Chapter 48:
King's Landing, the Red Keep, the Great Council Chamber.
This was a meeting capable of deciding the history of the next hundred years.
Every person seated around the long table could shake the Seven Kingdoms with a single stomp.
On the right side: "Mother of Dragons" Daenerys Targaryen, with the ever-stern Grey Worm standing behind her.
On the left side: "Warden of the North" Sansa Stark, with a frowning Jon Snow beside her.
At the far end: Two heavyweight guests. One was the "Queen of Thorns" Olenna Tyrell from Highgarden (the most venomous old lady in all of Westeros), and the other was Tycho Nestoris, the envoy from the Iron Bank of Braavos — a banker as thin as a skeleton and sharper with an abacus than anyone else.
Victor Pompey, however, was not sitting on the symbolic Iron Throne.
Instead, he had ordered the chair forged from a thousand broken swords moved to a corner of the hall, with a sign hanging on it: "Under restoration. Do not touch."
He sat in the head seat at the long table, in a comfortable, padded leather swivel office chair (system-produced).
"Ladies and gentlemen."
Victor spun his chair slightly, producing a faint mechanical creak.
"Since none of you want to fight, let's talk business."
"Business?"
The Iron Bank envoy Tycho spoke with a cold face. "Lord Pompey, the Iron Bank does not care who sits on the chair. We only care about the debt. House Lannister owes us six million gold dragons, and the Baratheon dynasty owes us four million. Since you have taken over King's Landing, this account…"
"This account is rotten."
Victor spread his hands, interrupting him.
"Before fleeing, Cersei took away all the gold. The Red Keep's vaults now contain only rats."
"Then the Iron Bank will have no choice but to fund your enemies." Tycho's tone was full of threat. "That is the rule."
"Don't be hasty, Master Tycho."
Victor pulled out a stack of colorful rectangular paper slips printed with exquisite patterns and tossed them onto the table.
"Although there is no gold, I have this."
The old Queen of Thorns, Olenna, narrowed her eyes and picked up one slip.
It bore Victor's profile portrait and a line of text: "One Round."
The paper had a unique texture — both tough and carrying a distinctive ink scent. When held up to the light, complex watermarks were visible.
"Paper?"
Olenna scoffed and tossed the slip back. "Lord Pompey, do you intend to repay debts with waste paper? The farmers of Highgarden only recognize gold and silver."
"Gold cannot be eaten, my lady."
Victor leaned forward, his gaze sharpening.
"But I have grain."
He pointed to the map behind him, where the red-marked railway lines were shown.
"This year the Riverlands had a bountiful harvest, and the North's coal mines are at full production. The transportation and trade of all these goods are under my control."
"From today onward, I announce the establishment of the Westeros Federal Central Bank."
Victor's voice rang out clearly.
"Abolish the old currencies such as gold dragons and silver stags. Issue new currency: the Pompey Note."
"1 Pompey Note = 10 pounds of white flour = 5 pounds of refined coal = 1 second-class train ticket."
"I do not accept this." Daenerys frowned. "My people are accustomed to gold coins."
"I do not accept it either." Tycho sneered. "This is merely your word. This paper has no credit whatsoever."
"Is that so?"
Victor smiled. That smile sent a chill through the old foxes present.
"Tyrion, read the First Administrative Decree."
Tyrion Lannister poked his head out from a pile of documents and cleared his throat:
"Ahem… According to the resolution of the Federal Supreme Council:"
"First, starting next month, all purchases of grain, cloth, and medicine from companies under the Pompey Chamber of Commerce will accept only Pompey Notes, not gold or silver."
"Second, travel by train or airship will accept only Pompey Notes."
"Third, tax payments to the Federal Government will accept only Pompey Notes."
"Fourth, existing gold and silver currencies may be exchanged for Pompey Notes at the Central Bank according to the 'official exchange rate.' The deadline is three months; after that, they will be invalid."
The entire hall fell deathly silent.
This was the dagger revealed at the end.
This was the dimensional downgrade of a modern financial system over primitive metal currency.
If you want to eat? You need paper money.
If you want to ride the train? You need paper money.
If you are a noble and must pay taxes? You still need paper money.
When all the necessities of life are locked onto this piece of paper, gold… truly becomes nothing more than a pretty rock.
"This is robbery!" Olenna Tyrell finally changed her expression. Highgarden was the wealthiest, holding the most gold. This move was practically emptying her family's coffers.
"This is called macroeconomic regulation, my lady."
Victor smiled. "Of course, you may refuse. You may hug your gold and starve to death, or ride horses along those thousands of miles of muddy roads."
The Iron Bank envoy Tycho's face shifted between shades.
As a professional banker, he realized the terror of this system faster than anyone. Once this paper currency circulated, Victor would control everyone's wallets. He could print as much as he wanted — he would be the true god.
"The Iron Bank…" Tycho gritted his teeth, "will need to reassess your credit rating."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then you may indeed go fund my enemies."
Victor pointed out the window at the massive Leviathan airship hovering overhead.
"But before that, I will declare the Iron Bank an 'illegal organization' and freeze all your assets in Westeros."
"Besides, Braavos is not beyond my reach. My airship… can fly across the Narrow Sea."
A naked threat of force.
Combined with an economic stranglehold that could not be refused.
After a long silence.
Tycho let out a long sigh and lowered his proud head.
"Very well, Lord Pompey. The Iron Bank… is willing to become a first-tier agent of the Central Bank."
With the largest creditor settled, the rest was easy.
Victor looked at Daenerys and Sansa.
"Ladies, as leaders of the 'member states' of the Federation, I grant each of you 20% shares in the Central Bank."
"In the future, the annual dividends will be a hundred times more than the pitiful agricultural taxes you currently collect."
"Moreover…" Victor added, "If you agree, I will immediately pay the previous military expenses owed to you in Pompey Notes. You can use this money to purchase the best equipment from my armories."
Daenerys and Sansa exchanged a glance.
Since resistance was impossible (they could not defeat the airship) and refusal was unfeasible (the money was too tempting).
What was there left to hesitate about?
"The North agrees." Sansa was the first to speak.
"…The Targaryen family agrees." Daenerys nodded, though unwillingly.
"Excellent."
Victor stood up and raised his wine cup.
"Beside the ruins of this old throne, let us celebrate the birth of a new era."
"An era no longer flowing with blood, but with money and capital."
Under everyone's gaze, Victor pressed the "One Round" paper note onto the table.
It was not merely a piece of paper.
It was the collar he had placed around the entire continent of Westeros.
…
Late at night, the port of King's Landing.
The Iron Bank envoy Tycho boarded his ship in haste.
His expression was no longer calm, but filled with terror.
"Quick! Back to Braavos!"
He shouted to the captain.
"Tell the Master of the Bank! A devil has appeared in Westeros!"
"He not only wants to steal our money — he wants to redefine what money is!"
"We must unite with everyone… the Citadel, the Faceless Men, even the sorcerers of the distant east! Otherwise, the Iron Bank's millennia-old foundation will be finished!"
In the sea breeze.
Victor stood on the balcony of the Red Keep, watching the departing ship, and shook his head lightly.
"Run, then."
He lit a cigar.
"By the time you react, the telegraph lines will already be in place."
"At that point, you won't even have the chance to unite."
[System Notification: Financial Hegemony Established.]
[Technology Tree Unlocked: Wired Telegraph Technology.]
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