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 (Two days in and things are looking good). 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.
The guest list for my wedding had been both long and short at the same time. The list was long in that I invited far more people than I would otherwise have wanted to, but it was short in that I had invited only the greatest houses of the realm. Traditionally, one would invite the houses one shared a Kingdom with and maybe the Crown if one had the facilities for that. But Bloodstone was not so large a city— and my castle was not so large— that I could afford to invite all the Crownland houses. Or even the Narrow Sea ones.
I had invited powers from Essos, my business partners in Dorne, and then the Great Houses that I considered worth my time. Mooton had earned an invite, but Tully had not. It was a snub, but not one I was all that bothered about making. If I wanted to spin things to make a claim for the Iron Throne, then I would have cared more about the pride of spoiled children who were not told no often enough when they grew up, but I was not. And so I could offer insults freely. Of course, the main disadvantage of this approach was on the field right now.
The joust was boring.
Okay, that was far less than charitable. It was good, just not great. Of course, the only thing I could mentally compare it to was a Royal joust, which had probably skewed my expectations somewhat. It was just that all the earlier stages were completely predictable. Not a single interesting tilt had lasted more than three or four lances— the ones who did were terrible in that they kept making mistakes I could spot from this distance and ruined the spectacle of the thing. Maybe when we got down to the last eight when Borros and the Kingsguard had removed all the lesser contenders, we would have a more interesting match on our hands. It was just that the journey there was so tedious.
Borros was tearing through the ranks with the ease of a wheel moving downhill on a well-worn road. He rode down his next opponent, a Knight from Lord Lannister's retinue, with the ferocity of a diesel engine. He roared as they made contact. His opponent's lance glanced off his shield with a flick of his wrist just as he nailed his opponent straight on and sent the man flying off his horse. Borros did not even look back to check that the man was still alive and hadn't landed badly. He was already on his victory lap, and the crowd was lapping it up.
Of course, I joined in with them, rising and clapping just as loudly as Laena was to my side. Were we being obviously biased? Of course, we were. But he was family and that meant something.
"Our cousin jousts well," Viserys said from his position to my other side.
"He does indeed. The only thing he does better than joust is fight and drink," I said with a chuckle.
"I did notice the drinking last night. It is impressive that he was able to imbibe so much and perform so well today," he said.
"That was nothing. You should have seen him on the eve of the Storming of Bloodstone. I worried that he would sleep and never wake," I responded before falling silent as the next set of jousters took the field.
Jason Lannister had chosen against participating in the Joust— a wise decision as Borros would have torn through him and that was only assuming that one of the Kingsguard did not get to him first. Ser Tyland Lannister was entered in the Great Lord's stead and he sat on his horse with the poise of a man who knew what he was doing. Tyland had visited these islands many times but we had never gotten to spar. He dodged all invitations with ease, so I had little idea of his martial capabilities other than the fact that he had won a few tourneys in the Westerlands years ago before he had seemingly retired from them to focus on being his brother's trade envoy and representative in all things.
His opponent was Arryk Cargyll, a skilled jouster by all accounts. They had both made it through two unimpressive rounds to get here. Neither of them had given much away— not like I had been paying all that much attention, to be honest. Tyland nodded at the stands before accepting his lance. Cargyll did the same and then they began to ride. Before they clashed, I could not say where this would go. After the first clash, both lances shattering in splinters, I could tell the outcome clear as day. Cargyll had barely managed to keep hold of his horse as he fell fully for Lannister's feint and had his attack turned away with ease.
They rode back to the end of the line, Tyland riding easily with no signs of exertion in his easy posture. Cargyll on the other hand looked like he had had the wind knocked out of him in just a single pass. They lined up again, Tyland waiting for Cargyll to collect himself before he began his charge. That, in and of itself, was a statement. Few waited for their opponents before beginning their charge. A longer charge gave the advantage of momentum to one's thrust. Tyland was saying he did not need it to beat one of the Kingsguard.
They met at the middle of the field and this time, Cargyll was not so fortunate as to keep his seat. He had been completely sold by a feint even I had struggled to see as Tyland placed his lance perfectly underneath his opponent's raised shield. Cargyll's lance did not even manage to make contact with the Lannister knight as he rode past. His other matches had not been worth paying attention to but this one was something else. One did not just dismantle a Knight of the Kingsguard like that. I looked over at Viserys to see him trying actively to hide his shock.
Jason Lannister had somehow managed to worm his way into sitting next to Rhaenyra and he was smirking in satisfaction even as he whispered into his target's ears— undoubtedly giving her some additional context on his brother's performance.
