In Planetos As Light Human

The vast expanse of the forest near Winterfell stretched endlessly, dotted with patches of snow stubbornly clinging to the earth despite the warm breath of early summer. The sun hung low in the sky, its golden rays filtering through the branches, casting dancing shadows on the forest floor. Wildlife bustled amidst the trees signaling the start of summer, but the tranquility was shattered by the deep growl of a bear and the answering snarls of wolves.

Standing amidst the chaos was Edric Stark, a towering figure at six feet, his stark white hair glinting in the sunlight, and his cold gray eyes locked onto the feral beast. Beside him, two direwolves—one pure white, the other midnight black circled the bear like shadows given form. The bear roared and lunged, but its charge was cut short by a blinding beam of light that erupted from the tip of Edric's index finger. The smell of charred fur filled the air as the bear collapsed lifelessly to the forest floor, a smoking hole burned clean through its skull.

Edric smirked faintly, raising his hand to his lips in a mock gesture of a cowboy blowing smoke from a gun barrel. "Good job, both of you," he said, his voice steady and calm.

The two direwolves approached, tails wagging slightly, their piercing eyes fixed on him expectantly.

"For trailing the bear today, Stella," he said, addressing the white wolf, "you get a rabbit." With a swift motion, he tossed a snow rabbit toward her. "And for you, Anubis," he continued, tossing another rabbit to the black wolf, "a well-earned meal."

Both wolves eagerly began devouring their prizes, their sharp teeth tearing into the meat.

"Alright," Edric said as he began tying ropes around the bear carcass, along with a stag and two smaller kills nearby. "I'll be heading to the holdfast. Follow me once you're done."

The wolves gave slight nods—as if they understood—and continued their feast. Edric grabbed the rope, effortlessly dragging the weighty load behind him as he made his way toward a dilapidated outpost tower nestled at the forest's edge.

"Jon! Come on out!" Edric called, his voice carrying through the still air.

From a narrow window above, Jon Snow appeared, his dark curls tousled by the wind. He waved briefly before disappearing from sight, reappearing moments later at the tower's entrance.

"Did you really hunt these?" Jon asked, wide-eyed as he took in the massive bear and the stag. "How are you even carrying them?"

Edric chuckled. "Hmph... This? Featherweight to me." He reached into his pack and pulled out a rabbit and a plump magpie, handing them to Jon. "Here. This should last you two days. You know how to skin and bleed them, right?"

Jon nodded, his expression growing serious. "Yes. Uncle Benjen taught me."

"Good," Edric said with a satisfied nod. "I'll be heading back to Winterfell. Meet us there on the full moon. All the lords will be gathering—you wouldn't want to miss the fun, right?"

Jon's expression faltered slightly, and he hesitated before speaking. "Do you… do you think Father hates me? I know Lady Stark does, but…"

Edric sighed, placing a firm hand on Jon's shoulder. "No, you idiot. He doesn't hate you. If anything, he cares about you even more than he does about us. You see his actions as pushing you away, but have you ever considered his side of things? A holdfast is meant for training heirs in governance, yet he sent you here. Do you know what message that sends? 'I favor my bastard over my heir.' Can you imagine the whispers among the smallfolk? The wrath of Lady Stark?"

Jon's gaze fell to the ground as Edric continued.

"Your time here isn't punishment—it's protection. You have Maester Luwin and Ser Rodrik coming out here to train you. They say it's their choice, but trust me, that was Father's doing. He's setting you up for something greater, Jon. So stop moping."

Jon nodded faintly, his expression softening.

"How are your High Valyrian studies going, anyway?" Edric asked.

Jon's lips twitched into a slight smile. "I was already decent with Valyrian. I finished the language books and started the Tome of Fire."

Edric flinched slightly at the mention of the tome but quickly recovered. 'Is this what it means to be a protagonist he is advancing a little too fast, must be his blood purity acting up '

"Good. Keep at it. Signal us if anything happens, alright?"

Jon nodded again, his resolve seeming firmer. Edric turned, hauling his kills behind him as he made his way back toward Winterfell. The direwolves followed silently in his wake, and Jon stood at the tower's entrance, watching his older brother disappear into the trees.

The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting the forest in hues of gold and crimson. The holdfast stood silent once more, but Jon felt a flicker of warmth in his chest a spark of hope amidst the cold northern air.

After dropping off the hunt and instructing the servants to skin the animals and prepare the meat for the feast, Edric made his way toward his father's solar.

He knocked on the heavy wooden door and waited.

"Come in," came the stern voice of Lord Stark.

