280 AC, Autumn.
When the ravens from Harrenhal flew over the mountains and riverlands of Westeros, carrying messages to every corner of the Seven Kingdoms, the entire continent trembled.
House Whent of Harrenhal announced that in the spring of 281 AC, at Harrenhal—that massive, gloomy, cursed castle—they would host a grand tourney to celebrate the name day of Lord Whent's daughter.
The tourney would last for ten days. During this period, the main event would naturally be the joust, accompanied by the melee of the seven, along with archery, axe-throwing, horse racing, and single combat.
Tourneys were not uncommon. Lords and nobles of Westeros held them for name days, weddings, the birth of heirs, or important festivals. Some were grand, some small.
What truly left every lord, knight, and commoner slack-jawed was the official announcement explicitly stating the dizzyingly high reward: The Champion's Purse!
Specifically, the prize for the Jousting Champion: 80,000 Gold Dragons!
Yes, you read that right. Just for the jousting champion alone, not the sum of all prizes.
Yes, you read that right. Eighty thousand. Not eight thousand. Not eight hundred.
Yes, you read that right. Gold Dragons. Not Silver Stags, not Copper Stars.
The prize for a single champion far exceeded the annual income of many noble houses! This didn't even include the crown of the "Queen of Love and Beauty" awarded to the victor, crafted from pure gold and countless gems, itself priceless.
Beyond the 80,000 for the joust, the prizes continued: 60,000 gold dragons for the melee champions, 40,000 for the single combat champion, 20,000 for the archery champion, 10,000 for axe-throwing, and 10,000 for horse racing.
The total prize pool amounted to a staggering 220,000 Gold Dragons!!!
The sum was so astronomical that many initially dismissed the news as a ridiculous rumor.
Only when lords, nobles, and Maesters across the realm confirmed it did people realize this was no joke. House Whent was sparing no expense. This fortune, enough to buy an entire fleet or build a sturdy castle, was being offered as mere prize money for a competition.
Even more unusual was the timing: the announcement was sent out a full six months in advance.
Galloping messengers and flapping ravens delivered these luxurious invitations to every eligible noble estate in the Seven Kingdoms, as if fearing anyone might miss this grand event. The ample time allowed even the most distant Northern lords to travel south leisurely. It gave knights time to polish armor and train horses, noble ladies time to sew the most magnificent gowns, and allowed countless schemes, alliances, and conspiracies to brew quietly during the six-month fermentation period.
All of Westeros was boiling.
The dazzling light of the gold dragons temporarily dispelled the legendary shadow of terror over Harrenhal. People discussed House Whent's unprecedented generosity, speculated on the true purpose behind the event, and waited impatiently to witness this golden gathering destined for the history books.
In the Sea Tower's council chamber at Pyke, filled with the scent of salt and smoke, the document from Harrenhal, stamped with the official seal, lay quietly on King Quellon's black oak desk. The atmosphere in the room was heavy and strange, as if the numbers on the parchment were choking the air.
The document was passed silently between Quellon, Balon, Euron, and Balf. When Balon Greyjoy's rough fingers clutched the parchment for the third time, his eyes wide as he confirmed every word, he finally couldn't hold back a low roar, like a wounded sea beast.
"Two hundred and twenty thousand! Two hundred and twenty thousand Gold Dragons?!" Balon jerked his head up, his face filled with pure, incomprehensible shock, looking between his father and brothers. "Has House Whent gone completely mad?! Or is their warehouse bursting with so much gold they need to throw it into the sea?!"
His shock wasn't without reason. Just recently, the Ironborn had sacked the famously wealthy Arbor. According to the tally by House Harlaw, all the cash looted from House Redwyne and every noble estate on the island—including gold dragons, silver stags, copper stars, and easily liquidatable jewelry—totaled only about six hundred thousand Gold Dragons. And that massive sum had to be divided among all participating families and warriors according to ancient tradition and battle merit!
Of course, that didn't include the wine, ships, weapons, armor, and antiques.
"Many believe the purpose of this tourney is to compete with House Lannister, to show off House Whent's wealth and glory, letting everyone in Westeros know who the richest really is," Captain Balf added in a muffled voice, his tone equally incredulous. "I don't believe it's such a stupid reason... House Whent is putting up nearly a third of the Arbor's liquid wealth just for a game? And that doesn't include the cost of hosting for ten days—wine, food, venue... that alone must be tens of thousands!"
Even Euron, who already knew the rewards for the Tourney at Harrenhal would be unprecedented, was moved. His deep eyes fixed on the number, calculating rapidly. He clearly remembered that the massive ransom paid by the "Queen of Thorns" Olenna Redwyne to retrieve her son and avoid further conflict was "only" twenty thousand gold dragons.
Two hundred and twenty thousand gold dragons—that meant one could buy the lives of eleven Adrian Redwynes in one go!
This figure went beyond generosity; it stepped into a realm of luxury bordering on the absurd, a sheer display of power.
It was no longer just prize money; it was a glittering declaration slammed down in front of the lords of the Seven Kingdoms.
King Quellon remained silent. His weathered face betrayed little emotion, only his fingers tapping slowly and heavily on the table, as if weighing the true gravity behind this number and the terrifying waves it might stir across Westeros.
When the ravens of the Citadel and the messengers of King's Landing delivered the invitations to every corner of the Seven Kingdoms, they did not ignore the two farthest poles of Westeros.
In Dorne, the scorching sun baked the sandstone walls of Sunspear. The invitation was respectfully presented to Prince Oberyn "The Red Viper" Martell, and likely Prince Doran. for the fiery Martells, this gathering of the realm's elite, filled with passion and adventure, exuded an irresistible allure. Half a year was more than enough time for them to leisurely cross the Prince's Pass and head north to the center of the commotion.
In the distant North, the news arrived at Winterfell, seeming to carry a chill befitting the local climate. This overly ornate invitation was placed before Lord Rickard Stark, Warden of the North. For the pragmatic and steady Lord of Winterfell, the motive behind House Whent's fanfare was perhaps more worthy of thought than the shocking prize of two hundred and twenty thousand gold dragons.
The six-month preparation period was generous even for Winterfell. It was enough time for the Starks to travel down the Kingsroad, cross the Neck, and head south with ease.
The scope of the invitations and the preparation time transcended the borders of Westeros. As people said: Even a dignitary or wealthy merchant across the Narrow Sea in Essos, if they wished to participate, would have enough time in these six months to arrange their affairs and sail west leisurely to try their luck.
The entire known world seemed to stir because of this unprecedented golden bounty.
Harrenhal, the massive cursed castle, was opening its shadowy arms, ready to welcome a frenzy ignited by gold that would sweep the world.