20.7

Eve reclined leisurely, her laughter rippling through the air, “Just a playful jest, Your Majesty. But jest aside, the cost won’t be trifling, I assure you," she responded, her tone blending seriousness with amusement. "Even a solitary rune-etched plow is worth a small dwelling. Yet, its yield is priceless. Rune farming is the future's harvest. Abundant crops, impervious to brutal weather, sprouting faster than nature allows. It is an investment that will repay its value in no time."

King Brandon studied her contemplatively, polishing off the remnants of his feast. “And the duration required to educate my people? Winter is approaching, and they dread change more than the cold!”

Eve rose gracefully, her hand elegantly sweeping away the dishes, leaving no trace of the recent banquet. "That is your part to play, Your Majesty. Inculcating the masses is a game of time and, above all, patience. I can supply the expertise and the resources, but the initiative and encouragement must come from you. Rune magic is no ordinary craft to master. However, given time, the rewards are bountiful."

Her gaze followed King Brandon as he pondered her proposition. He strolled towards the window, peering at the magical farmland, the tangible evidence of her artistry. Artificial sunlight easily broke the night’s reign in her land. The prospect was alluring. If the North could reproduce what Eve had achieved, they could sustain themselves even through the harshest winters. The possibility of ensuring perpetual nourishment for his subjects was powerful indeed. Finally, his face etched with resolve, King Brandon swiveled back towards Eve. “I consent to your proposal, Lady Eve. We’ll commence at the earliest. For the North!”

Eve offered a slight bow, her eyes twinkling with a touch of humor. "Indeed, for the North, Your Majesty." With a casual wave of her hand, she made the meal remnants disappear, then teleported them back to the Stark stronghold.

Comfortably seated, Eve savored a puff from the pipe that materialized in her left hand, allowing the smoke to curl into the forms of mythical creatures. Eve manipulated the arm-length pipe with her telekinetic abilities, leaning back nonchalantly, arms folded. “Admittedly, the price for rune farms is steep. But compared to the potential desolation and starvation? It’s an investment of necessity, Brandon. The coin spared from the whims of avaricious pricing will more than cover the expenditure.”

King Brandon’s brow furrowed in deep thought, his gaze settled on Eve. “I heard rumors that you sometimes offer the initial services from the Silver Bank at a substantial discount, is that correct?”

Eve nodded her confirmation. “Indeed. I am aware that the North has faced exceptional hardships this year. I am prepared to assist with the initial five hundred rune farms at a mere tenth of the standard price. However, subsequent services will be at the customary rate. To operate at a loss would undermine my influence. The Silver Bank shareholders and Directors would nix the project before it could take root.”

King Brandon's expression softened. A glimmer of hope ignited in his wearied eyes, kindling thoughts of the potentialities ahead. He was being handed an opportunity to shatter the shackles wielded by those who exploited his people. The price was steep, demanding both blood and steel. Comfortably settled in his own chair within the cozy study, King Brandon said, "With rune farms, we can undercut prices, augment our food production, providing not just for our people but an excess for our forces. This would inevitably incite conflict, not against the undead, but against human avarice."

"Indeed, Your Majesty," Eve replied, standing and drifting towards the study’s window, a trail of smoke curling in her wake. The view beyond was bewitching - a seamless blend of natural allure and mystical elegance. Moonlit snow blanketed the expanding town under Stark governance. "Conflict may be inevitable, true. But, imagine the possibilities. With every farm operating at peak efficiency, your kingdom can flourish, your subjects can thrive, and your armies can be formidable. Even in the severest winters, you won't have to fret about food scarcity. Your Art of Steel will prosper. Should you conquer and forge an Empire, your chances of success would skyrocket."

A pause hung in the air, before King Brandon broke the silence, his eyes ablaze with newfound resolve. His gaze had transformed, from that of a king to that of an emperor. Hesitation and doubt were absent from his visage. "Very well, the North accepts your offer, Lady Eve."

