Stephen Baratheon POV
A sweep of his legs and Jaime fell on his butt. Hard. The only consolation was that the ground was made of mud and not stone, otherwise that fall would've hurt far more.
"Come on, Ser Jaime. You can do better than this." He said as he walked around his downed opponent while Jaime gasped from the pain and rolled around on the floor.
As Jaime lay on the ground, gasping from the pain, he circled around the Lannister and taunted, "Is that all you've got, Ser Jaime? Surely you can do better than this."
"I'm not done here, boy." Jaime said as he got up from the ground with some difficulty and tried to take a stance. Tried, because his stance was all wrong. Courtesy of all the bruises the man had accumulated over the past hour.
The only consolation was that they were doing this in a secluded area so that Jaime won't turn into a joke in front of everyone.
If his goal was to humiliate Jaime, then he could've easily done so. But doing that would only earn him the enmity of the Lannister. And probably the other Lannister hanger ons as well.
Befriending Jaime might be harder. But while doing that won't bring him any satisfaction, it would earn him better rewards in the long run. Not to mention, the idea of befriending Jaime during the day, and fucking his sister during the night, amused him more than it should have.
As he circled around his opponent, who never once took his wary gaze off of him, he proposed, "Shall we make a deal, Ser Jaime?"
"What deal?"
"You don't call me, 'boy'. And I don't start calling you Kingslayer. Seems fair enough?"
Jaime mulled over his question for a moment but he lunged with a strike before Jaime could provide an answer.
The next few moments were a blur of swift strikes, each fighter exchanging blows with rapid succession.
To Jaime's credit, the man was nearly as skilled as him at Swordplay, despite not having the advantage of Gamer System. And if he had not deliberately raised his Agility stat slightly higher than Jaime's speed, then he wasn't sure if he would've won all of these spar.
But in the end, he did win.
Jaime's grip on the sword slipped, causing it to soar through the air, and the man let out a hiss of agony as he clutched his injured right arm and its bruised fingers.
"You did well." He hummed as he noticed his Swordplay skill went up by one Level. Huh... he couldn't remember the last time his Swordplay went up by a level with a single hour's worth of training. It was evident that sparring with Jaime had its benefits. "Shall we do this again tomorrow at the same time?" he inquired.
Jaime grimaced but managed to nod. He returned that nod with his own before he turned and left.
It wasn't long before he entered one of Red Keep's corridor's and another person joined him.
"That was well fought. I do not believe that I have ever seen anyone get the better of Ser Jaime to such a degree. And you don't even seem tired from those spars." Ser Davos commented as the man joined him.
"Good morning, Ser Davos," he greeted warmly, flashing a genuine smile at one of the rare individuals in King's Landing whom he held in high regard. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company on this beautiful morning?" he inquired.
"Good morning to you too, Ser Stephen. And I came here with a request for you to meet your father."
"My father… is requesting that I go and meet him?" He asked skeptically. After all, Stannis did not 'request' anything. He simply gave orders and expected them to be followed.
That was one of the many weaknesses of Stannis Baratheon, in his opinion. People did not liked direct orders. After all, no one likes being told what to do. Making them do something by asking them Questions or giving them Suggestions works far better in the long run.
But then again, no one ever claimed Stannis to be a social wizard.
"No. It is not his request but mine." Ser Davos clarified.
"Yours?" he asked, surprised.
"Yes, my lord."
"May I ask why?"
Ser Davos nodded. "Your father might not show it, but as a father of four boys meself, I can say it with absolute certainty that he misses you. And that he would really appreciate it if you went to meet him. Just gives minutes would do."
"Why did you not make this request to my father?" He asked, even though he knew the answer.
"With all due respect, Ser Stephen. I might have great respect for your father, but I'm not blind to his shortcomings. Lord Stannis is perhaps the most stubborn man in this side of the Narrow Sea. If I make this request of him, then he'll simply ignore me, and that'll be that." Ser Davos explained. "I believed that I'll have more success if I came and spoke with you instead."
"And you were right, Ser Davos." He said as he stopped walking and clasped his shoulders. "My father is incredibly lucky to have a wise and loyal man like you looking after his needs. And I'll go and meet him… this evening. A dinner with him sounds good. Would you be so kind as to convey that to him?"
