He meets her eyes, lifting a brow at her. "Truly? It is an Autumn staple in Winterfell. And when Winter lasts a year there, we have it at least once or twice a month." He has told her of the seasons in the North, how they can last anywhere from a few months to a few years. How the North always has to prepare for the worst, storing food for years on end. They have near-endless supplies of dried meats and fruits, preserves, fermented vegetables, and beers. Worst came to worst, the old wives said, one could survive on beer for a long time.

He has learned all of this from the maester, the groundsmen, and his father. And soon...he will be responsible for it all.

This season is a reprieve. Ned is grateful for it. He glances at Aella, aware of how near she is, the touch of her shoulder against his, drawing him back keenly to the present. Friend. It sounds good from her lips.

But of course, they give as good as they get with each other. As their sort of friends do. "So you show around every newcomer in town who wishes to explore this land," he teases, tipping back his head to look at her. "Out of the goodness of your heart. A true philanthropist."