Don't Panic Chapter 21: White Harbour Beckons

Chapter Synopsis:

Finally reaching White Harbour Harry is pleased to take another step up the ladder of civilisation. Though he’s very aware there’s still so much more he could do to lift them further.

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Last Time: ... Lord Stark had gifted the trio with three small horses before they left. So the three hapless merchants didn’t have to travel and pull their cart on foot. He thought the gift was only right after all the good the trio had brought to Winterfell. Though he thought ruefully that it was likely no one would ever lay eyes on those poor horses again.

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Chapter 21: White Harbour Beckons

Thogg the Thenn dodged around another horse as he carefully picked his way along the otherwise deserted street. The street had once been a bustling byway in the Thenn village. A useful shortcut between the main boulevard and the guard tower where Thogg earned his keep.

Now, however, it was usually empty. That is, except for the large number of assorted horses that seemed to like hanging out on the street on odd occasions.

Thogg knew these horses belonged to the Children of the Forest that had taken up residence in the village earlier this year. And that the horses usually resided on the hidden farms run by the Children. But every now and then, they would gather on this side street for some unknowable reason.

There were plenty of theories doing the rounds of course. The rumour mill in the Thenn village was just as inventive as any other tribe after all.

Thogg’s fellow guard, Dareg, had sworn black and blue that he saw a horse appear out of thin air on this street not two moon turns ago. Which … well it would explain where all the horses kept coming from, he supposed.

Though most just assumed the Children of the Forest had brought the horses along with their hidden farms. After all, Dareg was rarely seen without an ale in his hands. And who ever heard of a horse appearing out of thin air before anyway? It was crazy talk.

Either way, people tended to avoid this street these days.

Thogg’s brother, Svegg, had implored him to take the long way around, and not to use the ‘cursed avenue’, as some now called it.

But it had been moons now since anything strange had happened on this street, and Thogg was late to his shift … very late.

So here he was, dodging the ever growing crowd of horses that all seemed to be staring towards a clear space in the center of the street as if waiting for something. Thogg contemplated that these were certainly some very strange horses. But then, they belonged to some very strange children of the forest … so what else would he expect?

Either way, he was late, and this shortcut was by far the fastest way to his guard post. So he would take his chances with the strange horses and their supposedly cursed hangout. What’s the worst that could happen anyway?

A pop followed by a panicked neigh echoing through the air made Thogg jump and look around in startled surprise. Though he didn’t see anything amiss.

That was until a horse came tumbling wildly from the side of the street, sliding to a stop in the middle of the clear area.

“What in the old gods?!” Thogg let out an exclamation. He could swear that horse had just appeared out of nowhere. But that was impossible. Surely.

The Horse, which was now getting up off the ground, looked decidedly miffed but otherwise no worse for wear.

Another pop and wild neigh echoed through the street, startling Thogg into a frantic run, as he dodged between the watching horses. “Oh, Old Gods, I should have listened to Svegg,” he cried as he jumped out of the way of another tumbling horse projectile that shortly followed the panicked neigh.

Thogg could see the end of the street through the gaps in the horses and put on another burst of acceleration. Privately promising never to ignore his brother’s sage advice again. And more importantly, never to risk taking the cursed avenue shortcut again just because he was late to work.

Honestly, sometimes he thought these children and their friends were far too much trouble to be getting on with. Nothing like this used to happen in the village before they arrived. Now he was dodging flying horses appearing out of the air like … well he wasn’t sure what it was like because he was fairly certain nothing like this had ever happened before the Children arrived.

A third pop and confused neigh echoed through the street, this one alarmingly close to Thogg as he put on one last burst of speed to make it out of this Old Gods forsaken horse infestation.

He almost let out a sigh of relief as he reached the end of the street. Slowing down a bit and looking over his shoulder to take in the last sight of the street that he privately decided never to venture down again. At least he had a decent excuse for being late now, even though it was unlikely anyone would ever believe him.

