Blood And Iron (ASOIAF/GoT)

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Pov of a Lower class worker

Every morning, before the sun has fully risen, I make my way to the outskirts of Wilhelmshaven, where I work extracting salt from the sea. The walk from my home isn't long, and at that hour, the city is wrapped in a quiet atmosphere: a few merchants are beginning to set up their stalls, and the first glimmers of light reflect off the harbor waters. In the distance, the church bells toll, marking the start of another day in the Prussian-governed region.

I live in a modest but comfortable neighborhood. I don't own my home—every house here belongs to the Prussian state—but in return, I have a well-kept place to live, without fear of ever being evicted. The roof is solid, there are no drafts in the winter, and my wife and I have enough space to lead a peaceful life. Food is never scarce, either: every day, we get fresh bread and some meat or salted fish at low prices. Thanks to the Prussian king's subsidies, even the less fortunate can put food on their tables.

Some time ago, I invested all my savings in bonds issued by the king to finance the war in the Iron Islands. I did it hoping they would help the cause and, in the long run, bring me some profit. Many doubted whether such investments would be worthwhile, but I trusted in Prussian discipline and their long-term vision.

When I arrive at the worksite, I greet my colleagues. The place is vast, with large ponds where seawater is stored for evaporation. Some workers stir the salt with heavy shovels, while others keep the fires burning beneath massive vats of brine. My job is to pack and transport the sacks of salt once they're ready, carefully checking that no moisture remains before sealing them.

"How's everything at home?" a friend asks while tossing a sack beside me.

"Quite well. They say the war bonds will start paying out soon," I reply with a hopeful grin.

He nods. "Well, let's hope so. It's about time we saw the fruits of our efforts. Supporting the kingdom has to count for something, right?"

We continue working, chatting about the activity in the port and the latest news of victories on the front. There are rumors that the war isn't over yet, but we like to think that our shared effort here also plays a role. And as I shovel salt, I can't help but imagine what it will be like when we finally collect those earnings. Maybe I'd fix up the house once and for all, buy my wife some finer fabrics—or perhaps even a gold ring. Ever since the Prussians arrived, wearing rings as a symbol of commitment has become common, and I've noticed her admiring them more than once.

At midday, I take a short break to eat. We share a simple stew, accompanied by bread and some cheese. I enjoy the sea breeze, even though the salty air clings to my clothes and sometimes stings my skin. When I finish, I return to work, focusing on my tasks: checking the quality of the salt, moving sacks from one place to another… small actions that, nevertheless, keep the city running. Many industries rely on our production for food preservation and chemical manufacturing. If I've learned anything, it's that every link in the chain is important.

As the sun begins to set, the foreman conducts a final inspection and dismisses us. I'm grateful for my wages—they're enough to live with dignity and, at the very least, dream of a better future. On my way home, I walk through streets illuminated by lanterns, listening to vendors making their last sales of the day and neighbors chatting about the latest news from the port.

My wife greets me with a smile. I tell her what I've heard—whether any coworkers have already received part of their bonds, if there are new ships at the dock, or how the salt shipments to other regions are going. She prepares a steaming broth, and we sit down to eat in peace. Later, I take a moment by the window, watching as the night slowly envelops Wilhelmshaven. The city, so lively at times, gradually fades into a quiet slumber. I feel the ache in my arms and back, but also the satisfaction of having completed another day's work.

When I wake up, something in the air tells me this is no ordinary day. The moment I step outside, I find an unusual commotion—crowds of people moving toward the city's bank. I ask a neighbor what's happening, and with a wide grin, he tells me the war bonds are finally being paid out.

The news instantly erases the exhaustion of the previous day. I quicken my pace and join the mass gathering in front of the building, where lines snake through several streets. As I wait, people share excited rumors: they say a vast sum has been raised from selling armor, weapons, ships, and all kinds of spoils taken from the defeated in the Iron Islands. Now, the state is distributing those profits among its investors.

For a moment, I close my eyes and allow myself to imagine what I could do with that money. Yes, I'll buy that ring for my wife. And maybe, for the first time in a long while, I won't have to worry about tomorrow. Under Prussian rule, life has changed—and though not everyone agrees with the occupation, there's no denying that conditions have improved. Today is a day of hope, a day when sacrifices begin to bear fruit.

When my turn comes, a bank clerk reviews my records and hands me the money. Not only do I receive my initial investment back, but they also add a generous forty percent on top. The amount far exceeds anything I had imagined. I'm left speechless, holding the coins in my trembling hands. A neighbor, standing right behind me, embraces me in excitement when he sees my expression.

