is far stronger. The joints are articulated to allow full range of movement while maintaining complete coverage. No weak points or gaps."
Robb studied the drawings. "How much lighter than regular plate?"
"About half the weight," Owen said. "But it'll stop anything short of Valyrian steel. The design disperses impact across the entire suit rather than concentrating it at the point of contact. Even a direct hit from a Warhammer won't crush the plate."
Mikken shook his head in wonder. "In all my years, I've never seen armor designed like this. The way these plates overlap... it's brilliant."
"The automatons can produce a complete suit in hours," Owen added. "And every piece will be perfectly fitted to the wearer, from small to medium and large builds."
As the tour continued, Eddard's mind raced with possibilities. The sheer scale of what Owen had created stretched beyond anything he'd imagined possible. With these weapons arming their soldiers, the North's military strength would multiply tenfold. Combined with the new glasshouses ensuring year-round food production, his people would never again need to fear winter or war.
The North could truly stand alone if needed. No longer would they depend on southern grain during harsh winters. No longer would they need to trade for superior weapons and armor. Everything they required could be produced right here in Winterfell.
Robb and Jon exchanged meaningful glances as they came to the same realization. The North had always been fierce and independent, but these advantages would make them virtually untouchable.
"With arms like these," Robb muttered to Jon, "even the Lannisters would think twice about moving against us."
Jon nodded solemnly. "And the glasshouses mean we won't starve if they try to cut us off. We could hold out indefinitely."
Meanwhile, Arya could barely contain herself as they passed rack after rack of gleaming weapons. Her eyes kept darting between the rows of daggers and the smaller swords, perfect for someone of her size. Her fingers twitched at her sides as she imagined practicing with one of those perfectly balanced blades.
"These would be much better than Needle," she whispered to herself, earning a sharp look from her mother. making her zip up about the stalhrim blade Owen had forged her on jons request.
Catelyn walked slightly behind the others, her thoughts turning to her childhood home. The Riverlands had always been vulnerable, caught between powerful neighbors and forced to weather every conflict that swept through Westeros. But with weapons like these, with the ability to feed their people even when armies trampled their fields...
She glanced at her husband's back, wondering how he might react if she suggested sharing some of these innovations with her family. The Tullys had always been loyal allies to the Starks since the rebellion. If both the North and the Riverlands possessed such advantages, they could create an unshakeable power bloc in the realm.
Her father would certainly appreciate such generosity, and it would only strengthen the bonds between their houses. Plus, a well-defended Riverlands would provide an excellent buffer between the North and any southern threats.
Catelyn watched the interaction between Owen and her family as he continued pointing out things in the tour, her mind drifting to the private conversation she'd had with Eddard days ago about the marriage arrangement. Owen would make a fine match for Sansa - his abilities and innovations had already transformed the North's future. If he became part of their family through marriage, his loyalty would extend beyond just the Starks to their allies as well.
The thought of the Riverlands benefiting from such advancements filled her with hope. Her father, Lord Hoster Tully, had always ensured the bonds between their houses remained strong. Sharing Owen's innovations would only strengthen those ties further. She made a mental note to discuss it with Eddard that evening, after the children had gone to bed. It would take careful persuasion, but the advantages were clear.
Her attention returned to the tour as Sansa's curious voice cut through the mechanical sounds of the factory.
"You keep mentioning 'Dwemer' when you explain things," Sansa said, her blue eyes fixed on Owen. "I thought you created all of this yourself. What exactly is a Dwemer?"
Owen's cheeks flushed red at her direct question and unwavering gaze. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, suddenly aware of everyone's attention. Behind Sansa, Jon and Robb exchanged knowing looks and tried to suppress their amusement at Owen's obvious discomfort under their sister's attention. Their quiet chuckles earned them a sharp glare from Owen, who promised himself he'd find a way to get back at them later for enjoying his awkward moment.
Eddard observed the exchange with a small, knowing smile. The boy might be capable of creating marvels that could reshape the North, but he was still young enough to be flustered by a pretty ladies attention - especially when that lady was his intended bride.
Owen cleared his throat, carefully choosing his next words. The question about the Dwemer was one he'd anticipated but still found challenging to answer without revealing too much of the truth.
