An SI enters into Tywin Lannister's body just before the fall of Tarbeck Hall. Who knows what he'll do? I certainly don't.
The Golden Lion - An ASOIAF SI (Young Tywin Lannister)
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Chapter 1
Death was a relief, if I'm being honest. My life in general was about as good as I could have expected it to be. Sure, it wasn't perfect - but who's life is? I had a loving family, never had to worry about anything, really, and didn't suffer from any debilitating illnesses or disabilities. I was a bit on the portly side, somewhere on the scale from normal to fat, though closer to the latter, I wasn't the tallest or the most handsome, but I had a spectacular brain which would have allowed me to do most everything if I wasn't so damn disinterested in all that my life had to offer. I did a bunch of stuff - paid for by my parents, who had remarkably loose pockets - and still remembered it all, but got bored as soon as it got a bit hard. I learnt how to play like, five instruments - none of them well - because I couldn't focus on just one. I could've been a great piano player, or that's what the instructors told me, but after I'd learnt what there was to learn and it just turned into practice, it quickly got dull and I abandoned it for the flute and then the guitar and then the drums and so on and so forth for just about everything in my life which wasn't mandatory. Only one thing was able to keep my attention - literature. I devoured whole books in a matter of hours - it got to the point where my family swore that I read diagonally - and spent many more thinking of the stories and the characters.
While I read just about all I could get my hands on, nothing got my attention just like Westeros and the rest of the world George RR Martin created. There was just something to it - the mixture of political intrigue and fantasy - that pleased me immensely. I read just about everything there was on offer and seethed for over a decade as he didn't release Winds.
Wait, what was I talking about?
Oh yeah, my life.
Anyway, I skated through school, always getting grades that were just barely good enough to fulfil my ambitions. I was never the best student, and I remember there was a month where I spent more time in detention than in actual classes, but I never really had to worry. I eventually chose to study engineering in college simply because that's what my dad did and he's a successful guy. I thought it was just going to be more of the same - barely paying attention in class, not doing my homework and so on. Thankfully, that was not the case. I found that it was truly my passion, the one productive thing which I could actually focus on and would not lose interest in. With my whole efforts directed to it, I excelled in the field and was quickly picked up by a major engineering firm. Major projects came and went until, about a year in, the moment that would change my life took place.
The company I worked for was super into charity and trying to maintain a good public appearance and so they sent us into the middle of bumfuck nowhere to build a few wells. After a lot of grumbling and whining and protesting I eventually went along. We had just finished an exhausting day of digging and were going back to the closest thing resembling a hotel when I was bit by a dog. I didn't think much of it at the time, but it was my damned pride that killed me. About a month after we'd returned I started showing symptoms. I was rushed to the hospital but it was for nothing. Within four days I was exhibiting severe hydrophobia and within a week I was dead. I would not wish this fate on my worst enemy, if I had one.
Death was a welcome relief from the suffering. My life, which could have amounted to so much, was snuffed out decades too early - before I could form a family, before I could achieve the full potential of my career - because I was too proud to tell anyone I'd been bitten. I fell asleep for what I thought was to be the last time as I greedily welcomed the deathly cold but nonetheless sweet arms of the Reaper, but woke up a few moments later.
'Have I been saved? Do I still live?' I thought, before dismissing the notion. 'This must be hell. Perhaps purgatory, if I'm lucky.' I concluded.
I cleared and groggily opened my eyes, finding that the roof - once pristinely white - was a deep crimson red. It was also… flowing in the wind? Roofs don't do that.
'Let me just, uhhh, check the time.' I thought as I looked down at my arms. 'Wait a second, my watch isn't here!' I discovered. 'My hair is blond, too! Why is my hair blonde?' I continued. 'Also, I must've lost quite a few pounds'.
The thoughts still jumbled up in my head, twisted and coiled like the Gordian knot, I looked at the rest of my body. 'Huh, the bedsheets are also red. I don't remember there being bedsheets.' I thought.
