Pre-Chapter A/N: So here we are back on our regular upload schedule. Sunday and Tuesday/Wednesday. I've put systems in place to ensure we don't fall behind again so yay. I look forward to stress-testing them as the madnesses of life stack up. To celebrate the scale of our achievement, we've got a cheeky little discount for the whole month (code: MAY01) on patreon(https://www.patreon.com/c/Oghenevwogaga). Next five chapters on my patreon(https://www.patreon.com/c/Oghenevwogaga)— same username as here and link in bio.
XXXX – LAENOR VELARYON
In Westeros, a wedding was rarely about the ceremony itself. While Laena's and mine had been what I considered the most beautiful one in this world's history, it was still nothing more than a prelude for what would come after. The guest list had been comprehensive for a reason. Not all those invited were given said invites because I cared about them witnessing the joining of my wife and I. If it had been about that, then the guest list would not have gone into the double digits even.
No, they had been invited because in the days after, I would get to speak with them all and form alliances, trade deals, and get concessions that would more than pay for the expense incurred in the wedding if I knew what I was doing. And I did like to think that I did know what I was doing.
As this was the morning after the wedding, my manoeuvring would have to begin today. Ideally, it would have already started. But when the man who had knighted me asked for a meeting, there was nothing I could say but yes. It was more than the respect a former squire owed his knight. Borros was a genuine friend to me. I knew he meant well most of the time, and I did find him interesting to be around in most situations. Add to that the fact that House Baratheon had turned into my closest ally in virtually all respects, then I didn't have much of a choice in it.
I sat and waited as my cousin did something I had never seen him do in all our years together—he fidgeted. Whatever this meeting was about, it was clearly very important to him. I wondered if he had fathered a bastard. It was not unheard of for lords to send their bastards away to other lords to raise in their households. Traditionally, it was a great lord asking it of a vassal, but I wouldn't be all that surprised if Borros decided that the Stepstones would be a good place to hide a bastard of his. From what I knew, he was close to his vassals, but not so close to one of them over the others that it would not be seen as a slight to some to be overlooked no matter who he chose from their number.
Going with a family member neatly sidestepped that problem. If it was a bastard though, I wondered why he was being so hesitant. It wasn't like I didn't know of his tendency to try to find his way underneath any skirt he saw.
"Borros?" I finally prompted.
"My father wants an island, Laenor. He says the gold you gave was not enough and he will disinherit me if I don't convince you to give him one," he said, the words so quickly I had to replay what I had heard twice to be sure he said what I thought he'd said.
"An island?" I asked again.
"One of the Stepstones. He says we deserve land for what we did in helping you take the isles. We gave you a kingdom, Laenor. He just wants something we can call ours. Something to show the bannermen when they complain about the lives we lost," he said. I nodded, even as my mind was flying a mile a minute. An island was not too bad a concession.
The Stepstones had more islands than I had things to use them for. While I was sure my descendants would come up with purposes for every scrap of land with due time, it was not like granting one of them to the Stormlands would be too much of a loss. I had had the islands surveyed for natural resources and had their fertility tested. There was one not too far from Tarth that had little in terms of natural resources and had much of its top soil washed away by storms on a more or less monthly basis. It was also not so small that it would be seen as an insult, but not so large that it would be a great loss to my plans. It would be useless for most of the things I could think of, and Baratheon surely would not get much use out of it beyond just putting a castle on it and calling it a day.
"Laenor?" Borros called, asking without asking again.
"I can do something about that, but why would your father do something like this now?" I asked.
"He wanted me to marry Laena," he said. I chuckled at that. So that was the game the old Storm Lord had been playing. Have one of his sons take me on as a squire, spin that into a closer relationship between the families, and then propose a betrothal when the time came. Of course the fact that the plan had failed probably said a lot about his long-term planning ability.
"No offence, Borros, but you're not her type," I said.
"Gods no, I'm happy I don't have to. I see her too much like a sister to—" his brain caught up with his mouth and he froze like a rat who heard a catcher's bell right behind him.
"Ahem. Nothing wrong with that, of course. Different things for different people, you know?" he asked, smile bashful.
"Sure. I can grant House Baratheon one of the islands of the Stepstones," I said.
"Thank you, Laenor. I owe you for this. You're the—"
"But not for nothing in return," I interrupted, making him freeze. The joyful smile on his face fled like it had been drawn on the sand and washed away by the tide.
"But we—"
"Yes, helping with the islands was very generous of you, and House Velaryon paid heavily for that. Much of the loot we seized from the pirates left with you and your men, if you would remember? We paid for every life lost, we paid for every victory won, and then we've given your lords preferable trading terms through our sea routes since then. I think on that account, we are even. But I understand that an old fashioned man like your father would not understand just how sophisticated the agreement between us is. His generation only believes in the value of land. Things like what we have achieved with our partnership will mean little to him, but you know better," I flattered, and he nodded even while I was certain that he had little idea what the fuck I was talking about. I myself didn't even know what the fuck I was talking about in truth. I was just saying words in rapid succession to flatter him a bit and have him confused so when I made my offer, he would think I had justified it somewhere in that word salad.