"I would, and good day to you Ser Stephen." Ser Davos said with warm smile before he turned to walk away.
"Ser Davos." He said and the man paused and turned to look at him.
He tossed a sizeable pouch of coins at Davos, who caught it clumsily. "Take this and purchase some presents for your wife, Lady Mary, and your sons Dale, Allard, Matthos, and Maric, the next time you visit them," he instructed.
Ser Davos opened the strings of the purse and his eyes widened upon seeing the gold coins inside it. "Your grace… this is too much."
"Oh, so I'm 'your grace' now?" He asked with an amused grin. "And no, it is less than what you deserve for your many years of loyal service to my family. Have a nice day, Ser Davos."
"Your grace?" Davos called out to him once again but he speed walked out of the place before the sailor decided to return his gold to him.
The gold was merely a tiny fraction of his immense wealth for him, but for someone like Davos, it would go a long way in either helping with his family troubles, or buying him a small, second hand trading cog for one of his sons.
He strolled for some time before ultimately arriving at the heart of the Red Keep, where he began interacting with the numerous individuals who resided in the area.
"Good morning Allarys." He greeted a passing maid before nodding toward to Red cloaks. "Rohn. James." The Red Cloaks bowed to him and he continued walking with a soft smile on his face, greeting anyone he met on the way.
Having a high Intelligence meant that he could remember anyone's name easily. And people really appreciated it, if you did that. Especially someone from the lower rungs of the society who never really expect to be noticed by the nobles in the castle, let alone royalty.
It wasn't long before he started meetting the various lords and ladies in the castle as well.
The ladies giggled and betted their eyelashes at him while the lords and knights gave him respectful nods.
It was nice to be so well respected in the Capital.
Halfway through to his destination, a gaggle of Crownlander ladies decided to tag along with him.
"Your grace. I heard that you've taken up singing and playing lute while you were out on your voyage." One of the ladies asked. "Would you play for us as well?"
"Good morning to you too, Lady Sera, Lady Elrie, Lady Dorthy, Lady Evelyn, and Lady Jesmyn." He said with a warm smile. "And I would be honoured to play for you ladies, when I am not quite as busy. Now, if you would kindly excuse me."
The ladies giggled at his words and made a few salacious comments on his politeness, one of the younger ones quietly passing a handkerchief to him before he left the area.
He looked at the handkerchief and saw that it had a time and location written on it… along with a piece of hair.
A rather indirect method of asking for sex in this day and age.
Alas, he already had his hands filled with 5 ladies. Mel, Lysa, Asha, Sarella, and Tyene. 6, if you count Cersei. 7, if you count Arianne. 8 and 9, if you count Malora Hightower and Alannys Harlaw. And 10, if you count Daenerys. And oh yeah, there was Missandei as well. So 11.
Wow… the list just keeps on increasing.
So yeah, he should probably not add any other ladies to his group anytime soon.
After a while, he arrived at his intended place, which was the Library of the Red Keep, and proceeded to enter it without any hesitation.
Upon arrival, he exchanged pleasantries with the librarian and his scribe, and then made his way to the secluded area at the back of the hall, hidden from curious onlookers. And found his three girls sitting there, gathered around a desk and waiting for him.
Sarella had ensconced herself within a fortress of books, engrossed in her diligent reading. Asha was reclining on a chair, making an effort to concentrate on a diminutive book. Meanwhile, Tyene had casually draped her legs over the table and was resting against a chair as she meticulously filed her nails.
"Girls." He said with a genuine smile as he hugged and kissed each one of them before he took a seat at the head of the table.
"So… did you kick Kingslayer's ass?" Tyene asked excitedly and he gave her a chastising look.
"Use your indoor voice, Tyene. And yes, while I did kick his ass, if I was not slightly faster than him, then he might have kicked mine." He told them.
"Really?" Tyene asked with shock. And even Sarella and Asha seemed interested now.
"Yes. Jaime is a highly skilled warrior. Perhaps one of the most skilled man in the entirety of Westeros after Ser Barristan Selmy. Sparring with him is increasing my own Swordsmanship skill like nothing else. I might make it a habit of sparring with him regularly, for as long as we stay in this city." He said.
