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After finalizing the deals for both salt and labor, the merchants departed from the Red Keep one by one, each wearing a satisfied smile. The morning light gleamed on their polished boots as they descended the marble steps, clutching their contracts like treasure.
For them, the agreement was a profitable venture. For Prince Gaimon Targaryen, it was something far greater—a foundation for an empire.
Trade Across the Sea
Relying on his unique product, Snow Salt, Gaimon had struck a series of exceptionally favorable deals. The foreign merchants would profit handsomely, but so would he—and far more than they realized.
Some might have questioned his strategy. Why, they would wonder, did Gaimon choose to negotiate first with Eastern merchants instead of those native to Westeros? The answer was simple: profit.
Trade within Westeros was steady but limited. Domestic prices were modest, constrained by taxation and the slow-moving economy of the Seven Kingdoms. But across the Narrow Sea—among the bustling ports of Essos, in the marketplaces of Braavos, Pentos, and Lys—luxury goods fetched staggering prices. A pound of refined Westerosi salt could sell for ten times its price after a single voyage east.
Gaimon understood this perfectly. His supply of Snow Salt was still limited; therefore, every shipment had to yield the maximum return possible. The best route to profit was the one that led overseas.
This realization reshaped his entire understanding of development. He had once envisioned his new lands as a modest, trade-based territory, relying mainly on agricultural production and coastal trade routes. But now, he saw that if he wanted his dominion to prosper rapidly, he would need diversity—a balanced economy of multiple industries supporting each other like pillars of a great hall.
Agriculture alone could feed the people.
Trade could fill the treasury.
But industry—production—would make the land thrive.
In short, economic strength was the foundation of all power.
Once prosperity took root, population growth would naturally follow. Workers, artisans, traders—all would come willingly, drawn to wealth like moths to a flame. A rich land never lacked for people.
With this revelation clear in his mind, Gaimon spent several days carefully revising the development blueprint for his territory. By the time he returned from King's Landing, his next steps were already meticulously planned.
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The Birth of Snow Salt Town
Upon returning to his coastal lands near the Wendwater River, Gaimon immediately summoned the second wave of immigrants—roughly two thousand strong—and gathered them before him.
"From this day forward," he declared, "we will begin construction of the salt pans. Here, along this shore, we will build the first town of my realm—Snow Salt Town."
The name, he explained, was both simple and symbolic. It would tell everyone—merchant, traveler, and noble alike—what the land was known for. The purity of Snow Salt would become its identity.
The town would have two main industries: salt production and fishing. During the warm, dry months—March through June—the saltworks would operate at full capacity, taking advantage of the sun and sea breeze. When the rainy season arrived, workers would shift to the fishing industry, catching and curing fish for trade. Every part of the calendar would bring income.
In time, Gaimon envisioned his lands dotted with towns just like this—each centered around a particular craft or resource. From those towns, cities would naturally rise.
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Constructing the Salt Fields
The chosen site for the saltworks lay just north of the Wendwater's mouth, where the coastline curved gently inward. It was an ideal location—close to the sea yet protected from storms by natural dunes.
Under Gaimon's supervision, work began immediately.
The first task was land leveling. The marshy coast had to be cleared of weeds, brush, and stones. Gaimon summoned his dragon, Bahamut, and gave a single command. With a thunderous roar, Bahamut unleashed a sweeping breath of dragonfire, turning acres of tangled undergrowth into smoldering ash in seconds.
The workers—many of them newly arrived immigrants—fell to their knees, awestruck by the dragon's might. Even hardened knights of the Golden Company, led by Ser Jon, paused in silent reverence.
"Collect the ash," Jon ordered. "Clear every stone. The prince's salt fields begin here!"
The men got to work immediately. The burnt vegetation left behind fertile, mineral-rich ash that could be reused to strengthen the ground. Every inch of soil was scraped, leveled, and compacted. It was slow, grueling work, but under Gaimon's firm direction, progress was steady.
The prince divided the area into distinct sections, each one acre in size. These would serve as the foundational "units" for his salt fields.
The land nearest the sea became the water storage zone, where seawater would first collect. From there, Gaimon divided the remaining area into three main stages of evaporation:
1. Primary Evaporation Zone – Shallow pits about half a meter deep, used to concentrate raw seawater under the sun.
2. Crystallization Zone – Slightly deeper basins lined with wooden boards to speed the crystallization process.
3. Collection Zone – The final area, equipped with wooden troughs and stone-lined storage houses, where finished salt could be gathered without contamination.
