Artys Arryn POV.
"Master, I would like to ask you something," Soryn said, sitting beside me.
He and his never-ending doubts. Ever since I had shared a few of my plans with him, those doubts had only grown.
"Go ahead," I replied lazily, exhausted from dealing with the lords after my wonderful performance in the tourney. My father had ordered a feast, and those lords surrounded me like whores around a rich man, or bees around honey.
It was exhausting keeping a fake smile and acting all noble in front of them. Most of them were minor lords of the Crownlands, and the others were either second sons or younger brothers sent by lords to attend the tourney.
"Why did you ask me to send grain, cooked fish, boar, and fruits a few miles north of King's Landing?" Soryn asked, barely hiding his disdain for the spending.
He and his obsession with money—saving every last coin.
"Tell me, Soryn," I said, turning to him. "What is it that people cannot live without? What makes them feel owned?"
"Money… and more money, I guess," he replied without hesitation.
"You lend people money for some interest like your grandfather did, and then they owe him. It's a powerful way to gain influence," he continued, full of confidence, reflecting his nature and beliefs.
"Hah…" I sighed. I had thought he would be of great help in politics as well, but it seemed I would have to keep him limited to business.
"You're right to an extent," I said. "But you can't lend money to commoners, and common people don't always care about money."
"Who doesn't care about money?" he asked, clearly confused, missing my hint entirely.
"Money in the hands of nobles and wealthy families is a tool to survive. But for commoners, it's a way to get food to feed their families," I explained, my intention deliberate.
"But you said there would be birds waiting there, and you ordered our men to feed them the food we send, not people? What do we gain?" Soryn asked in confusion. It's understandable—I can't tell him these birds are now my servants, and I preferred to keep the ability to control animals a secret for now.
"Among those birds you would find ravens too. They carry messages across the realm. Think of it like this: when these ravens travel with messages, they will land near our designated places. We will have our people there—they would give them something to eat, maybe some water, and in the meantime, our people can read the messages they are carrying," I said with a knowing smile.
"Are you sure, Master? It will succeed. They are nothing but birds ,they lack intelligence," Soryn pressed, his doubts never-ending.
It's good they have not heard you saying that. Right now they are busy; otherwise, I am afraid you would have at least lost an eye.
"Don't worry. Everything will fall into place," I said, taking a sip of wine. In Westeros, there was no age restriction to drink. Thank the gods for this. But kids were allowed only little amount at a time.
"But master, it seems a waste of money," Soryn said, still like a bloody goblin who hates spending money but loves to collect it.
"That wasn't much. I think I could afford three hundred gold dragons. Besides, you have yet to tell me the money we made in the betting during the tourney?" I almost forgot the bet I had instructed him to place during the tourney.
"It was a decent collection, I would say. Many bet against you. If I were to put it in gold dragons… about fifteen thousand. All thanks to our generous promise to give ten times the return in case of your loss," Soryn said, annoyingly.
Even he had thought I would lose, though he didn't say it—I could read the answer in his expression. Ten times fifteen thousand meant one hundred and fifty thousand gold dragons would have been the loss if I had lost. No wonder he was worried.
"Any other news?" I asked, having instructed Soryn to gather some intelligence inside the Red Keep.
"Yes. One of my spies reports that your father intends to send you to the Vale, under the guardianship of Lord Royce," he said, taking a sip of Dornish wine.
"Well, that sounds like good news to me. I would be far away from this shitting city and its politics," I smiled. I was already planning to convince my father to send me to the Vale, where I could build my businesses and expand.
"My lord, I know it's important for you to free those slaves because of the faith, but… it's a huge loss. We would lose a lot of workforce," Soryn tried to point out the downside of losing free labor.
"Yes, we will need to free them. But don't worry—they will still work for us, just not in chains. We will give them food, shelter, and better living conditions. Besides, it will motivate them to work harder," I raised my cup to toast, only to see Soryn staring at me.
