111 AC
King's Landing
"The youngest knight in the Seven Kingdoms is it?" Daemon said, sending a sharp jab at him with Dark Sister.
"Westeros must have some piss poor knights then, won't you say?" He said.
"You are one of those 'piss poor' knights too, father." Aemon replied, expertly turning his blade with the flat of his own.
Daemon snorted as he kicked up some sand, swiping down low at his midsection at the same time.
Aemon used his left arm to shade his eyes from the sand, while slapping away Daemon's blade, with Nightfall.
He'd grown too accustomed with his father's tricks, to be caught unawares again.
Daemon clicked his tongue in appreciation, sending out a flurry of blows targeting his head and torso.
Aemon matched him blow for blow, attacking with vicious jabs and sharp thrusts in rapid interval.
Once they realised that they were in a stalemate, they both withdrew. Choosing to circle each other instead.
"If that's all you got old man. I'll be wiping the floor with you soon." Aemon taunted.
"You're still too green for that, my boy." Daemon returned, smirking.
Aemon didn't dally any longer, lunging forward with his blade. Nightfall sang, as he swung it in a deadly arc, straight towards Daemon's face.
Daemon didn't hesitate, swiftly ducking down beneath his swing. As the sword passed harmlessly over his head, shaving off a few locks of his silver hair.
It was then that Aemon knew he'd lost. His surprise attack had failed to blindside Daemon.
As if on cue, Daemon sent out a kick aimed squarely at his ribs, that sent him reeling to the ground gasping for air.
As Aemon recovered, Daemon pulled him to his feet.
"Three to one," Daemon said, with a lazy smile.
"I know, there's no need to rub it in." Aemon said grumbling, "You won three of our four bouts, while I won only once."
"Haha! Dont be so disappointed, son. I've been doing this a lot longer than you." He said.
"You're good Aemon, scarily good in fact. I don't think I was that good at your age." Daemon continued,"But you lack the discipline of a seasoned warrior. You're too hasty to finish the fight sometimes, and that ends up becoming your undoing."
Once the two of them left the sparring yard, after shedding their armor and freshening up.
They found a secluded courtyard in the Red Keep, where they settled down for a drink.
As one of the Red Keep's servants went to pour them some wine, Daemon motioned her to stop.
"Go to Maegor's holdfast and find my steward."
He said to the girl, "Tell him, that I sent you. Ask him for a pitcher of the wine, we saved from the Stepstones. He'll know, what I mean."
As the serving girl hurriedly left to follow his orders, Aemon gave his father an inquisitive look.
"It's nothing, I'm just tired of these Westerosi wines. They're too sweet." Daemon complained, "Now, the wine I asked her to bring, that is truly something. Hippocras from Volantis, both spicy and sweet. A finer brew I've yet to taste."
So they waited, till the girl returned with the wine.
As the girl poured it for them, Aemon saw the drink had a vivid purple hue to it.
Aemon took a sip, as Daemon watched him expectantly.
"How was it?" His father, asked.
"It's good." He said, "A touch too strong, perhaps."
"Bah!" Daemon said, "There's nothing as too strong, where wine is concerned."
"You still have much to learn about fine wine, it seems." He said, shaking his head.
They sat for sometime in silence, sipping from their goblets. Before Aemon finally decided to break the quiet.
"Actually father, I had something important I needed to talk to you about." He said.
Daemon looked up from his drink, giving him a curious look.
"Go on, then." He said.
"I figure, you've heard of my business exploits by now." Aemon said.
"Yes Mysaria told be some, as did some of my old contacts in the City. From what they say, you're quite the rich man Aemon." Daemon said.
"But surely, you're not going to talk business with your old man, are you? You know how I despise that kind of stuff."
"Actually I kind of am father," He said, "You've heard of the Iron Bank of Braavos, I gather?"
"What do you take me for? Of course, I've heard of the Iron Bank." Daemon said, drinking deeply from his goblet.
"Then you must know how powerful they are. Their wealth, their influence. In fact, I would go as far as to say, that it is only because of the Iron Bank and the Faceless Men, that Braavos is as powerful as it is today." Aemon said.
"Yes they're powerful, so what?" Daemon asked, "You want a loan from them or something?"
"Hah! No way. Taking a loan from is just inviting disaster." He said, "No I've something better in mind. Something much better."
"Hm, that does intrigue me. Go on then." Daemon said.
"I want to set up a Bank in Westeros. A Bank that could one day rival the might of the Iron Bank of Braavos or the Rogare Bank of Lys." Aemon said, "And for that, I need your help father."
"Sounds good, but how will this Bank of yours, work? The Great Lords of the Realm won't take loans from just anyone now, would they?" Daemon asked.
"The Great Lords might not, but their bannermen will. The minor Lords and petty lordlings, knights and merchants, traders and ship captains. There are many who would want to borrow money from such a Bank. And I don't intend to lend only to the rich and powerful. Nobleborn or not, as long as they have the means I'll lend them the money." Aemon said.