"And how long are we going to stay in this city?" Sarella asked curiously and he shrugged.
"I would like to go back to Dragonstone as quickly as possible. Melisandre is doing a great job of looking after my lands, business and properties, I have no doubt in that. But I do need to have some direct input in my own trading empire." He said. "Plus, I also need to go and meet up with my mother, and sister. But I have a few more things that I need to accomplish in this city before we leave."
"A few things like?" Tyene asked and he shook his head.
"You'll learn soon." He said with a mysterious smile before he turned to waifu. "So, Asha. How have your studies been coming along?"
"Ugh!" The pirate girl grumbled at his question. "Do you really have to make me read so much as punishment? You know that I didn't mean anything when I teased Kingslayer."
"No excuses Asha. You made a mistake, and now you need to own up to it." He chastised her and then blinked as Tyene sashayed over to his side and sat down on his lap.
"Steph, could you please take us on a tour of the city?"" Tyene asked as she fluttered her eyelashes at him. "I have heard so much about this city. And now that I'm here, I want to experience it for myself."
"You know that he cannot go out into the city without being mobbed, right?" Sarella asked and Tyene pouted.
"We can go under disguise." She suggested. "Please Steph. I really want to go out and see the city."
"So that you can ask him to buy expensive shit for you?" Asha pitched in from the side and Tyene stuck her tongue out at her.
"And what's wrong with buying expensive stuff? Stephen is rich, and we're his women. Would it really be wrong for him to spend some of his money on us." Tyene said before she gazed into his eyes and wriggled her ass over his groin. "Please Steph?"
He smiled at her briefly, then his attention shifted towards the distance, his heightened sense of hearing picking up the sound of someone approaching. The slow and deliberate footsteps sounded familiar to him, as did the unmistakable scent of expensive perfume that was often found only in certain high-end brothels.
"Someone is coming." He told his girls and the seriousness in his voice made them sit up straight in their chair.
Baelish soon made his appearance and gave him a warm smile, as if the slimy snake won't slit his throat and sell his women to the highest bidder with that very same smile on his face.
"Greetings, Prince Stephen. I had hoped to find you here." Petyr Baelish said before he gazed at Tyene who was still sitting on his lap. "I hope I have not interrupted something for you."
"Greetings to you too, Lord Baelish. And no, we were just talking." he replied, giving Tyene a playful tickle that elicited a soft giggle from her before he turned his attention back to Baelish. "But please, take a seat, and tell me, how may I be of service to the Master of Coins of the realm."
"You honour me, Prince Stephen." Baelish said with a smirk as he took the seat. "But I'm afraid that it is the other way around. It is I, who wish to be of service to you."
"Do you now?" He asked as he gazed at perhaps one of the most skilled players in the game. "And why would you want to me to be of service to me? I am just the son of the King's brother. Set to inherit nothing but a rocky and barren island."
"You jest, Prince Stephen." Baelish said with a soft chuckle. "As of today, you have the third largest fleet in all of Weteros. Followed only by the Royal and the Redwyne Fleet. The Dragonstone Port, is that fastest growing port in all of Westeros, if not the entire world. And your spice, dry fruits, brandy, and fruit exports are making some of the Magisters in Essos look like paupers. And you have accomplished all this, and more at such a young age. Only a fool, would not want to align himself with you."
"Is that what you want to do. Align yourself with me?" He asked.
"Of course. If your recent voyage is any indication, then the trade flowing through your port is poised to increase manifolds in the upcoming moons and years." Petyr said as he steepled his fingers. "Based on my estimates, it won't be long before the Dragonstone Port rivals the prosperity of the once-thriving Spicetown.""
"And you want a slice of that pie."
"Oh, no, no, no. I am merely a faithful servant to the crown and only wish to serve you to the best of my abilities, Prince Stephen." Petyr said with a soft smile, though his sharp gaze said otherwise.
"You want me to believe that there's a single man in this city who's selfless enough to serve the Crown over his own ambitions? You must think quite low of me, Lord Baelish, to spout such drivel in my presence." He said, sending a mild glare towards the man. "But let's suppose I do believe in your nonsense. How would you serve me to the best of your abilities?"