The loud thump he had been expecting to hear after the third panicked neigh, suddenly came from his left, alarmingly close by. Thogg whipped around just in time to see a rapidly approaching horse rump.

“Oh grumpkins” Thugg swore, privately thinking that he should have just stayed in bed today.

That was the last lucid thought Thogg could remember before he woke up in the healing house the following day.

He was right of course, no-one but Dareg believed his story. And now he had a sennight’s worth of night duty as punishment for missing his shift … and apparently picking a fight with a horse.

“Damn Children and their crazy magic horses” Thogg grumbled, as he made his way to his next shift. Making sure to take the long way around this time.

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Harry laughed as he swerved sharply on his broom to duck beneath another snowball, while reaching out with his magical senses to search for the source. Feeling a ping to his left, Harry twisted in the air and shot one of his own pre-prepared snowballs at the disillusioned silhouette of Sirius.

A groan came from the man as he yet again failed to dodge. His snow-covered face shimmered for a moment, before the disillusionment spell seemingly accepted the snow as a new feature of Sirius’ outfit, and enveloped it in the illusion. It didn’t make the man any less cold and wet, but at least it wouldn’t give away his position.

“I think that’s enough.” Harry heard Sirius grouse to his left as he pulled up and hovered in the air.

It was his own fault, Harry reflected. He’s the one who declared himself the better quidditch player. In absence of bludgers, their mid-air acrobatics emerging from the inevitable back and forth argument quickly devolved into a friendly snowball dodging competition.

“Concede defeat old man!” Harry demanded with amusement. Now hovering directly next to Sirius. Dobby was sat behind Sirius, looking none-too-pleased at having been twisted and twirled about. Harry suspected Dobby would be asking Sirius for his own broom after this decidedly bumpy ride.

“This isn’t over by a long shot Pup! You had an unfair advantage with your firebolt.” Sirius groused, with a twang of humour in his whining.

“We’re just stopping because we’re here!” Sirius finished, subsequently shooting downwards into the thick cloud cover that they’d been flying above all-day.

“Huh” Harry responded dumbly, not having realised how much ground they’d covered already. It was definitely refreshing to travel at proper speed, especially now that the air was warmer, and Sirius had his own broom. Though even then he was astonished that they’d only taken two and a bit days to reach the city from Winterfell.

Harry breathed in the fresh air. This was definitely a much more pleasant way to travel.

He seriously wondered how the locals could stand spending days at a time on horseback traversing these vast lands.

Harry rarely had to spend more than a few minutes on his horses before making it far enough out of whatever village they were leaving, to send the poor things off to the Thenn Village via portkey. But even that was enough for Harry.

He far preferred the freedom of the skies. And he was sure the horses preferred not lugging his lazy ass around just as much. They were probably having the time of their lives up in the North with the elves and the Thenn.

With that amusing thought, he turned to follow Sirius through the clouds below, wondering what the largest city of the north might look like.

Though Harry privately thought that being the largest city of the North was a rather dubious claim. Since, as far as he was aware, it was the only city of the North.

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Circling above, Harry was pleased to finally see the level of activity and infrastructure that could denote proper civilisation. No offence to the Starks, but Wintertown was by no means a city, even by medieval standards. Nor was White Harbour the second coming of Rome, but it definitely had all the hallmarks of a real city.

The city lay on the side of a vast inlet, forming the mouth of the White Knife river. Its distance up the inlet seemed to protect it from the rougher seas and likely also softened the impact of any powerful winter storms.

The city clearly used the natural bay as an outer harbour. He could see several ships anchored in the calmer waters of the bay.  It also offered those ships protection in the form of a heavily manned fortification atop a solitary rock. This conveniently defended the bay, the city, and the entry to the White Knife river.

