Chapter 25: Tyrosh

First Moon, 91 AC

Viserra

A silver seahorse leapt from the sea and shapeshifted into a dragon. The silver dragon flew up into the starry sky, where a red dragon awaited it, growling menacingly. In the land beneath, a tower wept tears of blood and a pale fortress was set aflame, burning into the night like a candle in the dark. Fanatical legions worshipped at a shrine before they arose, chanting as they marched, spreading war and chaos wherever they went. The wailing of a newborn babe became the roar of a dragon.

"My lady?" a voice called to Viserra and she awoke from her dream. She groggily rubbed her eyes and rose reluctantly from the sheets of her bed, shying away from the bright light that shone into the room as her maid opened the curtains.

"You look troubled my lady." Pina sounded concerned. "Is there something wrong?"

Viserra shook her head. "No, it was nothing. Just a bad dream."

"What about?" Her maid was curious.

She thought back and tried to remember her dream, but the details were already starting to slip away from her. "I don't really remember."

"It mustn't have been important then," Pina assured her.

"I suppose not," Viserra agreed, though she could not help but feel like she was missing something.

As her mind awoke from the daze of sleep, a thought occurred to her. "What time is it?"

Her maid was almost mischievous. "It's past midday my lady."

"What?" Viserra was outraged, rising to her feet. "I gave you explicit instructions to wake me up no later than half past eight in the morning!"

Pina did not frighten. "Lord Corlys countermanded those orders my lady. He told me that you needed the rest after you stayed up late working last night. If I may my lady, I don't think he's wrong. You look more refreshed than I've seen you in weeks."

Viserra sighed. "Whatever," she said exasperatedly, though not without a hint of endearment. She should've expected Corlys to do something like this, and his recruiting of Pina into it was not as surprising as it should have been. Pina had been her maid since before she had even been married, and that long relationship had given her a rather interesting view on what loyalty was. Apparently it meant conspiring against your lady with her husband for 'her own good'.

"Get me my meal. I'll break my fast with luncheon," she ordered.

Loyal as ever, Pina bowed obediently. "As you wish my lady."

As she ate her lunch, Viserra went through her letters. Irina's last letter had told a tragic tale of the difficulties Driftmark had encountered as a result of the sanctions. It made Viserra proud and pleased to know that Aurane had found many eager volunteers from Driftmark to join their army or staff, or to move to Tyrosh and help set up new business and rebuild the city's economy, but she wished that it hadn't mostly been because Driftmark was suffering and they needed the work.

She replied to Irina on Driftmark, assuring her that Rhaekar, Corlys, and herself were all well, and that things in Tyrosh were… as well as they could be. In turn, she inquired after her wellbeing, and the health of her children. Viserra also asked, almost desperately, after her own children. She hadn't seen Jacaerys and Lucerys in months. It had been decided that Tyrosh was too unstable and safe to bring them to the city. She was beginning to fear her children wouldn't remember her when she next saw them.

Having penned her reply to Irina and sealed it, Viserra opened her next letter, and broke the double seal of House Qoherys and House Celtigar. Laena's letters, as usual, were of concern and desperation. Their personal friendship, and their houses' longstanding alliance and blood ties had seen the Celtigars remain faithful for now. Laena's goodfather Bartimos was Corlys's uncle and her husband Clement was his cousin. However, kin or not, old friendship regardless, Laena was warning that they could only take so much before they had no choice but to accept the King's commands.

Viserra wrote back, imploring Laena to hold out, to convince her husband and goodfather and try to convince her father, the Master of Whisperers, to speak for House Velaryon as much as possible and not abandon their alliance or trade agreements. She reassured her friend that House Velaryon will prevail, that things would turn out well. A part of Viserra's mind whispered dangerous words of doubt in her head, but she squashed it. She had to believe, or she was lost.

"Pina," Viserra called.

"Yes my lady?"

She handed her the letters. "Take these to the couriers. Make sure they're sent back to Driftmark and to Claw Isle."

"Understood."

In the corner of her eye, Viserra saw a stack of letters she had been hoping to forget existed. A letter came from King's Landing for her almost every week. Her mother, Aemon, Baelon, and Alyssa had all been writing her for months but Viserra had not replied. She couldn't bring herself to.

She just felt so…. so angry, and betrayed. When the letters had first arrived, Viserra hadn't known what to expect. She had hoped her family would remain supportive. She should have known better than that. Aemon, Baelon, Alyssa, her mother... their promises of support had really just been empty words and lies. Viserra had broken open the Targaryen seals and seen pain. Words of condemnation, disappointment, criticism, and anger, cloaked in a veneer of love and affection. Some of the letters had been filled with sly allusions to the dangers of her husband's ambitions and warnings to not follow him on that path toward what they called a dark future, pleading for her to come home.

Why didn't they understand? House Velaryon was her home now. Rhaekar, Irina, Aurane, Alys, were the siblings she had wanted growing up. Corlys was her heart, and their sons were her joy. There was no home for Viserra without them anymore.

Viserra had thought, that after all those years, some of her birth family had understood her at last. Had seen her pain. Had wanted to love her as she was, not as who they wanted her to be for them. Yet, once again, Viserra had been thrown away. Discarded and abandoned when she was difficult, just like she had been in the past. She had heard of how the whole family had gathered, gathered to unite against her. Even Daella and Saera had been there.

Her father was the root of it all. She had loved him once, despite all his distance, all his denial of a dragon to her, Viserra had always loved him. Now that love had turned ash. Resentment and hatred coiled around her heart, snuffing out what love remained.

Jaehaerys Targaryen was the cause of everything wrong in her life right now. He had started everything by denying her sons their rightful inheritance, and threatened her and her house, placing a Sword of Damocles above their heads. And now when they had tried to escape his trap, he had taken away the Stepstones entirely, removed her husband from the Council, and named rivals to those positions. He had done his very best to cripple their finances, destroying the lives of the people of Driftmark, and attacking their allies like a tyrant. Because of her father, Viserra was away from her children, and trapped here. She wanted to see her sons again, hear them babble nonsense and toddle after her.

She was just so, so tired. Rhaekar, Corlys, and her, had been running themselves ragged for months trying to stabilize this damnable city. Last night, was perhaps the first time she had had a full night's rest in nearly two weeks. Otherwise she was always staying up late working and waking up at the crack of dawn. There was just so, so much to do. Viserra felt like she was drowning in it.

It had started out well. Even now she still remembered how the Tyroshi Conclave, that old council of relics that called themselves nobles and magisters, had been so defiant. They had changed their tune and cowered when Viserra had brought Dreamfyre into the room and let her speak for herself. The memory brought a smirk to her face.