"I, I need a mirror. I need to look at myself." I said to no-one in particular.
Apparently wherever I had just woken up was very well furnished because I found one with a frame of pure gold in intricate shapes - mostly lions - just a few paces from the bed. I got up and walked towards it, seeing myself in all my glory - a thick mane of blonde hair and piercing green eyes speckled with gold were the least of what this body had to offer me.
'Damn, I'm in good shape!' was the only thing I had time to think of before the memories started entering my brain. All the memories. The adventures with Aerys and Steffon, the fighting in the Stepstones, the roaring laughter of the Toothless Lion - first a blessing and then a curse. Joanna in a gorgeous red dress on her sixteenth name day was one of the strongest memories I now had, and one of the most pleasant. The most recent memory which I had was seeing the heads of Walderan Tarbeck, his sons and all his kin on spikes the night before. I didn't seem to mind - apparently, I inherited Tywin's feelings as well as his memories, and the only thing that Tywin felt was a deep, visceral hatred for the Tarbecks and Reynes.
I was Ser Tywin Lannister, heir to Casterly Rock and the Westerlands, and outside my tent stood Tarbeck Hall.
After I finished getting dressed, Kevan entered the tent unannounced.
"The whore has refused to surrender." he said
"What did she say exactly, Kevan?" I asked
"Something along the lines of 'You are not the only lions in the west. My brothers are coming, and their claws are just as long and sharp as yours.'" he answered
"Kevan, tell the men that I am indisposed. You're in charge of taking Tarbeck Hall." I replied bluntly and he raised an eyebrow at it.
"Are you sure, Tywin?" he asked, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of leading instead of following.
"Yes. I'm sure you'll do splendidly. Do try your best to not damage it too extensively - I'll give it to you when I sit on the gold throne." I answered. He took a few seconds to process the shock.
"And Castamere?" he asked and I winced inwardly. Shit, this may have been considered a slight.
"The Reynes will be ripped out, root and stem. The fate of their hold will be the warning that shall keep the lords of the Westerlands, and far beyond, in line for generations to come." I replied and he nodded grimly.
Kevan bowed and left the tent. I sat down at my desk with a grunt. It was an intricate thing, carved out of ironwood and carried in campaigns since the days of the Kings of the Rock. As far as Tywin's memories went, a lot of the things which we had were hundreds, if not thousands, of years old. House Lannister was easily one of the oldest in Westeros and this storied history, together with our pile of gold that would make Scrooge McDuck swoon and burn with envy at the same time, was what granted us our legitimacy. Nobody sneered at House Lannister. Or at least they didn't, at least prior to Tytos. I still couldn't believe how thoroughly he had fucked it up. The only good thing he did in his life was being too much of a craven to bed Ellyn Reyne. Who knows where we'd be if he let his lust overpower his cowardice - both traits which he had in spades. My own intense dislike of him and his ilk melded together with the impressive amount of hatred held in Tywin's body to create a beast so powerful that I worried I would be unable to control it when I finally met him. Tywin was feared and to some extent reviled in Martin's world, but even he never went as far as to commit kinslaying. Emmon Frey never suffered an 'accident', anyway. I'd have to deal with him later.