Though, Harry was more impressed by the inner harbour, with its sea walls enclosing a surprisingly large area, accommodating around 15 ships on the wharfs, and another 20 anchored in the calm, highly protected waters. These sea walls were huge by medieval Earth standards. The place could be easily defended, with just one opening in the sea wall for ingress and egress. Harry also saw signs of a thick chain hanging into the water at the opening that could presumably be raised at any time to defend the harbour. The whole set-up was frankly impressive.

With the technology at hand, it would take a multi-generational effort to sink enough stones to build such walls out into the bay. Building in water was hard enough for modern muggles, these people had none of the modern shortcuts. They certainly didn't have the advantages of concrete blocks or mechanical dredging barges.

Circling around over the city itself, Harry noted that the wall continued across the land, forming a single layer fortified stone wall, whitewashed just like most of the homes and buildings. Harry spotted a few men patrolling the walls from above.

Harry also spotted thick plumes of smoke rising from amongst what looked like a small section of the city set-aside for forges, blacksmiths and tanners. It was normal for such industry to be allocated one space on the edge of a town to stop any fires from spreading. Winterfell, however, had just one forge in their town and a smaller forge within the castle grounds in-case of siege. To see a larger district here was a relief, because it indicated a stronger economy, hopefully one that revolved around more than just farming and the good will of the reigning lord.

That industry and active economy was also apparent down by the wharfs, where a large market square sat, already bustling with people and traders. This was much busier than any market he’d seen to-date.

Maester Garrick had informed Harry that White Harbour operated as the North’s primary trade port. He’d described Winterfell as the heart of the North, and White Harbour as its lifeblood. It seemed an apt description from what he could see.

Harry also saw a fairly consistent trail of goods and foot traffic making its way from the wharf to the castle that sat proud atop the hill the city was built on. This whitewashed fortification had to be New Castle, the seat of the Manderlys. Direct vassals of the Starks.

If wealth were measured in cloth and dyes, which in the medieval world it sort of was, then the Manderlys were clearly far more wealthy than the rest of their peers in the North. This was evident in the huge banners hung from the castle walls, visible all the way out to sea, and all dyed a bright teal green with merman sigil in white. These were a pretty blatant display of wealth, not that it really mattered, Harry could blow them away with modern dyes that would outshine this, or even wizarding dyes with everchanging and swirling colours.

Harry was certainly relieved the Manderlys had gone for the somewhat pleasing image of a saltwater merman on their green banners. The kind that were usually found around the coast of the Mediterranean sea in his old world. As opposed to, the horrifyingly ugly fish people Harry had the misfortune of meeting in the depths of the fresh-water lake at Hogwarts during the second task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Harry suppressed a small chuckle at the thought of the enemy’s reaction to seeing banners depicting those ugly freshwater merman coming at them over the battlefield. They would be distressed, that’s for sure.

Ultimately, the city was like a balm to Harry’s soul. He liked the Starks of course. But the lack of civilisation was starting to get to him. Here, however, was a centre for trade. A real hub of civilisation.

“This is more like it” Harry said to the open air getting a confused squawk in response, having surprised a nearby seagull with his invisible voice. Breaking from his observations, Harry bopped the seagull on the head, quietly chuckling at the second confused squawk, and made his way down to join the others, in a clearing far enough outside the city that they wouldn’t be seen by any passersby. He could see Sirius and Dobby were already preparing their usual merchant cart with practiced ease. Ready to push it through the city gates in their usual merchant guise.

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Harry wandered behind a strutting Sirius, who seemed to be enjoying having an unexpectedly large workforce following him around, lugging their goods. It turns out that their lack of horses made it practically impossible to safely roll their heavy trade cart down the steep streets from the gate to the Market, so they’d been forced to arrange an array of unoccupied workmen to carry their goods like sherpas. They’d had to cast a mild confundus on the group when it became apparent that the volume of goods they had to sell, vastly outsized the cart they arrived with.

The market square was a hive of activity. Everywhere Harry looked, there were signs of life and commerce. Mothers dragging their children along in a tight grip, bakers pulling out fresh bread from their glowing ovens, people haggling over small trinkets, and vendors hawking their various goods to both locals and merchants alike. The wharfs were also bustling with workmen and sailors moving goods about. Unloading crates of what looked like apples, barrels of wine, and endless sacks of grain from the ships.