With Dreamfyre's very convincing speech, the Conclave had unanimously voted her husband Corlys the Archon of the Tyrosh, made the position hereditary, and granted it absolute powers over Tyrosh. The very first decree Corlys had made with his new power, was to affirm the status of their sons as his heirs. The second was to declare an end to slavery in Tyrosh and all its domains. The third was to confiscate all the assets and wealth of every person in Tyrosh who owned, traded, or raided for slaves.

Within days, Tyrosh had erupted into chaos. Now freed of their enslavement, many slaves had risen up in violent chaos and slaughtered entire families of their enslavers. To stop any more chaos and needless bloodshed and the loss of innocent lives, Corlys and her had ordered the Velaryon army to round up all those affected by the third decree and hold them in the Black Fortress for their own protection as the rioting slaves had burned down manses and butchered their former masters.

The most notorious slave raiders, traders, and owners, had been executed. Their innocent, spouses, children, and loyal households had been granted safe passage to a city of their choice. All of them had ended up choosing Pentos, as Myr was seen as too weak and unstable due to its loss in the war, and Volantis seen as the enemy still. Despite siding against them as the war ended, Pentos had long maintained good relations with Tyrosh and had agreed to accept the families of the former Tyroshi elites, magisters, and nobles, on account of their nobility and Valyrian bloodlines.

Perhaps Pentos thought more scions of noble Valyrian blood would enrich their city. Much like Tyrosh, Pentos had many noble and wealthy families that traced their ancestry back to Old Valyria and spoke High Valyrian. They had even gone so far as to name themselves the Forty Families of Pentos, in some pretentious imitation of the forty dragonlord families of old, of which only one was left, her own. Her anger with her family notwithstanding, Viserra would never cease to take pride in her lineage.

Having eaten her lunch and freshened up, Viserra dressed herself for the day and walked out of her chambers, resigning herself to another busy and long day. As she left her room, one of the two Tide Guards stationed by her door loyally detached himself and followed behind her. His silver-trimmed ocean-blue armor and his sea-green cloak made who he was escorting clear, and all knew to give her a respectful berth or they would answer to him.

The servants in the Archon's Palace had mixed origins. Some of them, the most loyal and trusted, had been brought in from Driftmark, like Pina. The majority however were former Tyroshi slaves, and they were far more skittish around her. They bowed to her reverently, calling her Zaldilaros, a contraction of two words in High Valyrian. 'Zaldrīzes Dārilaros,' or Dragon Princess.

Viserra soon encountered someone she knew moderately well. Lysos Eranyr, a Tyroshi noble and former member of the Conclave, now a willing ally and servant of the Velaryons. Some of the former elites of the city, had been spared and allowed to stay. These were the more honorable slave owners, who had treated their slaves with some basic modicum of respect and dignity.

These elites had agreed to collaborate with the Velaryons and help smooth the transition of power and the end of slavery. In exchange they were restored to their former wealth and holdings, and even granted more on occasion, confiscated from their now exiled rivals. All of them filled important roles in the Velaryons' government in the city. Lysos Eranyr foremost among them.

Before the Velaryons had conquered Tyrosh, Lysos Eranyr had spoken in the Conclave many times about the civic duty of the Valyrian nobles to be benevolent slave masters and guide them to civilization and culture, even going so far as to propose gradually emancipating slaves once they had been civilized. He was considered a kind master, said to oppose slavery on philosophical grounds, and on occasion even emancipating his slaves for loyal and good service.

Kind however was relative. When they had researched the nobles to decide if it was worth offering any of them a chance to collaborate with them, Viserra and Corlys had discovered that Eranyr had once had some of his slaves whipped for trying to run away and had ordered salt rubbed into their wounds to scar them as 'a lesson to be better.' He was considered 'kind' by the slaves because other masters would have crucified at least one of the runaways as an example for all to see. And despite his supposed opposition to slavery, Eranyr had never directly challenged its legality in Tyrosh, or taken overt steps to emancipate most of his slaves. He had even purchased more on occasion, though he otherwise had no involvement in the slave trade.

His reputation was altogether mixed. On one hand, the slaves seemed to respect him as one of the kinder masters, and the Eranyr manse had been among the least affected by the riots and destruction immediately after the city had fallen into their hands. On another however, he had still kept slaves and had even punished them severely for misdeeds, if to a lesser degree than his peers would have. Yet, Eranyr was hardly that different from many of the nobles of Westeros in that aspect. Though the smallfolk were not slaves, the lords of Westeros oft treated them as such, especially before her father's reign.

Eranyr had seemed to consider the institution of slavery to be some kind of necessary evil for whatever reason and had been quick to change his tune when Viserra had taken the city with her husband. He had been the first of the old elites they had offered to join them, and he had accepted it almost eagerly. Since then, Viserra had built a working relationship with Eranyr.

"Lord Eranyr, a pleasure to see you this fine morning," she greeted him cordially, speaking in High Valyrian.

She was a Targaryen. High Valyrian was her mother tongue, in some ways more than Common was. Growing up, her family had used the two interchangeably, sometimes even in the same sentence. Even House Velaryon spoke High Valyrian, both out of pride for their own heritage, and also practicality as even now almost two hundred years after Doom, High Valyrian was the most common language used for trade and diplomacy in most of the Known World. All the affluent elites in Tyrosh had spoken High Valyrian, and House Velaryon's mastery of the language had allowed them to communicate with them readily, though the same could not be said for many of their soldiers and servants from Driftmark.

"Princess Viserra, as beautiful as ever," Eranyr complimented with a charming smile. His hair was as flamboyantly vivid and blue as it always was. A curious tradition amongst the well-off locals, who enjoyed dying their hair in extravagant and vivid colors to show status and wealth. Dyes were the wealth of Tyrosh after all, and renown across the whole world.

She smirked. "Flatterer."

"How has your day been Princess?" he asked politely.

"It's barely started. My husband conspired with my maid to let me sleep in," she said, putting a little disgruntlement into her voice.

Lord Eranyr laughed boomingly. "Our gracious Archon made a wise decision. It would be a shame for your cheerful demeanor to be sapped any longer by your lack of sleep, if you forgive me for saying so Princess."

"Think nothing of it. You are forgiven my lord." Viserra waved it off. "How is your family doing?"

"Well as ever Princess. My wife has been nagging me to stop working so hard so I can spend more time with her and the children," Eranyr explained with a fond smile.

"You should listen to your wife," Viserra warned teasingly.

Lord Eranyr smiled but shook his head. "She doesn't fully understand. One day, when the work is done, and I am satisfied that my children will grow up in a Tyrosh free of slavery, prospering and thriving, I will spend that day and every day forward with her as much as she pleases."

Pretty words, but were they genuine or a dramatic act to earn her favor? Viserra was not sure. "An admirable goal," she said diplomatically, "though one that may take a long time my lord. I'd advise you to appease your wife in some way until then. The seven hells have no fury like the wrath of a woman scorned."