Petyr quirked his lips and answered in his silk smooth voice. "I would never presume to think low of you, Prince Stephen. And if it is all the same to you, then I would serve you by managing all your assets in this city. Thanks to my service as a Master of Coin, I have managed to cultivate a rather... impressive list of allies and associates. And I dare say that I can make the procedure of selling your products in the city and buying raw material from other lords and merchants, both cheaper and far more expedient."
"And while you do that, you'll line your own pockets as the middleman, as well as consolidate all the control and soft power in this trade," he countered. "Why would I allow that?"
"While it is true, that I do gain some benefits as the middle man. I believe that at the end of the day, we would both be richer and more prosperous. Not the mention the headache and time I'll save you, in managing your assets in such a large city." Baelish explained. "I hope that someone as wise as you will see the potential benefits of such a deal."
"Oh, I can see the benefits of this deal, alright." He said and then stopped smiling. "But there is just one problem."
"Oh…?"
"Yes. You see, I do not trust you, Lord Baelish."
"Is that so. And might I ask, what I have done to earn your distrust, Prince Stephen?" Baelish asked with a soft smile, a dangerous glint hiding in his eyes that most men would've missed.
"How much debt has the Crown's coffers accumulated over the years?" He asked.
"I would tell you, but it seems as if you already know, Prince Stephen." Baelish said. "As you should. It is not like the Crown's debt is a secret."
"Perhaps. But how many Lord Paramounts are truly aware of how deep the Crown's debt is? And if the Iron Throne were to dissolve today, it would fall on their shoulders to return this debt," he asked. "Besides, I want to hear it from your own mouth. So tell me, Lord Baelish, what is the Crown's debt?"
Baelish pursed his lips and then let out a soft chuckle. "The crown is 2.6 million gold dragons in debt, Prince Stephen."
"What!?" It was Asha who spoke this time, her eyes wide with disbelief. "How the fuck did the crown get into this much debt?"
"It seems that the crown has been busy buying all the treasures from Old Valyria while we were not looking." Sarella joked in a soft voice, though it was evident that even she was disturbed by the extent of the Crown's debt.
"Isn't that much debt a bad thing?" Tyene asked and he smiled.
"Oh, I would not know. Why don't you ask our esteemed Master of Coins about it?" He said and all eyes turned to Baelish who maintained his soft smile despite the attention.
"The Crown being this deep in debt is indeed not a good thing." Baelish admitted. "But the King hardly ever listens to his advisors. Copper counting, he calls it. Furthermore, the recent war placed a significant burden on the Crown's treasury." Baelish said, looking pointedly at Asha who frowned at the insinuation that it was all her family's fault.
Except… it wasn't.
"And how much gold did the Crown spent in that war?" He asked before shaking his head. "No, don't tell me. I've already done the calculations, and even by extremely generous estimates, the Crown haven't possible spent more than 500,000 gold dragons in this war. So tell me, Lord Baelish, where did the 2.1 million of debt come from?"
Petyr smiled at him. "You're a wise young man, Prince Stephen. But the logistics of war are far more complicated than even someone as smart as you might be able to comprehend."
"Is that so?" He asked, giving the man an unimpressed look.
"Of course." Petyr replied.
He hummed at Peter's words and then glanced at Sarella. "Do you believe him, Sarella?"
Sarella frowned at his words and then shook his head. "I'm not an expert on war, but I do know that the levies and lords who participate in a war are not compensated for their efforts. While King's Landing did suffer from the Ironborn invasion, it seems that it was the merchants and traders who bore the brunt of the losses, rather than the crown. The only significant expense in this conflict would have been the cost of importing food from elsewhere. Therefore, I fail to see how the Crown could have possibly spent more than 200,000 gold dragons in this war."
"By your own admittance, you do not know a lot about war, Lady Sarella." Baelish said, smiling sweetly as his girl. "So how about you leave its accounting to the men in charge."
Sarella frowned at Baelish for his comment. "Then why don't you inform us just how much gold it took to end the Greyjoy Rebellion?"
"Yes. I would like to know that as well." Asha said as she leaned forward in her chair and glared at Baelish who remained undeterred in the face of such naked hostility.
