The Red Keep, Tower of the Hand.
"Lord Arryn has a moment now. Please follow me, Ser."
Hugh, the squire, led Arthur into the Hand's private solar.
Jon Arryn sat behind his desk, a hint of a smile in his eyes. "It seems you've already heard the news that Eddard is coming to King's Landing?"
"Yes, my lord." Arthur bowed respectfully. "I came specifically to thank you for delaying the inquiry and summoning my uncle to the capital."
"Then your thanks are misplaced. I did not summon your uncle." Old Arryn rested his chin on his hand. "I merely sent him a copy of the royal decree shortly after it was issued to you. Eddard's journey south is his own decision, not my command."
A flash of surprise crossed Arthur's eyes—not because his uncle was coming of his own volition, but because Jon Arryn was being so candid.
"The lad values you greatly, and loves you deeply," Arryn said, catching Arthur's surprised look. "He even wrote to me, concerned about the distance from the North, insisting that I wait for his arrival before commencing the inquiry and trial."
"My uncle has indeed been very good to me," Arthur admitted.
Aside from Daemon Sand, Arthur's upbringing alongside Jon Snow had been arguably the best any bastard could hope for, and all of that stemmed from Eddard Stark.
"Beyond my gratitude, this is my humble contribution to the realm." Arthur pulled a prepared contract from his tunic. "Please, take a look at this."
Jon Arryn raised an eyebrow as he scanned the document, surprise flickering in his eyes. "A wine distribution agreement?"
"The Iron Throne shall receive exclusive distribution rights for Amber Peach Wine and other spirits within the Seven Kingdoms—excluding the North, Dorne, the Reach, and the Stormlands. You may purchase the stock at fifty percent of the Starfall retail price!"
Jon Arryn had tasted Amber Peach Wine. Its quality rivaled the finest Arbor Gold, with a unique flavor profile. Because the production site had been burned, the bottles currently on the market were selling for several times the price of Arbor Gold.
This wine was the spark that had ignited the conflict between the Arbor and Starfall—and by extension, the Reach and Dorne.
"Wasn't the production site destroyed?" Arryn asked. "If I recall correctly, the place was called the Peach Orchard?"
"The Peach Orchard was indeed burned," Arthur replied. "But I built it from nothing once, and though rebuilding will require significant effort and gold dragons, I am confident that production can resume within a year at the latest."
"In addition to this contract, I will present an annual tribute of the highest quality reserve wine, exclusively for the Royal Family and the lords of the Red Keep."
Old Arryn nodded slightly, his gaze softening as he looked at Arthur. "You are truly thoughtful. I will have Lord Petyr, the Master of Coin, discuss the details with you personally."
The crown's massive debt and the emptiness of the treasury were a constant weight on his mind. The value of this Amber Peach Wine was undeniable—the Redwyne family, who knew wine best, had already proven its worth with their actions.
Previously, during the Small Council meeting, Littlefinger had reminded the Iron Throne of the disparate tax policies between the Reach and Dorne. Dorne paid almost no tax on wine, and the same applied to Amber Peach Wine; the Iron Throne couldn't collect revenue from it directly.
If Amber Peach Wine began to eat into the market share of Arbor Gold, the crown's wine tax revenue would naturally decrease.
But with this contract, the Iron Throne could procure the wine at half price. Even if they didn't sell it themselves, outsourcing the distribution to other nobles and merchants would yield massive profits—far exceeding any tax they could hope to collect.
"Furthermore," Arthur continued, "you are aware that I am claiming one and a half million gold dragons in damages from the Arbor. I was thinking..."
Arryn waved a hand to cut him off. "The Iron Throne hasn't even begun the inquiry or the trial, and you're already dividing up the compensation?"
Arthur rubbed his hands together. "If I am lucky enough to win the trial, I suspect the Arbor might not be able to produce such a large sum of gold all at once. If that happens, I would ask the Iron Throne to increase the tax on Arbor wines until the full one and a half million is collected."
Old Arryn didn't speak, just looked at him quietly.
"Of course," Arthur added quickly, "we would split that fifty-fifty as well."
Arryn couldn't help but shake his head with a smile. "You... well, let's discuss that after the verdict is in."
When Arthur left, Jon Arryn gave him a token granting him free access to the Red Keep.
Walking out of the Tower of the Hand, Arthur let out a long breath. He had just snuffed out the Arbor's last possible chance of turning the tables.
As the saying goes: Don't get cocky when you're winning, and don't surrender when you're losing.
Now, all he had to do was wait for his uncle—the big gun—to arrive in King's Landing, and the team fight could begin.
Jon Arryn clearly valued the distribution contract highly. By midday, Arthur was summoned again. This time, there were two other men in the room with the Hand.
Petyr "Littlefinger" Baelish and Stannis Baratheon.
It was Arthur's first time meeting either of them. They looked like mirror opposites.
Baelish was a small man of ordinary build, with gray-green eyes full of laughter. He had a small pointed beard on his chin and threads of gray in his dark hair. His dark gray cloak was fastened with a silver mockingbird clasp.
Stannis, on the other hand, was broad-shouldered and sinewy, his face tight and hard. He was balding, with only a fringe of black hair remaining behind his ears. His beard was trimmed short and close, covering his square jaw and hollow cheeks. Beneath heavy brows, his eyes were like open wounds—dark blue, almost black. His lips were pale, thin, and tense.
Jon Arryn introduced the two Small Council members to Arthur.
"Ser Arthur, you look just like your father, Brandon." Baelish wore his trademark smile. "Back when I was young and foolish for love, I fought a duel with Brandon. He left me with a scar and a lesson I'll never forget."
"Truth be told, I should thank your father..."
Stannis cut him off, his face expressionless. "Enough, Lord Baelish. Stop rambling. Let us discuss the matter of the Amber Peach Wine distribution."
Baelish's smile didn't waver at the interruption. He chided gently, "Lord Stannis, when negotiating contracts or partnerships, it's best to build a little rapport first. It's like bedding a whore—you don't just whip it out and get to work immediately."
"I do not need you to teach me how to conduct business!" Stannis's voice sounded as if it were being squeezed through his teeth. "And do not speak of whores in my presence. I have long proposed that King's Landing should ban brothels entirely!"
A flicker of mock regret crossed Baelish's face. "That would break the hearts of countless good men, especially our good King Robert."
"You..." Stannis bristled.
"Enough. We are here to discuss the distribution contract. Other matters can wait." Jon Arryn interrupted their bickering. "Baelish, speak to Arthur about the agreement."
"Lord Hand." Baelish put away his smile and his quips, his face growing serious.
"As I said before, this is undoubtedly the most generous contract I have ever seen. Amber Peach Wine currently sells for three times the price of Arbor Gold, and demand far outstrips supply. This speaks to the wine's potential. If we can finalize this agreement, the royal treasury will see a significant increase in revenue."
"The key issue is delivery. If Ser Arthur can guarantee production and supply..."