"Sounds quite grand, doesn't it." Daemon said, twirling the silver goblet in his hand, lazily. " But to lend, you'll need coin. Where will you get this much gold from, I wonder."
"I have around half the needed money, for setting up the Bank." Aemon said, chewing on his lip nervously, "But for that I'll need your help, father."
"If it's about gold, son. I'm afraid I don't have much to spare. The War in the Stepstones has been extremely costly." He said, sighing.
"I know how costly wars can be father. No, by your help I didn't mean money. What I need you to do is arrange a meeting for me, with Lord Corlys and the King." Aemon said.
"Well won't that be something. Lord Corlys and Viserys in the same room. Pulling off something like that, isn't gonna be easy. Lord Corlys is bitter over Viserys' actions, and Viserys thinks he's been slighted by the Velaryons too many times." Daemon said.
"If anyone can do it father, I believe you can." He said, "I need the two of them to invest in my Bank. And you're close to them both. The King is your brother, and Lord Corlys and you have fought a war together. You're perfectly suited to convince them."
"That's all well and good. But why do you want the two of them, specifically?" Daemon inquired.
"Other than the fact that they're both extremely wealthy. I want them specifically because this Bank can potentially unite our three Houses - Targaryen, Velaryon, and Blackfyre. It will make us all stronger, by tying us together with a bond closer than even blood. Gold." Aemon said.
"That's quite the noble wish. But tell me what is to stop Lord Corlys or the Crown, starring the Bank by themselves." He asked, "They have the gold. And if I know anything about Corlys, it's that he'll do anything to earn more gold."
"It's quite simple actually. If they try to do such a thing, they'll fail." Aemon said smirking, "They lack the knowledge and ability needed to raise a functional Bank. On top of that, they can't be solely dedicated in running the Bank. They both have other things to do. Viserys has to run a kingdom, and Corlys has too many businesses that need managing. Whereas I have all three, the gold, the knowledge, and the time, to make this Bank a success. That's why I know they won't do something so silly, as to start their own separate Bank."
"You really do seem, confident." Daemon said, smiling.
"That's because I am", He replied.
"I'll see what I can do. But I cant promise anything, though." He said.
"Is that all, you had to say, then?" Daemon asked.
"Well there was another separate matter, I wanted to talk to you about." Aemon said, fidgeting.
"What's this about, now?" Daemon asked.
"It's about the Stepstones, actually. From what I saw you gave up the Crown of the Stepstones. So you aren't it's King anymore, right?" He asked.
"Yes, I did give up the Crown. And so no, I'm not the King anymore. Still, doesn't change the fact that it is I who holds the Stepstones." He said.
"In that case, I had a suggestion for you father." Aemon said.
"You should ask Viserys to name you the 'Lord Paramount of the Stepstones'." He said.
"This would benefit the both of you. For House Targaryen, it would mean that they would gain a loyal vassal House without spending any resources. And for you, it would mean, that you would have legitimacy to hold the Stepstones in the name of the Iron Throne. Meaning, that if anyone tries to attack the Stepstones, instead of just facing you, they'd face the complete combined might of the Iron Throne." Aemon finished.
"So what do you say, father?" He asked.
"The 'Lord Paramount of the Stepstones', does have a nice ring to it." Daemon said, taking a deep sip from his goblet, draining the hippocras left in it.
"Well I'll leave then", Daemon said getting up, "I'll see you later, Aemon."
"What? I thought we were going to have lunch together." Aemon said, surprised.
"Your words changed my mind, I guess." He said, "We'll have lunch some other time, son. Right now, I have some important letters to write."
After Daemon had left, Aemon remained behind in the courtyard, drinking.
He poured himself, some more of the expensive hippocras.
"Still, a bit too strong for me." He said.
--------------------
It was late in the day, when Aemon finally returned to his chambers in the Red Keep.
Although, he was no longer allowed residence in Maegor's Holdfast which was where the royal family lived. His apartments as a Lord, were truly luxurious.
Located above the Kitchen Keep they were quite spacious. Including a large bedchamber, a solar, a bath, a dressing room and a small adjoining room for servants.
It was all richly furnished with Myrish carpets, and exotic tapestries from far off Lys, Volantis and Qohor. Even his bedchamber had a large canopied bed.
Aemon attended Court regularly, as the Lord of the Neck. And to be honest, he quickly grown to loathe it.
Rarely was any matter of true import discussed in the Court. Mostly, it was unnecessary pageantry.
Still in spite of his distaste for it, Aemon continued to attend Court regularly. Because it was an excellent opportunity to build connections with the most powerful people in Westeros.
He saw that the servants had drawn him a bath. But before he could enjoy the warm water, something caught his eye.
