The midday sun beat down mercilessly as the ocean wind howled.
Standing on a rise near the mouth of the Wendwater, Gaemon surveyed the surrounding landscape.
As the tide receded, massive mudflats emerged at the estuary, leaving behind a wealth of marine life stranded on the shore. Fish and shellfish had been swept onto the sands by the retreating waters, and crabs could be seen scuttling across the exposed flats.
Above the beach, a massive flock of seagulls and scavenger birds circled in the sky, eager to feast on the stranded bounty.
While Gaemon was still observing the waters, the rapid, rhythmic thud of approaching hooves echoed from behind him.
He turned to see the members of his newly formed Order of the Golden Fleece riding toward him. They had set out together at first light, but because Gaemon wanted an aerial view of the terrain, he had flown ahead on Bahamut to reach the coast first.
"My Prince, we've arrived," Jon called out as they pulled up.
"Good. What are your thoughts on the route here?" Gaemon asked.
"It's a prime location, my Prince. Incredibly fertile land," Jon replied.
"Indeed. And where do you think would be the best site to lay a foundation for a castle?"
"My Prince, I advise against building directly on the estuary. We should construct the city further inland. It would significantly speed up construction and offer far better defensibility."
Gaemon didn't answer immediately, falling into a thoughtful silence.
Jon elaborated, "While being this close to the sea offers maritime access, it also exposes us to naval threats. Furthermore, the terrain here is dominated by mudflats and swamps. Building a foundation here would require an astronomical amount of manpower and resources just to stabilize the ground.
"Moving further inland would drastically reduce both the financial and labor costs of construction.
"Additionally, the soil composition near the coast isn't suitable for large-scale farming, meaning the settlement would be entirely reliant on external food supplies.
"It makes far more sense to find a plot that is easier to develop. By clearing the surrounding inland forest for manors and farms, we can simultaneously harvest timber and stone directly for the city walls and buildings. It would be an incredibly efficient way to cut down our overhead."
Gaemon nodded slowly. Jon's assessment aligned perfectly with his own thoughts.
Satisfied with his captain's strategic insight, Gaemon finally spoke. "Well reasoned. Your observations are sharp. It seems we'll need to do a bit more scouting before we finalize the castle's location."
"My Prince, I actually noted a few potential sites on our ride here. I can show them to you shortly."
"Good. Let the horses rest for a moment, then we'll ride out and inspect them. This decision dictates our entire future; we cannot afford to be careless."
"Understood, my Prince."
Concluding their discussion, the group took a brief respite to rehydrate and eat their travel rations, preparing for the scouting run ahead.
After a short rest, Gaemon led the detachment out. This time, he left Bahamut behind and mounted a horse, riding alongside his men.
Moving at a brisk trot, the group quickly arrived at the first location Jon had marked.
It wasn't terribly far from the estuary—roughly twenty miles inland. The site was situated at a distinct bend in the Wendwater. Here, the river made a sharp, natural detour, shifting its western trajectory sharply toward the south.
Gaemon carefully surveyed the immediate environment but kept his thoughts to himself. He simply signaled the group to continue pushing forward along the riverbank.
They spent the rest of the day riding and pausing, methodically inspecting the terrain. By the time the sun began to dip below the horizon, they had roughly surveyed all of Jon's primary targets.
Realizing how late it was getting, and wanting to avoid camping in the raw wilderness overnight, the group spurred their horses into a hard gallop back toward the royal encampment.
Over the next few days, Gaemon and his team rode up and down the river, conducting multiple, exhaustive surveys of the region to lock down the exact topography. Gaemon even took to the skies on Bahamut, meticulously drafting a comprehensive aerial map of the entire Wendwater basin for reference.
The environmental conditions of the Wendwater basin were undeniably superb. The river stretched for over two hundred miles. Originating deep within the Kingswood near Fawnton, it cut through the heart of the forest, winding past the various wooded regions before finally emptying into Blackwater Bay.
After days of grueling observation, Gaemon finally locked in his choice: the location roughly twenty miles from the estuary.
It was close enough to the sea for trade, but the banks here were elevated. Even during extreme tidal swells, the floodwaters would never threaten the future city structures or farmlands. Furthermore, by constructing a massive stone bridge over this specific choke point, they could seamlessly connect the east and west banks without obstructing the heavy river traffic below.
Much like the Twins of House Frey, this settlement could easily become an economic powerhouse generating massive revenue purely through crossing tolls.
But Gaemon harbored a far more terrifyingly ambitious vision: he wanted to carve through the landmass separating the Wendwater from the Mander, linking the two great rivers to create an unbroken, transcontinental waterway.
If he could achieve this impossible feat, the channel would become the Grand Canal of Westeros. The staggering agricultural wealth of the Reach could be shipped directly to King's Landing at unprecedented speeds. Conversely, if conflict erupted in the Reach, the Crown could deploy fleets and troops from the capital with devastating swiftness.
It was a grand design, but empires were built one stone at a time.
With the site officially chosen and his preliminary scouting complete, Gaemon spent the remainder of the trip lounging in the royal camp, enjoying the endless supply of roasted game. It was a comfortable, leisurely few days.
The hunting competition formally concluded when King Jaehaerys drove his spear into a bound stag, claiming the final ceremonial kill.
After a grueling, week-long campaign in the woods, the participating nobility were thoroughly exhausted. With the event officially over, the camp dissolved into a flurry of activity as everyone packed their belongings for the journey home.
The royal procession was, naturally, the first to break camp. The Crownlands nobles whose domains lay near the capital fell in line behind the King's wheelhouses, beginning the slow march back to King's Landing.
The lords hailing from further regions gathered their respective retinues and split off, beginning the long treks back to their own keeps.
Like a brilliant firework, the grand spectacle had run its course, leaving behind nothing but trampled earth and fading smoke.
Screech!
Roar!
Two distinct dragon roars—one sharp and piercing, the other a deep, rumbling boom—shattered the quiet of the woods.
Under the terrifying aerial escort of the great beasts, the royal column, flying the red three-headed dragon on black, slowly rumbled north.
"It's finally over. If I have to eat roasted venison one more time, I'm going to be sick," Gaemon muttered.
Because the Kingswood had been largely untouched by large-scale hunting expeditions for some time, the forest was absolutely teeming with game. The knights barely had to step into the brush to find a target.
The daily haul of fresh kills was so massive that the royal cooks were completely overwhelmed. To prevent spoilage, their only option was to mass-roast mountains of meat every single day.
At first, Gaemon had thoroughly enjoyed the fresh, rugged fare. But eating greasy, charred meat for every single meal quickly lost its charm. The adult nobles washed the grease down with copious amounts of wine and ale, but because of his young age, Gaemon didn't touch a drop of alcohol, leaving him to suffer the heavy, monotonous diet in misery.