Edric pushed the door open and stepped inside, his confident stride faltering slightly under his father's cold gaze.

"Father, I hope your day has been well," Edric greeted with a small smile.

Lord Stark raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. "It was—until you showed up."

Edric placed a hand over his chest in mock offense. "Come on, Father, am I truly that unbearable?"

Lord Stark's lips twitched, though the frown remained. "Sit down, Edric. We need to talk."

Edric complied, taking a seat across from his father's desk.

"I received word this morning," Lord Stark began, his voice sharp. "Your ship and men have docked near Torrhen's Square. They're a day's ride away and will arrive just in time for the feast. Several lords have already gathered here in Winterfell, and they've expressed their... concerns about your recent behavior."

Edric smirked. "Concerned, are they? I can't imagine why."

"Don't make this worse, Edric," Lord Stark said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You've already stirred enough trouble. And then there's this..." He slid a letter across the desk.

Edric picked it up and read aloud:

'Lord Stark,

As an apology from Highgarden, our house rides to Winterfell with 500,000 gold dragons and 100 wagons worth of food.

Sincerely,

House Tyrell'

Edric whistled low. "Only 500,000? They could've at least made it a million."

Lord Stark's glare could've frozen fire. "Edric, Winterfell can be run on 5,000 gold dragons a year. This is more wealth than the taxes we collect in a decade. Explain. Now."

Edric leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "It's not as dramatic as it sounds. Lord Tyrell kidnapped me when I docked at Highgarden. Apparently, he'd heard rumors about me and wanted to hire me to assassinate Oberyn Martell."

Lord Stark's brows knitted together. "And you refused, I assume?"

"Of course I refused," Edric replied sharply. "I explained the consequences of kidnapping a Stark—and not just any Stark, but a keyholder of the Iron Bank. I might've… elaborated on the repercussions for his family name and his fields of golden roses."

Lord Stark sighed deeply, rubbing his temples. "Edric…"

"For this meeting I even made it clear in my letters," Edric continued. "I wrote 'gray-eyed Stark.' It's not my fault the northern Lords forgot there are two Starks with gray eyes."

Lord Stark looked at his son for a long moment, studying him. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and firm. "Edric, you walk a dangerous line. You're clever, a little too clever for your own good. But these stunts… they have consequences."

Edric's smirk faded slightly, and he gave a small nod. "I understand, Father. I'll handle the lords when they arrive."

Lord Stark leaned back in his chair, exhaustion clear in his posture. "See that you do, son. Winterfell's halls have enough whispers already."

Edric rose to leave, pausing at the door. "Don't worry, Father. I'll make sure the feast is… memorable."

Lord Stark's sigh followed him out into the hallway.

Dawn of the Meeting

The sun hung low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the courtyard of Winterfell. Edric Stark stood tall at the main gates, his cold gray eyes scanning the distant horizon where the faint outline of his envoy came into view. The caravan of workers, wagons, and supplies he had brought from Essos stretched far into the distance, their banners fluttering gently in the wind. The gates groaned as they swung open, welcoming the long-anticipated arrivals.

As the first riders approached, Jory Cassel and Magister Pytho emerged from the front of the procession. Both men dismounted swiftly and approached Edric with respectful bows.

"Jory, I trust my people treated you well during your journey?" Edric asked, his voice steady and calm.

Jory grinned broadly. "Oh yes, m'lord. At times, I felt as though I were on some Highgarden pleasure barge. Your hospitality was heavenly, and your men ensured everything ran smoothly."

Edric allowed a rare smile. "Good. Go meet with your father and get some well-deserved rest. We'll speak again soon."

With a respectful nod, Jory turned and disappeared into the castle.

Edric shifted his gaze to Magister Pytho. "Pytho, how was the journey? Any trouble along the way?"

Pytho adjusted his ornate robes, his sharp eyes glinting with intelligence. "Master, the journey went well. Not a hitch worth mentioning. I was also able to acquire the building in Lannisport as per your instructions. A little too easy, if I may add. I suspect the noble houses already know about your status. If I were to guess, many lords have begun to take notice of your movements."

Edric's lips curled slightly at the corner. "Noted. But I don't believe this will disrupt our plans. If anything, it might even smoothen certain paths. My father has granted me permission to use the northern holdfast as our base of operations. I've already tasked the locals with makeshift preparations—tents, logs, stones, and other necessities. What's the status of the potatoes? I need them shifted near the Great Hall and the kitchens for tonight's feast."