Talking about dealing with things later, I needed to make a list before I forgot everything. The one good thing about being a Lannister is that money was not an issue. As in, I'm pretty sure it'd be impossible to spend enough to leave a significant dent in our coffers. The Witwatersrand had nothing on Casterly Rock. Eight thousand years of mining and there were still new veins discovered regularly and others left completely untouched as of yet, while it took all of one hundred years to allow the South Africans to reach their height and fall significantly thereafter. Even so, Tytos had had a good run at it. I was floored by the amount of money he'd lent to the whore of Castamere and her kin. Bobby B had nothing on the amount of indebtedness these two houses were in. They could sell their daughters to the Pillow Houses of Lys and their sons to the Good Masters of Astapor and still be a few million dragons short of paying it all back. Even so, it hadn't amounted to one-tenth of the Gold we had in reserve that we were sure of. Only the Father had any idea how much was stored in Casterly Rock in truth. From my newfound memories, only about a fifth of the Castle was occupied. That wasn't too surprising, actually. Two leagues long, two miles wide and three times as tall as the Wall, the descriptions were so absolutely ridiculously huge that I was sure an entire city could comfortably fit within it. Harren the Black's folly had nothing on the Rock. Most of Martin's descriptions required a healthy dose of suspension of disbelief, but this was something else. The Wall had been built with the aid of Giants, Magic and the God-like powers of the almighty Bran the Builder - Casterly Rock was just a bigass mountain filled with gold that had been constantly mined and carved over eight millenia, every new King and Lord building on what his predecessor had accomplished - though eventually the Mountain itself ran out of space, as ridiculous as that sounds. Tywin's memories spoke of at least a dozen floors underground.
Shit. What was I going to do? Meh, if I forgot it, it probably doesn't really matter anyway. What's the first thing that all the SIs do in the fictions, anyway? I'm sure it's got something to do with something. Is development the word? Let's say it's development. Right. So, uhh, I guess I need to introduce a few things? Thank God I'm an engineer. Crap. Is it Thank the Seven? Thank the Father? Tywin's memories aren't any help. Apparently he was a devout atheist. Pity, I always found the Seven pretty interesting. Crows creep me out, and I've never been much of a tree person. "Gotta stop entering into these tangents" is something which I've been saying for the better part of two decades. Hasn't worked so far, I doubt it'll work now. Quill and paper, quill and paper, where is it? Where is the neat-freak Tywin where I need him? Right, on the table. That makes sense. Let's hope the, like, three times I've used them at a medieval fair were enough to make me learn.
Things to inven…
Great, a smudge. Couldn't have asked for a better start. I picked up a new piece of paper and started anew.
Things to introduce:
I think that's it? Everything else that people like to do - gunpowder, printing press, steam power and so on - are way too big to allow for the maintenance of a feudal system. I'm a Lord, not a merchant or a peasant. Being a Lord is great! No democracy, no large-scale literacy, no guns. Just better farming so I can get bigger armies, and more mines to produce the minerals to produce the weapons for those armies.
Right. List is done with. What next? A memory tugged at the back of my mind… A chest? Under the bed?
Curious, I decided to figure out what it was. After blindly waving my arm in that little space I eventually found a small chest in stout ironwood with a strong lock. I picked it up and put it on the table, finding that Tywin carried the key to it on his body at all times - currently it was in an especially made pocket inside my cloak. I gingerly picked it up and put the key inside the lock before turning it. It made a satisfying click as it unlocked and I opened the top of the chest. I found letters. Dozens, hundreds, maybe thousands of them. They all had the date and author written neatly on the top, folded one on top of the other. All of them had the same author.
Joanna Lannister.
I must've spent hours sifting through them. I didn't read all of them, but I did come mighty close. They lasted over a decade, ever since her first visit all the way back in 251 from Feastfires to just a fortnight ago. They documented the full story of their relationship - from friendship, to attraction, to love. The language was flowery, rich with metaphor and innuendo that took me quite a bit of effort to grasp in its entirety. Joanna could've been a poet, that's for certain. If the nature of their relationship was ever in doubt in my mind, this put it to rest. I'd had quite a few girlfriends myself, even one for which I was toying purchasing a ring, but none of them reached anything even remotely this level of romance. The schedule was apparently twice a moon, and now was the time. I sighed and picked up a dozen pieces of parchment. I had a love letter to write. Great.
While I read just about all I could get my hands on, nothing got my attention just like Westeros and the rest of the world George RR Martin created. There was just something to it - the mixture of political intrigue and fantasy - that pleased me immensely. I read just about everything there was on offer and seethed for over a decade as he didn't release Winds.
Wait, what was I talking about?
Oh yeah, my life.