Laid out on a chair in the dressing room was some dirty clothes. The kind that a poor street urchin might wear.
Seeing the grubby garments, Aemon nearly called the servants to reprimand them for their carelessness.
But luckily he noticed, a scrap of paper placed on top of the clothes.
As he picked it up, he saw that he recognized the writing. It belonged to Daemon.
Aemon,
Meet me outside the Red Keep in half an hour.
Don't let yourself be seen.
Wear the clothes I sent.
Use the secret passages.
~ Daemon
What new trouble, was his father upto now, he wondered.
It was around twenty minutes later that an unrecognizable Aemon emerged into an alleyway, outside the Red Keep.
He looked nothing like his usual self.
Not only was he dressed in the grimy clothes Daemon had sent him. He had also rubbed dirt on his face and hands to obscure his features. In fact, he'd even used some charcoal to color his natural silver hair a darker shade.
Right now, he looked just like any other poor orphan child that roamed the streets of King's Landing, at night.
"So you decided to join us finally", Daemon said.
He'd chosen dress like a sellsword it seemed.
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Even going as far as to sport an eyepatch over his left eye.
"Nice outfit, by the way." Daemon quipped.
"You aren't the picture of the charming Prince either." Aemon said.
"Who's he anyways?" Aemon asked, pointing to the short hooded fellow with Daemon.
"Not he. She." Daemon said, smirking. "Insolent boy, you're in the presence of Her Highness the Princess, herself. Show some respect."
Aemon's blood chilled on hearing Daemon's words, even as Rhaenyra gave them a mock bow, jokingly.
"What is she doing here?" He asked, alarmed.
"She shouldn't be here. Uncle will be furious if he learns of this."
"And how is he going to learn, pray tell." Rhaenyra said, "I sure don't think anyone here's going to tell him."
As the Princess took of the hood, he saw her smooth young face. Sharp and refined. The years had only made her lovelier.
Even in grimy rags, Rhaenyra remained a beauty unparalleled.
"Now don't be a spoilsport Aemon. Our future Queen wants to see the sights of King's Landing. And as her loyal subjects, it falls to us to fulfill her dear wish." Daemon joked.
"Where will be going?" Aemon asked, cold dread pooling in his stomach.
"To Flea Bottom, of course. It's the most honest part of King's Landing after all." Daemon said.
Flea Bottom was a maze of serpentine alleyways, packed full of a ragged mob of people.
Aemon honestly, found the place to be quite revolting. It was dirty and dingy, and had a foul stench to it - The musty odour of stables and pigsties, mixed in with the sour smell of winesinks and cheap whorehouses.
Daemon had brought them to a rundown establishment, located in one of Flea Bottom's many back alleys. It was a dingy tavern called 'The Drunken Boar'.
"What is this place, uncle?" Rhaenyra asked, voicing Aemon's own thoughts.
"Have some patience, dear niece. You'll know everything soon." He said.
Daemon walked up to the burly man sitting behind the counter.
"Three tickets." Daemon said, leaning over the counter.
The man looked up lazily from his drink, "Ten silver per head." He said.
And as Aemon and Rhaenyra waited, Daemon counted out thirty silver stags, handing it to the man.
Once the transaction had been concluded, the man motioned for them to follow him.
The three of them were led to a cramped room situated in a corner of the building.
The room was scantily furnished, with only two chairs and a table, and a carpet laid out on the floor.
The man suddenly bent down and started dragging the carpet off the floor.
Rhaenyra gasped, as they saw beneath the carpet was a massive trapdoor built into the floor.
And as they watched, the man then labored for a while, pushing the trapdoor open.
Below the trapdoor was a narrow, dimly lit stairway leading deeper underground.
"Go", the man barked, motioning them forward.
Going down that dark stairway, was the last thing Aemon wanted to do. But seeing Daemon walking confidently towards it with Rhaenyra following close behind. He wasn't left with much choice, but to follow.
As he stepped on the stairs, Daemon turned around and called out to the burly fellow.
"What about drinks and gambling?" He asked.
"Ask for Ismael, once you've reached down. He'll get you anything you want. Provided, you have the coin, of course." He said.
"Aye, we do." Daemon said, continuing to descend further into the darkness.
The dimly lit stairway went on for a long way, before finally opening up into a large cavernous room underground.
The room was packed full. Dozens of people stood clustered around the raised platform in the centre of the room. And loud sounds of cheering filled the air, as two men fought each other on the raised platform surrounded by high wooden fences.
Daemon had brought them to a fighting pit.
"So, how do you like it?" Daemon asked Rhaenyra, over all the noise.
"What is this place, Daemon?" Rhaenyra said, looking around curiously.
"You like Tourneys, don't you niece." He said, "This is far better than that. A true competition between men, instead of the petty fights between vain greenboys, that most Tourneys are."
At that moment a loud cheer rang out through the room.
