"Lord Stark, the Crown is currently over six million in debt. Lannister is the largest creditor; we already owe Lord Tywin three million gold dragons. But we have also borrowed from Lord Tyrell, the Iron Bank of Braavos, and several Tyroshi merchant houses. Recently, I had to find new sources of income and turned my attention to the Faith. The High Septon's bargaining skills are so high that even Dornish fishmongers can't compare," Littlefinger explained slowly.
The figure of six million gold dragons left Eddard utterly stunned. He vaguely knew some of the situation, but he had not anticipated such a terrifying number.
The North had always been harsh and cold; even as a Duke and Lord, he would never dare to be so extravagant. Only a king could be so wasteful. King Robert's power to spend money and indulge his whims was limitless.
"Aerys left behind mountains of gold and silver. How could you let it come to this?" Eddard accused.
"The master of coin only finds money; the King and the hand of the king spend it," Littlefinger replied unhurriedly.
Eddard was silent, unable to blame Lord Arryn, not only because the old man was no longer alive, but also because Robert, though he respected his foster father, never listened to prudent advice.
"My royal brother loves Tourneys and exotic delicacies," Lord Renly said with a smile. "He hates what he calls 'counting coppers'."
"Then, gentlemen, how much will a Tourney held in the name of the hand of the king cost?" Littlefinger asked.
"The winner's prize is fifty thousand gold dragons, the runner-up's is thirty thousand gold dragons. The winner of the melee is also thirty thousand, and the archery winner gets twenty thousand."
"That's a total of one hundred and thirty thousand gold dragons," Littlefinger sighed. "The King is even more generous than in previous competitions, which seems to be because of Lord Eddard's arrival and his willingness to spend. But there are other expenses; it goes without saying that Robert will want to host a grand feast. That means we'll also need chefs, carpenters, maids, Singers, actors, and jesters."
"We are not short of jesters," Lord Renly said. "My royal brother specifically instructed that before the war, champions must be selected from the Tourney."
"And war," Eddard felt even more saddened, "damn the war. If the Triarchy and the iron throne go to war, gold dragons will be scattered on the ground like flowing water."
"But the cost is somewhat high," Littlefinger said with a smile.
Eddard had no intention of arguing with them further. At least one hundred and fifty thousand gold dragons; a complete set of the best plate armor back then was only five gold dragons. It was truly too extravagant. And winter, the damn winter, could arrive at any time. Did they not consider the lives of the people?
"I will speak to His Majesty. The country cannot afford such an extravagant competition," Eddard sighed. Eddard felt his loneliness, but among this group of chameleons and idiots in King's Landing, Eddard could not discern who his true friends were.
"Talking to him is best, of course, but we should still start making plans," Lord Renly said.
"In the past, I also disagreed with the King's wastefulness, but I think that before a great war, if we need to fight what the King calls 'traitors' and the Mad King's bastards, a suitable amount of gold dragons is necessary," Grand Maester Pycelle, who had been dozing, added.
Eddard glanced at the Old Maester; the fox's tail was still showing. When it came to relations with Lannister, Grand Maester Pycelle was undoubtedly the leader among the five. Not to mention that when King's Landing fell back then, it was the Maester's idea to let the King invite the lion in, resulting in the bloody day of King's Landing. If there was even a slight chance of a Targaryen comeback, then the Old Maester would certainly be the most panicked.
"A shadow hangs over us," Eddard thought, the shadow of Targaryen, and the shadow of the King's bastards. That young giant with antlers revived again, but holding the hands of three fire dragons, he brandished his sword at them. But now, not only was the King growing old, but King's Landing was so unstable internally. Could they achieve victory? Eddard was not sure; he still wanted to solve the immediate predicament, the Lannister encirclement, first.
"Let's discuss it another day," Eddard was mentally exhausted. He noticed the looks in others' eyes; perhaps he had been too stern. "This is no longer Winterfell," Eddard thought. He did not have the absolute authority of a lord, and here he was merely the chief among many important ministers. The hand of the king sounded good, but their power and strength also depended on the national situation. At present, he did not have the ability to control the situation; instead, he was more like a wild wolf that had rushed in.
"My Lords, please forgive me. I am truly too tired. Let's end for today and continue when I feel better," Eddard changed to a softer tone. After speaking, without seeking anyone else's agreement, he suddenly stood up, nodded to the assembled ministers, and left directly.
Eddard stepped outside and saw carriages and knights still pouring continuously through the castle gate. The courtyard was a chaotic mess, filled with dirt, horse stench, and incessant shouting. Someone told him the King was still on his way.
"Still on his way?" A sense of powerlessness grew in Eddard's heart; he was isolated and helpless. Eddard understood the reason for his powerlessness in King's Landing: the King was an absentee landlord, and it was the King's absurdity that caused dissent among those below him. Money, military power, taxes – when the King was far from these, someone was quietly preparing. Renly, Lannister, and that annoying Littlefinger.
"Perhaps one hundred soldiers are far from enough," Eddard mused. These soldiers could only be sent to control one or two gates.
Eddard crossed the outer court, passed through the gate, and entered the inner courtyard. As he walked towards where he remembered the Tower of the Hand to be, Littlefinger suddenly appeared before him. "Stark, you're going the wrong way. Follow me."
