With the investiture ceremony behind him, Gaemon wasted no time throwing himself into work.
Baelon's Hero's Domain might lack proper castles or towns, but it still had scattered villages and smallfolk already living on the land. All his brother needed to do was gather those tenants together, and he would have the labor force required to begin raising his own keep or manors.
Gaemon's situation was far harder. Because his territory lay deep inside the Kingswood, almost no one had dared settle there for generations.
The soil was rich, but the Crown's harsh laws kept most souls away. Poaching the royal game or clearing royal timber carried brutal penalties. Only the truly desperate ever risked it. A handful of squatters and outlaws still hid among the trees, but hunting them down cost far more than they were worth.
Forests like these were defined by their dense vegetation. Towering hardwoods rose above thick underbrush and twisting vines, creating layered canopies. The ground was blanketed in thick layers of fallen leaves and rich humus that made the earth soft and uneven.
The Wendwater Forest, like the rest of the Kingswood, was classic hilly woodland—higher elevation, broken ground, steep rises and sudden drops.
Gaemon had ruled out building at the river's mouth for exactly this reason. The coastline near the estuary was dominated by sheer cliffs, salt flats, swamps, and wetlands. There simply wasn't enough flat, usable ground for large-scale development.
After weighing every factor, he had chosen a stretch of the Wendwater roughly two dozen miles upstream—close enough to the sea for trade, yet far enough inland for stable, workable land.
The first step of any plan was knowing exactly how much gold sat in his coffers.
After tallying the accounts with Jon, Gaemon found he had accumulated just over a thousand gold dragons. It had come from two years of carefully skinning thousands of sheep fed to Bahamut, turning the hides into fine parchment, and copying the Seven-Pointed Star to sell to the Faith.
It was a respectable sum—especially since the wages for the Order of the Golden Fleece had continued to be paid by the Red Keep. Still, for the monumental task of building an entire castle and town from nothing, a thousand dragons was barely a drop in the bucket.
According to Westerosi rates:
One gold dragon = 30 silver moons = 210 silver stags = 11,760 copper pennies.
A fine suit of armor—superior mail, gorget, and full plate—cost eight hundred silver stags, roughly four gold dragons.
A thousand gold dragons was undeniably a princely sum. Yet when it came to raising stone walls and feeding hundreds of workers, it was still painfully short.
To stretch every coin, Gaemon sent men into King's Landing with a proclamation. He wanted to attract the poorest smallfolk willing to carve new lives out of the wilderness.
The terms were generous: any man who cleared land in his domain would receive half of that newly broken ground as his own freehold. The first three years would be completely tax-free. After that, the tax rate would be fixed by formal contract signed in advance, preventing any future seizure or crushing increases.
Even better, Gaemon would provide loans of grain and tools upfront to help them get started.
The offer was more than fair. In an age when nobles held near-absolute power over land, smallfolk lived in terror of being stripped of their fields once the hard work was done—turned from freeholders into debt-ridden tenants. Gaemon's contracts promised to prevent exactly that.
Word spread quickly. Within days, dozens of men expressed interest in heading to the Wendwater to begin clearing forest.
While Jon worked the streets of King's Landing recruiting settlers, Gaemon stayed busy with other preparations.
Clearing land required more than strong backs. Most of the men drawn by the offer were simple farmers or laborers used to manual work. They could till soil and swing axes, but building a proper castle, crafting quality tools, and laying foundations demanded skilled hands—stonemasons, carpenters, blacksmiths, and architects.
These craftsmen usually lived comfortably thanks to their trades. A mere offer of free land would never lure them into the wilds.
The best solution was simple: hire them outright.
And the easiest way to find skilled professionals was through the guilds.
Every major craft in Westeros had its own guild—Stonemasons' Guild, Carpenters' Guild, Smiths' Guild. You simply told the guild what you needed, paid the proper rates, and they would supply the men.
Though Gaemon's funds were limited, he held one powerful advantage: he was a prince of the realm. The Crown's reputation alone could cut through countless headaches and reduce costs.
The greatest resource on his new lands was timber—ancient, straight, and plentiful. Wood could be sold to shipyards or merchants, but Gaemon refused to simply strip the forest for quick coin. Raw resource extraction was wasteful.
True wealth came from industry.
The first enterprise he intended to establish was shipbuilding. Trade would be the lifeblood of his future city, and controlling his own shipyard would generate steady revenue while creating skilled jobs.
With that decision made, Gaemon's first visit was to the Shipwrights' Guild in King's Landing. He wanted to discuss building a proper shipyard on his territory and secure the guild's help in hiring a team of experienced master shipbuilders.
Ordinary shipwrights he could train himself from among the local smallfolk.
Whether it was due to his royal blood or simple luck, the guild moved quickly. Less than two days after his visit, word arrived: they had found a suitable master shipwright. If the prince had time, the guild would bring the man to him for a personal meeting.
Gaemon's eyes lit up with excitement. This was excellent news.
He immediately sent a messenger back to the guild, instructing them to bring the master shipwright to him as soon as possible. He wanted to speak with the man himself and judge whether he truly had the skill and vision the Wendwater project required.