And as they turned to look, one of the fighters in the makeshift arena who'd pinned his opponent to the ground, proceded to beat him senseless.
"See and learn, both of you." Daemon whispered, "This is how true wars are fought. With blood and fire."
As they dragged off the unconscious man of the stage, Aemon and Rhaenyra followed Daemon, to the back of the room. Here, a paunchy middle-aged man sat behind the counter, taking bets and selling alcohol to the audience.
"How much for some good ale?" Daemon called out, muscling his way through a throng of people who all threw him sharp glares.
"Three pennies for a pint." The fat man replied.
"Give me a flagon then." Daemon said.
"And what about you two." He said turning towards them, "What do you want?"
"I'd like some mead, uncle." Rhaenyra said in a low voice.
Aemon chose to have the mead as well, and so Daemon returned to his order.
"A flagon of ale, and two of mead. Will that be all?" The fat man, Ismael asked.
"We have some delicious food, as well." He said, "Our roasted meat skewers cooked with fiery Dornish peppers, are quite famous among the customers."
As Daemon looked at them questioningly, Rhaenyra said, "Sounds nice, I'll have two of those then."
Aemon hastily interrupted, "Are you sure that's such a good idea? In a place like this, the Seven only know the kind of food they'll serve here."
"Haha, there's no need to worry about that, Aemon," Daemon said, "I know that all this looks kind of suspect. But they do have some wealthy patrons. You can take my word for it, the food here is of good quality."
"Fine, get me two skewers also, then." Aemon said, in acquiescence.
Once they'd placed the order for food and drinks, Daemon went ahead and placed a few bets on the upcoming fights.
"Won't you bet, Aemon?" Daemon asked jokingly, "I hear you're quiet the wealthy man."
"Although I agree that games of chance do have their allure." He said, "But no, I don't gamble, father."
Soon the next fight started. The fighters in this match were a Bravo and a sellsword, from the Company of Rose.
Daemon had bet three gold dragons on the Bravo. And so, he was understandably quite pissed when he lost to his much older opponent.
Several more matches held through the night.
And as the night wore on, Daemon kept on drinking heavily, while betting on the fights. With each successive drink seeming to make his purse lighter.
The hour of the wolf had passed, when they finally left the illegal fighting arena, disguised as a rundown Flea Bottom tavern.
By the time they left, Daemon could barely walk straight. He'd had too much to drink.
In fact, on their way back to the Red Keep, the two of them had to support him the entire way.
"Is he always like this?" Rhaenyra asked him.
"Nah, Daemon's a good guy once you get to know him." Aemon said, "He's been really good to me. And although he does have quite a few flaws, life without him egging me on constantly, would be quite boring, honestly."
"I shouldn't say this, I guess", She said, "But I envy you sometimes, Aemon. You and Daemon are so close. Whereas, I can't even remember the last time father talked to me about anything other than my duties."
"I guess we all desire, what we can't have, Princess." Aemon said, sighing. "As for uncle being distant. He's the King, Rhaenyra. If you truly want to have a talk with him, approach him. I'm sure he wouldn't deny listening to what his daughter has to say."
"I wish things were that easy, Aemon." Rhaenyra whispered, sadly.
They had been walking quietly for a while, when Aemon chose to break the silence.
"So how did you enjoy yourself today, Princess?" He asked.
"The fights were a bit too bloody for my taste. But I did see a new side of this City, that I hadn't known of before." She said.
"I'm sorry for that Princess, Daemon isn't very considerate of others while making plans." He said.
"While I do agree, the destination Daemon chose, wasn't suited for a lady. I do believe, it made me stronger, knowing how brutal the world can be." She said, "At least, I won't have a rose-tinted view of the world after this."
"While I do agree, that a ruler needs to know the truth of their subjects." Aemon said. "No one expects you to lead a war, by fighting on the battlefield yourself."
"I don't want to fight in a battle as much as anyone else." Rhaenyra said, "But I must be prepared for it, if I'm to be Queen."
"For in the end I'm a dragonlord too." She said.
Her words rang true to Aemon's ears, as they saw the first golden rays of sunlight light up the horizon.
They could see the Red Keep, outlined in the distance.
-----------------
Nearly a month had passed, since Aemon's little foray into Flea Bottom.
And in all that time he'd gotten closer to Rhaenyra, even having evening tea with her once every three days or so.
They'd even gone dragon-riding a few times, racing Vermithor and Syrax around the City's skies.
Today once again, Aemon was supposed to meet her for tea. But as that would take place late in the evening, he'd instead decided to browse through the labyrinthine shelves of the Royal Library.
The library truly had a magnificent collection of books. Aemon could see thousands upon thousands of tomes lining its many dusty shelves.
In fact as far as he knew, the Red Keep's Library was second only to the one that the Maesters of the Citadel maintained.
