The attendant left to answer the summons, leaving the air in the hall as tense as a drawn bowstring.
All eyes turned to the entrance, waiting for the envoy who could turn gold into shackles.
Tycho Nestoris walked in slowly, his tall, thin figure appearing even more elongated in the torchlight. His demeanor was composed, offering a slight nod to the gathered lords—impeccably polite, yet carrying a cold sense of detachment. A delicate golden key hanging from his neck swayed slightly with his movements, instantly catching Euron Greyjoy's sharp gaze.
Euron knew the symbolic meaning of that key well.
It represented the noble status of a "Keyholder"—a descendant of the twenty-three founders of the Iron Bank. Although the founders' bloodlines had multiplied into the thousands, and the sixteen male keys and seven female keys were no longer truly used to open the massive vaults buried deep underground, having evolved into purely ceremonial ornaments, they still silently proclaimed the wearer's unparalleled power and status in Braavos.
Today, the actual operations of the Iron Bank were managed by a vast bureaucracy rather than solely by these Keyholders, but the tradition and authority the key represented remained undiminished.
Tycho's gaze swept calmly across the room, finally resting on Robert Baratheon in the seat of honor, as if everyone else—lords and warriors alike—were merely assets or liabilities to be assessed.
Tycho Nestoris's voice was as calm as water but carried a cold, metallic quality as he clearly laid out the Iron Bank's proposal:
"Lord Baratheon, the Iron Bank is willing to provide you with all the funds necessary to seize the Iron Throne. The condition is simple: upon your coronation, you must assume and repay in full the debts owed to the Iron Bank by Aerys II."
Robert burst into thunderous laughter upon hearing this, his laugh filled with mockery. "Hahaha! That madman's debts? Why in the seven hells should I pay them? What kind of logic is that!"
Tycho remained unmoved, responding calmly, "The Iron Bank's funding significantly increases your chances of sitting on the Iron Throne. It is an investment, and investments require returns."
Robert stopped laughing abruptly, his face filled with warrior pride. "The Iron Throne? I don't give a damn about it! And if I do sit on it, it'll be because my brothers and I bled for it, because my allies fought for it! Do you think I can smash Aerys to death with gold dragons?"
Tycho leaned forward slightly, a shrewd light glinting in his narrow eyes as he began to list the true power of the Iron Bank:
"Gold dragons cannot smash a man to death on their own, but they can hire the finest sellsword companies for you, purchase mountains of grain and steel, bribe open city gates held by enemy commanders, and sustain the cost of a prolonged campaign. And that is just the beginning—"
His voice dropped lower but gained more penetrating power:
"Once we reach an agreement, the Iron Bank will immediately sever all financial ties with Aerys II: we will aggressively collect old debts, freeze the Crown's credit, and refuse any new loans. This will rapidly trigger a financial collapse in King's Landing, leading to unpaid soldiers, fleets unable to sail, and even hyperinflation and riots among the smallfolk."
"Simultaneously, we will signal to all nobles potentially supporting Aerys that backing a king abandoned by the Iron Bank is a high-risk investment with no future, thereby turning the lords of the realm to your side."
Finally, he threw down his heaviest chip: "Furthermore, with our influence in Braavos, we can pull strings to give you the opportunity to hire the Faceless Men."
When the term "Faceless Men" landed, the usual impatience and contempt on Robert's face froze. Though he didn't respond immediately, a sharp glint flashed in his eyes. He instinctively looked at Jon Arryn and Eddard Stark beside him. The leaders exchanged meaningful glances. Silence fell over the hall, save for Tycho Nestoris standing steadily, as if he had long anticipated this moment of quiet.
Euron Greyjoy's voice broke the rhythm of the negotiation like a dark tide. Staring at the gold key on Tycho's chest, he asked with interest, "Tycho Nestoris, if I'm not mistaken, you are a member of one of the noble Keyholder families, are you not?"
Tycho was genuinely stunned for a split second. The internal hierarchy of Braavos was not widely known; he hadn't expected this Ironborn captain to have such insight. But he quickly recovered his composure, nodding slightly with innate pride. "Your knowledge is surprising, Lord Greyjoy. Indeed."
Euron got the answer he wanted, and a corner of his mouth curled into an ambiguous smile. He waved his hand casually. several burly Ironborn obeyed, carrying dozens of heavy wooden chests from the rear of the hall. Right in front of everyone, they threw open the lids—
Instantly, the hall was flooded with blinding golden light! The chests were neatly stacked with beautifully minted gold dragons, a quantity so vast it was jaw-dropping. This was the immense wealth seized from the Frey vaults at the Twins.
"Envoy, you see," Euron's voice carried a lazy, sea-breeze quality, yet was full of power, "we don't seem to be lacking gold dragons."
Tycho Nestoris's pupils contracted slightly, but he maintained his composure. "Then, regarding the massive debt of Aerys II..."
Before he could finish, Euron interrupted him, his logic clear as a cold dagger. "If we refuse your loan, and Lord Robert eventually takes the Iron Throne through warrior's prowess anyway... may I ask, at that time, what makes you think he would acknowledge and repay Aerys's debt?"
"Exactly!" Robert's wild laughter exploded like thunder. He slapped the table heavily with a massive hand, as if hearing the world's most ridiculous joke. "I won't borrow your money! And when I've smashed that Mad King to pulp, you want to force me to pay his debts?! Dream on! Take your terms and roll as far away as you can!"
Facing this merciless mockery and the mountain of real gold before him, Tycho Nestoris fell into complete silence for the first time. His carefully prepared financial leverage seemed to lose its magic before naked gold and the even more naked threat of force.
Euron's smile deepened, carrying a cat-and-mouse playfulness. "Honorable Keyholder, before stepping into this hall, perhaps you should have investigated more carefully exactly what kind of men you are dealing with, and what kind of tempers they have."
Tycho Nestoris's face remained calm, but his eyes flickered. "We naturally have a basic understanding."
"Oh? Do you?" Euron took a step forward, his voice low but stabbing precisely into the weak point. "Then you should understand that trying to threaten Robert Baratheon with 'inherited debt' is the stupidest idea in the world. He will never acknowledge that bill. Your threats are useless against a personality like a storm."
Tycho was silent for a moment before finally admitting, "...Yes."
Euron's smile suddenly turned cold and cruel, his words like a final judgment. "Then, please consider this. If this massive loan, handled personally by you and carrying such high hopes, ends up losing everything... can your status within the Iron Bank be preserved? The key around your neck, the family you are so proud of... I'm afraid they would all pay a heavy price for this, wouldn't they?"
Tycho Nestoris took a deep breath, looking squarely at Euron for the first time. He spoke slowly, "Captain Greyjoy... your understanding of the Iron Bank's internal rules exceeds my imagination."
The air in the hall almost solidified. Everyone thought the negotiation had collapsed.
However, in this dead silence, Euron suddenly changed the subject. In a casual tone, as if discussing the weather, he asked:
"So..."
"How many gold dragons do you intend to lend us? How do we repay? And the interest... how much?"
This sudden turn caught everyone off guard.