Anyway, I skated through school, always getting grades that were just barely good enough to fulfil my ambitions. I was never the best student, and I remember there was a month where I spent more time in detention than in actual classes, but I never really had to worry. I eventually chose to study engineering in college simply because that's what my dad did and he's a successful guy. I thought it was just going to be more of the same - barely paying attention in class, not doing my homework and so on. Thankfully, that was not the case. I found that it was truly my passion, the one productive thing which I could actually focus on and would not lose interest in. With my whole efforts directed to it, I excelled in the field and was quickly picked up by a major engineering firm. Major projects came and went until, about a year in, the moment that would change my life took place.
The company I worked for was super into charity and trying to maintain a good public appearance and so they sent us into the middle of bumfuck nowhere to build a few wells. After a lot of grumbling and whining and protesting I eventually went along. We had just finished an exhausting day of digging and were going back to the closest thing resembling a hotel when I was bit by a dog. I didn't think much of it at the time, but it was my damned pride that killed me. About a month after we'd returned I started showing symptoms. I was rushed to the hospital but it was for nothing. Within four days I was exhibiting severe hydrophobia and within a week I was dead. I would not wish this fate on my worst enemy, if I had one.
Death was a welcome relief from the suffering. My life, which could have amounted to so much, was snuffed out decades too early - before I could form a family, before I could achieve the full potential of my career - because I was too proud to tell anyone I'd been bitten. I fell asleep for what I thought was to be the last time as I greedily welcomed the deathly cold but nonetheless sweet arms of the Reaper, but woke up a few moments later.
'Have I been saved? Do I still live?' I thought, before dismissing the notion. 'This must be hell. Perhaps purgatory, if I'm lucky.' I concluded.
I cleared and groggily opened my eyes, finding that the roof - once pristinely white - was a deep crimson red. It was also… flowing in the wind? Roofs don't do that.
'Let me just, uhhh, check the time.' I thought as I looked down at my arms. 'Wait a second, my watch isn't here!' I discovered. 'My hair is blond, too! Why is my hair blonde?' I continued. 'Also, I must've lost quite a few pounds'.
The thoughts still jumbled up in my head, twisted and coiled like the Gordian knot, I looked at the rest of my body. 'Huh, the bedsheets are also red. I don't remember there being bedsheets.' I thought.
"I, I need a mirror. I need to look at myself." I said to no-one in particular.
Apparently wherever I had just woken up was very well furnished because I found one with a frame of pure gold in intricate shapes - mostly lions - just a few paces from the bed. I got up and walked towards it, seeing myself in all my glory - a thick mane of blonde hair and piercing green eyes speckled with gold were the least of what this body had to offer me.
'Damn, I'm in good shape!' was the only thing I had time to think of before the memories started entering my brain. All the memories. The adventures with Aerys and Steffon, the fighting in the Stepstones, the roaring laughter of the Toothless Lion - first a blessing and then a curse. Joanna in a gorgeous red dress on her sixteenth name day was one of the strongest memories I now had, and one of the most pleasant. The most recent memory which I had was seeing the heads of Walderan Tarbeck, his sons and all his kin on spikes the night before. I didn't seem to mind - apparently, I inherited Tywin's feelings as well as his memories, and the only thing that Tywin felt was a deep, visceral hatred for the Tarbecks and Reynes.
I was Ser Tywin Lannister, heir to Casterly Rock and the Westerlands, and outside my tent stood Tarbeck Hall.
After I finished getting dressed, Kevan entered the tent unannounced.
"The whore has refused to surrender." he said
"What did she say exactly, Kevan?" I asked
"Something along the lines of 'You are not the only lions in the west. My brothers are coming, and their claws are just as long and sharp as yours.'" he answered
"Kevan, tell the men that I am indisposed. You're in charge of taking Tarbeck Hall." I replied bluntly and he raised an eyebrow at it.
"Are you sure, Tywin?" he asked, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of leading instead of following.
"Yes. I'm sure you'll do splendidly. Do try your best to not damage it too extensively - I'll give it to you when I sit on the gold throne." I answered. He took a few seconds to process the shock.
