Chapter 28: Cooperation with the Sea Snake
and the Prosperity of the Territory
The Gold Cloaks' outposts sold Daemon's biscuits, bread, onions, and dried fish; his casinos and brothels filled his coffers daily. Every moan from Silk Street, every gambler's cheer or curse in Flea Bottom, brought more silver into Daemon's hands.
His reforms had drastically improved the law and order in King's Landing. Customs duties and city taxes surged, and even the royal treasury saw an increase in income. King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne were pleased, while the Hand of the King, Prince Baelon, and the Master of Coin, Lord Lyman Beesbury, openly praised Daemon's policies.
With the city's finances improving, the construction of the Great Sept of Baelor on Visenya's Hill resumed with renewed vigor. The faithful of King's Landing — and even the High Septon in Oldtown's Starry Sept — closely followed its progress.
Despite his growing wealth and a purse that bulged with gold, Daemon was still unsatisfied. One day, he came to the study of Lord Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake, in the Red Keep.
Lately, Daemon's relationship with Corlys had grown increasingly close. The Kingsguard and the royal fleet, under their joint command, had dealt severe blows to smugglers around King's Landing, squeezing their profits. Both men benefited handsomely from this alliance.
Princess Rhaenys poured wine for them as they sat together.
"I've come seeking cooperation with you, Lord Corlys," Daemon said.
Corlys leaned back in his weirwood chair. "Daemon, the common folk and nobles alike say you're a shrewd man — a true merchant prince, always looking for profit. So, what scheme brings you here this time?"
Daemon smiled. "Your merchant fleet sails across all of Westeros, my lord. But my Kingsguard outposts cannot continue selling only plain goods like peanuts, melon seeds, or onions. I plan to diversify what they offer."
He handed Corlys a detailed catalog. The Sea Snake flipped through it, raising his brows as he read.
"Dornish olives, Vale corn, Riverlands dried fish and beef jerky, Northern furs, Reach wines, mead, Tyroshi dyes, Lysene perfumes, Myrish mirrors... Quite the list."
Rhaenys chuckled softly. "Daemon, are you planning to sell perfumes and golden wine in the streets? The poor can't afford such luxuries, and nobles won't buy them from common stalls."
Corlys smirked. "Indeed. You must be hiding the true purpose behind this."
Daemon replied calmly, "As expected, nothing escapes your eyes. You're right — not everything in this catalog is meant for the outposts. I've opened several shops along Silk Street and near the Dragon Gate to sell high-end wines and luxury goods. King's Landing is home to hundreds of thousands of people. If we work together, Lord Corlys, there's great profit to be made."
Corlys chuckled. "I lent you coin to build your castle, and now you're expanding your business empire. I must admit, Daemon, you impress me more each day. Many lords scorn merchants, believing trade to be beneath them. Yet you, a prince, embrace commerce boldly."
Daemon shrugged. "If the realm's nobles despise trade so much, they shouldn't covet the position of Master of Coin — nor the gold it brings."
Corlys laughed heartily. "Ha! In you, I see a reflection of my younger self. Very well — if there's profit to be made, let's continue our partnership."
Daemon leaned forward. "Your shipyard at Hull is among the largest in Westeros. I'd like to buy some of your ships."
Rhaenys teased, "It seems Daemon wishes to steal my husband's business."
Corlys smirked proudly. "Daemon, I've ruled the seas for decades. My ships sail farther and faster, my sailors are the best trained, and I've charted more coasts than most men have even heard of. Even the Ironborn acknowledge it. But if you wish to challenge me at sea, I welcome it — though beware, the Narrow Sea can devour half a fleet in a single storm."
Daemon laughed. "I've no plans to venture into open-sea trade — not yet, at least. What I want to buy are riverboats and fishing vessels for the Blackwater Rush and the Wendwater River. That way, my people can enjoy cheap fish — carp and grass carp."
Rhaenys looked surprised. "No wonder so many people from King's Landing and the Crownlands have migrated to your lands. You truly are a lord who thinks of his folk."