Lord Eranyr chuckled. "Is that a saying from your Seven-Pointed Star?"

"No." Viserra smirked. "It was from my husband."

At that the lord burst out laughing in good cheer and Viserra joined him soon enough. Moments of laughter and mirth were precious and few in these trying times and busy days. She enjoyed the feeling.

"Where is my husband actually?" Viserra asked the bureaucrat.

"The Archon is in the throne room I believe, along with Ser Rhaekar. They are meeting with some dignitaries and envoys from the other Free Cities."

"I best be along then. Have a good day Lord Eranyr," Viserra said, wishing the noble well.

"You as well Princess," he said, with a bow before he departed.

With the conversation at an end, Viserra made for the throne room, her loyal guard in tow. She was not sure what to think of Eranyr. He was polite and respectful, but so was everyone smart enough to play the game.

The guards at the door noticed her coming and opened the doors. The throne room of Tyrosh was quite unlike the throne room back in High Tide. It was larger, more intimidating. Some dragon busts featured prominently, left over from the days when Tyrosh was a military outpost of the Freehold. Tapestries relating Tyrosh's proud history draped from the ceiling.

The throne at the room's end was not the familiar light and white-brown chair carved from driftwood. It was an ornate and cushioned seat, of dyed velvet and silk, with gold and silver ornaments on its ebony chair. A testament to the wealth of Tyrosh, stewarded by the Archons who sat in the seat. And now Viserra's husband was seated in it, ruling Tyrosh absolutely as its Archon.

He made a dashing and formidable picture, dressed resplendently as he always was, in an exquisite silver-blue doublet and sea-green pants. He wore the Archon's Ring on his finger, and carried a sceptre. The two tokens of rule given by the Conclave to their elected Archons. In many places around the world, many would have called a man who bore a sceptre a king. Corlys certainly had the image and air of royalty, and were it not for the lack of a crown or any official title, Viserra would not have hesitated to name him such. He was her consort after all. Husband of a princess, even if her title meant little and less in these dark days.

Ten of the Tide Guard stood at the base of the dais, ensuring no would be assassin could get close to the Velaryons behind them. Rhaekar stood to Corlys's right, a few steps below the throne on its raised dais. He was calling the assembled crowd into order.

"Magisters, gentlemen, please. His Excellency, the Archon of Tyrosh will speak to you now. Each of you please step forward one at a time, according to your place in the line." Rhaekar attempted to corral the crowd of envoys, speaking in High Valyrian, which the three of them had agreed would remain Tyrosh's court language.

Corlys noticed her coming and smiled before rising from his throne to greet her. He took her hand and spoke to the crowd. "My lords. Magnificent magisters and dignified dignitaries. Esteemed envoys. May I introduce my wife? The Princess Viserra, rider of the Blue Queen, Dreamfyre. She and my brother Ser Rhaekar will speak with my voice in these negotiations. You owe both of them the same respect you would pay to me."

Viserra noticed that Rhaekar gave a begrudging nod at Corlys's words, still upset that he couldn't make the crowd obey him it seems. She whispered a question in her husband's ears in Common, to reduce the risk of eavesdropping. "Who exactly are all of these people?"

He replied. "Magisters and business owners from across Essos. All of them had previously had dealings with Tyroshi guilds and businesses. They are wondering if those agreements still stand or if new ones might be made to replace them."

Viserra nodded in understanding. Tyrosh had produced most of the best dyes in the Known World. It had also produced a large variety of other goods, such as pear brandy, wines and other goods. Gold filigreed armor and helms shaped like animals and chased with precious metals had also been a noted produce of the city, despite its people considering trade a more honorable profession than arms. Tyrosh had also been home to many banks and the services they had offered.

Having conquered the city and destroyed its previous ruling class of slave-owning elites, nobles, and merchants, House Velaryon had come into possession of the vast majority of the city's banks, property, lucrative dye guilds, and other industries and businesses. A massive acquisition, and one they were still struggling to sort through and manage.

The uncertainty of the transition of power had caused Tyrosh's economy to come to a standstill as international partners did not know if their previous contracts and deals held up, and in cases where they did, the previous profit margins the Tyroshi had operated on for their exports and imports were no longer tenable due to the abolition of slavery.

For months now, Corlys had been inviting almost every major trade partner Rhaekar and him had found in the records, that Tyroshi owned businesses and guilds had dealings with, to work out new agreements or reaffirm old ones. The banks were especially key, as many foreign guilds and magisters had held money in Tyroshi accounts and had demanded it released to them before resuming trade. Corlys had acquiesced in order to start rebuilding Tyrosh's economy so unfortunately the acquisition of the banks wasn't as much of a boon as they might have hoped.

Oh well, at least they had kept everything previously owned by the Tyroshi elites, and had been able to add it to the considerable fortune left in Driftmark and its own bank to help fund their occupation and administration of Tyrosh. Unfortunately, there had been little if any Valyrian steel in Tyrosh. Selling just one or two blades might have alleviated all of their financial problems.

Corlys looked like he wished to say more to her, but the calls of the crowd pulled him away. Looking at them, he turned back to her and said that they would speak more later, before he descended the steps further, coming closer to the crowd. Some attempted to move up the steps to reach him, but the Tide Guard barred their way. "Keep a respectful distance from the Archon," the captain ordered in halting Valyrian.

"At ease Captain, the good magisters are simply excited," Corlys ordered in Common before switching to High Valyrian. "However, my loyal guards are correct. Please forgive me gentlemen, I must ask we keep a respectful distance for this meeting. Nothing personal, only a precaution. Please understand."

As the crowd settled down, Corlys began to speak further. "Now, what brings you here on this fine morning gentlemen?"

Instantly the room burst into a cacophony of noise and shouts once again. Corlys raised his voice slightly, so that all could hear him. "Gentlemen! Please, please, one at a time. You," he said, pointing out one of the men in the crowd.

"What's your name good sir? Where are you from, and what interest do you represent?" her husband asked the man.

"I am Magister Donicho Nahen, Your Excellency. I am from Pentos. I have money in a number of Tyroshi banks and I previously had dealings with some Tyroshi magisters and guilds, purchasing dyes and slaves."

"I can reassure you Magister Nahen, that your money is safe, and you are free to withdraw it as you please though I must warn you, that Tyrosh no longer trades in slaves. However, I would be happy to speak to you on the matter of dyes, and I am sure we can come to a new and mutually beneficial arrangement."

Magister Nahen looked pensive but nodded nonetheless. Another magister or dignitary eagerly raised his hand after that and Corlys spoke to him as well, and the next man after him, and on it went until Corlys had addressed near half the crowd.

"Would I be correct in assuming then, that all of you are Magisters, or envoys, representing interests of guilds and esteemed nobles and business owners across the Free Cities, such as Braavos, Pentos, Myr, and Volantis?" he asked.

