The Throne Room of the Red Keep was vast and magnificent, a true symbol of royal authority. It was large enough not only to host court sessions but also lavish feasts and grand ceremonies, easily accommodating more than a thousand people.
The setting sun streamed through the tall, narrow windows, casting long crimson rays across the polished stone floor and painting the walls with deep red shadows.
Long ago, the massive dragon skulls of House Targaryen had hung proudly behind the Iron Throne. During King Robert's reign, they had been replaced with colorful hunting tapestries depicting forests and stags. After Robert's death, those tapestries had been removed as well.
Now, only a great golden silk banner hung behind the throne.
"The Iron Throne is a bit misleading," Gendry remarked as he sat upon Aegon the Conqueror's ancient seat. "It's more like an Iron Throne with an entire staircase attached."
Although it was called a throne, it was far more than a simple chair.
Forged from the melted swords of Aegon's defeated enemies, it was a twisted mass of jagged steel, razor-sharp edges, and protruding spikes. The steep iron steps leading up to it made the entire structure resemble a monstrous beast waiting to devour anyone who approached.
Yet despite its terrifying appearance, it represented the supreme authority of the Seven Kingdoms.
Power itself.
After experiencing it firsthand, Gendry understood why Robert had always complained about it.
It was incredibly uncomfortable.
The steel beneath the seat dug into the body, while the sharp spikes rising behind the back made leaning impossible.
Legend said that when Aegon ordered the throne's creation, he declared:
"A king should never sit comfortably."
After the ceremony honoring loyal supporters and presenting captured prisoners concluded, most of the assembled lords and knights departed.
Only the members of the Small Council and several important nobles remained.
Although the meeting involved endless reports and administrative details, none of the ministers appeared bored.
Power was intoxicating.
And serving at the center of the realm was an honor few could resist.
Gendry eventually descended from the Iron Throne.
Resting Tiger Roar beside him, he sat casually on the broad steps below the throne, nearly three feet above the floor, listening as the ministers discussed the kingdom's affairs.
Nearby stood Ser Balon Swann, newly pardoned and restored to service.
Young, broad-shouldered, and powerfully built, Balon possessed both strength and courtesy.
Even Gendry, whose own combat ability surpassed nearly everyone in Westeros, regarded Balon as one of the Stormlands' brightest young knights.
Since Anguy had not participated in the Hand's Tourney, Balon still held the title of champion archer.
He was equally skilled with the spear, mace, and sword.
"This is technically my first Small Council meeting," Gendry thought with a faint smile.
He preferred listening rather than interfering with every discussion.
Micromanagement was never his style.
His responsibility was to determine the kingdom's overall direction and appoint capable people to carry out the work.
At present, those priorities were obvious:
Magic.
War.
Survival.
The coming Long Winter would challenge the realm unlike anything seen before.
He needed to devote his attention to dragons, magic, and warfare.
Everything else could be delegated.
Stannis spoke first.
"Our greatest concerns are manpower and funding."
"The kingdom lacks soldiers."
"The City Watch lacks men."
"The Kingsguard lacks members."
"King's Landing's defenses require extensive repairs."
"And beyond that, we still face wars against House Lannister and the Iron Islands."
He paused before continuing.
"There may also be campaigns in the North."
"And eventually..."
"...wars across the Narrow Sea against Lys and Volantis."
Gendry listened quietly.
He knew those wars were unavoidable.
The White Walkers would come.
The wildlings would march south.
And the liberation of slavery in Essos would inevitably ignite a larger conflict.
Unexpectedly, Lord Mace Tyrell looked excited.
"I was worried the wars might end too quickly."
"I still have many opportunities to earn glory!"
Several nobles struggled to suppress their laughter.
Stannis remained expressionless.
"Lord Mace."
"Your responsibilities will be far more difficult than charging into battle."
"You'll be responsible for raising grain and funding..."
"...and untangling the financial disaster Littlefinger left behind."
Although Littlefinger's corruption had already been exposed, enormous amounts of work remained before the treasury could return to normal.
Mace immediately straightened his posture.
"I shall devote everything I have to serving the realm."
"No matter how difficult the task..."
"I believe that under the blessings of the Seven and Your Grace's leadership, we will overcome every obstacle."
Standing behind him, Ser Garlan Tyrell quietly sighed.
His father had no idea what he had agreed to.
Littlefinger had profited enormously while serving as Master of Coin.