Littlefinger wore a smile, but Eddard recalled many past events. Who knew if behind that smile was hatred?
Eddard followed him hesitantly. Littlefinger led him into a tower, down a winding staircase, through a sunken small courtyard, and along a disused corridor. On both sides of the walls, unused suits of armor stood like guards. They were historical relics left by House Targaryen, crafted from black steel, with helmets inlaid with dragon scales, but now covered in dust and long forgotten.
"This is not the way to my chambers," Eddard said.
"Did I say it was? I'm just about to lead you to the dungeons, slit your throat, and seal your body in the wall," Littlefinger said mockingly. "Stark, we don't have time for nonsense. Your lady wife is waiting for you."
...In the Map Room of Wolf's Den, Gendry looked at the map tapestry on the wall, depicting the shape of the known world as outlined by Myrish artisans.
The visitors from Claw Peninsula had already departed, taking with them some armor, weapons, and grain. The Triarchy controlled a large area of the sea, and Moros's skilled black ship task force also ensured foolproof security.
Gendry stood beneath the tapestry, looking at the Crownlands, which resembled a person's tiger's mouth, forming an arc.
The Crownlands' territory was not large, mainly consisting of the coast of Blackwater Bay and its islands, extending north from Claw Peninsula to Cape of Maysse in the south. The capital, King's Landing, was located in the middle of the arc, at the mouth of the Blackwater Rush where it flowed into Blackwater Bay.
"Lord Stark should have arrived in King's Landing by now, becoming the new hand of the king," Qyburn said.
Gendry had anticipated that with the death of Lord Jon, the gears of fate had begun to turn. Stark would eventually enter the game.
"Stark's journey south will only disrupt the situation in King's Landing," The Handsome Man said in a deep voice. "Lannister has been entrenched in King's Landing for too long. Once the conflict between the lion and the wolf escalates, King's Landing will fall into chaos."
"Lord Stark might not have a good outcome," Jorah said uneasily. "The old gods do not protect the Starks who go south."
Everyone fell silent, but apart from Stark, who else could the King trust?
"The King made a wrong plan. If the Crownlands, Stormlands, and Dragonstone could be united, then the Royal Family's strength would be unparalleled. Unfortunately, it is now divided into three," Gendry said. The Crownlands belonged to the King, the Stormlands to Lord Renly, and Dragonstone to Stannis.
"This is our opportunity," Qyburn said coldly.
"The geographical units of the Crownlands seem to have no natural defenses. The only trouble is that King's Landing is a tall city, and we need to attack by passing Dragonstone. Apart from King's Landing, and the Claw Peninsula which is marshland and pine forest, other areas are flat," Jorah slowly analyzed. "The terrain of the Stormlands is even worse. It is one of the relatively smaller territories among the Seven Kingdoms. The inland terrain is mostly rugged mountains, the coast has many rocks, and there are vast and dense jungles."
"Naval supremacy. As long as we have naval supremacy, our troops can land at any time," Moros from Myr reminded them. "And the biggest trouble for us right now is Stannis's Royal Fleet."
"What's your idea?" Gendry asked Moros.
"Your Highness, as everyone knows, Dragonstone was once the base of House Targaryen, and most of the Royal Fleet is also at Dragonstone. I suggest we raid Stannis when necessary, occupy Dragonstone as our forward landing base, and completely blockade King's Landing," Moros proposed.
Gendry looked at the map above. There were three routes to threaten King's Landing: upper, middle, and lower. The upper route was to exit Claw Peninsula, pass Fountainhead, and attack from the north. The middle route was to occupy Dragonstone and block King's Landing's sea access. The lower route was to occupy Storm's End and then march north.
"Stannis is not that easy to defeat. I've dealt with him; he's as hard as iron. And blockading the coastline might also damage Braavos and other city-states, which would increase the number of enemies," Jorah said with a frown.
"Lord Tywin's army needs to pass through the Riverlands, and the Riverlands are pro-Stark, so he will be obstructed. And near the Crownlands, besides Stannis, I think Lord Renly's strength is even more formidable. Stannis doesn't have much popular support, and his territory is sparsely populated," The Handsome Man said word by word. "If he gains the full support of The Reach, he will have a large amount of gold and soldiers."
"No matter which location, as long as we can stabilize ourselves, the advantage will be great. Wherever our banners fly, we will have supporters. Fountainhead, Darry Town, Claw Peninsula," Qyburn said. "The Crownlands and Riverlands have many nobles loyal to the Old King, and the Stormlands, due to Your Highness's bloodline, should not cause particularly great trouble."
"You are all correct. The premise is that I must defeat both Lord Renly and Stannis simultaneously," Gendry thought. "How to resolve both Renly and Stannis through one clever war."
Based on paper strength, everyone acknowledged Renly's threat.
Gold is indeed powerful, but magic is even more terrifying, Gendry thought. Gold and manpower are visible things, while the Red Priestess's magic is simply unreasonable.
However, the red comet has not yet appeared, and the Red Priestess's magic is not so vast. In this situation, Gendry felt that Renly might not die easily, which would introduce new changes to the war situation.
"Has the woman I asked you to investigate appeared on Dragonstone?" Gendry asked.
"No trace has been found yet," Qyburn replied. "I will continue to observe."
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