The Iron Bank envoy and Melisandre entered the Throne Room, one after the other.
A dark red carpet stretched to the foot of the dais.
Upon the high dais sat the fearsome iron throne.
Aegon sat upon it, clad in black armor, with silver hair and purple eyes.
The two stopped before the dais and bowed.
Melisandre performed the bow of a priestess of the Red God; her red robes were strikingly vivid in the dim light.
She retreated to one side, casting her eyes downward.
The Iron Bank envoy bowed meticulously, his posture respectful, yet his eyes were calmly taking in everything.
"Your journey from afar must have been arduous."
Aegon's voice came from above, flat and emotionless.
"Serving Your Grace is an honor, not a hardship."
The envoy looked up, a standard smile plastered on his face.
"I have come regarding the loans Your Grace previously secured from the Iron Bank of Braavos. The three tranches of funds have now been delivered in full to Lys."
"According to the contract, the deadline for the first installment of interest has arrived. However..."
He paused slightly, his tone conveying a perfectly measured sense of difficulty.
"The Triarch of Lys claims that there are difficulties in capital turnover and that she has no authority to unilaterally move the pledged assets."
"Therefore, I had to cross the sea and come to Westeros in person to meet with Your Grace, in hopes of resolving this matter properly."
Aegon tapped his fingers lightly against the armrest.
"The Western Expedition is imminent, and expenses are indeed tight everywhere. Moreover, the Three Cities of Lys, Tyrosh, and Myr have now been designated as my direct princely domains. Their lands and authority concern the foundation of my rule; there is certainly no logic in easily partitioning or mortgaging them."
The smile on the envoy's face faded.
His gaze turned sharp.
"Does Your Grace mean..." his voice dropped slightly, "to default on the debt to the Iron Bank? You should be aware that the rules of the Iron Bank have no exceptions. There is no one in this world who can default on a debt to the Iron Bank."
He emphasized the last few words.
"Rules?"
Aegon's lips curved, but there was no mirth in the expression.
"I certainly remember the 'rules' of the Iron Bank. For instance, during the War of the Usurper, the Iron Bank seemed quite eager to follow its 'rules' by providing Robert Baratheon with a large sum of funds. Indirectly aiding in the overthrow of the Targaryen Dynasty."
He leaned forward slightly, his purple eyes locking onto the envoy.
"This old debt, I have yet to settle with the Iron Bank."
The envoy's expression finally changed.
A layer of cold sweat broke out on his back. He forced himself to steady his breathing and gritted his teeth:
"That is ancient history, and everyone had their own stance. By bringing it up now, is Your Grace implying that you wish to use it as a pretext to refuse payment? Does Your Grace realize the consequences of doing so?"
"Consequences?"
Aegon suddenly stood up.
The envoy's heart skipped a beat, almost jumping out of his throat.
He subconsciously took a small half-step back, his hand slightly raised as if to block something.
Aegon walked down from the dais step by step.
His footsteps were steady, tapping against the floor with a cold echo.
His hand rested on the hilt of the sword at his waist.
A thought flashed through the envoy's mind: Is he going to kill me here?
Aegon stopped a few paces in front of him.
With a "clink," he slowly drew his sword.
The blade was long and narrow, dark as the night, with watery, ghostly light flowing over it in the dim illumination.
A sharp, ancient aura quietly permeated the air as the longsword was unsheathed.
"This sword is named dictator."
Aegon held the sword horizontally before him, his gaze falling upon the blade, "It was forged by melting down the Lannister family sword 'Brightroar,' creating a brand new valyrian steel sword."
He raised his eyes, glancing at the pale-faced envoy.
"The Targaryen of today is like this reforged sword. My Western Expedition to Westeros is intended to restore the dynasty and rebuild order. This process is like the reforging of a precious sword; it requires repeated forging and quenching."
"The finest materials and cruel tempering are both indispensable."
He turned his wrist slightly, the blade cutting a cold arc through the air.
"The funds of the Iron Bank are this forging force, the opportunity for quenching. They are what will help me eventually forge an unbreakable sword of kings..."
He paused.
His gaze, like lightning, locked onto the envoy.
