Chapter 32: Part XXXIINotes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Disclaimer: I own nothing, just borrowing for a while.
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"Suicidal bravery, worthy of songs. If these stupid fuckers try charging headlong into our pikes again somebody find a bard to sing over their corpses."
Legate-General Beric Dondarion – 310AC
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The Street of Silk – King's Landing – 299AC
Lord Petyr Baelish was rarely surprised, and on the few occasions he was it rarely showed outwardly, but this was one of those moments when it was written all over his face. "Your Grace?" he exclaimed, scrambling to his feet and bowing deeply.
"Good day to you, Lord Baelish" Octavian responded, smiling. "My apologies for the unannounced visit but I know you much prefer to work out of this establishment rather than your official rooms in the Red Keep. I can see why, my own rooms in Maegor's Holdfast are nowhere near as luxurious as these" he noted appreciatively.
Littlefinger regained his composure. "How did you get here, Your Grace?" he asked, now annoyed that his network of spies and informants had failed so utterly at keeping track of the little sod.
"Oh, I've found my City Watch uniform accords me a surprising degree of anonymity wandering the streets, everyone seems loathe to look a Watchman in the eyes for some reason" Octavian wryly replied. "For some inexplicable reason they all look more furtive when I wear the helmet and cloak. Ser Arys Okheart is with me in disguise as one of my goldcloaks, he'll make sure we aren't interrupted or overheard, though I fear his vow of chastity is being imperilled as we speak due to the extreme attractiveness of the whores downstairs You should be commended for the quality of the brothel you keep here. It must surely attract the finest clientele in the city."
Unlike some other members of the Kingsguard Arys was not known to surrender to the temptations of the flesh as far as Baelish knew, but it was a good thing Ser Boris Blunt had not accompanied the boy instead because he was well acquainted with the establishment, and the younger girls in particular. "You're not looking for… female company are you?" Baelish asked awkwardly.
"No, although I'm sure my father was one of your best customers" Octavian replied. "Incidentally before I established who I was the young man downstairs, who I believe may be a manager or supervisor of sorts, offered me a bribe assuming I was here for some kind of regular payoff to the City Watch. Please tell him to stop such payments in future and if any trouble is forthcoming from my men I'll deal with it personally."
"I'm sure you misinterpreted the situation" Baelish replied smoothly.
"If I was the imbecile that you imply me to be with your words I wouldn't be here in the first place" Octavian told him curtly, Baelish noticing that the boy had moved his hand to rest it upon the hilt of the short-sword he wore at his side. "I have a rather better eye for corruption than you give me credit for" Octavian continued, now producing a rolled-up piece of parchment bearing the royal seal impressed upon it in wax. "Apologies for the quality of the handwriting, this was one of the last two copies produced and writer's cramp had set in by then. Needless to say I had to make them all myself for reasons that will become apparent once you read it" he explained, handing it over. "Taking inspiration from my father's last Will and Testament the copies will be made public in the event of my untimely demise so please restrain yourself from any impulsive violent action now, or later schemes that result in my assassination or an 'Unfortunate accident' of some kind."
Visibly confused Littlefinger's expression shifted to one of utter horror when he removed the seal, unrolled the lengthy parchment and read the contents which took some time. The parchment summarised in some detail several of the means by which he had skimmed money from the treasury and a few of his less-than-legal and utterly unethical mercantile interests. "Your Grace…" he managed to blurt out eventually, then paused unable to think of a suitable way to continue the sentence.
"Don't try and deny your embezzlement and corruption with lies and obfuscation, Lord Baelish, if I was susceptible to them I also wouldn't be here right now" Octavian interrupted sharply. "Lesser minds, or perhaps more naïve or gullible ones, may have been fooled by your fake ledgers and creative books of account but I only pretended to be so in order to give me more time to quietly investigate the breadth and scope of your schemes" he declared, looking judgemental and stern for a moment before smiling. "Well done!" he congratulated the man. "I must confess to being deeply impressed. You should be proud of your accomplishments in the field of financial chicanery."
Littlefinger blinked, what in the Seven Hells was going on here, he wondered nonplussed?
"Nobody's been fucking on this recently have they?" Octavian asked in an oddly informal and friendly manner, indicating a couch nearby covered in plush, expensive cushions. When Baelish shook his head he sat down on the left hand side. "Do sit down Petyr" he bade, patting the couch beside him. "I hope it's alright to call you Petyr?" he checked as Baelish sheepishly did as he was told.
