As Kal finished speaking, the conference room gradually sank into an eerie silence.
At the long table sat the Hand of the King, Eddard Stark, the Master of Whisperers, Varys, and the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Barristan Selmy.
The expressions among the three shifted from their initial subconscious indifference to growing seriousness.
Kal's words, logical and clear in their reasoning, combined with their stirring and visionary scope—just from listening, one could tell how highly feasible they were—
a plan that could, in fact, be carried out directly, one that painted an immense scene before their eyes.
Indeed, as Kal laid bare the key points within, the three great ministers present immediately understood what his plan truly entailed.
At the same time, they could already foresee how, once King's Landing truly succeeded in hosting the grand event Kal spoke of, its commerce would become unimaginably prosperous and full of promise.
Staring blankly at Kal, who wore a confident smile and held his chin slightly raised, a vivid image gradually formed in the minds of the three men—the already bustling and flourishing docks of King's Landing would, with the opening of the grand tournament Kal described, see even more ships anchoring there.
Inns and taverns throughout the city, as well as vacant houses, would all become impossibly hard to find.
On Silk Street, the patrons of the prostitutes would form long queues, while sailors and mercenaries from all lands would brawl over them.
In Iron Street, the forges of the blacksmiths would burn through the deep of night without rest. The hammering of red-hot metal would not only burst into endless dazzling sparks but also fill the air with the ceaseless clangor of colliding steel.
Circuses from across the Narrow Sea would compete to show whose tricks and performances were the most skillful.
Dwarf operas, lions leaping through rings of fire, and puppet shows performed by dark-skinned girls from the Summer Islands would take turns on stage.
The streets, already crowded with people, would become as packed as an overflowing sewer—
foul-smelling, yet utterly impenetrable.
Flea Bottom, the slum quarter of King's Landing, would become even more restless.
The homeless who had lost everything would be driven from the unnoticed corners of the city by outsiders who did not belong there, pushed beyond the walls—because this rare shelter of theirs would be taken over by those unable to secure a place to stay in inns or lodging houses.
Even though the air there would be thick with the stench of pigsties, stables, tanners' huts, ale, and brothels mingled together, people would still gather there not only for business but also to contend for victory across the countless competitions.
Some would come merely out of curiosity, just to witness others' success.
It was foreseeable that people would revel in it endlessly—for this place would become the starting point of dreams for those from the lowest strata, those who seemed to have no chance of ever rising above their station.
By then, it would not be limited to the Seven Kingdoms, nor even to Westeros alone.
Even across the Narrow Sea, in Essos—and on the Summer Islands across the Sunset Sea, beyond the Summer Sea itself—and further still, in the Jade Sea that most had only read of in books.
All who heard the news, all who had ambition, would turn their attention toward this unprecedented, never-before-seen grand festival from King's Landing of Westeros.
Commercially, it would bring greater consumption—both for the Iron Throne and for King's Landing itself.
The victors of the grand tournament would gain not only glory and wealth, but even those once distant and unattainable ranks and statuses.
Politically, all nobles and vested interests alike would inevitably grow more loyal, as the majesty and prestige belonging to the Iron Throne flourished anew.
And as time went on, if this grand event continued to endure, its fame would only grow greater.
By then, the Seven Kingdoms could very well be expected to truly become one.
For the military might and authority of the Iron Throne would likewise grow stronger along with such prosperity.
Moreover, those who benefited from it would grow ever more devoted to the Baratheon dynasty.
By that time, the name of Targaryen would, with the unfolding of all this, truly become a thing of the past.
The once-dreaded threat of dragons—the nominal rule of the dragonlords—would forever pale in comparison to the tangible, visible, and eternal profit before their eyes.
At the Small Council table, the three men each entertained their own imaginings.
Seeing the three of them dazed, Kal—who had just presented a business model ahead of its time yet perfectly suited to this world—let the corner of his mouth curve slightly upward.
"My lords, I think a new commercial model, one based on people themselves, may thus take shape," Kal said confidently.
Then, sweeping his gaze across them, he added, "However, let us not forget—we are a kingdom."
"Then, is collecting taxes not only proper and natural?"
"At that time, will you still think the royal treasury will remain as empty as it is now?"
As Kal spoke, he seemed to have fully entered his rhythm.
He rested his arm upon the table, a faint excitement showing in his expression.