From above, the design formed a wide triangle narrowing inland, creating a natural flow for water movement. Gaimon personally oversaw the construction of ditches and channels leading from the sea to the reservoirs, installing pipes that would carry seawater inland at high tide. When the tide receded, valves would seal the flow, leaving the water to evaporate naturally under the strong coastal sun.
"Let the sea itself serve as our laborer," Gaimon told his engineers with a smile. "It asks for no wages, only patience."
Each day, the waves surged into the reservoirs, filling the basins. As the sun blazed overhead, the water shimmered and slowly turned into salt crystals—a gift of wind, fire, and time.
The process seemed simple in words but proved extraordinarily difficult in execution. The first batch of salt pans—covering fifty acres—took five full months to complete. Workers labored from dawn till dusk, shaping the coast into a geometric network of gleaming white terraces.
When the final plank was set and the last channel sealed, Gaimon gazed upon the finished fields with deep satisfaction.
This, he thought, was only the beginning.
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A Child of Winter
During this same period, the Targaryen family celebrated a new birth—the arrival of Princess Gaery Targaryen, affectionately called the Winter Child.
Born in the 79th year After Conquest to Queen Alysanne, Gaery was frail and small, her skin pale as snow. Her mother was forty-four, and her pregnancy had been difficult. Rumors spread that the child might not survive her first winter.
But Gaimon, ever the scholar of magic and blood, saw something others did not. Before her birth, he had prepared a pure white dragon egg, which he placed gently beside the newborn princess. To his eyes, the faint pulse of heat within the egg mirrored the child's own fragile heartbeat.
When the worried Queen sought him out, pleading for help, Gaimon examined the infant carefully and then shook his head with a faint smile.
"Your Grace, fear not," he said softly. "Her body may appear weak, but her soul burns bright. The flame within her is not lesser than any dragon's. No blood magic is needed."
Reassured by his words, Queen Alysanne kept a careful watch over her daughter, though her heart finally found peace. Gaimon's prophecy lingered in her mind—that even winter could harbor a hidden flame.
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Harvest of White Gold
By the time 80 AC arrived, the long winter that had gripped Westeros for years finally ended. Warm winds swept across the Wendwater Coast, and the air carried the scent of the sea and sun-warmed pine.
It was time to harvest.
Gaimon stood atop a wooden platform overlooking the salt fields. Before him stretched a glittering expanse—rows upon rows of shallow basins, each shimmering with the reflection of sunlight. Workers bustled about with baskets and rakes, scraping white crystals into mounds that sparkled like gemstones.
Jon approached with a ledger in hand, his expression bright. "Your Highness," he reported, "our first harvest is complete."
He read from his notes proudly:
"Each acre of salt pan yields roughly fifteen pounds of raw sea salt. Across fifty acres, that gives us seven hundred fifty pounds in total. After refining and processing into Snow Salt, accounting for loss, we retain about five hundred pounds."
He looked up, smiling. "At the market price of sixteen hundred copper pennies per pound, this equals eight hundred thousand copper pennies—around sixty-eight gold dragons."
Gaimon's eyes gleamed with approval. Jon continued eagerly, "Since we can repeat this process four times a month during the warm season, that's about two hundred seventy-two gold dragons per month, or over three thousand two hundred a year. With favorable weather, total revenue could exceed five to six thousand gold dragons annually. After taxes and wages, the net profit should be about two thousand gold dragons."
Gaimon nodded slowly, absorbing the numbers. It was only the first harvest, and already his saltworks were producing income comparable to small noble estates.
"Excellent," he said at last. "Increase production. Expand the salt fields immediately. I want three hundred acres operational before the year's end."
Jon bowed. "Yes, Your Highness. We'll begin preparations at once."
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The Vision Expands
As the workers cheered and the salt harvest continued, Gaimon turned his gaze toward the horizon. Beyond the dunes lay endless possibilities—more towns, more industries, perhaps even a port city that could rival Oldtown one day.
Every grain of salt glinting beneath the sun represented not only wealth but sovereignty. Through commerce, he was forging a realm independent of the Iron Throne's mercy—a kingdom built on ingenuity rather than conquest…
The wind swept over the salt pans, carrying the scent of brine and promise.
For the first time, Gaimon truly felt it—the steady
heartbeat of his new world beginning to quicken.
And as the sunlight danced upon the fields of white, he smiled to himself and whispered,
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