"The crux of the matter, Petyr, is that if you had not demonstrated such noteworthy skill at your craft I would have had your head mounted on a spike" Octavian told him, "but honestly it seems like wasting such talent would be even more criminal than you are" he said. "I mean this only half in jest, because I fully realise my father's epic contribution to our current predicament, but if you devoted a fraction as much ingenuity and resourcefulness into properly administering the state finances that you do in filling your own coin-purse we wouldn't be in such a state of crippling indebtedness."
"Your Grace, I assure you…"
Octavian raised a hand to stop him talking. "I've got you by the balls Petyr, be a man not a weasel and just accept the situation with equanimity" he advised. "I'm not going to have you killed, imprisoned or sent to the wall, I'm even inclined to let you keep a generous percentage of what you've already stolen, all I want is for you to gradually stop diverting tax revenue away from the treasury and pay back the majority of your previous ill-gotten gains over an agreed period of time."
Baelish couldn't help but look confused. "Gradually?" he repeated quizzically.
"Of course, if the finances improved dramatically and the coffers mysteriously refilled with coin all at once then people would notice and ask questions" Octavian explained his reasoning. "If however we inform the Small Council that we are working together on several plans intended to both settle our debts, and fund infrastructure improvements, then when these seem to bare fruit, albeit incrementally, everyone will sing our praises and nobody will look the gift horse in the mouth."
"If you think I have the millions of Gold Dragons needed to…"
"Of course not" Octavian interrupted him again. "However with more of the taxes ending up where they should as well your nefariously immense retirement fund should be enough to allow us to make our regular debt repayments to the Iron Bank for a while without borrowing any more from my grandfather at least" he stated with some certainty. "In the longer term we'll have no choice but to raise more funds to meet our needs, luxury taxes on imported goods for a start because those will also help reverse the flow of coin from here to Essos and our trade deficit is disconcertingly high, but we can discuss that in detail later."
Littlefinger stared at the boy in disbelief. "Did Varys have a hand in this?" he found himself asking.
"Gods no, though I can see why you'd like to think so. It must be disheartening to discover that just because you're smarter than most everyone else you've encountered that doesn't mean you haven't badly underestimated some of them" Octavian replied. "Or at least one of them" he added. "Truth be told if I thought there was anyone else with your intellect and talents I'd be rid of you immediately but feel safe in the knowledge that we're both tiny islands sitting above the water in an ocean of incompetent fools."
Baelish couldn't help but agree with the latter sentiment even if the discovery of another previously uncharted metaphorical island was vexing him greatly at that moment. "I might regard it as mildly insulting that you don't appear to regard me as a threat rather than an asset" he couldn't resist observing.
Octavian chuckled. "I'm the king, once I rule in my own name my power and authority will be near limitless within the bounds of political realities. It's not like you have any prospect of overthrowing me and placing yourself on the Iron Throne" he responded mirthfully. "If I thought you were that much of a delusional idiot your head would be on that spike I mentioned earlier. The ruling structures in the Seven Kingdoms and the myriad Greater and Lesser Houses competing for power, wealth and influence preclude the possibility regardless of the wealth you may accrue, but I'm sure you don't need me to explain why."
"No of course not" Baelish replied trying to sound convincing. Perhaps the boy wasn't as smart as he thought he was, he considered hopefully, although with a disconcerting nagging feeling in the back of his mind that the little bastard might somehow know something that he didn't.
Littlefinger hated that feeling of self-doubt.
Octavian felt smug. He had always been good with numbers, that may have been an inherited skill because his natural father's family were bankers who had made the family fortune that way, but it had been a welcome revelation to discover just how much easier Westerosi numerals made things.
The concept and utility of the 'zero' in particular, a figure representing nothing that was entirely lacking from Roman or Greek mathematics, had struck Octavian like a thunderbolt when he grasped its implications. It just made calculation so easy, having a particular impact on general bookkeeping and the recording of financial ledgers, to the point it had been fun for him to trawl through the records and get to grips with Littlefingers misappropriations.
Both his mother Atia and his sister Octavia would have rolled their eyes at his gleeful expression as he had scribbled notes and jotted down calculations but then he had always been a strange boy.
Octavian assessed the gloomy expression of the man sat beside him. "Brighten up Lord Baelish" he told him. "We're going to achieve financial miracles together!" he enthused with a beaming smile.
Notes:
Note from the Author:
Octavian starts to make his moves in earnest, Littlefinger unexpectedly finds himself relegated to being someone else's pawn (or rabble piece, should I say).
Arabic numerals, more correctly known as Indian Numerals, are much easier to use than Roman ones and the Romans of Octavian's day lacked the zero in mathematics (the Greeks actually disliked the concept of the thing). It has more impact than many people might believe!