It seemed that with the end of winter, trade was picking up, and Harry had no doubt that many of these goods were destined for the far flung Keeps and distant towns across the North.

Harry cast a temporary bubblehead charm on his nose as they made their way past the rather pungent fish stalls. Wicker baskets filled to the brim with today’s catch, and some that smelled like yesterday’s catch.

At least it seemed to be common practice for the merchants to pack snow in with the fish to keep them cool and fresh for longer.  It may be early summer, but ice was still abundant at this time of year. Harry just hoped they hadn’t merely gathered the required ice and snow from the small piles along the side of the streets. Eyeing some distinctly yellow looking snow atop one of the fish barrels Harry made a snap decision to have anything other than fish tonight.

It did make him wonder whether anyone had thought to export ice to the south in summer months. Simply packing large blocks in straw and sawdust would allow effective shipping to those hotter regions like Dorne, where it would sell like gold. Harry took out one of his ever-present notebooks and scribbled down a quick note to follow-up on that idea as a possible lucrative trading opportunity.

Finally, they reached the merchant stalls on the other side of the main market square.

“Hold there! Hold there please!” called a portly man with a bushy beard, holding his hand up as he toddled towards them. The man matched the description of the ‘Master of Markets’ they’d been sent to meet by the guards at the gate, so the trio waited for the overweight man to catch his breath for a moment before continuing.

“Hooopfh”, the man exhaled, like he’d run a marathon, leaning heavily against a stall as he caught his breath. “They’ll do me in with all this walking” he grumbled good naturedly. “Anyway, I gather you’re seeking a stall?” the man continued, looking around the trio to eye the forty or so men behind them, carrying overstuffed packs and crates. They’d drawn quite a few eyes with their entry, and were likely approached directly because of the commotion.

“Aye, my good man” Sirius chimed in, before Harry could respond. “We’ve got a lot to sell” he said, gesturing behind him unnecessarily. “Give us a good place to set-up shop and we’ll pay your fee”.

The man looked them over, clearly determining if they were the right short, and looking somewhat impressed at their relatively fine clothing, or maybe at their unusually large caravan of goods

“Hmm. Not much of a merchant if you’ll pay whatever fee I declare. Most would haggle or understate the value of their wares” he gave them another assessing look, then smiled, seeming a somewhat jolly fellow.

“You’re lucky we’re the good sort here in White Harbour. We’re getting busier every day, but there are still prime spots available over there” he gestured towards a group of larger, more premium looking merchant stalls. “Set yourselves up and I’ll send my boy over to take the daily fee. We’ll assess the tax for your sales at the end of the sennight, or when you leave, whichever is sooner”

The man nodded, clearly having nothing left to say, and despite being relatively jolly, he looked a bit miffed that he’d rushed over for such a short conversation. Harry guessed the man enjoyed a good bit of haggling. Probably didn’t have much else interesting to do.

Being in a larger market town, the trio had decided to try selling a wider variety of goods. They could see food was more readily available here, especially with the large fish market they had passed on the way to the square. They still expected their magically preserved foods to be in high demand thanks to their unexplained freshness, but a bit of variety would garner attention and buyers.

Alongside the usual foods, and steel tools, they brought out a small collection of alcohols to gauge the interest of wealthier merchants and town residents. They had champagne for those with more delicate tastes, having noted the distinct lack of any bubbly beverages so-far, and a selection of Scottish whiskys for those seeking a hardier fare.

To avoid suspicion, they’d taken the labels off the glass bottles and transfigured them to give the glass a lower quality, more opaque look. It was rare enough to have glass at all in the North, let-alone to hold beverages. Though they had noticed enough small and rough glass windows in the more affluent part of White Harbour that they figured the town must have at least a minor trade in glass. Enough that they hopefully wouldn’t see the bottles as too strange.

