In the council hall of the Magister of Lys's mansion, the morning light was pale.
The long conference table was polished like a sheet of black ice, reflecting the leaden sky beyond the high windows.
Aegon sat at the head, behind him on the wall, a brand-new black banner with a three-headed red dragon hung quietly, the red dragon in the morning light seeming ready to burst forth from the banner at any moment.
The two sides of the long table were clearly divided.
To Aegon's right were Jon Clinton and Luciana.
Spread before Jon were nautical charts and Fleet rosters, an inkwell weighing down a curled corner, while beside Luciana were two thick ledgers, a quill pen resting at the edge, its ink not yet fully dry.
To the left, Henry and Karl stood side by side.
Henry's face was still pale, but his back was straight, while Karl's left arm rested on the armrest, his posture slightly stiff, but his gaze sharp.
Behind them, Attendants stood with hands clasped, silent.
In the fireplace, firewood crackled.
Aegon tapped a finger lightly on the smooth tabletop.
The sound was not loud, but it made the last faint rustle of clothing in the hall disappear.
"It has been three weeks since Myr opened its gates."
He spoke, his voice unusually clear in the empty hall.
"It is time to take stock of what we actually hold in our hands, and what we still lack."
His gaze turned to Luciana.
"How is Lys?"
Luciana opened the topmost ledger, her movements steady, but the crisp sound of turning pages was starkly distinct in the silence.
"The recruitment of garrison troops is proceeding according to Your Highness's decree, with soldiers recruited from Tyrosh and pay funded by Lys."
Her voice was flat, each word like stating an established fact.
"So far, over three thousand two hundred have been recruited, trained by Golden Company veterans, progress is acceptable, expected to take over basic city defense and public security in two months."
Her fingertip traced line after line of records.
"Craftsmen relocated from Myr, over four thousand seven hundred, have been assigned in batches to Port reconstruction and armory workshops."
"Wages are settled daily, no complaints."
"Market recovery is slow." She looked up, her gaze calmly sweeping over everyone. "War damage is severe, trade routes are still not open."
"Port taxes and market taxes... less than one-tenth of pre-war levels."
Aegon nodded slightly, noncommittal, his gaze turning to Jon.
"Tyrosh?"
Jon looked up from the nautical chart, his voice deeper than Luciana's: "City wall repairs are forty percent complete, Port functionality restored seventy percent."
"Surrendered soldiers have been dispersed and reorganized, no unusual movements for now."
He paused, pointing to a spot on the nautical chart.
"But the Fleets of the three city-states are still operating independently."
"Rhis harbor moors warships surrendered from Tyrosh, Tyrosh harbor is reorganizing captured galleys from Myr, Myr's own Fleet remains in its original Port... command is inconsistent, flags are chaotic."
He looked at Aegon, his tone grave: "If anything changes, such a Fleet cannot coordinate in battle."
"I propose unifying and reorganizing all ships from the three cities, establishing a standing navy, and creating a unified command system."
"Otherwise, they are not a Fleet, but a pile of rotten wood floating on the sea."
"A name." Aegon said.
Jon was taken aback.
"A Fleet must have a name."
Aegon's finger lightly traced the tabletop, as if demarcating territory.
"Since we are to unite the strength of three cities and control the Narrow Sea... call it the Narrow Sea Fleet."
A glimmer of light appeared in Jon's eyes, his right fist silently tapping his left chest: "Yes, Your Highness."
"But..."
He continued immediately, his voice lowered.
"Shipbuilding, repairs, training, supplies... each is a gold-devouring beast."
"Tyrosh's finances are nearly exhausted after the war, unable to bear it alone."
Aegon turned to Luciana: "Allocate from the Lys treasury."
Luciana was silent for a moment.
Then, she reached out and opened the second ledger. That ledger was thicker than the first, its cover a deep brown, edges worn shiny.
She did not speak immediately, but slowly pushed the ledger to the center of the long table, letting the morning light clearly illuminate the dense, spiderweb-like ink marks.
"Your Highness," she began, her voice still steady, but each word seemed soaked in ice water, "since we occupied the three city-states, up to yesterday, various expenditures have poured out like a waterfall..."
"The pay for newly recruited garrison troops must be distributed monthly."
"The daily wages for thousands of craftsmen, paid per person, cannot be interrupted for a single day."