Eve pivoted, her eyes shimmering with an enigmatic silver flash. "An excellent choice, Your Majesty. It's high time we strengthen the North, not merely with weaponry and soldiers but with knowledge, innovation, and self-reliance. As you rightly perceive, the forthcoming battles aren't simply physical; they're a struggle for survival, development, and prosperity."

"Aye," King Brandon responded, standing and extending his hand. Eve met his solid grip with her own, their pact cemented in the age-old tradition of a handshake. "For the North." "For the North," Eve echoed, her voice imbued with an unspoken vow of a brighter future, a North that could withstand the harshest winters and the darkest forces. If it aligned with her plans, all the better.

Eve casually floated seven dragon eggs towards the king, observing him flinch as she dropped them into his hands.

“Rest easy. They aren't that fragile. At least, probably not.” Eve said, grinning. “I'm clueless about hatching them, so that challenge is entirely yours, Silver King of the North.”

“If you dare propagate that title, I'll set a bounty on your head that would rival Clever Lann's,” King Brandon retorted with a groan.

Eve shrugged nonchalantly, replying, “The moment you start manipulating steel, the title will naturally befit you, I'm certain.”

“How long do we have until the golems falter?” King Brandon questioned, gently placing the eggs on a nearby table.

“Possibly a decade at most, or a few years at least. It largely depends on the Fae's decision,” Eve responded. “Even if the golems crumble, the Wall alone should offer a decade of defense. So, we've got about two decades at the very least, or a century at most. I can’t guarantee an exact timeframe because I don’t control all the variables.” She conjured up an image of one of the Children of the Forest. “These entities are your best bet for magic users on par with the Night King's own. Nature is a potent weapon when awakened.”

“Negotiating with them is going to be a real headache though,” King Brandon muttered, eyeing the image with a sigh. “I'll delegate that problem to the Green Men. They'll be ecstatic about it.”

Eve nodded, “Delegating your problems can indeed be a wonderful form of therapy. Farewell!”

With a flick of space magic, Eve returned to her people. As she transitioned, she felt the vigilant watch of the Fae scrutinizing her movements. The Four Courts were always on the alert for any imbalance in power. It had taken time, but she now knew R’hllor was associated with Summer, the Drowned God with Fall, the Night King with Winter, and Eve herself was linked to Spring.

Once I have the influx of mana from the dragons, I will be forced out of this world, Eve mused. The Courts wouldn't allow anyone to amass enough power to pose a direct threat, regardless of any Bargains. They prioritize safety above all else, even whims. They wouldn't eliminate her, as it would disrupt their power vested in Favors and Bargains. Instead, they would banish her, barring reentry to this realm. Part of her agreement also obliterated the coordinates from her mind and blocked attempts to retain them. That's why Eve hadn't attempted to plant a Kudzu seedling or sell the location to System Wilson. Draconic mana was her next best option.

Capitalizing on what I can in this scenario is the wisest choice, Eve reasoned pragmatically. The Faceless will manage fine without me, given their lifespan and adaptability. The silver seeds will return to me in due course. Then I will know of Blood, Faith, and Steel.

Her choices may have seemed arbitrary, but they were anything but. With her familiar, Nota, and her Crystal Core, absorbing knowledge was easy. But applying it effortlessly was another story. That's where the silver seeds played a crucial role. They did more than merely absorb information; they could even regenerate Talents, such as King Brandon's mastery over Steel, Justin's Perks of Blood, or Bennie's comprehension of Faith.

With the wealth of an entire lifetime's wisdom at her fingertips, she could trade, combine, or perfect techniques. Modifying her Rituals would be effortless. Each seed promised explosive growth, eventually. The theory of Devouring without using a conduit like a silver seed was fascinating in tales, but in practice, it carried severe consequences.

Eve had no intentions of introducing impurities, which she viewed as foolish.

Space contorted and shifted as Eve completed her transit. First, Third, and even Hood was glaring at her reproachfully. “We've secured a deal with the soon-to-be Emperor Stark,” Eve declared, brushing off her people's dissatisfaction.