Depending on how well these items were received, Harry considered the possibility of one day teaching the people of Westeros how to produce such beverages. Or maybe it’d be better to build the methods of manufacturing himself, keeping the means of production close to the chest. He could certainly see such alcohols being lucrative if he built an industry around them.

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Leaving Sirius to run the stall, Harry set off to explore. He ambled along the docks of White Harbour taking in his surroundings and appreciating the look and feel of this wealthy yet somehow humble Northern city.

In-fact, as he walked, Harry started to gather inspiration for the sort of town he might consider building when he eventually settled somewhere new with the Thenns. He felt White Harbour had a satisfying balance between comfort and trappings of wealth, without being too ostentatious.

Though, from a town planning perspective, Harry could see much that could be improved with just a touch of modern design and know-how. The lack of appropriate plumbing, for instance, was obvious whenever he passed the dedicated drop-holes. He found himself re-casting the occasional targeted bubble-head charm on his nostrils to block the smell.

As he wandered, Harry’s thoughts turned back to the notebook he had been steadily filling with ideas throughout their travels. Covering products and process improvements he could bring to this medieval world, drawn from his modern knowledge.

He had already trotted out some of these ideas for Lord Stark and Maester Garrick. Knowing that his distant kin would put them to good use to benefit the people of the North.

However, he was well aware that most Lords would simply take any ideas Harry offered and use them purely for their own enrichment.

Which was why Harry had started seriously contemplating going into business for himself.

He had no intention of giving more power to the lords of these lands, but he could definitely bring these innovations to the table through his own merchant operation.

It would need a full blown trading company and land, but the sheer volume of trading in this one city was evidence enough that the economy could support another entrant to the market.

Harry had a few products in mind to start with not least being alcohol, which seemed to be severely lacking in variety here in Westeros.

Fresh food would also be a nice addition from the elf farms. But he had more innovative products in mind that would see any trade company blow-up in popularity. Eventually exporting high quality glass, for instance.

Harry didn’t really need the gold these projects would bring in for himself, but if he wanted to build a settlement for the Thenns, it would need several revenue sources to support its citizens. And having pre-established trade relationships would make the whole process of establishing his own settlement that much easier.

This was something he could start setting up now, and benefit from in spades down the track. Harry smiled. He was getting a bit of a bounce to his step as his plans seemed to grow. Moving from their current, three-man hobbyist trading outfit to a proper trading empire would be a step in the right direction.

Harry was also acutely aware that building a strong trade network would inevitably increase his political clout. Which might be necessary if he or his people landed on the wrong side of an argument with those in power in these lands.

“Objective:” Harry wrote on a new page in his notebook, “Acquire a writ of permission, or a company charter”, which hopefully they could get from Lord Manderly here in White Harbour.

The Feudal Lords of this world naturally held the power to grant rights to form a company, guild or any other formal organisation. They were known, however, to hold these rights quite close to the chest. Companies could be hard to form, partly thanks to fear that such organisations could disrupt or overthrow the rule of the local lord.

Of course, if Lord Manderly were unreasonable, then a well placed compulsion might be necessary. Harry wouldn’t throw compulsions at just anybody, but he’d have no issue with influencing a Lord on a decision Harry knew to be beneficial for the people as a whole. After all, if even just his basic plans worked out, his company would bring much benefit and growth to the region.

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Before he could get to the manufacture and trade of goods, however, Harry had to figure out the logistics for his new company. In-fact, shipping and logistics would be the starting point for his company.  It would be the foundation through which he could later distribute any number of products.

Harry had observed, with some frustration, how fragmented and localised the current trade system was. He could easily envision an array of improvements he could make immediately to introduce a superior supply chain and logistics engine. At the very least, he could leverage runic scripts to magically enhance his own ships to more easily move goods around the kingdoms of Westeros and the Free Cities of Essos.