"Or will you abandon the endeavor halfway, watching good material turn into scrap metal, and all previous efforts go to waste?"
The envoy's Adam's apple bobbed; he stared at the sword, then looked into Aegon's eyes.
Without waiting for his answer, Aegon continued:
"Iron Bank, instead of haggling over these petty immediate gains, why not look further ahead? Why can we not... cooperate again?"
"Continue to provide me with funds, help me complete the Western Expedition, and conquer the Seven Kingdoms. When I sit upon the iron throne again and restore the Targaryen Dynasty..."
He stepped forward slightly, his voice dropping.
"What you will gain will no longer be the mere pledged assets of the city of Lys."
"But the friendship of a King who rides dragons and rules the entire continent, the friendship of an entire kingdom, and the accompanying... unimaginable trade privileges, priority in maritime shipping, tax concessions, exclusive business licenses..."
"The market of the entire Westeros will open its doors to the Iron Bank and the interests behind it."
He slowly sheathed the sword.
The sound of metal scraping was crisp.
"The profits contained within are not something a cornered Lys can compare to, are they?"
The color gradually returned to the envoy's face.
His breathing became noticeably rapid.
His eyes flickered violently, his shrewd brain frantically calculating the risks against the dizzyingly massive potential gains.
If a deep cooperation could be achieved with a Targaryen monarch who truly ruled the Seven Kingdoms, the influence of the Iron Bank would permeate every corner of the continent.
Aegon watched his shifting expression.
He cast the final bait.
"At that time, I will explicitly propose to the Sealord of Braavos and the Keyholders of the Iron Bank that you serve as the intermediary for all financial affairs between the Iron Bank and the Targaryen Dynasty. This position will be yours alone."
The envoy's body trembled imperceptibly.
He looked up abruptly.
A light of disbelief and extreme desire erupted in his eyes.
Intermediary.
He would become the key link connecting the Iron Bank and the greatest, most powerful man in the future Seven Kingdoms.
The commissions, influence, and status would be thousands of times more lucrative than completing a debt collection mission.
There were risks, of course.
Investing in Aegon Targaryen was no different from a high-stakes gamble.
But the Iron Bank's business was, by nature, weighing risks and returns.
He took a deep breath.
He bowed again.
His posture was more respectful than any time before, even carrying a hint of imperceptible fanaticism.
"Your Grace's... vision and courage are compelling. This matter is of great importance and cannot be decided by me alone."
"But I am willing to return to Braavos immediately to present Your Grace's grand vision and cooperation proposal in detail to the Sealord and the Keyholders' meeting. And I will... do everything in my power to facilitate this."
Aegon nodded slightly.
With no expression on his face, as if he had completed an ordinary transaction.
"Very well. I shall wait here for the good news."
The envoy bowed deeply again, hardly able to conceal the eagerness in his eyes.
He stepped back a few paces, turned, and left the Throne Room in a hurry.
Aegon watched his slightly flustered back disappear outside the door, the faint smile on his face quickly fading, returning to a state of indifference.
He turned and walked back toward the iron throne.
Borrowing in the name and honor of the King of the Seven Kingdoms?
He scoffed coldly in his heart.
What did that have to do with him, Aegon Targaryen?
What he wanted to restore was never that decaying Targaryen Dynasty, which relied on bloodlines and fiefdoms.
What he wanted to establish was a brand new empire that would smash all old shackles, built on the foundations of law and power—the Valyrian Empire.
When the time came, if the Iron Bank came to collect, they could go find that "King of the Seven Kingdoms" written on their contract.
As for whether the Emperor of the Valyrian Empire owed any debts, that would be another matter entirely.
As for Braavos, the Iron Bank... once he had completely pacified Westeros and consolidated his power, Braavos, that self-proclaimed creditor of the world, might well become the next target on his list.
By then, the entire Iron Bank would be in his pocket; would he need to repay money he owed to himself?
As for reputation?
Simple.
At that time, he would leave the Sealord of Braavos with a title of "Master of Coin," and grant those great merchants some inconsequential trade concessions.
By then, there would naturally be countless people singing his praises, spreading his deeds of being "trustworthy" and "generous" far and wide.
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