"It was 1.2 million gold dragons." Baelish said softly before he stood up from his chair. "And I must say, that this has been an enlightening conversation, Prince Stephen. I came here with the hand of friendship but have been met with nothing but contempt and distrust. If you are really so opposed to working with me, then I'll take my leave."
With that, Petyr started to leave the library... until he spoke up.
"Asha. If Lord Baelish takes one step outside this library. Then please separate his head from his shoulders."
Baelish paused and glanced back at him and then at Asha who now had one of his hands on the pommel of her sword.
The snake gave a hesitant smile. "Now now, Prince Stephen. I know that you're a young man and your blood runs hot. But there is no need to take such drastic steps."
"Sit down Lord Baelish. We're still not done talking yet." He told the man, gesturing for the man to take a seat he'd just been sitting in.
Petyr glanced at him, at Asha, and then at the door. He contemplated his chances for a few moments before he smiled. "Of course. Though I must say that I'm rather… appalled by this treatment. I don't think Lord Jon Arryn will be happy to hear that a Greyjoy threatened one of his Small Council members. And in the middle of the Red Keep, no less."
"Now who's being dramatic?" he asked with a grin. "All I wanted was to conclude our discussion so that I could present you with the offer you originally came here for."
Baelish gave him a suspicious look. "Really now?"
"Of course. Handing a growing trade empire is a tiring task. And I'm always in need of good subordinates and allies who can share my burden." He said. "I would not be averse to granting you full authority over my trading operations in this city, except for one minor predicament."
"You do not trust me." Petyr said with a sardonic smile.
"Indeed, as I just informed you," he replied. "Your accounting and my own estimations of the costs involved simply do not align, which leaves me feeling rather... suspicious."
"You think that I'm stealing from the crown." Petyr said with a razor sharp smile. "That's quite a grave allegation, Prince Stephen. People have lost their lives for such accusations. Or lost their precious reputation, when those accusations turned out to he false."
"Who said that I'm accusing you of anything?" He asked, giving the man a confused look. "I have no doubt in my mind that you are an upstanding citizen, Lord Baelish, who only works for the benefit of the crown. I'm sure that it is my own calculations that are wrong. But… for my own peace of mind, I would like to see your accounts. And prove it to myself once and for all, that you're a trustworthy man; someone that I can do business with."
Petyr gazed at him, tapping his fingers thoughtfully for a moment before breaking into a smile. "If you wished to peruse my account books, Prince Stephen, you could have simply asked. There was no need for such theatrics."
"Of course, Lord Baelish. But I'm afraid that my reputation has given me a penchant for the theatrics." He smiled. "So, how soon can I expect the account books in my room."
"I'll have them to sent to you within two days, Prince Stephen."
"That's good to hear. The sooner that I can go through them, the sooner we can go to business and leave all this… unpleasantness, behind." He said.
"I would like nothing more." Petyr said with a thin smile before he got up from his chair and then glanced at Asha. "May I take my leave now, Lady Asha, to prepare my account books? Or do you still intend to skewer me?"
Asha let out a scoff and gesture for him to leave. But as soon as Petyr started to leave, he spoke up once again.
"One last thing, Lord Baelish." He called out and Baelish turned to give him a puzzled look.
"Do you still carry the token that Lord Brandon Stark gave you?" He asked.
Petyr managed to smile once again and made a gesture from his collarbone to his navel, where Brandon Stark had cut him up with his sword. Because Petyr didn't have common sense back then and wanted to duel with Brandon for his betrothed's hand.
"Only too well, Prince Stephen. Though why do you ask?" Baelish asked.
"If any harm befell my girls, my father or any of my other subordinates over the next week. If they fall down the stairs and break their neck, if they choke on their food, if they suffer a heart attack, or even if a lightening falls down from the sky and kills them…" He glared at the man and spoke in a soft, deliberate voice. "I would hold you responsible for that. And then the things I'll do to you, would make what Brandon Stark did to you, look like nice and pleasant evening stroll out in the gardens. And this time, there will be no one to save you." He said and then let the silence linger in between them for a long moment before he suddenly broke into a smile. "Have a lovely day, Lord Baelish. I trust that you can find your way out."
Baelish stared at him for a moment and gulped before he gave an uncertain smile and hurriedly walked out of the Library.