The crowd looked to each other and nodded.

"Would I also be correct in assuming that each of you or those you represent, previously had dealings with Tyrosh, trading many diverse goods and services between the respective cities such as slaves, spices, silk, dyes, wines, armor, weapons, and even ships, and many more?"

They nodded once again.

Corlys looked thoughtful before he spoke. "Very well then gentlemen. Please, allow me to invite all of you to enjoy the hospitality of Tyrosh for a few days more. With so many esteemed guests representing or coming from many honourable interests and backgrounds, it would be remiss of me to deal with you all in this large gathering. Please, give your names to my brother Ser Rhaekar," he said, pointing to Rhaekar at his side with a pen and paper, "and we will see to it that each and every one of you will have a personal meeting with me over the coming days to discuss new arrangements and the reaffirmation of old ones. Until then, please, enjoy yourselves. The hospitality of Tyrosh is yours welcomed guests.

"Lastly, I must reiterate, that the Free City of Tyrosh no longer practices slavery, and so we will not continue any dealings in that trade, nor allow them to be conducted in our territory," Corlys said politely and firmly.

Viserra agreed with him. It was unfortunate that Tyrosh had previously built such a strong reputation as a slaver city. Slaves had outnumbered freeborn three to one in Tyrosh, and Tyroshi slaver ships had been notorious for their aggression and eagerness, even sailing Beyond the Wall to capture and enslave wildlings, whose apparently exotic looks and rugged strength made them of great demand in Essos as pleasure slaves, gladiators, and manual labor.

"However, I am blessed to not only be the Archon of Tyrosh, but also the Master of Driftmark. Thus I can offer you many goods produced or traded in Driftmark, including our own concrete, printing presses, and so on to name a few, as well as the spices and silks and other luxury goods our trade routes bring from the Far East. All are on the table in our negotiations. I hope to see all of you soon and build a new and positive trade relationship and mutual understanding for the future. Thank you for your time gentlemen," Corlys said as he dismissed the crowd.

Viserra noted that several had looked greedy and hopeful hearing of the offer of goods from Driftmark. Others had looked skeptical, perhaps wondering if they could deliver in light of the Iron Throne's sanctions on them.

As the crowd moved out of the throne room, Corlys turned back to her and walked up the steps, a teasing smile on his face. "I see you finally woke up."

"No thanks to you," Viserra shook her head in exasperation.

"Ah well, my princess needs her beauty sleep."

"And you don't?" Viserra asked, half teasing and half concerned. Corlys had been staying up late as much as she was after.

"Nah. I use my natural good looks and charm," Corlys bragged.

Viserra rolled her eyes. She meant to make a retort when Rhaekar said out loud. "Next envoy is coming in now!"

There was a disappointed look on her husband's face before he turned around to face the envoy. "Ah, Lord Antaryon. Last I saw you, you were representing Braavos as an observer when we signed the Treaty of Tyrosh. What brings you back here my lord?"

"The Sealord has sent me Lord Velaryon," Antaryon said. "He – "

Viserra interrupted him. "You speak to the Archon of Tyrosh, Lord Antaryon. The proper respect must be paid to him," she growled.

"Now Viserra, I think it simply slipped the good lord's mind. My recent ascension to Archon is relatively recent after all. I'm sure he meant no offense," Corlys said, calming the tension.

Antaryon's expression was guarded. "Quite. Your Excellency, last we met, I was not properly informed on what Braavos's interests are. Now that I have been, I would like to speak to you on them, on behalf of the Sealord."

Corlys nodded. "Go ahead my lord, I am eager to hear them."

"Firstly, Braavos has a number of longstanding trade agreements with Tyrosh. On matters concerning tariffs, customs, import duties, currency exchange, and others."

"I'm perfectly willing to negotiate on these and give generous rates to Braavos," Corlys said, but before he could continue, Antaryon interrupted.

"You misunderstand Your Excellency. Braavos has no desire to negotiate here. We want these agreements to stand at the exact conditions they were agreed upon, as they have done so for over a hundred years since the Century of Blood."

That was ridiculous, Viserra thought. Braavos had forced near exploitative terms for those agreements on Tyrosh decades ago, taking advantage of its desperation as Volantene ships had encroached on its walls. They had even gone so far as to make Tyrosh give up all of its Valyrian steel as tribute and payment to Braavos. It was part of why the Iron Bank was so wealthy and powerful; it backed the money held in its accounts against the Valyrian steel it held in its vaults.

The Lyseni and Myrish had been similarly mistreated under Volantene rule, with Volantene Old Blood proudly flaunting their wealth and Valyrian steel taken by force from their subject cities. The shared resentment of foreign interference was part of why the three cities had grown closer together and hoped to form the Triarchy. Together, they had thought they might throw off all foreign influence and imperialism, be it from Volantis or Braavos.

She spoke up. "Is Braavos in the practice of forcing exploitative terms on honourable partners and friends now? Some might even call that slavery," she said, poking at the Braavosi's claimed hatred for the institution despite the little they had done to end it. In five months, Viserra and her house had done more to end slavery in Essos than Braavos had in over six hundred years.

Antaryon smiled. "No Princess. It is not enslavement to ask that partners keep their word. Your word is your bond."

"We never gave any word," Viserra said, walking slowly along the steps, moving back and forth every now and then, prowling like a dragon around her prey.

"The Free City of Tyrosh did Princess. The same city you and your husband claim to be the legal rulers of in a legitimate transition of power from the previous rulers. That means it is your word," Antaryon said, seeming amused.

"There is also the matter of our alliance against Volantis. Braavos asks that be maintained as well. Historically the Braavosi war fleet has been allowed safe and cheap passage and harbor in Tyroshi territory under the terms of that alliance as our cities cooperated to control piracy in the Stepstones and deter Volante aggression. The Sealord wishes for this alliance to be honored and Braavosi ships allowed to return to these waters," he said, changing topic.

Corlys chuckled. "Is something funny Your Excellency?" Antaryon demanded.

"Forgive me. It's just that Tyroshi waters are rather crowded with our own fleet at present. You remember the Velaryon fleet of course, and any of Tyrosh's previous ships that surrendered or were handed over to us. There is no room for Braavos's ships here."

"Then please forgive my impertinence, but make room, Your Excellency. Honor demands no less! The terms of our alliance are clear!"

"So why didn't you keep them then?" Rhaekar interjected. "Tyrosh went to war with Myr and Lys many times in the past century and asked for aid many times and was denied it. Braavos also provided no aid in the recent war against Volantis. Unless you are accusing of us of lying in our own records?"

Corlys nodded to his brother. It was a brilliant point to raise. Antaryon looked agitated.