"So why don't we do this. I give an island here and now. One close to Tarth, perhaps. And then we come to an agreement that when you marry and have children of your own and become Lord of the Stormlands, we enter into an agreement to betroth two children of ours. A daughter of mine, and a son of yours. The son will take a different name and rule that island. It will be sworn to House Baratheon, however, and form part of the Stormlands," I said, laying out my offer. Giving up an island was fine enough. But if I had to do so, I would ensure that it would still be my blood that ruled it. The apprehension that had been on his face disappeared once I was done speaking.
"Just that? If you wanted our children to marry, you should have just said so, Cousin. I'll be happy to join my house with yours," he said, offering a handshake. I took a deep breath to steel myself for the pain that was sure to come and stepped around the desk between us to give him a hug.
—
Borros was probably going to end up being the easiest conversation of the day. I had to give him the largest concession of everyone else—if anyone managed to get something as massive as a whole island out of me it would have to be by sorcery—but he was still the one who had approached things in the best way. The next to come into my solar was Jason Lannister. For the first time, I would be speaking to the Lannister Lord directly and not through an intermediary. His brother, Tyland, had accompanied him, but it was clear from the beginning that he would be little more than an observer in this case.
"I hope you have found your accommodations suitable, my Lord?" I asked.
"Tyland did say your castle had a charm of its own, but I could not appreciate it without seeing it myself. May I have the builders you used in installing those things—the automatic chamber pot and the what did you call it again?" He turned to Tyland.
"Shower."
"Yes, that. Those things. If you could spare the builder, then I think I can make him a very rich man in the Westerlands," he said.
"I am sure we can come to some sort of agreement after this," I said with a smirk, not adding that he was joining a very long list.
"But that is not what brings me here," he said.
"The sword."
"The sword indeed. My brother says you are willing to sell a blade of Valyrian steel to us at a good price," he said. I nodded and then stood up. I went towards the desk at the corner of the solar and pulled out the first drawer before picking up the blade within. It was in a well-made scabbard I had had the best leatherworkers of Bloodstone work over time on. I pulled out the sword, walked over to his seated form, and offered it to him. It said something of the level of trust between us that neither man flinched at my approach. A shame that there was a good chance we would become enemies in time.
It was a bastard sword on a worn hilt. The ripples that marked it out as Valyrian steel glinted in the light. Those ripples were the only special thing about it right now.
"I can, of course, have the hilt reworked, but something told me that you would rather do that to your tastes," I said.
He nodded even as he accepted the hilt and tested the weight by rising and attempting a few test swings.
"Truly Valyrian steel. And the price you have in mind?" he asked.
"I communicated one to your brother earlier," I said.
"I would hear it directly from you. We are the ones doing business, yes?" he said. I shrugged.
"Three million gold dragons for the sword," I said, the same price I had told his brother when we met some moons earlier and he had tested the same blade.
"Tyland says you are not willing to budge on that price," he said.
"Ser Tyland spoke correctly. I have a few others who have demonstrated interest. It is because of our special relationship that I have offered it to you even ahead of the Sealord of Braavos," I said.
"And the Sealord will be meeting you shortly after me, I am sure," he said. I shrugged.
"I can agree to your price. Are you fine with a payment plan? Five hundred thousand dragons a year for six years," he said.
"That is acceptable to me," I said, offering him a hand.
He took it and nodded at me.
"Enjoy your sword, my Lord. And I wish you the best of luck with your chase," I said.
"My chase?"
"You hope to secure the Princess' hand, do you not? She is a dear cousin of mine and I think you will make her very happy," I said. He nodded.
"Thank you, my Lord," and he was gone. I allowed the polite smile I wore to fall. The match was a good one logically speaking. And even if Rhaenyra was annoying, I would still support the match. She would need the Lannisters and their gold on her side if she wanted to stand a chance against the Hightowers. And the closer their war was, the better for me.
"Three million is simply too much for a trinket. A nice trinket, yes, but nothing more than a trinket to me," the Sealord began our negotiations with. I just smirked in response, relaxing backwards in my seat.
"That is the price, I fear. Another just bought a similar piece for the same amount," I said.
"Someone paid three million gold pieces for a sword? You jest."
"I'm being quite honest here. You know I'd never lie to a good friend and business partner like you," I said with a bright smile. The Sealord just scoffed at that and turned to the man at his side. He whispered something to him and received a longer whisper in turn.
"Lannister sits on a mine. Unfortunately, I have to work for my gold." Now it was my turn to scoff. He chuckled, accepting my comment in the spirit it had been given.
"So it was Lannister that bought it, yes?"