"The Dwemer were... an ancient race," he began, his voice steady despite his nervousness under Sansa's attentive gaze. "They were master builders and craftsmen, not unlike the Children of the Forest in their connection to deeper mysteries, though their powers manifested differently. They disappeared thousands of years ago, long before the First Men came to Westeros."
Owen ran his hand along one of the mechanical arms of a nearby automaton, its brass surface gleaming in the forge light. "The Old Gods blessed me with knowledge of their crafts and secrets. Their techniques, their understanding of metal and stone - it all came to me through their grace."
The explanation seemed to satisfy the group, just as it had when he'd first told Jon and Robb about the Dwemer ores he'd called "dwarven metal" during their initial visit to his mine. The Starks' acceptance wasn't surprising - in a world where legends of the Old Gods speaking through weirwood trees and children bonding with direwolves and other animals, the idea of ancient knowledge being granted through divine intervention didn't seem far-fetched.
Sansa nodded thoughtfully, her fingers trailing along the intricate patterns etched into a nearby machine. "Like how the Children of the Forest shared their magic with the First Men," she said, drawing parallels to the stories she'd grown up hearing.
"Yes, exactly like that," Owen agreed, relieved at her interpretation. He noticed Eddard watching him closely but saw only understanding in the lord's eyes. The Old Gods were still strong in the North, and their mysterious ways were accepted without much question by those who kept the old faith.
Arya, ever curious, piped up from where she'd been examining a row of freshly forged daggers. "Did they build things like this everywhere? Are there more of their secrets to find?"
"Their knowledge was vast," Owen replied carefully, staying close to the framework of his explanation. "But much was lost when they vanished. What remains comes in pieces, through the grace of the Old Gods."
Catelyn still lingered at the back of the group, her attention caught by the deadly grace of a finished steel dagger. As she lifted it, the blade seemed to whisper through the air, so sharp it threatened to cut without actually touching her skin. The craftsmanship was beyond anything she'd ever seen, even in the finest weapons from the greatest smiths of King's Landing.
But while the others marveled at Owen's creations and explanations on these so called "Dwemer", a deep frown creased her features. Her mind turned to the inevitable complications that would arise once word of these innovations spread beyond the North. It wasn't a question of if, but when. Such remarkable achievements couldn't remain hidden forever, as much the north and her lord husband wished.
The explanation Owen had given about the Old Gods granting him this knowledge would spark outrage throughout the Seven Kingdoms, especially from followers of The Seven. The septons and septas would rage from their pulpits, demanding to know why their Seven had not bestowed similar gifts upon their faithful followers. The North's adherence to the Old Gods already created tension with the south - this would only amplify those divisions.
She could already hear the accusations that would flow from the Faith. Some would denounce Owen as a heretic, claiming his abilities came from dark powers rather than divine blessing. Others, unwilling to accept the Old Gods' involvement, would insist it was actually the Seven who had granted him these gifts, and that Owen was simply misguided in attributing them elsewhere.
The religious implications troubled her deeply. As someone raised in the Faith of the Seven who had come to respect, if hesitantly, the Old Gods of her adopted home, she understood how such revelations could inflame existing tensions. The North would be seen as claiming divine superiority through Owen's abilities, potentially straining already delicate relationships with the southern kingdoms.
Catelyn watched Owen continue his explanations to her family, noting how naturally he spoke of the Old Gods' blessing. To him, it seemed a simple truth, but she knew the political and religious powder keg it represented. The Faith had tremendous influence in the south, and they would not take kindly to such claims of the Old Gods' favor.
Owen led the Stark family into the final section of the factory, his steps quickening with barely contained excitement. The space opened into a massive chamber, clearly designed to house something extraordinary. In the center stood an enormous shape, draped in thick fabric that cast mysterious shadows in the torchlight.
"And now for the last leg of the tour," Owen announced, his voice echoing off the high ceiling. The Starks gathered around the covered object, their curiosity evident in their expressions.
"What is it?" Arya asked, trying to peek under the edges of the sheet.
"Something that took three days to construct," Owen replied, pride evident in his voice. "Two hundred steam constructors working day and night under my supervision. But I think you'll agree it was worth the effort."
He gripped the edge of the sheet, pausing for dramatic effect. Then, with a flourish worthy of a master showman, he pulled the covering away.