“This was reckless,” First stated calmly. Eve nodded, “It was, but it was also the best possible path forward with minimal risk. Westeros will succumb to Winter without intervention. Only a fanciful bard would think otherwise. The undead lack the weaknesses of the living. They do not tire, they do not falter, they are relentless like encroaching ice. Whether Westeros falls in a single season or a century to the Night King is irrelevant. Time is against those of flesh when combating such foes.”

“The cost will be exorbitant,” Third remarked as Eve handed her rough estimates on rune farms. “True, but we'll recoup our investment. The funds do no good gathering dust in the Vault while the world succumbs to frost,” Eve retorted.

Hood remained silent and just sighed. Eve quirked an eyebrow, receiving a shrug in return. The master of spies had always been somewhat unique. However, his silence spoke volumes: his people could have handled such matters. “I had to go it alone. King Brandon wouldn't have relinquished his pride had he not been dealing with the true face of the Silver Bank.” Hood eventually nodded in agreement.

Eve’s eyes gentled as they swept across her dedicated Faceless trio. These three stalwarts stood as the bedrock of her multifarious operations. Each had sprung from a foundation of obscurity, sprouting from the seeds of insignificance into towering figures of influence. Their loyalty to her was as much a tribute to their individual resilience as it was a testament to her nurturing prowess.

“I don’t expect you to understand entirely,” Eve confessed, a soft undertone tempering her usual brisk command. “However, my faith is steadfast that we tread the correct path. I have been witness to the ruthless passage of time, the great leveler that grinds proud kingdoms into oblivion, causes mighty empires to fade into footnotes of history, and forces unyielding realms to yield to its inexorable onslaught. Over a thousand years of patience. In this swirling chaos, the only constant is change, and it falls upon us to harness this turbulence and be the initiators of this change. Sometimes, survival demands that we gamble, trust our instincts, venture into the unknown. This is the essence of evolution.”

Her words echoed in the chamber, each syllable weighty with experience and the wisdom of ages. This was not Eve the commander, the impassive figure of authority. This was Eve the sage, drawing from her seemingly infinite well of knowledge to impart lessons of history and strategy.

“This is the raison d'être of the Silver Bank, it is why I formed it, why I protected it against all threats.” she elaborated, her voice a soothing balm on their shared anxieties. “My mandate extends far beyond economic dominion. I am entrusted by my backers with the task of intervening at crucial junctions, of nudging the trajectory of history towards an equilibrium. The treasury of wealth and power is not meant to lie dormant; it is a potent arsenal to effect change. I shoulder the burdens of difficult decisions, endure the fallout of our actions, and if necessary, bear the brunt of blame. You all are more than bankers, soldiers, or spymasters. You are the unsung custodians of order, the invisible builders of destiny.”

First, Third, and Hood stood riveted, a multitude of emotions flitting across their faces – anxiety mingling with respect, awe interspersed with a fresh comprehension. Their spines straightened, their eyes locked with Eve's, mirroring the resolve mirrored in her gaze. Their roles and responsibilities within the Silver Bank had just been cast in a new, more profound light.

“I propose we begin the preparatory work posthaste,” First declared, his voice resounding with an iron determination.

“Establish a council of consultation for King Brandon,” Eve ordered, her tone crisp, “It should comprise of individuals versed in agriculture, logistics, engineering, and magical theory. Remember, we are not just offering support, but steering them towards self-sufficiency. The scope of this project is immense, but I trust in your adeptness.”

“I’ll consolidate our intelligence assets. It's imperative we maintain stringent surveillance on the Night King and his forces. Even the smallest deviation in their patterns could have far-reaching consequences,” Hood whispered, his normally silent demeanor giving way to a solemnity that underscored the gravity of their task.

“While we're investing heavily in this venture, I’ll ensure our financial health remains robust,” Third added, determination hardening her features. “Some reprioritizing and shrewd management will see us through.”

A smile, warm and genuine, played upon Eve’s lips as she nodded in approval. She hadn’t raised a bowl of leeches after all!