Pytho dipped his head in acknowledgment. "M'lord, we suffered some losses—nearly half a ton during the voyage. However, we still have two wagons worth of I will send the cooks and workers whom you have taught the recipe will go to the kitchens and help out" pytho ordered the men to deboard and sent the wagons towards the castle

"Everyone Move out!!" shuted edric and the rest of the convoy started following towards Holdfast

After reaching the tower edric got on a make shift platform elevation and faced towards his men

"You've followed me across endless waters, into unknown lands," Edric began, his voice carrying clearly across the gathered assembly. "Each of you left behind family, comfort"

He paced slowly, every step deliberate. "The road ahead will not be easy. We are not simply merchants or laborers we are pioneers, carving a path where none have dared before. Each of you carries with you the trust I have placed in your hands, and with that trust comes responsibility."

Edric stopped and looked out over the crowd, his piercing gaze meeting theirs. "Today marks the beginning of something extraordinary. Together, we will build not just wealth, but a legacy. We will thrive, not merely survive. And the North will look upon us not just as men who came to labor, but as architects of its future."

He raised his hand high, his voice firm and unyielding. "Stand proud, my brothers, for we are the foundation of something grand. For Winterfell. For the North. For the future. For this is you new home!"

A thunderous cheer erupted from the men, fists raised in unison as their voices filled the cold morning air. Edric nodded once, turned on his heel, and strode back toward the holdfast, purpose etched into every step.

Edric's Solar

Edric's office was a modest yet commanding space. A massive blackwood table dominated the center, surrounded by sturdy chairs carved with Stark sigils. A warm hearth crackled softly on one side, casting flickering shadows on the Stark banner hanging proudly behind Edric's high-backed chair. A small bed was tucked into a corner, practical and unadorned. The room carried an air of authority and purpose.

Edric entered, followed closely by Pytho, who clutched several scrolls in his hands. Both men sat down, spreading the scrolls across the table and leaning in with focused expressions.

"M'lord," Pytho began, unfurling a parchment, "the purchase price for acquiring ten acres of land near King's Landing, Highgarden, Sunspear, and Summerhall totaled 180,000 gold dragons. Additionally, the building in Lannisport was secured for another 5,000 gold dragons. Lord Arryn was surprisingly eager to grant the entirety of Summerhall castle, though I must express my reservations its history will deter most locals."

Edric leaned back in his chair, a glimmer of confidence in his cold grey eyes. "Don't worry about the locals. If they won't come, the foreigners will. Nobles and their wives have an insatiable hunger for luxury and status. Once we set our hooks in them with exclusive products, the rest will follow naturally."

Pytho gave a small nod and continued, "I've dispatched clergymen and trusted agents to each location, each carrying 20,000 gold dragons, to recruit local workers and lay the groundwork according to your designs. Once our workforce in Essos wraps up their projects—which Domeric expects will take three moons they'll begin their journey here. I still disagree with this decision, m'lord."

Edric raised a hand to silence him gently. "It was a necessary choice, Pytho. No city in Essos, save Braavos, is safe while I'm here. Every noble with ambition and half a brain would see my ventures as ripe for plunder. Yes, the businesses there were profitable, but maintaining them at the risk of everything we're building here isn't worth it. Domeric knows what he's doing."

Pytho sighed but continued. "Each site will begin with a team of one hundred workers, including guards. The estimated operational costs will hover around 3,000 gold dragons annually per location. However, Summerhall might demand more resources due to its condition and size. Additionally, we'll need at least 200 more skilled workers, carriage men, and local laborers to ensure smooth operations here."

He paused before delivering the final report. "Right now, after all acquisitions, we have approximately 1.8 million gold dragons left in what we brough with us. In the bank excluding the Valyrian artifacts and dragon eggs, The smelted gold alone is valued at 20 million gold dragons, and Domeric expects to bring in another 3 million after closing remaining assets across Essos."

Edric drummed his fingers on the table, processing the information. "Good work, Pytho. Ensure everyone gets a few days' rest, you included. Coordinate with Jory Cassel for any requests; he'll handle logistics with the castle staff. After the banquet, we'll begin large-scale construction. Local workers have already been contracted, and it's going to be relentless. Make sure our people are prepared."

Edric stood, gathering a few loose parchments. As he approached the door, he paused and turned back. "Oh, and one last thing—if anything urgent arises, Jon is upstairs. Inform him, and he'll relay the message to Winterfell immediately."

"As you command, m'lord," Pytho replied with a respectful bow.

Edric nodded once before exiting the solar, his steps purposeful and his mind already focused on the tasks ahead.