It was as he was going through a particularly hefty tome on the Lost Free City of Essaria, that he heard a loud scraping sound.
Rowan had pulled up a chair, to sit beside him.
"This is a library Rowan, try to keep it down, please." Aemon said.
"Sorry for that, but you need to hear this right now, Aemon." Rowan said, whispering under his breath.
"You remember that servant girl, 'Nerissa'?" He said.
"No, I don't." He said, "Do you have any idea, how many servants in the Red Keep we have on our payroll? Hundreds, at the least. You seriously can't expect me to remember all their names, now. Can you?"
"Well she was made Princess Rhaenyra's handmaid a few years ago." Rowan said, "And today, she came to me with something very interesting."
"Go on, spit it out, then." Aemon said.
"Princess Rhaenyra asked her to fetch some moon tea, from one of the Grand Maester's acolytes."
"What? Are you absolutely sure?" He asked, astonished.
"I am sure my lord. I even asked some of the Targaryen Household guards that were posted around the Princess' chambers. They saw Ser Criston wandering through there last night." He said.
"This is a serious matter, if it's true." Aemon said, gravely, "Have you made sure that no one learns about this?"
"Yes, my Lord, I've seen to it, already.", Rowan said, "Nerissa has already left King's Landing for the Free Cities. And she's also been given a pouch of gold dragons for her troubles."
"That will have to do for now, I guess." He said, "And as for Rhaenyra, I'll deal with her. It's time for us to have a true heart to heart."
It was late in the evening with the Sun dipping below the horizon, when Aemon was welcomed into Rhaenyra's parlor for tea.
It was a cosy room, elegantly decorated with beautiful floral tapestries and crystal chandeliers, and a warm fire burning in the hearth.
They had been served piping hot scented tea, alongwith some fresh fruits and desserts.
But Aemon couldn't care less. He's mind wasn't on tea, instead it was focused on a particularly difficult quandary.
Once the servants had finished serving them, they withdrew to allow them some semblance of privacy.
"Is the tea your liking, Aemon?" The subject of his worries asked.
"The tea's fine Princess." He replied.
"Then why aren't you drinking? Here, have some of these blueberry tarts, they're delicious."
"I'm fine Princess." He said, stopping her, "I'll have it later. Before that I have something, I need to discuss with you."
"What is it, Aemon?" Rhaenyra asked, setting down her porcelain cup on the table.
"Why did you ask for 'Moon Tea' today, Rhaenyra?" He asked, in a grave tone.
Aemon's question had been intended to surprise her and draw a reaction out of her. But the Princess was good, in spite of the unexpectedness of the question she had managed to maintain her calm. And other than the skight tightening of her expression there was nothing to give away her panic.
In fact, she even managed to look offended.
"I don't know what you mean." Rhaenyra said, her voice frosty.
"It's useless Rhaenyra, I already know", Aemon sighed, "Not only did you send one of your maids to bring you the Tea, Ser Criston was seen near your chambers, late at night yesterday."
"It's him isn't he? You slept with one of the Kingsguard." He said, sighing deeply.
"H-How dare you!" Rhaenyra screamed out in outarge. "I'm the Heir to the Iron Throne, questioning my chastity is tantamount to Treason."
"Stop! Treason? If anyone has committed Treason here, it's you." Aemon roared, "The thing is you don't think when you do things. What do you think would happen, if the other Lords learned of this? Viserys will disinterest you. And the King's Justice will take ser Ser Criston's head."
His words finally seemed to have an effect, as the Princess slumped in her seat shaken.
"W-What do you want from me?" She asked, staring at him with fear and hate.
"You still don't understand me, do you?" Aemon sighed, sitting back down.
"I don't want anything from you Princess. You're my childhood friend, we grew up together. Years ago, I'd chosen to follow you as my Queen." He said, "But you don't make it easy, do you Rhaenyra?"
"What do you mean, Aemon?" Rhaenyra asked, perplexed.
"What I mean to say is that I'm loyal to you, Rhaenyra", He said, "And it is out of this loyalty that I ask you to be more careful. The Hightowers want Aegon to be named Heir. Alicent whispers in the King's ears regularly, to this effect. I don't fault you in having an affair with Ser Criston, everyone has their vices. But be discreet about it. If I can find out about it so easily, then so can Alicent. She has people spying for her everywhere."
This wasn't true, Alicent's attempt at creating a spy network in King's Landing, was shoddy at best. In fact, it was quite laughable, really. But Rhaenyra didn't need to know that. And with how wary she was of Alicent, this might actually make her a bit cautious.
"H-How do I do it?" She said under her breath, "How can I be discreet about it?"
"Well for starters, stop getting moon tea from the Grand Maester. His stores are all well documented. If you need any, come to me. I have all the ingredients, and I know how to brew it." He said.
