Alternatively... a woman named Saera kept her attention on some numbers.
Coin first. Coin was first at this point in time.
Making it so that ledgers lay open before her... neat columns of income and expense written by careful hands.
For it would seem her establishment in Volantis had done well in recent moons.
Very well, in fact.
Nobles, merchants, captains, even envoys… all had come through her doors.
And lately, they came more often.
Stayed longer.
Spent more.
Mayhaps fear did that.
Maybe it was the tension that loosened purses.
As she mused... Saera dipped her quill again, making a small correction to a total before finally leaning back.
Only then did she allow herself to consider the mood of the city she was residing in.
As far back as she could remember... Volantis had always been somewhat loud.
Boastful.
Certain of itself.
The Old Blood liked to think they still stood closest to the lost glory of Valyria. They were considered their First Daughter, after all.
But now…
Now the city felt tight.
Tense.
It could be seen in the streets. Heard in the markets. Felt in the way even slaves moved quicker than usual, heads lower, voices quieter.
The tension came from the top.
From the Triarchs themselves.
And it flowed downward… into the freeborn, into the soldiers, into the slaves.
The fall of the Triarchy had done that.
Three cities. Gone in quick succession.
The Tyroshi, Myrmen, and Lyseni.
All under new rule.
All taken by one bronzen force.
And so, Saera tapped the end of her quill lightly against the table.
For even Volantis could not ignore such a development.
Making it so that the factions were already at each other's throats.
As they always were.
The Tigers roared for war. A battle to test mettle.
They always seemed to lean that way.
Old blood, old pride, old foolishness.
They wanted confrontation. Wanted to show strength. To remind the world that Volantis had once marched with animals and legions and nearly taken all of their former enemies for themselves.
They spoke of fleets. Of armies. Of crushing this "bronze threat" before it grew larger.
Apparently, to conquer the conqueror.
Even Saera snorted softly at those thoughts.
Idiots, she considered the Tigers. Had they not learned the moral exemplified by the Triarchy's tragedy?
The Elephants, at least, had sense.
Composed of merchants. Traders. And men who understood risk.
They were the ones who argued for restraint. For patience. For distance.
The Bronze Retaliation was being called that for a reason. A retaliation.
It had not started with Volantis.
And it did not need to include them.
Let the storm pass.
Let the new power settle.
Send gifts or envoys, perhaps.
Words of congratulations.
Acknowledge the change and mayhaps profit from it.
That was the smarter play. An obvious decision to go with.
And for a brief moment… it seemed the Elephants can rest easy with the consensus favoring their way.
Saera had even marked it as likely.
But then came the next piece of news.
Wherein everything shifted again.
For it involved the Disputed Lands.
Those long-fought territories between the four Cities… fields and roads that had seen more skirmishes than harvests.
Word came that they were to be… renamed.
To that point that even Saera smirked faintly at the oddity.
For "Puted Lands" was what the Disputed Lands would be.
A ridiculous name.
The renamer simply removed the "dis" from disputed, as if it was the actual opposite.
As if that solved centuries of conflict.
Still… the meaning behind it was not amusing.
It was a declaration.
To no longer be disputed.
It was now claimed.
Finally settled.
By the Royces.
That alone was enough to stir outrage.
The Tigers seized on it immediately.
Insult. Encroachment. Provocation. They roared louder than before.
And this time… more listened.
The Elephants argued back, of course.
They always did.
Profit over pride.
Stability over war.
But the balance had shifted.
Again.
All the while... Saera observed it all from a distance.
As she had no interest in choosing sides.
Once, perhaps, she would have.
The younger her would have delighted in stirring things further. Whispering in the ears of her carefully selected lovers. Turning factions against one another or merging them towards a certain cause.
Anything to spite her dear father and the realm he had built.
But that had been a long time ago.
Now…
She was older. More mature.
Now, she found some amusement in simply counting coins.
And seeing opportunity for her business. The local pleasure house she's made famous with all she's learnt from her time in Lys.
In any case... tense folk spent more.
Frustrated men needed distraction.
Fearful women sought comfort.
Meaning that her boys and girls would be busy.
Perhaps she should remind them to be accommodating, Very accommodating.
For business involving the flesh would thrive in times like these.
It always did.
Still…
Her thoughts drifted.
Not to Volantis.
Not to the usual factions.
But to one name.
Ronan.
Her grand-nephew of sorts.
The so-called Bronze of Many Titles.
To which... Saera's lips curved ever slightly.
Since she had actually followed the boy's story for years...
Almost from the beginning.
When that Rhea's plight caught her attention during her own ploy to put forth her sons as heirs during the Great Council.
During that time... little Ronan was a child overlooked.
A bastard pushed aside.
Branded to another House without much thoughtful deliberation.
And all because of the finalizing decision of one man.
Jaehaerys. The Conciliator.
The great king.
The oh-so wise king.
The old fool!
Which really prompted Saera's fingers to tap lightly on a ledger.
The mere thought of her father just agitated her that way.
He had made many good decisions, yes.
Stabilized the realm.
Built roads.
Forged peace.
But he had also made mistakes.
His actions and reactions towards her were one of them.
But there was no doubt for Saera that his handling of Ronan Stone was the worst of all.
Instead of considering the boy to be somewhat accepted within the royal fold… he's allowed the boy to be shaped elsewhere.
By another House.
Another name.
Another path.
The old man had not anticipated or perhaps even thought of what the boy could become.
Dismissed it entirely. Mayhaps due to him being that senile due to his old age.
And now?
Now... that same boy had done what even Volantis once failed to do.
Broken the Triarchy.
Taken those three cities.
And reshaping new regions.
At that... Saera let out a quiet breath, something between amusement and satisfaction.
"Oh, how you would have regretted this." She murmured softly.
Not that Jaehaerys could hear her.
What truly mattered was the fact that Jaeharys's legacy would not be as exalted as it should have been.
His legacy forever stained... by a dark mark that could not be missed.
Involving Ronan…
For Ronan was the greatest blemish to it all.
And obviously, for Saera Targaryen, who had a distinct hatred for her father... there was just something delicious and quite pleasing about that.