The summer was at its peak and the citizens of Kings Landing felt that no one could feel the heat more than them (Humph! Who cares about Dorne...). The scorching light of the sun shimmered off the streets to create a hazy atmosphere and made the already unbreathable shitty air even more noxious, to the point of being life-threatening. But the small folk in this city weren't bothered by it like the visitors were, (probably because most of their noses had gotten numb by now) so they went about their jobs as usual.
When the Sun reached its utmost peak exactly above the city, all the people in the city stopped working simultaneously. The Merchants, the inn-keepers, the tailors, the blacksmiths, the cobblers, everyone halted whatever they were doing and opened up their lunches to eat. It was as if the city came to a halt and fell silent for just a few moments to let it breathe in peace.
After all, most of the people here woke up well before sunrise and had been working continuously till now and it was finally time for them to take a little rest, eat, and gossip. It was a small bright spot in the otherwise gloomy lives of small folks.
But high up above on the other side of the city in the Red Keep, it was a completely different sight. The council chamber where the Kingdom's biggest decisions were supposed to be taken was still devoid of its occupants. Of course, the nobles-the higher-ups couldn't be expected to wake up this early, because, unlike insignificant small folk, they needed their beauty sleep.
And it was only at noon, that the members of the small council began to filter in slowly. The first to enter was the Hand of the King, Lord Jon Arryn, who didn't quite look as old as he was, and except for fewer teeth and fewer hair, he was almost as spry as a... middle-aged man.
Anyway, the man came into the empty room and didn't waste a single moment and immediately started shuffling and arranging the papers in order of their agenda for the day's meeting.
Soon after Hand came the brother of the King and the Master of his ships, Lord Stannis, who while not being a regular member of the Small council, because of his periodic trips to Dragonstone, still performed his related duties quite diligently. The hollow-cheeked man sent a respectful nod towards the older man before taking a seat right beside him.
Then the two men began talking to each other in a low voice about one topic or the other, but their whispers came to an abrupt stop when the third member, Maester Pycelle, entered —or rather slowly crawled into the room, wheezing every few steps as if he could die at any moment.
After the three bald men in the room came the fourth bald man bringing with him a sweet smile and a hint of perfume. And soon after Lord Varys, a Lord with no land, came Lord Baelish, a man with little land. Both schemers entered the room within minutes of each other and with them, all of the members were present, and since Lord Renly was back in Stormsland at the moment for one reason or the other, the meeting finally began.
Oh, of course, no one forgot about the empty seat at the head of the table, but who said that you needed a king to decide the fate of the kingdom, his very wise council was competent enough to take any decision on his behalf. King Robert was a more progressive hands-off King, he liked to leave the ruling to his betters while he busied himself with...er...more important things.
The meeting went on with a lot of simpering laughs, sly smiles, underhanded barbs, gritted teeth and a lot of snark. But about an hour later an unusual guest joined them...
The door to the room was suddenly slammed open and in came the illustrious King of the seven kingdoms, Robert Baratheon, and following behind him like loyal dogs were two of his Kingsguards, Ser Jamie Lannister and Ser Barristan the Bold.
"Your Grace," echoed most of the small council members standing up, some more shocked than the others.
"Yes! Yes! Sit Down, damn it. I don't need your fake courtesies so early in the morning," he grouched while striding straight towards the empty seat at the head of the table. "Get on with it, Jon. Why did you call me?" he groaned while taking a seat. His hands were already filling up a cup from the jar of wine on the table.
"Do you have to drink during—"
"Yes." Robert cut off his foster father, before guzzling wine from the cup like a man parched with thirst, "Now go on."
Jon sighed but let it rest as he knew to pick his battles, "A letter arrived a few days ago with a proposal which could help us reduce our current loans significantly—"
"What? That's what you called me here for? Some copper counting!!" Robert grunted, his face was puffed from last night's hangover and he was sweating through his silks because of the long walk to the council chambers, which he was regretting very much, "Ugh! Can't believe I missed hunting for this..."
The members had varied expressions on their faces at their king's behaviour, some gritted their teeth in annoyance, some simpered, some maintained their enigmatic smile while one even looked to be dozing off. Jon was disappointed but he had expected something like this so he immediately said the magic words, "The letter was from Lord Stark,"
And like magic, the words had an immediate effect on the King, the disgruntled look, as he was about to get up, instantly disappeared and his giant body shook the chair as he slammed back down.
"What? From Ned?" Robert's face lit up and even the haze of alcohol somewhat disappeared from his face, "Did his frozen heart finally thaw? What did he write about? Is he coming here? Or did he call me North—"
"Nothing of the sort, Your Grace," Jon cut off his King before he could spiral any further with a hint of reproach in his eyes at losing his composure like that, "He starts the letter by greeting you and me cordially and asking after the health of our children and our family, before getting to the point of the letter..."