Mace, on the other hand, would likely spend his own family's fortune simply trying to repair the damage.
Increasing taxes was impossible.
The people had already suffered enough.
The only remaining solution...
...was paying out of his own pocket.
Gendry couldn't help smiling inwardly.
Mace would soon discover what true exhaustion looked like.
The royal family's old debts had effectively disappeared alongside the Lannisters' defeat.
The greater problem now was funding future wars while preparing enough food to survive the Long Winter.
Mace was smiling now.
He probably wouldn't be smiling for long.
"I'll thoroughly investigate everyone Littlefinger appointed," Mace continued.
"Suitable officials will remain."
"The rest will be replaced."
"I'll submit every recommendation to the Small Council and to Your Grace for approval."
Stannis nodded.
"I trust you'll make your appointments fairly."
Everyone understood his meaning.
No single region should dominate the royal government.
The Reach, the Stormlands, the Vale, and the Crownlands all deserved representation.
Mace naturally understood as well.
He wasn't dealing with Robert anymore.
Gendry and Stannis paid close attention to every detail.
There would be no second Littlefinger.
Gendry then turned the conversation toward a more urgent matter.
"Our next priority is restoring production."
"This autumn will be our final harvest before winter arrives."
"The Riverlands have already been devastated."
"The North and the Stormlands have also suffered from war."
"If we fail to prepare now..."
"...the Long Winter will bring famine across the realm."
Garlan looked thoughtfully toward the young king.
He possessed Robert's courage...
...yet also the vision of Aegon the Conqueror.
Stannis spoke gravely.
"When people become hungry..."
"...they become dangerous."
"King's Landing has already proven that."
"Joffrey died."
"The High Septon died."
"Several Kingsguard knights died."
"When starvation arrives..."
"...ordinary people become desperate."
The ministers nodded silently.
No one doubted his words.
"The kingdom must begin preparing immediately," Stannis continued.
"We'll appoint regional Grain Advisors responsible for food storage, famine relief, and winter preparations."
Everyone agreed without objection.
Assignments were quickly distributed.
The Crownlands.
The Vale.
The Reach.
The Stormlands.
The North.
The Riverlands.
Only Dorne required further discussion, while the Westerlands and Iron Islands remained under rebel control.
With that matter settled, Gendry introduced another proposal.
"I also wish to rebuild the Dragonpit."
Lord Mace blinked in surprise.
"The Dragonpit?"
"It has stood abandoned for generations."
"Why restore it now?"
Several nobles exchanged uncertain glances.
Rumors about dragons hatching across the Narrow Sea had spread throughout Westeros.
Could His Grace truly intend to raise dragons?
Gendry smiled.
"Not as a Dragonpit."
"As a Veterans' Hall."
The room fell silent.
"I want a place where wounded soldiers and retired knights can spend the rest of their lives in peace."
"Those who shed blood defending the realm deserve dignity."
"They should never be abandoned once the fighting ends."
Mace nodded thoughtfully.
"It is a noble idea."
"But rebuilding such a place will require enormous resources."
Gendry shook his head.
"The labor already exists."
"The surrendered Gold Cloaks who are no longer fit for military service can work on the reconstruction."
"The Dragonpit itself still stands."
"We'll repair it section by section while moving veterans inside."
The assembled lords slowly nodded.
It was practical.
And honorable.
Throughout Westerosi history, great kings had always left behind magnificent works.
Aegon had founded King's Landing.
Maegor completed the Red Keep and Dragonpit.
Jaehaerys built the Kingsroad and improved the realm's infrastructure.
Daeron constructed Summerhall.
Now...
Gendry wished to leave behind something different.
"A Veterans' Hall," he declared confidently.
"It will stand as a monument to every soldier who fought for the Storm, for the Liberator, and for the Seven Kingdoms."
Even Lord Mace felt inspired.
Contributing money no longer seemed like a burden.
Instead...
It felt like an honor.
Gendry turned toward Randyll Tarly.
"Lord Randyll."
"I'd like you to oversee this project."
Randyll nodded immediately.
"It will be done, Your Grace."
Garlan quietly observed everything.
First he wins the people's hearts...
Now he's winning the loyalty of every knight in the realm.
If such a Veterans' Hall truly comes into existence...
Every soldier in Westeros, regardless of where they were born, will remember the Storm King's kindness.
And when the next war begins...
They will gladly march beneath his banners.
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)