It wouldn’t even be necessary to focus exclusively on his own products, Harry suspected there were Houses, especially amongst the minor lords, that had plenty of products to sell but no easy way to distribute them. If he could build a company with a trusted reputation for defending trade convoys, delivering to their destination, and pricing fairly, those lords would likely find it more than agreeable to distribute through him.

When it came to the Great Houses, he would have to be more careful. Playing in the game of feudal politics would frankly be a nuisance, but any such trade empire would grow far faster if he could build mutually beneficial arrangements with the larger Westerosi noble houses.

He’d be particularly well placed if he could somehow bring opportunity to some of the Lords Paramount and their Great Houses. He already had an open door for trade with the Starks, but he wondered whether he might be able to manipulate an opportunity with the Lannisters or the Arryns. If he wanted his trade to be largely uninterrupted, Harry would need to tie at least one of those great houses  to him economically .

Without such political allegiance he could imagine these lords would think nothing of introducing some law, tax or tariff to take advantage of his company. As a foreigner they may well just seek to strip him of ownership, or make one of their own vassal lords more competitive. Of course with his magics they’d not succeed, he smirked to himself, but it would be a nuisance nonetheless.

Among the many advantages he had over the competition, Harry obviously had the power multiplier that was magic, but he recognised that even simple things  put him ahead of the game. As he looked over a few of the stalls right by the water’s edge, selling wine barrels, and another selling fine furs, he certainly didn’t see anyone here with an understanding of things as simple as proper branding, or marketing.

Harry continued his stroll along the harbour, spying a Manderly money changer standing with two guards as he weighed a merchant’s gold. The merchant looked to be a bit put out at the exchange , no doubt thanks to impure or cut coins.

The inefficiency of the process drew his attention more than anything, it was dangerous and risky for the merchant to carry his coin to each town; and the multiple currencies didn’t help. But clearly no alternative existed. Leant back against a whitewashed wall, just people-watching for a while as more merchants came to change their coins. He jotted down a note to investigate the practicality of introducing a proper cross border bank.

That, of course, would be put on the backburner until he was settled in a new home, wherever that might be. He was sure it would be a game changer when he got around to it though. Merchants would kill for the safety of not having to travel with coin. Having their wealth accessible in any of the major ports through a bank would make cross border trade much safer and subsequently easier.

He knew the Iron Bank was the only major player in the banking space in this world. Though, the Iron Bank was, more of a lending cartel and loan shark. They had no branches outside Braavos, and they had none of the sophistication of the medieval banks of his own world.

The Iron Bank certainly had nothing on the Templar Order that once took medieval Europe by storm. The Templars were an international Order of warrior monks, that had secretly been run by an enterprising group of wizards behind the scenes. They had practically invented the concept of modern-day banking.

The Templar Order’s biggest success, and the most relevant to Westeros, was the introduction of paper promissory notes or letters of credit allowing pilgrims and merchants to withdraw funds from branches in any major city, by simply presenting the note in the branch.

Harry was pretty sure the Black family had a part in the Templar success, and probably had some old tomes still sitting in their library detailing both the muggle methods, and the hidden magics they employed to dominate the banking space for centuries, before the Goblins allied with King Philip IV of France to take them down. Harry was never happier to have such ancient history suddenly be relevant again, particularly when all the relevant books were sitting handily in his trunk.

Harry could also see a perfect use for some of the Goblin innovations he knew of, especially the Goblin Document boxes, which magically copied documentation from one branch to another. It could be invaluable in checking the veracity of promissory notes.

Harry had been fascinated to hear from Maester Garrick that there were previously two competitors to the Iron Bank in Essos. The Rogare Bank of Lys, and the Bank of Oldtown had folded just over a century ago when their backers mysteriously started dropping dead.

It was generally acknowledged that the Iron Bank had formed an agreement with the infamous Faceless Men around the same time these mysterious deaths had occurred. Though no-one was likely to make such a claim out loud where other people could hear.