Corlys nodded. "Viserys enjoys pageantry, but you — you count every coin. Marriage seems to have changed you, Daemon. Perhaps marrying Gael softened your heart."
Daemon smiled faintly. "Perhaps."
Corlys said, "Very well. I'll sell you the ships you need. Go and fish to your heart's content."
When the vessels arrived, Daemon immediately set his fishermen to work on the Blackwater Rush and the Wendwater. Soon, the rivers bustled with activity.
At the end of 97 AC, Corlys's ships also brought stone from Tarth to Daemon's lands along the King's Road crossing of the Blackwater Rush, where castles began to rise on both banks. Thousands of laborers and craftsmen toiled day and night.
Daemon and Gael later visited a dairy farm, watching milkmaids skillfully fill buckets from well-fed cows.
Steward Monch proudly reported, "Our cows produce over sixty buckets a day. We sell milk at the port, the fish market, Silk Street, and even near the Dragonpit. We also make cheese."
Gael, stroking a cow, said, "I've drunk milk all my life, but I've never seen a dairy cow before. Where did they come from?"
"Some from Whitewalls, some from Golden Grove and Highgarden," Daemon replied. "The Butterwell herds are the best. Their family, like the Freys, grew rich selling milk and livestock."
As workers hauled in green fodder, Gael laughed softly. "I always thought only warhorses were valuable among grass-eaters. I never imagined dairy cows could be just as profitable."
Daemon smiled. "Cows eat grass — and give milk. Simple as that."
Gael looked at him fondly. "What a philosopher you are — almost like a bard."
Daemon's lands flourished. He now owned dairy farms, pig farms, blacksmith forges, sheepfolds, stables, and herds of water buffalo, donkeys, and mules for plowing. The manor farms were busy year-round, with fields of corn, turnips, barley, soybeans, and onions stretching to the horizon.
Most of the workers were landless peasants or debtors, employed and fed by Daemon's overseers in exchange for labor. Tenant farmers, on the other hand, worked their own plots and paid taxes in due time.
Some of the first settlers were veterans from the City Watch, given land as reward for service. But few knew how to farm — most sold their land back to Daemon, and their children later joined his Kingsguard patrols.
Even animal waste found use; manure from pigs, cows, and horses was gathered to fertilize the soil. The best fertilizer of all, however, was dragon dung. Caraxes and Dreamfyre were growing swiftly — especially young Caraxes, who devoured wild boars and sheep by the dozen. What went in came out in equal abundance.
Daemon had also purchased fifty warhorses and had over thirty sworn knights, though law and order in his territory still depended largely on Kingsguard patrols.
What pleased Daemon most was that Gael was with child — her belly growing rounder each day.
In their chamber in the Red Keep, Daemon gently touched her stomach. "Do you think it's a boy or a girl?"
"I don't know," Gael whispered. "I'm frightened. Your mother, Alyssa, and Aemma's mother both died in childbirth."
In this harsh age, miscarriage and death in childbirth were all too common — and even a man like Daemon, reborn with a modern mind, could not change that.
Gael added softly, "Aemma is pregnant too. She says she feels it's a boy. She even joked that if she bears a prince and I bear a princess, we should betroth them someday."
Daemon chuckled. "A new year approaches — and it will mark my father's fiftieth year upon the Iron Throne."
Gael's eyes brightened. "Yes! To celebrate the fiftieth year of King Jaehaerys's reign, a great tourney will be held! My brother Vaegon will come from Oldtown, and Mother will even send word to Volantis, inviting Saera home."
Her voice softened. "I've never met Saera since childhood. I miss her dearly."
Daemon sighed. "Saera runs a brothel in Volantis. I doubt she'll return."
Saera Targaryen — once a princess, now a courtesan. King Jaehaerys considered her a disgrace, while Queen Alysanne never stopped yearning for her lost daughter. Her letters, however, were never answered.
Gael said quietly, "Yes… Father never forgave her."
Daemon looked out toward the distant city lights. "Perhaps not aloud. But deep down, he still loves her. I remember how he once dueled a knight of Honeyholt for her sake. No matter how he hides it, the King still wishes Saera would return."
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