Four weeks had passed since that fateful afternoon, and the progress in King's Landing's sewers was nothing short of remarkable. Seventy-five percent of the city's waste system had been completely overhauled, thanks to an unlikely partnership between Joffrey and his uncle Tyrion. Their secret weapon? An army of managers, a solution so simple it was almost laughable.
Joffrey smiled, remembering how they'd stumbled upon this revelation...
---Flashback---
"Seven hells, nephew!" Tyrion's voice echoed through their makeshift office, a converted merchant's storage house near the docks. "Another small council meeting? That's the third this week!"
The dwarf was hunched over stacks of parchment, his fingers stained black with ink as he jabbed an accusatory quill in Joffrey's direction. "I'm drowning in both our workloads again because you're off playing at politics!"
Joffrey rubbed his temples, the constant stench of shit and seawater doing nothing to help his growing headache. "Uncle, these meetings-"
"Yes, yes, very important, I'm sure," Tyrion cut him off, scribbling furiously. "Almost as important as ensuring we don't waste the crown's gold on poorly managed labor."
Scanning through the day's progress reports, something caught Joffrey's attention. The eastern section was completing their assigned tasks at nearly double the pace of the others.
"Handle sections two and three yourself," Joffrey said suddenly, standing. "I need to investigate something."
"Oh splendid! More work! Perhaps I should grow a second head to manage it all!" Tyrion called after him, but Joffrey was already striding toward the door.
The eastern section was a symphony of coordinated chaos. Unlike the disorganized mess he'd seen elsewhere, here workers moved with purpose, each knowing their role. At the center of it all stood a middle-aged man with graying temples and calloused hands, directing the flow of labor with practiced efficiency.
"My prince!" The man dropped to one knee immediately upon seeing Joffrey approach. The workers nearby followed suit, tools clattering as they scrambled to show proper respect.
"Rise," Joffrey commanded, studying the man's bearing. There was something different about him - a hint of foreign influence in his posture. "You're not from King's Landing."
"No, my prince. Melio, formerly of Braavos, at your service." The man kept his eyes respectfully lowered. "I served as quartermaster for several of the Iron Bank's construction projects."
"And now you're managing sewer workers in King's Landing?" Joffrey raised an eyebrow. "Quite a change."
"All honest work serves a purpose, my prince. And if I may be so bold, this project will save more lives than any marble tower in Braavos."
Joffrey gestured at the efficiently operating worksite. "Explain your method."
"Of course, my prince." Melio straightened, though maintaining a deferential tone. "Each group of ten men has a designated lead worker. These leads report to section chiefs, who then report directly to me. Clear chain of command ensures no time is wasted in confusion or crossed orders."
"Could this system work across all three sections?"
Melio considered carefully before responding. "With your permission, my prince, and with the right subordinates in place... yes. Though it would require additional skilled oversight."
"You would oversee it all," Joffrey declared. "Choose whatever men you need as seconds. I'll triple your current wages for the additional responsibility."
Melio's eyes widened slightly at the generous offer. "My prince is too kind. I... I would be honored to serve in such a capacity. With your blessing, I could have all three sections operating at this efficiency within a fortnight."
"You have until week's end," Joffrey challenged, though his tone held approval rather than threat. "Choose your men carefully."
"As you command, my prince." Melio bowed deeply. "I shall not disappoint your trust."
True to his word, Melio transformed their entire operation within days. He identified the most capable workers for promotion, brought in a few experienced hands he knew from his merchant days, and established a rigid hierarchy that left no room for confusion or waste. The result was unprecedented efficiency - weeks of work accomplished in days.
That evening, returning to their office, Joffrey found Tyrion passed out amid the ledgers. He smiled, knowing things were about to get much easier for both of them.
Of course, such dramatic improvement wouldn't go unnoticed forever. The more efficient they became, the more attention they drew. And in King's Landing, attention from certain quarters usually meant trouble.
As Joffrey strode towards the Small Council chamber, his mind raced with anticipation. The meeting had already begun - exactly as he'd expected. Littlefinger wouldn't waste time in springing his trap.
The guards opened the heavy oak doors, and Joffrey caught the tail end of Baelish's carefully crafted accusation: "...and these ledgers clearly show Lord Tyrion's misappropriation of crown funds."
"Ah, what interesting timing," Joffrey announced, making every head turn. He noticed the barely concealed smirk on Littlefinger's face. "I couldn't help but overhear accusations against my uncle Tyrion LANNISTER." He emphasized the family name deliberately.
"Prince Joffrey," Littlefinger's voice dripped with false courtesy. "We were just discussing some... concerning financial discrepancies."