"And Castamere?" he asked and I winced inwardly. Shit, this may have been considered a slight.
"The Reynes will be ripped out, root and stem. The fate of their hold will be the warning that shall keep the lords of the Westerlands, and far beyond, in line for generations to come." I replied and he nodded grimly.
Kevan bowed and left the tent. I sat down at my desk with a grunt. It was an intricate thing, carved out of ironwood and carried in campaigns since the days of the Kings of the Rock. As far as Tywin's memories went, a lot of the things which we had were hundreds, if not thousands, of years old. House Lannister was easily one of the oldest in Westeros and this storied history, together with our pile of gold that would make Scrooge McDuck swoon and burn with envy at the same time, was what granted us our legitimacy. Nobody sneered at House Lannister. Or at least they didn't, at least prior to Tytos. I still couldn't believe how thoroughly he had fucked it up. The only good thing he did in his life was being too much of a craven to bed Ellyn Reyne. Who knows where we'd be if he let his lust overpower his cowardice - both traits which he had in spades. My own intense dislike of him and his ilk melded together with the impressive amount of hatred held in Tywin's body to create a beast so powerful that I worried I would be unable to control it when I finally met him. Tywin was feared and to some extent reviled in Martin's world, but even he never went as far as to commit kinslaying. Emmon Frey never suffered an 'accident', anyway. I'd have to deal with him later.
Talking about dealing with things later, I needed to make a list before I forgot everything. The one good thing about being a Lannister is that money was not an issue. As in, I'm pretty sure it'd be impossible to spend enough to leave a significant dent in our coffers. The Witwatersrand had nothing on Casterly Rock. Eight thousand years of mining and there were still new veins discovered regularly and others left completely untouched as of yet, while it took all of one hundred years to allow the South Africans to reach their height and fall significantly thereafter. Even so, Tytos had had a good run at it. I was floored by the amount of money he'd lent to the whore of Castamere and her kin. Bobby B had nothing on the amount of indebtedness these two houses were in. They could sell their daughters to the Pillow Houses of Lys and their sons to the Good Masters of Astapor and still be a few million dragons short of paying it all back. Even so, it hadn't amounted to one-tenth of the Gold we had in reserve that we were sure of. Only the Father had any idea how much was stored in Casterly Rock in truth. From my newfound memories, only about a fifth of the Castle was occupied. That wasn't too surprising, actually. Two leagues long, two miles wide and three times as tall as the Wall, the descriptions were so absolutely ridiculously huge that I was sure an entire city could comfortably fit within it. Harren the Black's folly had nothing on the Rock. Most of Martin's descriptions required a healthy dose of suspension of disbelief, but this was something else. The Wall had been built with the aid of Giants, Magic and the God-like powers of the almighty Bran the Builder - Casterly Rock was just a bigass mountain filled with gold that had been constantly mined and carved over eight millenia, every new King and Lord building on what his predecessor had accomplished - though eventually the Mountain itself ran out of space, as ridiculous as that sounds. Tywin's memories spoke of at least a dozen floors underground.
Shit. What was I going to do? Meh, if I forgot it, it probably doesn't really matter anyway. What's the first thing that all the SIs do in the fictions, anyway? I'm sure it's got something to do with something. Is development the word? Let's say it's development. Right. So, uhh, I guess I need to introduce a few things? Thank God I'm an engineer. Crap. Is it Thank the Seven? Thank the Father? Tywin's memories aren't any help. Apparently he was a devout atheist. Pity, I always found the Seven pretty interesting. Crows creep me out, and I've never been much of a tree person. "Gotta stop entering into these tangents" is something which I've been saying for the better part of two decades. Hasn't worked so far, I doubt it'll work now. Quill and paper, quill and paper, where is it? Where is the neat-freak Tywin where I need him? Right, on the table. That makes sense. Let's hope the, like, three times I've used them at a medieval fair were enough to make me learn.
Things to inven…
Great, a smudge. Couldn't have asked for a better start. I picked up a new piece of paper and started anew.