"I did not know your brother was so skilled. Now I feel like I have been robbed by his refusals to step into the ring with me," I said, directing my words towards the Lannister Lord some places away.
He straightened up as Viserys turned his attention to him, looking very much unapologetic about having been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
"Ahem. My brother is very talented. Our Master at Arms said he was the greatest Knight he ever trained in terms of both talent and work ethic. Tyland does dislike Tourneys however. They bored him in his first few years. He rode in seven, he won seven. And after that, what was the point in more?" he asked with a smirk.
"Then I must spar with him then," I said, looking down as he did his victory lap around the field with his lance raised.
"My brother spars with three or four opponents at a time, my friend. Anything less and he does not get the engagement he seeks from it," he said.
"I'm sure my husband will be more than enough engagement for your brother," Laena said, cutting into the conversation. I just smirked and grabbed her hand in mine.
"Then perhaps a spar can be arranged, but before that, the joust must end," he said, switching the focus to the next pair of men to ride out on to the stage. I knew neither of their names even if I could recognise the banners. I wasn't surprised when the match then turned out to be disappointing. They were passable riders. Good jousters even. But compared to those who got my blood pumping, they just lacked that edge.
In seven passes, one of them had managed to win on points. The other rode his horse back dejectedly while the victor carried out his victory lap with aplomb. If one had only managed to come in time for the celebration, they would think that he had somehow managed to unhorse Harold Westerling himself in a single tilt. Reality was far more disappointing however.
If it weren't for the trumpet, there was a good chance that he would have remained on the field for even longer as he got carried away with the celebrations. When he was gone, the next set of knights came in. We were only a single round away from the quarter finals where I was certain things would spice up considerably, so I prepared myself for a somewhat drab show with the promise of a better one tomorrow.
- — —
"Magister Mararys, please do come in. Take a seat, take a seat," I said, welcoming in today's victim.
"Lord Velaryon," he said with a nod, but no bow. Some of the Essosi did at least pretend to care about my position as Westerosi nobility. This one seemed to not be bothered all that much with such considerations.
"I wondered if you would ever come around to me," he said with a smile.
"Pardon?" I asked, my bastard Valyrian near failing me in that instant. He spoke the Tyroshi dialect, not the Lyseni one. Why, I wondered.
"You have clearly been negotiating with the important ones among those you invited. Should I feel spurned that you did not come for me until you had spoken to the Braavosi and the Westerosi?"
"They had more pressing considerations I needed to handle. My goal with you is to build a relationship between us if not our peoples," I said.
"Indeed? Our peoples, you say. I looked through that crowd. I could recognise some of them. Slaves that had once belonged to friends of mine. Do you have people, Velaryon? Or do you just flaunt stolen property in the face of those you stole it from?" he said.
"Careful now," I warned, allowing some faked rage leak into my voice. He was trying to rile me up to see if it would make me sloppy for what was to come. A risky gambit considering he wasn't even large enough for Igneel to use as a toothpick.
"There are no slaves in the Stepstones," I declared the truism. Here, all men were free. Or at least as free as men could be. I could say proudly that the only chains my people wore were metaphorical and self-chosen.
"Why would you dare call my people slaves when your people gave them over to me as part of my reparations from the war you began and I ended? Those men and women are no longer slaves. And if you are so sure otherwise and adamant to be proven right, I welcome you to come take them," I said, feeling a smirk begin to build on my face.
"A slave is always a slave. Removing their physical chains does nothing for the chains of the mind. You have created a city of slaves. It will not—"
"As much as I want to hear the rest of what you have to say, I fear that we will be unable to converse as friends if you utter those words you were about to speak," I cut in.
He inclined his head, not speaking after that. He had ceded the initiative to me, so it was time for me to take advantage of it.
"At present, our business is limited to providing security guarantees for your ships as they sail both to Westeros and to the other free cities outside the triarchy. Considering the state of the seas now, it is only reasonable that you take full advantage of the Velaryon Navy's dominance to ensure that you reduce losses to the greatest possible extent. From what I have been able to gather, before you began working with us, you had a 16.67 percent chance of losing a ship to pirates on the journey. Your insurance agreements with the Iron Bank are clear enough on that. You lost 7.5% of your ships to storms. Neither of these were massive risks, but now that you work with us the risk has gone to zero on both metrics," I began.
"And I have paid handsomely for your services."
"Paid yes, but not market rate. We charge a fraction of what the Braavosi fleet does and cover a much wider range of routes as well as providing a more robust guarantee."
"Is this you telling me you want to increase the prices for your services? If that is the case, a simple letter would have sufficed."
"Patience, I beg of you, my good man. I am not yet finished," I said, gesturing for him to take things a bit slower.