After leaving the bank, I walk through the streets and take in the festive atmosphere that has taken over Wilhelmshaven. Shops are packed, merchants selling everything—fine fabrics, metal tableware, barrels of wine, even luxury goods that once seemed unattainable for many. Some people rush to buy new furniture, others hurry to invest in businesses or crafts. Even the street food vendors have doubled their customers.

For my part, I walked with the bag of coins held tightly, my heart racing. I thought about my family, the furniture we still needed for the house, and the small dreams we had put off for so long. With every step, I saw radiant faces—coworkers lifting bags of money with a mix of astonishment and joy, families gathering to plan how they would spend or invest their newfound wealth.

The excitement in the air was contagious, but it also kept me cautious—I didn't want to spend everything without thinking. "This is the reward for a great risk we took," I told myself. "We should be prudent and celebrate properly."

After wandering through the city, taking in the atmosphere, I returned home. I paused for a moment at the door, a tingling sensation in my chest. I was about to tell my wife that the sacrifice—the savings we had invested with so much uncertainty—had yielded far more generous returns than we had ever expected.

I stepped inside and found her busy in the kitchen. Smiling, I walked over with the bag of coins jingling, and at that moment, I knew that the city wasn't the only one celebrating: at last, we could catch our breath and, with luck, build an even stronger future for our family.

The entire city was still pulsing with the energy of recent celebrations. My wife and I couldn't resist joining in. We strolled through the bustling streets, now filled with makeshift stalls, music, and town criers announcing an upcoming week of festivities, all funded by the state. We listened as heralds proclaimed a grand military parade, official speeches, and the launch of new trade routes.

As we took it all in, an unusual sense of calm settled in our hearts. With the pirate threat retreating and prosperity reaching every corner of Wilhelmshaven, it was finally time to think about ourselves. We had already formalized our marriage before a septon, but now, with the religious freedoms established under Prussian rule, we wanted to have an official Protestant wedding.

"So, you really want to do it?" my wife asked, a mix of excitement and nervousness in her voice. "It'll be a different kind of ceremony, but… I feel like it's the right way to align with this new reality in The Reach."

I nodded without hesitation.

"Yes. We've been through so much—wars, fears, financial sacrifices… Now that the city is thriving and we've received something in return for our efforts, I want this marriage to be officially recognized. Besides, I heard the state provides support for couples who marry under Protestant law."

That very afternoon, we decided to buy outfits more elegant than what we were used to wearing. The state already provided quality basic clothing and footwear, but with the war bond profits, we wanted to indulge in something special. The crowds in the shops were overwhelming, and we had to wait quite a while, but it was worth it. We found simple yet refined garments, and my wife picked out a beautiful veil that gave her a sophisticated look without being ostentatious.

Then, we visited a jeweler selling silver rings. The craftsman welcomed us warmly. As we browsed the displays, I noticed my wife's gaze lingering on a set of bands engraved on the inside with a verse about unity and enduring love.

"They'd be perfect for the ceremony," I whispered, already picturing the moment—standing in the Protestant church, surrounded by family and friends, celebrating a new chapter in our lives.

The jeweler explained the government's discounts for couples who wished to marry under the new official faith. The cost was much lower than we had anticipated. That was when I realized we could afford this luxury responsibly, without compromising our other plans.

We left the shop with a mix of excitement and quiet reverence. Walking home hand in hand, we talked about the next steps—scheduling the date at the church, informing our loved ones, coordinating with local authorities to take advantage of the state's marriage benefits.

"Can you imagine what the ceremony will be like?" she asked as we strolled down a lantern-lit avenue.

"I imagine it solemn but joyful," I replied. "We'll be able to invite our friends… and if all goes well, maybe even your family from out of town could come."

Over the following days, we made all the necessary arrangements. The Protestant churches in the city held beautifully organized ceremonies, and before long, we had our date set. The news spread quickly among our neighbors and coworkers, who were eager to help. Prosperity had brought a renewed sense of community, and our wedding became a small symbol of the changing times.

Night fell over Wilhelmshaven, but the city still pulsed with joy. Somewhere in the square, a minstrel played his lute, and street vendors sold hot food to those extending the festivities late into the evening. The entire city seemed to be experiencing a moment of newfound prosperity, and we were no exception.

When we arrived home, we sat by the window, listening to distant laughter and music as a soft breeze swept through the streets. I looked down at the rings inside the small bag, reflecting on everything we had endured to reach this point.

That night, as we lay in bed, we embraced in silence. My wife squeezed my hand gently, and I knew she felt the same mix of anticipation and contentment as I did. It was the perfect way to fall asleep—knowing that tomorrow, step by step, we would move closer to the ceremony that would make our marriage official and, above all, a true part of this new chapter in life in Wilhelmshaven.

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Leave a comment; support is always appreciated.

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I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see.

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