Things to introduce:
- Seed Drill: Simple enough, cuts seed loss by orders of magnitude and significantly increases yields. Super useful, though expensive. Good thing I'm a Lannister. Jethro Tull for the rescue, boys.
- Crop Rotation - Norfolk four-course is something everyone learns in school. Wheat, Barley, Clover and Turnips. Simple, easy, doesn't require fallow and allows for year-round breeding. Perfect. I don't think we've got enough bird shit to allow monoculture just yet.
- Whiskey - Wine is for pansies and gives money to the Reach. Fuck the Reach. Barley is cheap and plentiful. I sort of remember spending a month in Scotland a few years ago - the memories are very limited to when I wasn't drunk, but one of those times was a tour of a distillery. My engineer brain lit up at the time and I remember enough to understand how it's made.
- Mining, Mining, Mining - Gold is all well and good, but it's sort of useless. These mountains probably have literally everything else in them, but as far as I know they don't really have large volumes. Makes sense, I guess. If I had the choice to mine iron or literal money, well, I know which one I'd choose. Still need to mine, use and process other things.
- Golden Bank of Lannisport - Like, Cersei's one good idea throughout all five books. Insane, right? Very simple. Put a big chunk of the gold that's just sitting around doing nothing into the bank, lend it to merchants and industrialists and things in the Westerlands, use it to fund roads and so on, and watch the economy fly.
I think that's it? Everything else that people like to do - gunpowder, printing press, steam power and so on - are way too big to allow for the maintenance of a feudal system. I'm a Lord, not a merchant or a peasant. Being a Lord is great! No democracy, no large-scale literacy, no guns. Just better farming so I can get bigger armies, and more mines to produce the minerals to produce the weapons for those armies.
Right. List is done with. What next? A memory tugged at the back of my mind… A chest? Under the bed?
Curious, I decided to figure out what it was. After blindly waving my arm in that little space I eventually found a small chest in stout ironwood with a strong lock. I picked it up and put it on the table, finding that Tywin carried the key to it on his body at all times - currently it was in an especially made pocket inside my cloak. I gingerly picked it up and put the key inside the lock before turning it. It made a satisfying click as it unlocked and I opened the top of the chest. I found letters. Dozens, hundreds, maybe thousands of them. They all had the date and author written neatly on the top, folded one on top of the other. All of them had the same author.
Joanna Lannister.
I must've spent hours sifting through them. I didn't read all of them, but I did come mighty close. They lasted over a decade, ever since her first visit all the way back in 251 from Feastfires to just a fortnight ago. They documented the full story of their relationship - from friendship, to attraction, to love. The language was flowery, rich with metaphor and innuendo that took me quite a bit of effort to grasp in its entirety. Joanna could've been a poet, that's for certain. If the nature of their relationship was ever in doubt in my mind, this put it to rest. I'd had quite a few girlfriends myself, even one for which I was toying purchasing a ring, but none of them reached anything even remotely this level of romance. The schedule was apparently twice a moon, and now was the time. I sighed and picked up a dozen pieces of parchment. I had a love letter to write. Great.
Nice start but something you should probably remove is crop rotation because it's not just use four crops and rotate them it's more complicated than that plus I refuse to believe Westeros as a whole is not superor to us when it comes to how fertile and hardy their crops are when it comes to their year-long winters those crops must have great traits breeded into them.
Hey always welcome to a new SI story especially moderated uplift ones. (The limited introduction of new tech) Let me make a few suggestions
A good compliment to the seed drill would be a Gallic reaper for the harvest side of farming. An important thing to consider is the effects of implementing these devices. They both reduce labor, what happens to the people who use to work those jobs. Also the use of fertilizer such as feces, bones, and such materials.
That brings up another important thing sanitation and disease. The medieval times were extremely unsanitary for a multitude of reasons. How often and where do people bathe and how is waist disposed of. Is there a sewage system and how well does it keep sewage out of drinking water.