"And secondly, don't meet Ser Criston in your chambers, find a discreet meeting spot unknown to anyone else. And use the secret passages to get there. I'll show you some of them, That way, you won't be seen, at least." Aemon advised.
"Thank you, Aemon." Rhaenyra said, "You truly are a good friend."
"Think nothing of it, Princess. In my heart, I've sworn to serve you, long ago." Aemon said.
"Then swear to me for real now." Rhaenyra said, motioning him to kneel before her.
As he knelt before his once and future Queen, she said,
"I vow that you shall always have a place by my hearth and meat and mead at my table, and pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you into dishonor. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New. Arise."
"I, Aemon Blackfyre, pledge to you my sword and my loyalty, Princess. From this day, till my last days." Aemon said, kissing the back of her hand.
-------------------
Ser Erryk stood guard outside the King's audience chamber.
Armored in ivoy plate, with his tall frame and neatly braided mane of hair, he looked both deadly and handsome in equal measure.
"They're waiting for you inside." He said, stepping aside and allowing him to enter.
This day was a very important one for Aemon. He'd been waiting for it, for weeks.
Today, Aemon was going to ask both Lord Corlys Velaryon and King Viserys Targaryen to invest in his Bank.
Daemon had done his best to arrange this meeting.
And now that, everything hinged on this. He had to be perfect.
As Aemon stepped into the opulently furnished chamber, he was met with four other people seated around the long oak table, in the centre of the room.
At the head of the table, sat the King. He wasn't wearing his crown now, just a simple gold circlet.
By his right hand sat the Hand of the King, Lord Lyonel Strong.
By his left, was his father, Prince Daemon Targaryen.
Last but certainly not the least, was the Sea Snake, Lord Corlys Velaryon, the Lord of the Tides.
A perpetual frown seemed to adorn his regal features.
"Good morning, Your Grace. My Lords. Lord Father." Aemon said, bowing to them all.
"It is good to see you, nephew." Viserys said, "Lordship suits you well, it seems. Come now, have a seat."
As Aemon sat down opposite Lord Corlys, Lord Lyonel opened the discussion.
"Lord Blackfyre, your father Prince Daemon, tells us that you have a business proposition for us. Care to elaborate?"
"I wish to establish a Bank in the Seven Kingdoms modeled after the Iron Bank of Braavos or the Rogare Bank of Lys." Aemon said.
"Quiet an ambitious plan, but the question is how will you execute it." Lord Corlys said, meeting his eyes.
Under Lord Corlys' keen scrutiny, Aemon continued his explanation.
"The 'Royal Valyrian Bank' will firstly, provide a high rate of interest to any who deposit their wealth with us, in addition to protecting and safeguarding it. Secondly, for a fee we will exchange currency. Be it just the simple changing of gold to silver or vice versa, or exchanging Westerosi coins into the currency of the Free Cities or elsewhere. Also, we will provide, a 'promissory note' service, to our trusted customers. They will then be able to use these 'signed notes' to cash in the amount they need at one of our local branches, instead of having to carry the money all the way there. This will be very useful to merchants and traders, I believe. And finally, we will give out loans in exchange of appropriate collateral. We will be free with our loans. Be it anyone noble or smallfolk, as long as they have appropriate collateral will be able to take out a loan from our Bank. We won't reserve our services for only the rich and powerful like the Iron Bank does. This I believe, will allow us to become successful. Moreover, with people taking loans to open their own businesses, this will lead to economic growth. Bringing in an age of prosperity, in all of Westeros."
"That all sounds well and good Lord Aemon," The Hand said, "But how will you finance this entire endeavour? It must be quite costly."
"That is why I've come to you, my Lords. Although, in later stages we can use the cumulative deposited funds for lending out loans and stuff, we need initial capital to setup and run the business. We need to hire personnel, buy and organize regional branches, bribe the magisters of the Free Cities. All of this will require gold. And although I will be financing the major portion of it from my own business holdings, but for the rest I require House Velaryon and the Crown's assistance." He said.
"How much money are you asking for, exactly?" Viserys asked.
"House Blackfyre will retain fifty percent of the Bank's total shares for an investment of a quarter million gold dragons. House Targaryen will have thirty percent share in the Bank, in exchange of a hundred and fifty thousand gold investment. As for House Velaryon, they'll recieve twenty percent share, for a hundred thousand gold dragons. Together we will have half a million gold dragons as initial capital to set up everything." Aemon answered.
"Your proposition does hold merit" Lord Corlys said, "And it is true that you've well proven your business acumen."
"But tell me", the Sea Snake says, fixing him with his sea green orbs, "Why shall I invest in your Bank at all for a mere twenty percent stake ? I can very well start my own Bank, and I'll own amd operate everything."
"You could do that, of course", Aemon replied.
"But if you were to do that, I can promise you that I'll run you out of the business within the year." He said, returning Lord Corlys' stare, with one of his own.