"You would know Ser Rhaekar, if you had read the alliance treaty, that Braavos offered military aid to Tyrosh only against aggression from another polity apart from Myr and Lys. We had no desire for Braavos to be entangled in petty wars between the three quarrelsome daughters over the Disputed Lands. They earned their name well.

"Furthermore, you speak of the recent war against Volantis. Braavos did indeed offer its aid to Tyrosh, and we were rejected. Instead Tyrosh allied with Myr and Lys to form their ill-fated Triarchy. It cannot be Braavos's fault that our aid was rejected. You cannot help someone who refuses to be helped."

"So why did you refuse them when they did ask? When House Velaryon moved against Tyrosh, why did Braavos not aid Tyrosh?" Corlys asked, a mischievous smile on his face.

That really confused Antaryon. "What? You are House Velaryon! You seized power by violent conquest before Braavos could even react!"

"Incorrect my lord. The forces of House Velaryon occupied this city for a whole month before Corlys Velaryon was elected Archon. In that time, before the transition of power, numerous requests for aid were sent to Braavos, and all were rejected. We have this in our records," Corlys said, keeping a straight face.

Antaryon was getting annoyed. "Let us stop with these games Your Excellency, and speak frankly like gentlemen. You are Corlys Velaryon, Lord of the Tides. You conquered Tyrosh with military force within a month, forced the Conclave to make you Archon under duress, and now you complain that Braavos did not help to stop you from doing all that? Why would that be a problem?"

"Because Lord Antaryon, if you expect me keep the word of the previous rulers of Tyrosh, why did Braavos not keep its word to them? I thought your word was your bond?" her husband asked, that ridiculous smile on his face, the smile of a man who knew he'd won. The charming cocky smile of the man she'd fallen in love with.

Antaryon scoffed. "If you want to be difficult, you might be interested to know that my counterpart in King's Landing tells me that King Jaehaerys has offered Braavos exceedingly generous terms."

"Didn't he burn down parts of your city and threaten to burn the rest?" Viserra was not impressed.

"I am told the terms are generous enough that we might forgive our old grudge against him. Perhaps even enough that we will acquiesce to his request to stop trading with Tyrosh and Driftmark," Antaryon said, faux politeness in his voice.

"Are you threatening us Lord Antaryon?" her husband demanded. His jovial mischievous tone was gone, replaced with a low husky rasp, warning in his voice.

"Not at all. It is simply a statement," Antaryon said with cheer.

"Perhaps you should remember what happened the last time Braavos made statements to dragonriders Antaryon," Viserra said menacingly.

"Indeed I do. I was there, just a young boy at the time when the Bronze Fury descended upon the House of Black and White and reduced it to rubble. But then your father rides that dragon does he not? He is the King of Westeros and let us be frank, he is not very happy with you or your house right now Princess. Will he truly allow you to continue to run roughshod across Essos like a rogue, destroying and conquering as you please?"

Viserra's retort was quick as a whip. "Small comfort that would be to you my lord, when your city lies in ruins, and you will be too dead to care. My father burned one building. How many shall I burn? Maybe I'd choose to destroy the Arsenal, or the Sealord's Palace, or perhaps even the Antaryon manse." Her voice was cold as ice, her last words were almost whispered, yet they were deafening for Antaryon.

"Are you threatening me Princess?" Antaryon demanded.

"Not at all. It is simply a statement," Viserra said, falsely polite and trying to hide her glee.

"Come now, there is no need for such aggression, from either side," Corlys said, putting his hand on hers to calm her in a show of reassurance to the envoy now that the statement had been made.

"Lord Antaryon, this is what I am willing to offer Braavos. Our treaty of alliance, including the terms by which Braavosi warships are allowed to be based in our waters, will be suspended and replaced with a declaration of friendship and mutual interest. Braavos's previous exploitative rates for its tariffs and other duties will be removed for fairness. However, in light of the long relationship shared by our two great cities, I will be open to negotiating exactly what the new rates for those duties and other financial exchange and trade will be.

"Furthermore, I would like to offer Braavos an opportunity. There are currently unjust sanctions imposed on Tyrosh and Driftmark by the Iron Throne of Westeros. Many of the goods both regions produce are consequently in high demand and scarce supply in Westeros and will fetch handsome prices. And as you have yourself admitted, Jaehaerys has offered Braavos generous terms, terms you may negotiate to uphold your sovereignty. Surely you don't intend to let Jaehaerys Targaryen, the man who dared to burn a Braavosi landmark, to dictate who Braavos can or cannot trade with?"

Antaryon was thoughtful. "What are you proposing?"

"Braavos can be the middleman of these goods, purchasing them from us here in Tyrosh, and then transporting them to Westeros and selling them there. By my calculation, Braavos would stand to profit handsomely. Furthermore, our allies in Gulltown, Claw Isle, and Tarth, have large and established ports to receive these goods and give Braavos better deals for them too."

"In other words, you will be able to circumvent the sanctions on your trade, your allies will receive some much needed relief, and Braavos will profit immensely," Antaryon observed.

"Everyone wins," Corlys said confidently.

Antaryon shook his head. "I don't believe in such optimism. What if Jaehaerys discovers what we are doing? You think he's stupid? We'll be trading with both House Velaryon and House Velaryon's allies in goods House Velaryon is known for producing. Why wouldn't he act against Braavos?"

"I dare him to try," Corlys said cockily. "He can watch his entire economy collapse because of it. Come now Antaryon, you and I both know Westeros is already shaken by Jaehaerys's pointless sanctions against me. Look around you," he said, pointing at all the exquisite tapestries and fine velvets and other symbols of wealth and status in the throne room.

"Jaehaerys has done so much against us and for what? The wealth of House Velaryon is unfazed! He can sanction Braavos if he pleases, but Braavos and House Velaryon at the same time? The economy of Westeros will be beyond its breaking point. No I can assure you my friend, Jaehaerys will not dare to move against Braavos."

"If that isn't enough to convince you my lord, then how about this? I have already spoken to the ambassador of the Prince of Pentos on this matter, and Pentos has been trading with our allies in Westeros as our middleman for some weeks now. I am told that they have been reaping enormous profits and have yet to encounter any problems with the Iron Throne's customs officers at the ports. Furthermore, I have negotiated independently with many magisters and guilds based in Myr and Volantis as well already. All are interested and all believe they will make money. Do you want Braavos to be left behind?"

The answer was clear on Antaryon's face, but he did not wish to admit it.

"And lastly, it would be a shame if Volantis were to discover of Braavos's involvement in the Lyseni Resistance and the Myrish Bloodbath. Or hear of how Braavos has been approaching Qohor, Norvos, and Essaria to form a coalition to contain Volantis," Corlys said with a smile. The Sea Snake had struck.

"Is that your statement?" Antaryon asked mockingly.

"No. I don't make statements. I make threats, and I always carry through with them," Corlys hissed.