You mentioned roads, I strongly recommend you make use of Roman style roads. They're high quality and long lasting with their only draw back being very expensive.
It was mentioned that your not gonna introduce gun powder (potentially interesting choice). I would love to see someone introduce Instant Legolas's or automatic crossbows into Asoiaf.
How are and will the small folk be treated. Are they serfs slaves in all but name. Do they have freedom of movement and how well is their private property respected.
All these ideas are good but there's one important thing to remember. The rest of the world isn't stupid other lords will react to the si actions and inventions.
Can't wait to see how your story develops, good luck.
A good compliment to the seed drill would be a Gallic reaper for the harvest side of farming. An important thing to consider is the effects of implementing these devices. They both reduce labor, what happens to the people who use to work those jobs. Also the use of fertilizer such as feces, bones, and such materials.
That brings up another important thing sanitation and disease. The medieval times were extremely unsanitary for a multitude of reasons. How often and where do people bathe and how is waist disposed of. Is there a sewage system and how well does it keep sewage out of drinking water.
You mentioned roads, I strongly recommend you make use of Roman style roads. They're high quality and long lasting with their only draw back being very expensive.
It was mentioned that your not gonna introduce gun powder (potentially interesting choice). I would love to see someone introduce Instant Legolas's or automatic crossbows into Asoiaf.
How are and will the small folk be treated. Are they serfs slaves in all but name. Do they have freedom of movement and how well is their private property respected.
All these ideas are good but there's one important thing to remember. The rest of the world isn't stupid other lords will react to the si actions and inventions.
Can't wait to see how your story develops, good luck.
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Now i'm not saying its a bad idea to do those things, but don't you guys think its a bit played out? You can only read so much of the same ol kind of uplift before it gets boring. When i read about these things i start to skim. Mind you he should still do it but probably better gloss over it offhandedly. For a Tywin SI i actually think it would be more interesting to see how he does as a lord and how he handles the nobility
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Exactly, those things never add anything to the story. The only way it could be interesting is the reactions and the consequences but certainly not the process.
Interaction between characters, schemes, politics and war should be the focus in my opinion.
And I didn't even read the list of innovations he wants to do, I just skipped the paragraphs cause it's the boring part.
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Looks good so far
If I was the SI I wouldn't stop at Whiskey so many different drinks are available to recreate Vodka would likely be loved in The North
He also needs to focus on Diversifying his House's Income he can't rely on Gold Mines that have been in use for Thousands of years to continue to put out Gold forever
Get to Mining other resources ASAP
Improve Farming with new practices and equipment
Education at the very least you want as many people able to read as possible
Glass if he can find a way to produce good quality glass in the Westerlands that isn't too expensive he can push Myr out of the Market I could see The North purchasing a bunch so they can build Glass Green Houses for Food production in the Winter
If I was the SI I wouldn't stop at Whiskey so many different drinks are available to recreate Vodka would likely be loved in The North
He also needs to focus on Diversifying his House's Income he can't rely on Gold Mines that have been in use for Thousands of years to continue to put out Gold forever
Get to Mining other resources ASAP
Improve Farming with new practices and equipment
Education at the very least you want as many people able to read as possible
Glass if he can find a way to produce good quality glass in the Westerlands that isn't too expensive he can push Myr out of the Market I could see The North purchasing a bunch so they can build Glass Green Houses for Food production in the Winter
On the bright side, SI Tywin would be a better parent to Jamie, Cersei and Tyrion than his canon counterpart.
Meanwhile this story is interesting and I look forward for more.
Meanwhile this story is interesting and I look forward for more.
Why not add double entry bookkeeping and reform the bureaucracy while at it ? So you won't be bothered with mundane problems from the smallfolks and only deals with nobles and other important dignitaries.
MoonyNightShade
Quickest Gun on the Other Side
- Location
- KTHA - 331 (Hybrid)
Looks nice. Do you have an update schedule or do you just do your own thing? Wanna know when to check back.
Yeah, House Lannister are not Tyrells after all.