"Compensation for the war dead, medicine for the wounded, labor costs for clearing ruins... each is a necessary outflow of blood."
"The Golden Company's commission, paid as agreed, not a penny less."
"Commander Luc is expanding his forces in the Stepstones, has written three times requesting funds, his ranks grow daily, according to the bounty scale set by Your Highness, bounty expenditures... like an inverted hourglass."
With each item she mentioned, her fingertip lightly tapped the ledger.
The motion was light, yet made everyone at the table feel a certain weight pressing down.
"Timber for Port reconstruction, iron ore and coal for armory workshops, relocation fees for Myr craftsmen, maintenance of messenger stations between the three cities... all these miscellaneous expenses, accumulating daily, have converged into a river."
She finally looked up, her gaze meeting Aegon's directly, those beautiful pale purple eyes showing no ripples, only a deep pool-like stillness.
"Your Highness, that huge sum confiscated from Lys," she paused, letting silence swell in the hall, "has now been nearly half spent."
"What?" Henry blurted out, leaning forward and aggravating his wound, grunting, his face paler.
Karl clenched his intact right hand, knuckles white.
Jon's brow furrowed deeply, his gaze fixed on the open ledger as if trying to find flaws in those dense numbers.
Luciana's voice continued, steady, clear, like pronouncing a verdict:
"And of the remaining portion, nearly half has been pre-allocated for next month's fixed expenditures: the Golden Company's commission, craftsmen's wages, deposits for Port area reconstruction... the actual usable amount is less than half."
She closed the ledger, that soft "snap" in the dead-silent council hall, weighty as a thousand pounds.
"Your Highness."
She said softly, her gaze sweeping over each frozen face at the table: "The Fleet must be built, the garrison must be maintained, cities must be repaired, ships must be built, bounties must be paid, compensation must be given... at the current rate of consumption, even with utmost frugality, the remaining funds will only last six months."
"After six months, without new sources of revenue..."
She did not finish.
Nor did she need to.
The fire in the fireplace suddenly flared up, bursting with sparks, then quickly subsided, leaving only a suppressed, scorching crackle.
Morning light moved across the long table's surface, illuminating those frozen faces, the deep patterns on the ledger's cover, and the bottomless purple in Aegon's eyes.
He slowly leaned back in his chair, fingertips lightly tapping the armrest.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Silence solidified in the council hall for a moment.
Aegon's fingertips stopped tapping.
"In other words," he slowly began, his voice exceptionally clear in the silence, "what we have conquered is not just three city-states."
His gaze swept over both sides of the long table.
"But three giant infants crying to be fed."
Luciana met his gaze, nodding slightly: "If following the old model, with the three city-states operating independently, maintaining minimal defense and administration, relying on their original trade and industries, perhaps... they could barely be self-sufficient."
She paused, adding: "But on the condition that all new projects are suspended: Fleet integration, Port expansion, forging in armory workshops, even garrison expansion."
"Those... are all gold-devouring beasts."
Jon's brow furrowed deeper.
He opened his mouth as if to refute, but his gaze fell on the thick ledger before Luciana, and ultimately he remained silent.
Stop Fleet and army construction? Then how would they control the Narrow Sea? How would they return to Westeros?
Aegon leaned back in his chair, his gaze turning to the pale sky beyond the high windows.
Seven million gold coins.
It sounded like wealth that could pile into a mountain.
Yet thrown into three city-states just ravaged by war, with everything in ruins, it melted away nearly half in an instant, like snow in boiling water.
It wasn't that gold coins didn't last.
It was that the appetites of these three city-states were larger and more urgent than he had anticipated.
"Restore the old system, operate independently, halt all construction..."
Aegon repeated Luciana's words, shook his head, his tone flat but resolute.
"No."
"Strength is the only foundation."
"Without a Fleet, without more armies, without quickly repaired Ports and workshops... the Targaryen restoration would be like having no cornerstone."
"Even if restoration succeeded, it would be like a castle in the air."
Aegon did not want a dynasty maintained by him alone, an iron throne for one person.
His gaze returned to the faces at the table.
"Since taxes cannot support us for now, we must look externally."
"The integration of the three Free Cities continues."
"Lord Jon, the reorganization plan for the Narrow Sea Fleet is to be fully drafted by you, list what is needed and submit it."
"My Bloodsworn needs expansion, Henry,"
He looked at the pale, thin man no longer obese due to illness and injury, the "fatty."