The Faceless Men were supposedly a death worshiping cult of assassins that could change their face at will. To the people of Westeros, they were the stuff of nightmares. The legends that mothers use to scare their children into eating their beans. Personally, Harry would be happy to meet one of these so-called Faceless men though, if only to investigate whether they actually wielded magic.

“I’d like to see what happens if the Iron Bank decided to send these death worshipers after me, the master of death” Harry mused to himself with a slight chuckle and a crazed grin on his face, causing the locals to give him strange looks and a bit more space as they passed. Harry had long since gotten used to his Potter luck, so now that he thought about it, he was almost certain he’d end up meeting these faceless men one way or another.

Reaching the end of the harbour, Harry looked back down at his notebook and sighed. He now had two full pages of notes on creating a bank, Something he wasn’t planning on doing any time soon. He’d been getting a tad overexcited on that idea and went a bit too far down the rabbit hole. Even with magic, such a project would be out of his reach for years yet. Nonetheless, he’d prepare and study, he’d ask Dobby to help dig out any records on Templar banking from his library.

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Caught up in his thoughts, Harry absently flicked his wrist as two young boys charged past him, intent, it seemed, on falling off the docks.

The two children floated in some confusion back to their mother who was clearly pre-occupied with a cloth merchant.

All this was carefully covered by a quick notice-me-not charm to ensure no-one but the children saw anything out of the ordinary. What a handy little charm that was, Harry thought idly. Leaving the two children to babble about flying to their clearly sceptical mother. Harry was too pre-occupied to pay it much mind.

Instead Harry was taking a closer look at the ships in the harbour. They were, on reflection, terribly designed. He was sure he’d be able to get an immediate leg-up on the competition just by looking-up better ship designs in his fairly expansive library. His muggle books would be a Merlin-given gift in figuring out how to build a ship to dominate the trade routes. Any runic scripts he added would just a and added bonus layered on top of his already better tools of the trade.

Though, the thought of his so-far non-existent fleet of ships had Harry frowning for a moment. Obviously he‘d require access to a suitably large shipyard of some kind to build his ships. And he hadn’t seen much in the way of any major ship-building facilities on his flight here. He’d investigate whether Lord Manderly had facilities he could hire or buy-out, but suspected this might be a stumbling block in his otherwise … marginally thought-out plans.

That being said, there were a lot more to his advantages in his repertoire than simple ship design. As Harry walked the docks, he observed the ships moored here would be classified as being of the pre-compass era in his own world. These ships were all smaller, coast hugging, single sail Cogs or even larger oared ships.

He’d already discovered that even after 8 millennia of sailing, the captains of this world still used the rudimentary navigation method of ‘Dead-Reckoning’ to reach their destination when crossing the open seas. In other words, they had no way of accurately determining their location in the open sea without visible land as a reference point.

To account for this lack of positioning at sea, they’d travel the coast to specific identifiable landmarks, then turn out to sea heading in as straight a line as the winds would allow until they hit the coast of their destination in Essos. It was incredibly inefficient, and opened them to pirate ambushes thanks to their predictable routes.

Asking a passing ship’s mate, Harry learnt that a journey from White Harbour to Braavos usually took about 14 days in good weather. The journey required ships to first track down the coast to Gulltown before it was safe to turn out to sea and brave the crossing, knowing that the ship would hit land on the other side. There were no ports closer to Braavos that allowed the crew to re-stock for a dead reckoning. So ships were sailing several days south of Bravos, crossing the narrow seas, and then tracking another few days north again to reach the city.

Harry suspected a proper open ocean navigation system would cut that journey by at least a week. Especially with the faster ships he could build.

Harry knew that it was the introduction of both the compass and proper celestial navigation in his home world that kicked off the age of exploration. Tools like the sextant enabled accurate measurement of longitude and latitude based purely on the night sky. They were a far cry better than Dead Reckoning; not that wizard sailors of old had it much better.