The chamber was engulfed in an abrupt silence, as the sound of his words died down.
But just as Lord Strong gave a nervous sidelong glance, in Lord Corlys' directoon, he burst out laughing.
Lord Corlys guffawed loudly, as he said, "You're Daemon's boy, alright. Just like him, you too don't know, how to mince your words."
"Fine then, I agree to your proposal. House Velaryon will invest. But I have a condition. I want a thirty percent stake. I'll pay the one hundred and fifty thousand gold for it, of course." He said.
"I'm sorry Lord Corlys, although I have the utmost respect for you. I cannot change any of the stakes. This is how it has to be. Money is important, but it's not everything." He said.
"I do not mind, my boy. But yes, I would like an explanation." Lord Corlys said.
"Very well, I offered House Targaryen thirty percent stake, because in addition to their gold, just the fact that they are behind this Bank, lends it a degree of credibility and trust that cannot be simply bought. Plus, I expect the Hand to approve all necessary legalities surrounding the Bank's operation. Nothing illegal, of course." He added.
"In that case, I've no qualms." Lord Corlys said, with a smile. "Let's proceed."
"I also agree", Viserys said, "Let's discuss the details, now."
Over the next two hours, they went over the various other details of the Bank. Lord Lyonel and Lord Corlys both of whom were intelligent, perceptive men, helped him iron out many of the other details of the Bank's operation.
"Now that all that's decided, I have a little present for you Daemon." Viserys said, addressing his brother.
Daemon bored by their discussions about business, had been concentrating on his goblet of wine for a while.
But on hearing his brother's words, he'd looked up immediately, alert once more.
"What is this about, brother?" Daemon asked, curiously.
"Remember how you came to me about a month ago, asking me to name you Lord Paramount of the Stepstones?" Viserys asked.
And as Daemon absently nodded, caught by surprise. Viserys motioned Lord Strong forward.
"Lord Hand, would you please", Viserys said.
Lord Strong pulled out a rolled scroll of parchment from the bundle on the table.
"This is a Royal Charter, issued in the name of King Viserys Targaryen. By the Iron Throne's authority, it recognizes Prince Daemon Targaryen as the Lord of Bloodstone. It also names him, the Lord Paramount of the Stepstones." He declared.
"There you go, Daemon." The King said, "From today onwards, you'll be one of the Lord Paramounts of Westeros."
Few times before, had Aemon seen genuine happiness, on his father's visage. This was one of those times.
Daemon smiled brightly, as he said, "Thank you, my King."
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Shadow had grown. With his midnight black fur, bright emerald eyes, and towering size rivaling that of a warhorse, the direwolf looked like a truly fearsome beast.
It was because of this, that Aemon couldn't keep him in the Red Keep. The wolf lived in Aemon's manse in the City, instead.
The manse was a sprawling estate, located in the northeastern part of the City, near the Iron Gate.
It had been less than a year since, Aemon had bought the place. And although, he still lived at the Red Keep mostly, he used the manse to arrange for his more secretive business dealings.
Secrecy being paramount, Aemon had carefully handpicked the manse's staff. He'd made sure that none of them spoke the Common Tongue or were literate.
In fact, the property itself had been bought through a proxy. Only a handful of trusted people knew, he owned the place.
This afternoon, Aemon was hosting his Inner Circle in the manse.
Jahanara, Rowan, Sylas and Mysaria, all of them were in attendance.
"So you managed to get the money for the Bank." Mysaria said, sipping from her goblet of Arbor Gold.
"Yes, I did. We now have half a million gold dragons as our initial capital." He said.
"That's an incredible amount of money." Jahanra interrupted, with a gasp.
"It is, but we'll have much more." Aemon said.
"For now, your work will be to execute the plans I've laid out." He said.
"Firstly we will be setting up regional branches of the Bank in all the major Cities of Westeros. The headquarters will obviously be in King's Landing. Other than that, we'll have four major regional branches, Oldtown, Lannisport, Gulltown and White Harbour. I also intend to expand into the smaller towns like Duskendale and Maidenpool. But that we'll do only when we've earned sufficient revenues first." He said.
"Understood milord, I'll contact our Reeves in these areas. We should have fully functioning branches running within a few months." Jahanara said.
"Other than that, to run our currency exchange operation, we need to setup small outposts in the Free Cities. It needn't be anything permanent, just rent a few rooms and we should b e fine for now. But more importantly, we'll probably need to bribe the Magisters to allow our smooth operation. See to it please, Mysaria." Aemon said.
"Consider it done", Mysaria said, unconcerned.
"Sylas, I need you to spread the word. Hire heralds, speakers, minstrels or mummers, I don't care. Do what you must, but get the word out to everyone about our Bank. I want it to be common knowledge within the month. Be it peasant or Lord, everyone should know about our Bank, and the services we provide." He said.