Defeated, Antaryon backed down. "I will relate your words to the Sealord, and bring his reply back to you. I think you have given Braavos much to consider."

"I'm glad we understand each other," Corlys said, jovial once more.

"By your leave, Your Excellency," Antaryon bowed his head slightly.

"Go in peace, friend," her husband said.

There was barely any break before the next envoy came in. Aerysar Qhaedar, from Volantis. Qhaedar and Antaryon actually directly passed each other and the two envoys seemed to glare at the other as they passed.

Qhaedar exchanged pleasantries with her and her husband and goodbrother and the conversation was mostly friendly, discussing the border in the Disputed Lands and further trade agreements. Volantis was still grateful for their aid in the war against the Triarchy, but they disliked that they had abolished slavery in Tyrosh, or had taken Tyrosh to begin with, desiring the city for their own. Still, they were cordial enough for now. Certainly far less aggravating than Antaryon had been.

Viserra was utterly bored by the time Qhaedar left. Corlys and Rhaekar had spent almost an hour simply chatting with him like an old friend, laughing and japing while occasionally getting to business. She knew they were reaffirming relations with a partner, but Viserra had barely been able to give any input to the conversation.

"Any more dignitaries to meet today Rhaekar?" Viserra asked.

"Only one. And he's not exactly a dignitary. Ario Orlyr."

Viserra snapped out of her boredom and to attention immediately. "Why is he coming here?"

"I invited him of course," her husband said.

"And why would you do that?" Viserra demanded.

"He has a lot of influence among the freedmen. Especially those who are educated or trained as soldiers. Those people are all either vital to maintaining Tyrosh's civil services or its businesses, or would be dangerous to leave to their own devices," Corlys defended.

Viserra didn't like it all, but she begrudgingly conceded Corlys's point. House Velaryon now controlled the majority of the businesses and property in the city, as well as the government, yet while they had purged or exiled the vast majority of the former wealthy ruling class of the city, the same could not be said of their subordinates.

Below the wealthy and noble magisters and elites had been tens of thousands of artisans, craftsmen, overseers, managers, accountants, lawyers, bureaucrats, guards, and soldiers. And many, many of them, had been slaves.

Seventy-five percent of Tyrosh had been slaves. Freeborn had been outnumbered three to one. Before they had conquered Tyrosh, Viserra had never realized exactly what that number meant. Tyrosh had been greatly involved in the slave trade, and they had raided far off lands for slaves. Naathi, Lhazarene, Wildlings, Summer Islanders, even some Westerosi, and many more, had been taken from all corners of the world. It was a diverse and varied population, with many different skills, roles, and histories. It was a very complex situation that they had to navigate with care in order to try and transition all these disparate peoples to a free life as fast as possible.

Her conception of slavery had once been limited to men in chains forced to toil endlessly in the mines and farms or construction sites in manual menial labor or women forced to debase their bodies in brothels. She had been wrong. While those things did indeed happen, and millions suffered under those injustices, slavery was far more complex than she had imagined. For one, not all slaves were necessarily the property of their masters. Many were still legally considered their own person but were forced to pay their debts in unpaid labor and services. This sounded rather uncomfortably similar to the conditions some smallfolk experienced in Westeros, though not anywhere in the Velaryon domains.

Then there were those slaves who had lived in Tyrosh for generations and no longer even remembered their original homelands and language, and their blood and race had been mixed beyond recognition. Among these slaves, many, even those who were considered property, were not actually treated as such. They would be enslaved in name, but in practice their skills and crafts and education made them too valuable to treat like chattel. These slaves would rise to high positions in their masters' households, managing their finances and businesses, commanding other slaves. Many would also serve in the city's civil service or as bureaucrats below the Conclave, nominally owned by the Archon, and collecting taxes, and enforcing laws on even freeborn.

Then there were the buzdari azantys, or the Buzantys as their name had been formalized and shortened after centuries. Initially formed as a corps of slave soldiers trained from birth for absolute loyalty to the Archon of Tyrosh, the Buzantys had branched off in the centuries since their founding, becoming a caste of bureacrats and artisans in addition to soldiers. Many of the most skilled craftsmen or civil servants in the city were Buzantys, and of course, the entirety of Tyrosh's guards, city watch, and army were Buzantys.

Tyrosh had rarely, if ever, sent the Buzantys to war against Myr and Lys. Rather than risk their elite soldiers, they had employed sellswords and sent them out to battle in the Disputed Lands instead. However, in history, the Buzantys had proven their worth when they had held the walls of Tyrosh against many Volantene attempts to take the city before her ancestor, Aegon the Conqueror, had come to put an end to the conflict, burning the new Volantene fleets massing at Lys and destroying any chance they had to take Tyrosh or even hold Lys itself.

This system had evolved over thousands of years out of necessity. Tyrosh had not had the magic or dragons of its founder to keep the slaves in line. The system had been well established enough even to survive the tumults of the Doom. Otherwise, there was no sustainable way for barely a hundred thousand freeborn to keep three hundred thousand souls enslaved. And that was just in the city. Tens of thousands more had been enslaved on the estates in Tyrosh's mainland holdings. Captain Ario Orlyr had been a part of that system, a relic of that era of slavery and corruption.

He was a Buzantys who had held the title of Warden of the Bleeding Tower before their conquest of the city. The Bleeding Tower was a stronghold and fortress watchtower built on an island in the mouth of Tyrosh's great harbor. It commanded the entrance to the harbor, with great boom chains between the tower island and the harbor fortress walls, and was Tyrosh's first line of defense by sea.

To be named its Warden, was considered one of the highest honors in all of Tyrosh, for it represented the city's trust in the Warden to remain loyal and not betray them. The tower was so important to Tyrosh, so central to its culture and identity, that it was stamped on their coinage. It was a landmark known throughout the world and visible from nearly every corner of the city, always taking up a great place in the minds of the Tyroshi.

Orlyr's appointment as Warden of the Bleeding Tower had been part of an old tradition going back decades to the Century of Blood. According to legend, the tower gained its name from an incident where its warden at the time had been bribed by Volantis to betray Tyrosh by letting their fleet into the city to conquer it. His betrayal had been discovered by the Buzantys guards of the Tower, who had killed him for his treason, and his life's blood had spilt from the ramparts of the top and bled onto the tower, staining its stone red. When morn had come, Tyrosh had woken to see blood on the tower, and from that day onward, it was known as the Bleeding Tower, and its Warden would forever more be a Buzantys, for they had proven their loyalty was beyond reproach or question.

Ario Orlyr had been relieved of his position as Warden immediately after they had taken the city but that had not stopped his rise. As a slave, if in name only, he had been spared their purge of the old elites, and in the months since, Orlyr had built a great following. As the last 'legitimate' Warden of the Bleeding Tower in the eyes of many, and a charismatic and dashing Buzantys warrior and leader, many had rallied to his side. Among his followers were the majority of his fellow Buzantys, many of the freeborn, some of the clergy of the local religions, and thousands of the former nominally enslaved artisans and bureaucrats that had run the city's trades and government below the elites.