The point-me spell didn’t work at such distances, and those wizards foolish enough to ask a merman tribe to guide the way, often found themselves smashed on the rocks. The cheeky buggers.

The famous story of the wizard Odysseus and his 10 year odyssey to get back to Greece after the fall of Troy was considered a cautionary tale in the wizarding world. The story written by the squib author Homer, was published with extended commentary for magicals, noting that if Odysseus had just sailed due west instead of stopping to ask every magical creature for directions, he would have arrived back home in just over a month.

Harry, having had quite a few run-ins with magical creatures in his time, recalled writing an essay on Odysseus for History of Magic, and concluding that the fellow must have taken quite a few knocks to the head to think asking a siren or a sphinx for directions would be a good idea.

“At least there aren’t any known magical creatures to contend with in the waters around Westeros”, Harry thought, though he shot a sceptical look at the worryingly accurate depiction of a Mediterranean merman engraved on the wall of a tavern as he passed.

The good thing was, Harry didn’t need to have a totally magical solution here. If he introduced his captains to the use of a compass and a sextant, his sailors would be able to plot precise straight-line courses across the open ocean, vastly increasing the efficiency of trade routes. He’d need to re-calculate longitude and latitude for this new world, which would be quite a chore, but hopefully he’d find a spell to help.

He’d also have to find Captains who could read and write to keep track of their position. Even with the work involved it would be well worth the effort. His company would have the only trade ships taking direct routes from port to port over open seas. Frankly Harry felt like he had the cheat codes to trade as he jotted down these notes into his rapidly filling notebook.

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Finding his feet had led him back to the marketplace, Harry spotted Sirius finishing up with a mother and her gaggle of children. Handing over a small bag of what looked like potatoes to the slightly harried looking parent and her oddly familiar looking pair of boys. One of whom, was now pointing at Harry in the distance and tugging at his poor harried mother’s sleeve as she dragged him away. Attempting, rather unsuccessfully, to gain his mother’s attention.

Harry had the strangest feeling he had seen the pair of boys earlier today, but he couldn’t, for the life of him, recall where or when. He was just able to make out the odd word or two from the boy as he passed. Though what the kid meant by “… probably a grumpkin in disguise”, he may never know.

“Kids these days” he thought to himself amusedly “such wild imaginations.”  Harry quickly put the thought out of his mind.

Getting a bit closer to the stall, Harry was surprised to note that it was now completely empty of goods and Sirius was already packing up. It seemed sales were far more successful than they’d expected, he mused. He was pretty sure they’d overloaded those poor workmen with goods to last them at least a week.

Harry helped Dobby & Sirius pack up, hoping to find more time to put his thoughts to paper in the tent. He had much to be getting on with, and time stops for no man.  “Unless you’ve got a time turner” he corrected himself mentally, knowing one lay carefully hidden in his sock draw. If he desperately needed more time to study, he could always use it to add hours in the day. He smirked to himself at having yet another cheat code at his beck and call.

Harry would have to run his new plans by Sirius and Dobby, but he was pretty confident they’d be onboard, even if they may not be quite as enthusiastic as himself.

He did wonder if he should also consider the sale of magical items, especially medical potions. He knew the elves would be producing potions ingredients in great quantities up in their Farm Trunk with the Thenns. Much of that produce would be simply stored under stasis charms for now.

Harry would have to run this one by Sirius, as he was unsure whether they should expose even a small amount of magic to the Westerosi people with the nuisance of the Faith of the Seven hanging over their heads. No one wanted to trigger a witch hunt, only the innocent got hurt in such hunts.

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Chapter 22 Teaser:

Finally getting a moment alone in his Solar, Lord Manderly leaned back in his chair and contemplated the potential implications of these newcomers. If they had indeed managed to garner the favour of Lord Stark, they could prove to be valuable allies or business partners. Though he didn’t need to be reminded to proceed with caution. The world of trade and merchant politics was often just as rife with hidden agendas and unexpected surprises as any highborn politics.