With that rhetorical question—asserting this exclusive right belonging to rulers—
the eyes of the other two, save for Varys, immediately brightened.
The Hand of the King, Eddard Stark, pressed down on the pages of the book before him,
then released them again, his fingers restlessly tapping on the leather cover.
The hard texture beneath his touch gave him a sense of reality.
The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard furrowed his brow and then relaxed it again—he seemed unable to fully grasp everything Kal was saying.
Yet when Kal spoke of taxation, he instantly understood from where the treasury's money would come.
Varys, meanwhile, tucked his hands into his sleeves, lowered his head, and let his brows hang low, appearing to ponder earnestly every aspect of Kal's proposed plan.
Faced with the three men's differing states of contemplation, Kal did not interrupt.
Instead, taking advantage of their momentary stillness, he continued to throw down his bombs.
"Moreover, I have a rather intriguing idea, my lords—I wish to ask whether the creditors of the Iron Throne would have any interest in joining this game!"
"And perhaps not only them."
"All merchants, the wealthy, even slave owners could come to cooperate with us."
As Kal spoke, an involuntary, wicked smile crept across his face.
In the heat of summer, it sent a sudden chill down one's spine—and the three ministers, lost in thought until now, were all startled awake and raised their heads to look toward him.
"Ser Kal, what do you mean by that?" the Hand asked in confusion. "And why should we cooperate with others? Are we to simply hand over our gleaming golden dragons to them?"
After the Hand finished speaking, Ser Barristan also voiced his thoughts. "I do not quite understand either, Ser Kal."
The three men looked at Kal Stone in puzzlement.
As for the eunuch Varys, his brows were slightly furrowed, and his faintly violet eyes were as deep and still as a spring, revealing nothing of his thoughts.
He did not speak, yet he too continued watching Kal—wearing the expression of one who was listening carefully.
Facing the doubtful gazes of the three royal councillors, Kal chuckled softly, lowered his arm, and leaned back against the backrest of his chair, leaving only one hand resting on the table's edge.
"Money is endless to earn, my lords."
Tapping his finger lightly, Kal spoke with deliberate meaning, a glint of amusement flickering in his eyes.
Then he spread both hands open.
"The essence of money is like the Blackwater Rush outside King's Landing—only when it flows does it possess value."
"Besides, Lord Eddard was not wrong just now—we indeed have no money at present."
"But that doesn't mean others don't have money, does it?"
"So what we must do is find a way to make others willingly spend their money here."
Kal spoke cheerfully, his face showing the carefree air of someone who had never truly handled wealth in his life—
as though his happiest time had been the days he once scooped food from a dragon's lair.
But once the good part was said, Kal suddenly shifted his tone.
"And more importantly—have you ever thought about this? Once we open this new path of commerce, how do we secure the 'territory' we've gained so that it isn't 'stolen' by thieves?"
After giving them honey-soaked bread, Kal did not forget to follow it with a stick.
In doing so, he also explained why he had proposed cooperating with the wealthy and claimed that money could never be exhausted.
"Yes, I think what Ser Kal has said is not something that only we are capable of doing."
The eunuch spymaster, who had remained silent for a while, spoke at last in his mellifluous tone.
He relaxed his brows and smiled toward the newly appointed Master of Coin seated beside him.
"So, Kal, what you mean is that only by cooperating with them and yielding part of the profit can we ensure our advantage, correct?"
"Lord Eddard, it's not advantage," Kal waggled a finger, "it's discourse power."
He declared with conviction, "Only by becoming the pioneers—the ones who set the rules—can we truly maintain our lead."
After saying this, he shrugged lightly.
"But that is a profound matter—one worth all our efforts."
Advantage and disadvantage, good and bad—
Kal had made himself perfectly clear.
How to earn money, and how to guard their own 'territory' against being stolen—Kal had provided a complete answer.
Eddard Stark pondered, unable to find any point from which to refute Kal's words.
Then he took a deep breath and turned his head to look around.
"What do you two lords think?"
"This is a grave matter," Varys said first, responding to the Hand's uncertainty, "but since Ser Kal has thought it through so thoroughly, he must have full confidence—thus, I choose to agree!"
"I share Lord Varys's opinion. And if we inform the King of this matter, I believe he will be even happier than we are."
Ser Barristan Selmy also gave his own reply.
---
I will post some extra Chapters in Patreon, you can check it out. >> patreon.com/TitoVillar
---