"Indeed?" Joffrey moved to take his seat. "A Lannister stealing gold? That's like accusing a fish of stealing water."
Baelish's smile never wavered. "Even Lord Tywin's... generosity has its limits. The whole realm knows his feelings toward his younger son."
Renly, never one to miss an opportunity for a jest, leaned back in his chair. "Perhaps the Imp is simply collecting his father's debts?" The comment drew chuckles from several council members.
Joffrey remained unruffled. "There must be some mistake in the accounting."
Grand Maester Pycelle's chains clinked as he shook his head condescendingly. "My prince, it's no shame to be deceived by one's elders. Even the wisest-"
"Lord Stark," Joffrey cut across the old man's platitudes, addressing the Hand directly. "What's your position on this matter?"
Ned Stark's gray eyes met Joffrey's. "Lord Baelish has provided compelling evidence of financial irregularities. If you or Lord Tyrion can prove otherwise, the council would hear it."
"How fortunate," Joffrey replied, reaching into his doublet, "that I anticipated such a need." He withdrew a leather-bound ledger and placed it on the table with deliberate care. "I've developed a new method of bookkeeping while overseeing the sewer project. Every transaction recorded twice."
The Master of Coin's smile flickered for just a moment. "A novel approach, my prince."
Joffrey opened the book, revealing neat columns of figures. "Indeed. Each entry appears twice - once as money spent, once showing exactly where it went. Every debit matched with a credit." He began laying out pages, creating a clear trail of transactions. "Here's every coin spent on the sewer project, every worker paid, every supply purchased."
The council members leaned forward, examining the figures. Joffrey continued, "Note the authorization signatures - both mine and Lord Tyrion's required for every major expense. And here" - he tapped a particular column - "are the cost savings achieved through our management reforms."
Littlefinger's face remained composed, but his knuckles had whitened where they gripped his chair. The trap he'd laid had just snapped shut on empty air.
Joffrey rose and, in a move that drew sharp breaths from several council members, seated himself in the King's chair at the head of the table. Renly's laugh cut through the tension.
"Rather presumptuous, nephew, taking your father's seat."
"Sometimes," Joffrey replied evenly, "one must assume a position of authority to offer necessary counsel." He turned to address the whole council. "I propose implementing this double-entry system across all royal accounts. My design ensures no coin can vanish without trace."
Pycelle sputtered. "Such tedious detail work is beneath-"
"The crown's dignity?" Joffrey finished. "Is dignity worth more than accuracy? Than truth?" His gaze shifted to Baelish. "Than preventing false accusations against innocent men?"
"A matter for the King to decide," Littlefinger replied smoothly, though his eyes had hardened.
"Then let's ask him." Joffrey nodded toward the door, where he'd arranged for his father to arrive at precisely this moment. Robert Baratheon's massive frame filled the doorway, his voice booming through the chamber.
"Ask me what? Why was I summoned today?"
"Father," Joffrey spoke casually from the king's seat as Robert lumbered in, "perfect timing."
Robert grabbed the nearest wine cup, already looking bored. "What's all this about the Imp and money?"
"Remember what we discussed last night?" Joffrey tapped the ledger reminding his father about the plan they had made to oust the filth of the capital. The man was surprisingly stubborn about using underhanded tactics after ordering the death of Danerys and her brother through assasination. "I told you I made this new way of tracking coins - everything gets written down twice so nothing goes missing."
"Gods, more bloody numbers," Robert grumbled, draining his cup while acting his part. "And this proves what exactly?"
"That Uncle Tyrion didn't steal anything. Actually saved money on the sewers." Joffrey kept it brief, knowing his father's patience for details. "Like I said last night, I want to use this method for all the crown's accounts."
Robert waved his empty cup dismissively. "Yes, yes. Do whatever you need to sort out this mess." He glanced around the table. "The boy has my authority in this. Anyone who doesn't like it can take it up with me." His tone suggested that would be deeply unwise.
Littlefinger cleared his throat. "Your Grace, perhaps we should discuss-"
"Discuss it with him," Robert cut in, already turning toward the door as the plan demanded. "I'm going somewhere."
As Robert's heavy footsteps faded, Joffrey allowed himself a small smile. "Well then, Lord Baelish, shall we begin? I'll need to see ALL the records."
Littlefinger's smile was brittle as glass. "Of course, my prince. Though I'm afraid some of the older records may be... incomplete."
"Oh, I'm counting on that," Joffrey replied softly. "In fact, I'm counting on quite a few... discrepancies."