Chapter 692: Potential Stock

"Every gold dragon is not made of pure gold, for gold is too soft and delicate to be used in its pure form."

"Thus, when the Royal Mint casts gold dragons, they mix in about twenty percent of other metals to increase the coin's hardness and wear resistance."

"These mixed metals include silver, brass, and copper, among others."

Surrounded by craftsmen fervently at work, Illyrio held up a gleaming new coin, still warm to the touch, and remarked, "A slight fluctuation in the proportion of these metals can lead to astonishing wealth."

The portly Pentoshi made a 'tiny bit' gesture with his fingers.

Indeed.

Viserys had decided to recall the majority of the gold dragons in circulation, aiming to standardize the currency system of Westeros. Whether reminting old coins or creating new ones, the task was monumental.

This 'tiny bit' of difference could fill the coffers of everyone in the Royal Mint, from top to bottom. Upon hearing this, Willas, a member of the famously wealthy Tyrell family, took a deep breath, imagining the vast profit margins.

"Brother, do you know where the previous master of the Royal Mint went?"

Illyrio casually tossed the gold dragon in his hand and asked.

The young man with brown hair, leaning on a cane, nodded slightly.

"I heard he donned the black and went to serve at the Wall."

"Correct."

Illyrio chuckled, "King Robert probably never dreamt that the Unsullied would later find a hundred thousand gold dragons in that master's cellar."

In these times, an average family might not earn a single gold dragon in a year. Two hundred silver stags could hire an assassin to eliminate an enemy, and a hundred gold dragons could ransom a captured noble.

To find a hundred thousand gold dragons in the home of the master of the King's Landing Mint was an astonishing number.

"Thus, the coins minted during Robert Baratheon's reign were of very poor quality, and the common folk were reluctant to accept them."

"But our King Robert didn't care. He just wanted the Mint to produce as much money as possible."

"The inept King Aegon was the same. The coins he minted were arguably the worst in history, leading to economic chaos throughout the Seven Kingdoms."

"After his death, civil war broke out. On the surface, it seemed to be due to his many bastards and the consequences of legitimizing them, but the underlying economic turmoil was also a significant factor."

Though Illyrio came from a background of thievery and mercenary work, as Master of Coin, he was quite adept.

Having risen from nothing to become a governor and wealthy merchant of Pentos, he had scholars and wise men among his retainers and slaves to advise him.

"Lord Illyrio speaks the truth."

After listening to his superior, Willas paused for a moment and then nodded in agreement.

He wasn't sure why Illyrio was sharing all this with him, but he continued the conversation.

"The work of the Royal Mint is crucial. We need someone reliable in charge, with no room for errors."

"Exactly."

Willas continued along the lines of Illyrio's narrative, and the rotund Pentoshi laughed heartily, clapping his hands.

"You're right, young man. His Grace places great importance on this matter and inquires about it frequently."

"But the position of master for the three mints remains vacant."

"I'm considering entrusting you with this responsibility."

"What do you think? Do you have the confidence?"

As Illyrio's words settled, Willas's expression shifted slightly. He hadn't expected the Master of Coin to consider him for overseeing the Mint's operations.

However, seeing the cards laid out on the table, Illyrio's offer seemed more like a generous gift than a hidden dagger.

After all, it was a lucrative position. Taking on this role would almost guarantee wealth.

Illyrio was trying to curry favor with the Tyrells, seeking their alliance.

But for Willas, it felt like a hot potato. His grandmother, Olenna, had a different vision for the Tyrells than he did. While Willas wanted to keep a low profile and let people forget the past glory of House Tyrell, his grandmother had other plans.

Still, with his superior making such an offer, it seemed hard for Willas to refuse. After a moment's hesitation, he nodded.

Atop the Mint's roof, a black raven tilted its head, then took flight, heading into the distance.

"Willas has potential."

Inside the Red Keep's Maegor's Holdfast, Viserys opened his eyes. Beside him floated an invisible spirit only he could see.

"But he's not yet mature."

Viserys wasn't referring to Willas's age, which was greater than his own. It was that Willas's exposure to the real world was still limited.

Having once been the heir to Highgarden, suddenly being thrust into grassroots work and dealing with mundane matters was a bit overwhelming.

"We'll see how he performs."

"I plan to send him to Gulltown in the future, to take charge."

"Gulltown, as one of Westeros's major port cities, is indeed a place where one can achieve great things."

Jon Connington's spirit, floating in mid-air, nodded in agreement.

When he had recommended Willas, Connington hadn't truly intended for him to become Hand of the King. In fact, Willas was his third choice, after Myles Toyne of the Westerlands and Petyr Baelish of the Vale.

Jon Connington simply believed that such a talented and promising young man shouldn't be overlooked. He had introduced Willas to Viserys so the king could recognize his potential.

The Imp, Tyrion Lannister, was also a suitable candidate for Hand of the King.

Viserys hadn't forgotten Tyrion's potential for the role. However, for the new regime, Tyrion's status was somewhat unique.

As a personal advisor to the king, Tyrion might not have official power, but he could attend the Small Council meetings and offer advice whenever Viserys needed. In reality, Tyrion's position was quite elevated, making his appointment as Hand of the King somewhat redundant.

"Your Grace, how shall we finalize the appointment?"

Jon Connington's spirit asked.

After a moment of contemplation, Viserys had a clear answer based on the current political climate.

"Send a raven to Casterly Rock tomorrow, summoning Myles Toyne to King's Landing."