"Also I need you'll to dig through the ledgers. Find out all the Lords with outstanding debts, that our spies have discovered. We will approach them, offering them our loans in exchange taking their lands as collateral. We can capitalize on that, later." Aemon continued.
"That's a lot of work." Sylas grumbled.
"I'll be glad to do it, of course." He amended, when Aemon gave him a sharp look.
"Milord, I have a question", Jahanara interrupted, "To run such an organization we'll need literate employees. Do you have any notion milord, about where we can hire such educated personnel from?"
"I have actually thought about this quiet a bit", He said, "The best solution I've come up with is hiring second and third sons of minor Lords and knights. We can also employ the children of merchants and tradesmen. Other than that, I think we should try to recruit the acolytes of the Citadel."
"The Citadel's acolytes are not only learned, they often have useful skills. We will try to poach them. There are many acolytes, who wouldn't mind changing their loyalties for gold." Aemon said. "This way, we might even weaken the plotting Maesters."
"Of course, other than that, we'll need enforcers. This is where you come in Rowan." Aemon said, "You'll be in charge for them, for now."
"Remember, they will represent our Bank, so they cannot be a shoddy bunch of thugs, wielding clubs."
"Rowan, I need you to create an elite guard. They'll be armored in proper steel, and wield proper swords and spears. There should be three hundred of them in King's Landing, and another hundred each in all four of our regional branches." Aemon said.
"Their job will be to protect the Bank's assets, as well as, recovering loans if required." He said.
"I'll get to it right away, then." Rowan replied.
As their conversation was winding down, and they were about to retire for dinner, a loud commotion came from outside.
Curious of the cause, Aemon stepped out of the room to investigate.
Walking down the hallway, was his father, Prince Daemon.
Surprised, by the suddenness of his visit, Aemon inquired, "What are you doing here, father?"
On hearing his words, Daemon stopped in place, anger and grief warring on his face.
"I'm sorry, Aemon." He said.
"What is it, father? What happened?" Aemon asked, rushing to his father's side.
"If only you were trueborn. If only, I'd married your mother instead of that vile Bronze Bitch of mine."
"I've failed you son," He said, "I proposed a match to Viserys. A betothal between you and Rhaenyra. It was the perfect match. You both grew up together, you're childhood friends. And even today many years later, you both seem to have reconnected. You're Blood of the Dragon, my son, and a Lord. And your father, is a Prince and a Lord Paramount. But that wasn't enough, Viserys rejected my proposition."
"I understand your grief father. But I always knew I had no chance of marrying the Princess. She's the Heir, while I legitimized or not, am a bastard still." Aemon said slowly, a strange tightness in his throat.
"I am not sad son, I'm angry!" Daemon cried.
"I'm raging at the injustice of it all." He declared. "Where's your anger son. How can you be so calm?"
"Over the years I've become used to it, father." Aemon shrugged, "It still does hurt, though."
"If that is what Viserys has chosen, then so be it." Daemon declared, "I've had enough of this Court of lies and poison. It's time I went back to what I know."
"Will you be returning to Dragonstone, father?" Aemon asked.
"I could. It's as much my home, as Viserys or Rhaenyra's." He said.
"But no, I'll let my niece have her castle." Daemon said, "I'll be returning to the Stepstones, I've unfinished business there."
"I'm Lord of those rocks now. So it's my duty to defend them."
"The Triarchy's preparing a new Fleet too, I hear. I'll enjoy shattering them on the rocks." He said.
"If that's what you want father." Aemon said, carefully.
"I do, son. Some men are born to do certain things. I feel like I was born to kill." Daemon said, with a faraway look in his eyes.
"I'd tell you to be careful. But I guess, saying that to you, is a little bit pointless." Aemon smirked.
"Next time I see you, you'll be a man grown." Daemon lamented.
"I'm already a man, father. And a Lord." Aemon added.
"I remember", He said smiling, "I would have asked you to come with me to the Stepstones. Nothing tempers a man more than the heat of battle."
Daemon let out a sigh, "But I know you have responsibilities here. Join me when you can. Alright?"
"I will, father." Aemon replied.
"Well, I'll get going then. Sorry for the commotion. I was a little bit angry." Daemon said.
"That's putting it a bit lightly." He smiled.
"But before you go, why don't you have dinner with us. I have some guests, but it should be fine. You can leave in the morning then." Aemon said.
"I guess, a day will make no big difference." Daemon said, starting to walk towards the manse's dining Hall.
"What is for dinner, anyways?" He asked.
"I like food as much as any other man. But that doesn't mean, I know everything the cooks make, father." Aemon said, shaking his head.
That night Aemon had a really great time. His favorite people in the world, were all gathered together.
And as the courses came one after another, with alcohol readily following it, Aemon thought he even saw his father crack a smile or two.
But that might just have been the light playing tricks, on his eyes.
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