Viserra didn't like it, didn't like the idea that they had to treat with a man who had benefited so greatly from the old order, who had been a tool used to oppress other slaves. And this Buzantys, slave in name, who had had a comfortable privileged life while his fellows had toiled and died in the cruelties slavery truly had to offer, had the audacity to claim he spoke for all the freed slaves.

Before she realized it, Orlyr was walking into the throne room like he owned it. His stride was confident, measured. His eyes glanced over the room with familiarity. As the former Warden, he had no doubt been in this room before many times. He was not an unhandsome man. He had a ruggedly charming face, and friendly warm brown eyes and dark hair.

Good looks were not enough for Viserra to trust anyone however. And she felt a small victory realizing that both Corlys and Rhaekar were taller than Orlyr, even if the man had an inch or two over herself. She could not help but feel he was suspicious. A man such as Orlyr who had prospered so much under the old order could not be happy with the changes they had brought.

"Your Excellency! Thank you for inviting me here! I'm truly honored by this opportunity," Orlyr said dramatically, bowing to her husband. Viserra hated it, but his High Valyrian was nearly perfect.

Corlys shook his hand. "The honor is mine Captain Orlyr."

"Ser Rhaekar," he nodded to her goodbrother before turning to her. "Princess Viserra. The whispers of the people truly do not do your beauty justice," he said, before he bowed extravagantly and took her hand and kissed it.

"Yes, a pleasure to meet you," Viserra gritted out.

Turning back to Corlys, Orlyr spoke. "Your Excellency, I must again thank you for allowing me this audience to speak with you on the behalf of the freedmen. Over four months have passed since your ascension as Archon and your abolition of slavery. Many of the freedmen, and those of the freeborn who were less fortunate, have confessed to me that they are concerned."

Corlys smiled. "Of course, that is why I invited you here. Please do tell me their concerns."

"Yes. Many are worried and concerned if their positions and trades will be upheld. As you know, former slaves or freeborn held many critical roles in Tyrosh's guilds, banks, businesses, and bureaucracy. They are also concerned with wages. Now that slavery has been abolished, former slaves are no longer provided free food and shelter by their masters. They need higher wages to pay for such things now and many are not skilled enough to manage their own finances, having never even touched a coin before. This is of critical importance to many of the more unskilled slaves who had only done manual labor or farmed on the estates in the hinterlands."

"I understand. You can affirm to all your friends Captain, that they will retain their positions as they currently are, or be offered equivalents as we rearrange and reform the guilds and government. On the matter of wages, financial literacy, the redistribution of wealth, and the acquisition of new trades and employment for the unskilled workers, I promise we will look into that as well. As a show of good faith, I would offer you Captain Orlyr, your former position as Warden of the Bleeding Tower once more. Take it as a promise that I will keep my word."

Orlyr bowed. "You honor me Your Excellency. I most graciously accept. If I may, I believe that this show of good faith will go a long way to reassuring many of my fellow Buzantys and in turn, the others who have voiced their concerns. The upholding of such an old tradition will do much to endear you to the people Your Excellency."

"Thank you for your praise Captain. I hope that we might work together, to resolve these problems, and build a new and prosperous Tyrosh for all," Corlys replied.

"Yes. I feel the same. There is also something else that I would like to raise Your Excellency. Myself and many other slaves were born and raised in Tyrosh. Despite our previous enslavement, this is all we know, and we consider this city our home. However, there are many who were enslaved only recently and still remember their homelands and their old lives. They are clamoring to go home, and are wondering how much aid they will receive in this?" Orlyr asked.

"Any former slaves are now free men and women, and are of course free to go wherever they please," Corlys answered. "However, there are so many of them, that the logistics make it impossible for the Velaryon fleet to take them home. They will have to find and pay for their own passage out of Tyrosh."

"Forgive me Your Excellency, but did the Velaryon fleet not give free and safe passage to the families and households of the old masters to a city of their choice? Many will be discontent with this seeming preferential treatment for the old slavers over the former enslaved," Orlyr questioned, putting the right mix of deference but also challenge in his voice.

"That is only partly true. It was not exactly free, considering that I had already confiscated their wealth and left them only the clothes on their back. Their safe passage was also to prevent the wanton and needless violence and shedding of innocent blood when many aggrieved former slaves massacred the children and wives of their former masters in often horrible ways. Such atrocities are unacceptable, be they committed by slaver or slave," Corlys declared firmly.

"I understand Your Excellency… I just worry that others may not. Unrest may brew in the city. The role of men like Lysos Eranyr as well… Though his reputation is admirable, his being one of the old masters and having such a large role in your council and government is upsetting many," Orlyr said, trying to sound reasonable.

"I trust that you will help to smooth these concerns captain. Dissension and unrest would be… unproductive for our mutual goal of seeing Tyrosh recover and prosper," Corlys said assuredly.

"I will do my best Excellency," Orlyr bowed his head again slightly, putting on a show of humility.

"There is something that I too desire to bring up Warden," Viserra said, begrudgingly addressing Orlyr by his restored position.

She detected the slightest trace of annoyance in his bearing. "Of course Princess, what do you wish to say?"

"I have heard disturbing rumors of Buzantys soldiers harassing the newly built septs and their followers," Viserra explained.

For a moment, Viserra thought that she saw his true face, saw the disdain in his eyes, before it was gone in a flash. "This is Tyrosh. Like Old Valyria before us, we welcome all faiths and all religions in this city. Any Buzantys who has engaged in such behavior has disgraced our traditions. If the rumors are true, I will see to it that justice is done to the perpetrators Princess," Orlyr said charmingly.

Viserra stared at him. "Ensure that you do."

As usual, Corlys calmed the tension. "Thank you for accepting my invite Captain Orlyr. I believe the Bleeding Tower is now in need of your steadfast presence. I thank you for bringing yours and your groups' concerns before me. I will consider them at great length, and I believe you and I will need to have many more conversations like this over the coming months to sort out the details."

"No. Thank you for your time Archon. I too hope to continue working together, for a safe and prosperous Tyrosh for the future! Until the next time, Your Excellency, Ser Rhaekar, Princess," Orlyr said, nodding to her with a meaningful look in his eyes.

As Orlyr was escorted out of the throne room, Viserra turned to her husband. "I don't trust him."

"I don't either, but it's better to keep your friends close and your enemies closer still," he replied.

"Why keep your enemies close when you can destroy them? Just say the word Corlys. Dreamfyre can reduce his tower to rubble immediately. Kill all his Buzantys and their threat to us in a single stroke," Viserra said confidently.