"I have outlined the way the Velaryon fleet has helped your business. However, as it presently stands, you maintain an inventory of two warehouses at all times that you can not ship with your fleet of three ships. You lose a substantial amount of your product to spoilage, and an even more significant amount of your gold to the overhead of maintaining three ships with crew. That costs you what? 12 gold a year? More? Can't be less. I've seen what the Lyseni shipwright's guild charges for repairs. And then there's porting and harbouring eating into your profits as well," I said, watching the Lyseni's face. He let none of his emotions show on his face, but I knew I had hit the nail on the head for the most part.
"That is an interesting breakdown of my business position. What is your offer?"
"Scupper those things you call ships. I would have offered to buy them from you but my sailors tell me that they are barely seaworthy as it stands. Scupper them, stop losing money, and ship your goods with the Velaryon ships. With the money you'd save no longer having to pay for security and navigation as well as what you would gain from being able to ship much more in even less time, you would find yourself turning a handsome profit even after paying our due," I said.
"I would be fully dependent on you to sell my products. Pardon me if I do not feel so comfortable placing my fate in the hands of a man I was once at war with."
"I was at war with the triarchy, not Selqor Mararys. I understand a man like yourself can appreciate the distinction. Besides, can you honestly say that you were not already dependent on me? Your ships, laden to the brim with high value merchandise, wouldn't make it far from Lys before pirates put the crew to the sword," I said. I could see him doing the numbers in his head already. I was offering a good deal. A better deal than what he would get anywhere. But that was not the only thing he was considering. This was not a stupid man. He would know that if I was making an offer then there was a reason for it.
The additional gold would be useful, and if he led a trend among the Lyseni, then that would be a profitable endeavour for sure. But the main advantage it would give me is control over their trade. Control and information. Things I would leverage when the time came for me to invade. He was probably weighing the risks of that right now as his eyes met mine. A Westerosi lord would spurn the choice. Losing their independence was unthinkable to them. A merchant, on the other hand, was loyal only to his bottom line.
"And how much specifically shall you be charging per shipment?" he asked after a few minutes of silence. I just smirked. We were in business then.
— —
In the end, Tyland Lannister ended up being even better than I had expected, I thought to myself as he rode on to the field next to his opponent. He had dispatched Westerling in the semi-finals to make it here while Borros had been given the comparatively easier job of dealing with Lorent Marbrand to make it on to the finals. Viserys had looked far from enthused to have both of his remaining guards eliminated in the same round but he seemed to have found his enthusiasm once more.
The man liked a good show, and to be completely honest, his joy was infectious. I could see why this man had made for such a good King, to be honest. He was just the kind of man who, when he smiled at you, you had no choice other than to smile back. He must have walked so men like Aegon the Unworthy, and Robert Baratheon could run. Of course, he had less charisma than they did but he also had far fewer vices. In truth, his only weakness was the love he had for his family.
It blinded him from seeing the succession crisis he would leave behind as it brewed. It blinded him from seeing how I manipulated him even now. By the time he left, I would have a series of tax exemptions for industry within the Stepstones and he would think it was all his idea. The Crown would overpay for several of my products even as he subsidised it with lower tax rates. It would all come together quite nicely and the final cost of it would be a single wedding and the accompanying events.
Tyland and Borros struck and for the second time today, I witnessed the Lannister knight be put on the back foot. I smirked. People always felt they could handle Borros' strength until they had to do it. And then they realised that he really did hit like a fucking ox.
Lannister adapted better than most others. He was a better jouster than Borros. I could tell after the first three passes. It took nine for the match to come to an end. Despite his skill, it was physicality that decided the day. Tyland was a hair too slow to angle his shield. Borros was a shade more forceful than he had earlier been, and Tyland was off his horse. Borros himself had had to take a nasty thrust to the shoulder to accomplish that, but that was a trade he seemed to have been willing to make.
He took off his helmet to reveal a bright smile. He rode back towards Tyland, saying something to him and receiving a smile for his words. And then he rode towards the crown of roses, accepting it on his lance. The Coliseum was designed in such a way that you could either walk up the stairs to the private Boxes. Borros rode this way and I wondered for a second if he would crown Mother. She was the oldest female member of his family here, after all. But he hadn't come in our direction. He was going towards the Hightowers? No, he passed them by and stopped at the box with the rest of the Lannister entourage. He plopped the crown of roses on the lap of a girl with beautiful blonde hair, dimpled cheeks, and a radiant smile.
Down in the field, Tyland's smile died quickly. Up here in my box, Jason's grew even quicker. Interesting.
A/N: Now we get into time skip territory. I'm thinking five years first and then more as time goes on. 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.