"You know I keep my clients confidential. If whoever bought it chooses to make that public, I am sure you will be the first to know," I said.
"No man buys Valyrian steel and hides it."
"You know what? Let's do something else. A Westerosi getting a sword makes sense. We are a martial lot. You want something you will hang on a wall and show to guests but never actually use. I can have a spear made for you with a Valyrian steel blade and an ironwood body," I offered.
"How much?"
"Two million," I said. He turned to the man by his side and whispered something to him before getting a short reply.
"A spear's head has a third as much steel as a bastard sword at the very most," he said. I shrugged, staying silent.
"A third of the price should suffice. One million gold pieces, and I do not want ironwood. What do you call that queer white wood the men who worship trees bow to again? The beautiful one?"
"Weirwood," I offered. He snapped his fingers like he didn't actually know that already.
"That. I want that. It is beautiful," he said.
"Cutting down weirwood trees is seen as a great affront to the old gods," I said.
"Then it is a good thing you do not worship trees, then," he shrugged.
"I mean that it will be near impossible to source since no one cuts them down."
"You are one of the most resourceful men I have ever met. You will find a way, I know," he shrugged with the ease of a man who was never told no.
"I will find a way, true. But with all that in context, I will not sell for less than one million and seven hundred and fifty thousand gold pieces," I said.
"Five hundred thousand on top of the million is more than enough."
"I think not. I will be sourcing a wood that would have an entire religion after my head should they even suspect that I cut one of their precious trees for it," I riposted.
"I had heard tales of people forging with fallen branches from such sacred trees," he said, and I scoffed. Of course he knew about weirwood. Probably only a bit less than I did, all things considered—well, as long as you didn't count the things I knew from my first life.
"Do you want a spear of hollowed, dead wood?" I asked, the question itself making my offer clear.
"They say cutting one down comes with a curse."
"You believe in such things?" I challenged.
"Seven hundred and fifty thousand on top of the million then. I expect something exceptional, Lord Velaryon," he said, rising.
"Have I ever failed to deliver?" I asked.
"The full amount will be transferred into your vault with the Iron Bank by the end of the sennight. Do try to stagger the withdrawals this time though. The Keyholders do get antsy when so much gold leaves their tunnels."
"The peace of mind of the Keyholders of the Iron Bank is not a priority of mine," I said, getting the feeling that the conversation was being steered somewhere in particular.
"Perhaps it should be. I enjoyed seeing that—what did you call it again?"
"Coliseum?"
"Yes, that. It was quite a sight and the spectacle was second to none yesterday. I am sure I will be equally impressed today. The Sept was also beautiful. My wife shed a tear during the ceremony, and the last time I saw her cry was when we had to consummate our marriage. I surely hope yours was more pleasurable." I kept a polite smile on my face at the terrible attempt at a joke.
"Thank you," I said.
"But tell me this. Three big buildings. One, a sept. The other, a place to entertain your people. But the third? I have seen nothing of it so far."
"It's not yet ready," I shrugged.
"I see. You see, one thing my advisors have been mentioning is that you have been stockpiling gold. Not just getting rich for its own sake. Rich men spend their gold. Or they keep it in the Iron Bank. But you have been ferrying gold to this island in large amounts. Now I have given this fortress a look. It is admirable, but it is no vault. Millions of gold pieces do not rest here. You would not have given us such free rein if they did, and the space does not exist to store them either. No. The only place so much gold could be is in that building. But why keep it there?" he asked.
"That's a lot of theorising. Surely there are better things for you to direct your attention towards. I've heard whispers of flooding on some of your streets," I said. He chuckled without mirth.
"The Iron Bank considers you a friend for the humbling you gave to the Rogare bank during your war. But we will not tolerate one rival replacing another," he said.
"We? Are you not the Sealord of Braavos first and foremost? Do you speak as that now, or as a Keyholder of the Bank?"
"You are far too smart to think of them as separate things, Lord Velaryon. The success of the Iron Bank is the success of Braavos. You are a good friend, my Lord. Do not give us a reason not to be."
"I see no reason why we should not remain so," I said.
"Indeed. Come, give me a kiss, my friend. I will miss you so when I leave," he said. I smiled, a soft wistful thing.
I stepped forward, around the table, and planted a kiss on each of his cheeks while he did the same to me. It was a shame. He had been a good friend indeed.
"You should stay for the rest of the festivities. If things are to change, we can wait a week before they do," I offered, more to give myself time to prepare for what he would attempt than anything else.
He just smirked.
"Sadly, I will have to turn you down, my friend. I am sure you understand."
A/N: Wedding mostly done. Maybe one more chapter to wrap things off and then a timeskip (or we timeskip next chappy, who knows? (I do, but I'm not telling)). Next five chapters up on patreon(https://www.patreon.com/c/Oghenevwogaga) (same username as here and link in bio), support me there and read them early. Discount available with the code MAY01– have fun.