"Point? What point?"
"Lord Stark mentions that he heard from somewhere about the massive debt the crown is in. He was shocked and saddened to learn about it. So to help with that, he wanted to ask the crown's permission to deposit his part of the taxes directly into the Bank of Braavos in your name so as to help with a part of the loan."
"Is that it?" Robert asked with a disappointed look, "Give me that!" before snatching the letter from Jon to read it himself.
While Robert squinted his eyes and used the rarely used part of his brain to slowly read the letter, the rest of them had time to digest the information presented before them and the first one to respond was Petyr Baelish.
"This is a bit strange, My lord," the Master of Coin said in a conversational tone, "I did not hear of this before today," It didn't show on his face but it irked him to know that something like this could get past him... it seems his spies were slacking.
"I too don't remember that particular letter, My lord," Pycelle suddenly raised his head from where he had looked like he was napping, after all, letters were supposed to be under his purview, and it alarmed to know that a letter had arrived and gotten past his hands without him having read it.
"Ah! That was just a coincidence," The hand replied unconcernedly to the questioning looks from council members, "It seems that the raven was exhausted from the long stretch of flight and mistook the Tower of Hand for rookery... It was only by chance that an aide of mine managed to catch the raven and after seeing that the letter was addressed to me, he brought it straight to me," Jon explained, "Anyhow, I want to hear all of your thoughts on this, should we comply with this?"
"But Why would Lord Stark want to do this?" Stannis asked with a frown on his stern face, "He would need to go all the way from Winterfell to Braavos to deposit the money in the bank. And this is not a small amount of money so the trip wouldn't be cheap considering all the methods of transport needed in between..."
"I may be able to answer that question, My lord," Vays bowed as he suddenly intervened with his tittering voice, "It seems Lord Stark's sons have been mighty successful in their ventures, and one of his sons is somewhat of a Merchant. He is also the one behind those strange Starkhorse and now has established a new shipping company all the way in Braavos, so it indeed should be easier for him to deposit the money than for us to send it from here,"
"His son? Which one?" Robert asked while looking up after finally having finished reading the small piece of paper. "The one named after me?"
"No, the one named after me." Jon Arryn answered proudly before Varys could, "The boy is said to be somewhat of a genius, he should not be older than twelve or thirteen by now but has already travelled half the world on his own and even runs a successful business abroad,"
"The bastard?" Robert asked without any malice in his tone and when he received a nod he continued, "Good for Ned," he was genuinely happy for his brother, "We had always wanted to travel the world in our youth, now it seems his son is fulfilling both of our dreams," he said with a hint of envy in his voice, "While my own can't even get out of his mother's skirt..." the last words were muttered in a low voice but most of the people in the room heard them.
Baelish suddenly cleared his throat and began, "I do not think this is a good idea for the realm, My lord," he said while looking at the frowning Lord Arryn, "The money from the tax would be more useful in paying the more interest heavy loan than the ones from Braavos which I had managed to procure with a relatively low interest..."
Of course what the Lord of Fingers didn't mention was that while the interest of the Braavosi Loan may be less than the others, the principal amount was such a big figure that its monthly instalments would exceed the others by a large margin. After all, it was much better for him if the realm focused on paying the smaller loans whose debtors were... more friendly to him.
"Is that so," Jon said with a frown on his face, he had wanted this to succeed more than anything. For one thing, it would help a lot with the crushing debt that realm was in and more importantly, it would reduce the income in their hands which may just help curb the King's extravagant expenses.
"Ah! I suddenly remember something about that, Lord Baelish," Varys suddenly spoke up with an innocent smile on his face, "The last time the small council got the tax report from North, did you not say something along the lines of, 'They send so little that they may as well not bother with it since it is so costly to transfer it all the way here',"
"Did I?" Petyr asked back stiffly with one of his eyes twitching, "I must have been jesting..."
"I think it is a good solution," Stannis grunted with his usual grim tone, "It may finally put some dent in the debt the crown is in... And for the news to reach all the way to the North is humiliating and embarrassing for—"
"Oh Shut up, Stannis," Robbert snorted making Stannis grit his teeth at being dismissed like that, "As if Ned would care for this copper counting, Bah!" he waved before standing up from his seat.
"But Your Grace, what should we do with this—"
"Let Ned do as he wants," Robert said before walking out of the room, leaving the members with varied expressions on their faces, some were grinning slyly, some had stiff smiles, and some had relieved ones.
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