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"My lord as your humble servant and shipwright amongst the others that labor and guide under yo rule and at the Redport."
Redport was the location his shipyard was being built , it was a mile upriver from the estuary where the Weeping river bled out into the sea at the Coastal town of Acanon.
Acanon was where majority of bolton trade fleet was held. A town of over 15 000 people and growing was the largest coastal settlement and most prosperous under Domeric's Rule.
The name Acanon came from the estuary itself that the town/small city that continued to develop there. The estuary resembled a canon that carved inward towards the interior of the land which resembled a "canon".
Hence the town was dubbed Acanon by lord bolton when he got the idea from one of his builders.
Acanon was largely a tone of stone and wooden buildings with large warehouses which stored a many of northern products which would be exported and the other few storing imports from foreign regions and lands, more docks and ports were always being built and new housing for the increase in population also went up, water wells aqueducts and sewage systems were a common thing with this new city. At only four years old it had looked more developed than a many keeps that were built on the land decades before.
Domeric took a swallow of water and glanced at the bravosi shipwright.
Torren Hale. A Master shipwright of Redport and amongst the first to be hired from Bravos years ago. Greying at the temples, his tunic marked with a few stains here and there but he was dressed in the style of his homeland.
"We come, and I speak not only on my behalf but on the behalf of many of these men here," Torren continued.
"We ask leave to form a chartered guild of builders, carpenters, blacksmiths, weavers, lumberjacks, masons, shipwrights, and associated trades…within your lands."
The word hung in the air.
A Guild it wasn't the first time hearing the idea being brought up. But many of those times were by men within his court or by his aides.
Serano Vadross, shifted beside Domeric. Caro looked rather intrigued and stare ever more attentive.
A lesser lord seated further down the bench frowned openly.
Domeric did not react at first nor did he say anything but he wished to play the less wiser right here and now, showing a look of curiosity.
"Why?" he asked.
Torren met his gaze though cautiously .
"Because your works have outgrown camp rules and foremen's words.Because we build ships, slipways, and a many things that carry your banner and roads that bear the weight of carts and men and women alike. Because disputes are growing, apprentices are wandering between towns, masters, and coin changes hands without limit or border."
'This wasn't new information.' Domeric thought but he peered at the man nonetheless as if in thought.
A women stepped forward now before he could speak, her eyes were brown her features as smooth as marble yet she looked stern and more over she resembled torren hale.
His daughter perhaps, a woman as a shipwright, this world always had a way of surprising him.
"And you are?" He questions.
"PerrinHale my lord ",she answers in her accent.
A man's name for a woman. It was clear Torren wanted a son. He chuckled mentally.
"Go on then lady Perrin," he gave her the benefit of a doubt.
"A guild would set standards," she said.
"Wages. Training. Responsibility. If a beam fails, a hull splits, or a road cracks, we answer for it. Not the smallfolk. Not you. This would also drive innovation, something you yourself have preached so much about".
There was chatter amongst the hall and its inhabitants.
'This young woman was cunning, using his words against him in such a convenient time.'
He leaned back slightly before answering her.
"And what do you want in return for this… responsibility?"
Instead of the daughter continuing, Torren spoke up and he did not hesitate.
"Legal recognition. The right to regulate our trades within your domain. To certify masters. To punish fraud. And to speak with one voice when negotiating contracts."
There it was.
The human tendency to want more Power.
A murmur ran through the benches. Lord Stout himself muttered something unflattering about merchants and collars.Caro glanced sideways at his lord his face now unreadable.
"You understand," he said calmly, "that guilds weaken lordly control."
Torren nodded. "Y-Yes, my lord." He almost stammered before catching himself.
"You understand that some lords see guilds as seeds of rebellion."
Another nod. "Yes."
"And yet you ask anyway."Domeric countered.
Torren's jaw set like. "Because you are not some lords."
'Hah! The balls on you Torren' he mentally guffawed.
He smiled tersely. A small thing that looked almost predatory but he held no hostility.
Domeric studied them carefully now, not just Torren, but all of them. Looking at them now he saw people who had already organized informally, setting aside their cultural differences and had already taken responsibility without protection. Refusing them would not end the idea. It would only drive the idea of making guilds a thing in the future underground.
He rose slowly.
"If I grant this charter," Domeric said, pacing slowly, "you will not be fully independent."
Several of them stiffened.
"You will answer to my courts. Your records will be open to my auditors. You will provide labor quotas in times of war or emergency. And you will pay a charter tax—modest, but regular."
Torren's brows furrowed. "And in return?"
"In return," Domeric said, turning to face them, No lord may seize your labor without contract. No toll may be levied on your materials beyond what is written and agreed."
Coleman looked almost slack jawed.
Caro seemed excited at the idea. The bolton lands were taking after bravos day by day.
"That would be… unprecedented in the North," Rache Adder said carefully he was a member of the administration and advisor under Caro's jurisdiction.
"So were paved roads," Domeric replied.
He returned to his seat.
"There is one more condition," he added.
Torren waited.
"You will train smallfolk children with talent, regardless of birth. Apprenticeship to those who show promise and those my seal permits."
That being said he would throw a certain population of men within his lands on these guilds to train to increase the amount of tradesmen he had at his disposal for expanded works in the future.
Torren's brow scuffled for a second but he nodded in agreement nonetheless and the man knelt.
His party small party with him did the same.
"We accept," he said, voice thick. "By hammer, by saw, by stone."
Domeric inclined his head. "Then rise. And prepare your charter. The Dreadfort recognizes the Guild of the Redport."
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