The collective gasp from the Stark family echoed through the chamber. Before them stood a towering mechanical giant, easily thirty feet tall, its brass and steel frame gleaming in the torchlight. The colossus was humanoid in shape, with proportions that somehow managed to seem both powerful and graceful despite its enormous size. Intricate Dwemer patterns decorated its surface, and its "eyes" gleamed with an inner blue light that spoke of the magic infusing its frame.
Owen gave a slight bow, adding to the theatrical moment. "I give you the Dwarven Colossus."
Each member of the Stark family reacted differently to the revelation. Eddard's face showed a mixture of awe and concern as he studied the massive construct, his mind already calculating the military implications of such a creation. Catelyn's hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with shock at the sheer scale of the machine before them.
Robb and Jon circled the colossus slowly, their expressions filled with wonder as they examined its articulated joints and massive limbs. Arya darted between its feet, her face lit with unbridled excitement as she touched its metallic surface. Sansa stood transfixed, her blue eyes reflecting the soft glow emanating from the construct's own eyes.
Mikken had gone pale, his hands trembling slightly as he reached out to touch the Dwemer metal of its foot. "By the old gods and the new," he whispered, "what manner of forge could create such a thing?"
The colossus towered over them all, its presence commanding the space. Its hands, each the size of a wagon wheel, were articulated with countless joints that allowed for surprisingly delicate movement despite their size. The chest contained visible mechanisms behind translucent panels, showing glimpses of the complex machinery that powered the construct.
Owen circled the massive construct, gesturing at its various features as the Stark family listened intently. "The Dwarven Colossus is the ultimate expression of Dwemer engineering and combat capability. Its primary armament is this massive blade." He pointed to the enormous sword attached to one arm, its edge gleaming wickedly in the torchlight. "The blade can cleave through stone walls as if they were parchment."
"And what's that on the other arm?" Jon asked, indicating the large cylindrical attachment.
"That," Owen said, taking a deep breath, "is what's called a cannon. Think of it as... well, imagine a catapult that doesn't need to be wound up or loaded with stones. It launches metal projectiles with explosive force, capable of destroying castle walls or decimating entire formations of soldiers with a single shot. Or in this case….well it unleashes flames hot enough to burn a man to ash in seconds."
Eddard's face paled at the description, while Mikken's jaw dropped open. The master blacksmith stepped forward, examining the cannon more closely. "How is such a thing possible? What powers it?"
"The same principles that power our steam constructors, but magnified many times over," Owen explained. "The force comes from controlled explosions within the barrel, launching specially crafted ammunition at speeds faster than any arrow or catapult stone. The flames are powered by its core however." Owen said, though internally he knew how magic was also a factor.
"Gods be good," Eddard muttered, running a hand through his hair. "And you say it's nearly impossible to destroy?"
Owen nodded grimly. "The Dwemer metal it's constructed from is harder than anything in Westeros save Valyrian steel. Regular weapons barely scratch it. Even if you managed to breach its armor, the internal mechanisms are self-repairing to an extent. It would take multiple trebuchets hitting the same spot repeatedly, or perhaps a dozen giants with enormous Warhammers, to have any hope of bringing one down."
"And you can make more of these?" Robb asked, his voice hushed with awe.
"With enough time, yes. The steam constructors can build them, though it takes significantly longer than producing regular weapons or armor. Like i said, a single colossus requires about three days of continuous work from two hundred constructors."
Catelyn stepped closer to her husband, her voice low. "Ned, if the Lannisters or the other kingdoms hear about this or had even an inkling that we possessed such power..."
"They don't," Eddard assured her firmly. "And they won't, not until we're ready for them to know."
Arya darted between the colossus's legs again, her eyes shining with excitement. "Can we see it move? Does it follow commands like the smaller ones?"
Owen nodded, then spoke a series of words in an ancient language. The colossus's eyes flared brighter, flashing like molten gold, and with a sound of grinding gears and hissing steam, it straightened to its full height. The assembled group stepped back instinctively as the massive construct raised its sword arm in a salute, then demonstrated a series of precise movements that showcased its surprising agility despite its enormous size.
"Seven hells," Jon breathed, watching the colossus execute a perfect overhead strike that would have cleaved a castle gate in two. "With even a handful of these supporting our forces..."
"No army in Westeros could stand against us," Robb finished, his voice filled with wonder. "Not the Lannisters, not even the combined might of all the southern kingdoms."
Owen nodded, looking upon his creation. Just another step towards a more prepared north.