"Recover from your injuries as soon as possible, after recovery, you will serve as commander, size... tentatively set at three thousand, select those with good conduct, the most loyal and skilled in combat."
"As for the Lys garrison..." he turned to Karl.
"The Lys garrison continues recruitment and is renamed the Three Cities Garrison."
"Not limited to Lys, I want this force responsible for all public security, maritime patrols, and internal defense of the three city-states."
"Expected size... ten thousand, you serve as commander-in-chief."
"Like Henry, recover well, I look forward to your recovery, I need you both."
Karl clenched his fist, pounding his chest fiercely with his intact right hand, excited in his heart that he had not been forgotten or marginalized because his left hand could not hold a sword, that His Highness still valued him.
A fierce light burst in Karl's eyes: "As you command, Your Highness!"
Luciana's lips moved slightly, as if wanting to say something.
"Use the treasury's money as needed."
Aegon cut her off before she could speak, looking at her calmly: "I will solve the financial problem."
He paused, continuing, each word clear:
"Since internal taxes cannot be relied on for now, we will find money from outside."
"I will personally go to Braavos..."
"...the Iron Bank."
As the words fell, the air in the hall seemed to freeze for an instant.
Jon looked up sharply, a flash of astonishment in his eyes: "Your Highness, you mean... borrow from the Iron Bank?"
"Correct."
"But what do we use as collateral?"
Jon's voice was somewhat dry with urgency.
"The Iron Bank is not a charity, without sufficient collateral, they won't give a single copper coin."
"Even if we borrow, how much can it be? And what will we use to repay in the future? Their interest..."
"Collateral, we have."
Aegon interrupted him, his tone as flat as discussing what to eat for dinner.
"The entire City-State of Lys."
"The value of a Free City should be enough to secure support for our early development."
"What?!" Henry exclaimed.
Karl's pupils contracted sharply.
Even Luciana's eyes widened slightly.
Jon stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor with a harsh sound: "Your Highness! No! Lys is our foundation, the capital of the principality! How can..."
"What is mortgaged is Lys."
Aegon looked up, his gaze like a cold blade, sweeping over Jon's flushed, agitated face and the shocked expressions of the others.
"What does that have to do with my Narrow Sea Realm?"
Jon froze in place, lips moving but no sound coming out.
Narrow Sea... Realm?
Aegon did not give them more time to react, continuing, his voice carrying an indisputable decisiveness:
"So, listen clearly."
"Integration continues, the Fleet must be built, the garrison must be expanded, Port and workshop repairs must accelerate, treasury money should be spent as needed, do not hold back."
"I will solve the financial problem."
"You only need to do one thing: before I return with funds from Braavos, stabilize the order of the three city-states, let the veins of trade start beating again."
He stood up, the hem of his black clothes brushing against the chair legs.
"Additionally, since the three cities now belong to the Targaryens, unified under my principality, those old, independent names are no longer necessary."
He turned, looking at the brand-new three-headed red dragon banner on the wall behind him.
"From today, Lys, Tyrosh, Myr, and surrounding affiliated islands and seas..."
He paused, declaring clearly, word by word:
"Are collectively called... the 'Narrow Sea Realm.'"
The words fell, echoing in the council hall.
The fire in the fireplace burned quietly, illuminating each varied expression at the long table.
Shock, confusion, worry, but ultimately, all turned into a heavy, A decision with no other choice.
Aegon said no more, stepping toward the door.
"The council is over, each to your duties."
...Half an hour later, on the top-floor terrace of the Governors Mansion.
Aegon stood alone by the stone railing, looking down at the gradually awakening city of Lys below.
Sea wind carrying salt and brine blew against his face, lifting his silver-white hair.
Mortgage Lys?
A faint, almost cold curve touched the corner of his lips.
What the Iron Bank wanted was merely a valuable contract and a seemingly reliable repayment prospect.
Give it to them.
As for whether to repay... what was mortgaged was the "City-State of Lys," that entity under old contract laws.
And what he was building was the "Narrow Sea Realm."
If Braavosi envoys dared to come to his realm with the mortgage contract, demanding "Lys"?
Then let them come.
And speak with Ghidorah.
Aegon raised his head, his gaze toward the distant north shrouded in sea mist.
Braavos.
The Iron Bank.
It was time to let those bankers counting money bags know... the real hard currency in this world was never gold.
It was dragons.
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