"What?" I asked clearly, taking a sip.
"But why would they work for us? They would run away the moment they are free," Soryn said, clearly hating the idea of freeing slaves.
I drank the rest of the wine in one go and slammed the glass on the table, shattering it. I stared right into his eyes.
"If anyone tries to escape, kill them. I want to free them, yes—but not send them away. The first person who attempts to leave… make sure at least a hundred arrows pierce his chest in front of the others. Tell them they will live a better life, no chains, but leaving is forbidden." I gave him an evil smile as I spoke.
Soryn looked at me with no expression… then smiled.
"Why are you smiling?" I asked. I didn't crack a joke—unless he was a psychopath who thought killing was fun.
"No… I've seen your cleverness, my lord. But I thought you lacked ruthlessness. It seems my expectations were all wrong. The blood of dragons still runs deep in you," he said, rising to bow. It was already late, and it was time for me to rest.
Blood of dragons… what use is it without dragons themselves? I need to get my hands on dragon eggs soon. The sooner, the better, to get them hatched.
I might need to contact those followers of R'hllor—they could help me hatch them. The sooner I acquire dragons, the better. The bigger they grow, the stronger I become.
But I would also need to raise them in Sothoryos, far away from the world's eyes. There is lots of work to do: build trade routes with Yi Ti, Free Cities, build factories. The next ten years are going to be hell.
"Soryn, do I have any dragon eggs? I mean, are there any eggs I have acquired?" I asked the man by the door. He looked back.
"No, my lord. Your grandfather and grandmother tried to get their hands on one, but dragon eggs are rare," he replied.
"Of course they are," I said. I was not expecting them to have any. After all, dragon eggs are treasure in themselves.
"Do you want me to contact my connections in Essos to obtain one? Though I can't guarantee anything," Soryn asked for instructions.
"YES," I replied, just as there was a knock at the door. Who could be visiting at this late hour?
"Come in," I shouted. Who would want to come at this hour? I hoped it wasn't that Tully whore, Lysa. But thank the seven, it was Ser Jasper who entered. He looked at Soryn with disgust and then walked a few steps to stand in front of me. Soryn followed him.
"Young lord, sorry to disturb. But Lord Arryn has summoned you to his chambers," he said, his face dull, clearly exhausted.
"Why now? Can't we speak tomorrow?" I said. I didn't want to climb all those stairs in the Tower of the Hand. No wonder Joffrey hated it when Tywin moved the small council to the Tower of the Hand.
"I don't think so. He said it's important."
"Let's go then." I rose from my chair, unfazed. "Soryn, you may rest. No need to follow me."
Let's go and deal with the old man. I need to make sure he gives me enough power, because if I remain only under Yohn, I would have little authority inside the Vale despite being the heir.
POV ends
Meanwhile, on the northern coast of King's Landing.
The sight was something no one in the history of the Seven Kingdoms had ever seen. A dozen Unsullied stood in a straight line on one side—but that wasn't what was new.
In front of them, a feast was underway.
A bonfire burned in the middle. Roasted boar, grains, corn, and fish—all well cooked—and wine filled huge metal tubs laid out around the fire. Crows, ravens, pigeons, and other birds were enjoying the feast.
"This is the best day of my life. Coo… cooo," roared a pigeon as he swallowed a richly flavored piece of roasted boar.
On the other side, near a large pot of wine, the crows were dead drunk. None of them could walk straight anymore.
"Make some room for the ladies, gronk… gronk," shouted a raven as a group of female ravens, pigeons, and crows wearing small garlands surrounded the bonfire and started dancing.
They caught the attention of all the nearby birds except the group of drunk crows, who had recently discovered the joy of alcohol.
Smoke drifted upward toward the stars. The other birds joined the dance. They all started dancing and circling around the bonfire.
All the birds were enjoying the feast, except one.
A lieutenant, a one-eyed crow, watched with disdain as the drunk birds collapsed onto the ground.
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