"If we do that, we will cripple Tyrosh's economy even more than it already is. The Buzantys and their allies have a massive share of critical roles in the bureaucracy and the guilds and industries. That's not to mention that they are armed and trained soldiers. Killing Orlyr will not solve the problem, it will only make him a martyr and us tyrants. We will have an uprising on our hands having lost the trust of the freed slaves," Corlys rebuked.

"I hate to admit it, but I do have to agree with Corlys here," Rhaekar said. "As much as I would like to replace all the Buzantys and others in their critical roles with men from Driftmark, that cannot be done easily, or quickly. They are too vital."

"And that's precisely why we have to act! The Buzantys and their allies have a stranglehold on Tyrosh's industries and civil service. Ario Orlyr is a charismatic scoundrel who has the support of half the city and has a rival powerbase to ours! If it wasn't for Dreamfyre, I've little doubt he'd be challenging us for the rule of the city already!" Viserra pleaded.

"That's exactly why we can't act so overtly against him Viserra!" Corlys said exasperatedly. "We need to handle this with care, and a deft hand. The last thing we need is Tyrosh collapsing into civil war and anarchy."

A thought occurred to Viserra. "We already have collaborators from the locals. Eranyr and the rest. They can provide legitimacy to any action we take against Orlyr and they and their subordinates can fill the role Orlyr's faction does."

Corlys shook his head. "Eranyr is cut from the same cloth as Orlyr. He and his ilk wield great influence among the freeborn especially, but because they were supposedly kind masters, the slaves have respect for them too. And for all that you have complained that Orlyr is too close to the local religions and may be helping them harass the septs Viserra, Eranyr is doubly close to them and has their favor due to his many generous donations to the temples he worships at.

"As it stands Eranyr and Orlyr compete for support from the same groups, Buzantys, artisans, bureaucrats, and so on. I would rather use them both. Use their combined resources as a means to stabilize the city fast while keeping the other in check. Once we are secure in our position, we can get rid of them and their factions both."

Viserra begrudgingly conceded hearing Corlys's plan. While she thought Orlyr was far more untrustworthy than Eranyr, the latter hadn't exactly proven his loyalty was beyond reproach either. He had simply adapted his own beliefs slightly and opportunistically joined them to save his own skin.

"Perhaps if it wasn't for the sanctions, we would be able to remove both Orlyr and Eranyr with ease," Rhaekar mused. "However that is not the case. As it is, we have no choice but to work with them for now and try to slowly undermine them and their factions and replace them with our loyalists. The priority is to stabilize Tyrosh as fast as possible and working with Eranyr and Orlyr both is the best way to do that.

"Despite our mummery otherwise, our wealth is not inexhaustible. The sanctions your father put on us are crippling Driftmark and our coffers are bleeding every day. Tyrosh is not helping, as we have to invest blood and treasure trying to make it stable while it produces no profit in the current chaos."

"Are we in any danger of going bankrupt?" Viserra asked Rhaekar.

"Not any time soon thankfully. Our coffers might be bleeding, but there is a lot to bleed. The trade routes from Velos and the Far East are still open and regardless of Jaehaerys's sanctions, the demand for our goods is still there. You saw how Braavos and all the other dignitaries got greedy just thinking of getting a cut of our trade, and probably taking the lion's share. We can increase production of our manufactured goods in Driftmark such as concrete and other innovations, and try and get our domestic yields of silk and tea higher so we can reduce costs of importing from Yi Ti," he explained.

"And we can combine Driftmark's goods with Tyrosh's. Imagine, we could make silks in Driftmark, have them dyed here in Tyrosh, and sell them for an exquisite price," Corlys said eagerly.

"The implementation of such things take time," Rhaekar countered. "As does apparently everything in this blasted city. Time is the commodity we do not have. The longer Tyrosh drains our reserves, the closer we inch to bankruptcy. And speaking of banks, the Velaryon Bank has lost all confidence from account holders outside of Driftmark, including our allies. They've all withdrawn their funds and since the bank operated on a fractional reserve, it didn't actually have that much money on hand. Which is another loss for us because we had to bail out the bank with our personal house fortune. And now Corlys has promised the same to all the foreign account holders in the Tyroshi banks we now own as well. All those things add up. We didn't become rich by spending money carelessly and now circumstances have forced us to."

Viserra wasn't as skilled a steward as Rhaekar, or as brilliant as Corlys, but she had been the Lady of House Velaryon for over three years now. She knew what was at stake. Luxuries and things they had once taken for granted now had to be sacrificed, only used and flaunted to guests to pretend House Velaryon remained as exorbitantly rich. If they were careless and exhausted their reserves, they could ruin themselves. Their bank, university, army, fleet, and all their other institutions and investments would fail.

Ultimately Tyrosh had to stabilize and start making a profit again soon. Once they had unlocked the full potential of a Free City, her father's sanctions would be pointless. Until that time came however, they walked a dangerous line.

Unfortunately, they couldn't even do much to retaliate against her father directly. Overly overt moves would see them executed for treason. Most of her father's troubles at present were self-inflicted. The Velaryons had had little role in them beyond their excision from the realm's trade and the Stepstones.

"We're in the eye of a storm," Viserra said out loud. "I hope you can lead us through this Corlys."

"Don't I always?" he asked cockily. "We will make it through this Viserra, I promise. Trust me," Corlys said confidently, but there was the slightest uncertainty in his voice.

Rhaekar scoffed. "You trust Corlys to lead us through the storm Viserra?" he asked, sounding amazed. "He's the one who steered us into it in the first place! The rest of us have to clean up his mess. As usual."

Corlys sighed. "Can we not do this today? Please?"

"Whatever, Your Excellency," Rhaekar mocked as he walked off.

Viserra glared at him as he left. Rhaekar might be her friend but Corlys was her husband. His words were completely uncalled for. "I'll talk to him."

"No, leave him be. He needs some time alone to get over it. You speaking to him now might make it worse. Typical Rhaekar," Corlys said, sighing tiredly as he sat down on the stairs.

Viserra sat down beside him. "Are you well?"

"I think I will be. I'm just frustrated and so, so tired. Everything about Tyrosh is so much more complex and harder than I thought it would be. I thought that Tyrosh would be our salvation but I miscalculated. Jaehaerys's reaction was more severe than I had dreamed possible and now we're in this mess…"

She took his hands into hers and squeezed them tightly, reassuringly. Their eyes locked, her deep purple on his wondrous indigo. "It's not your fault understand? Whatever that's happened to us, whatever we and Driftmark suffer? All of that is on my father's hands, not yours. You are not to blame for our misfortune Corlys."

"So why does it feel like I am?" he asked, his indigo eyes staring off into the room. The Tide Guard continued to guard them loyally as they sat for a few desperately needed moments of rest. The throne room of Tyrosh was silent, hundreds of miles away from their home and their children.