Title: The Royal Audit

Title: The Royal Audit

Year and Month: 111 AC, 5th Moon

Two years. In the life of a kingdom, it was a breath. In the execution of a five-year plan, it was a critical period of growth, consolidation, and data analysis. From my seat on the Iron Throne, I had become the master architect of the realm's prosperity. The kingdom was no longer just a collection of feudal allegiances; it was a humming, integrated economic engine, and I was the one with his hand on the throttle.

The Northern Prospectus was yielding dividends beyond my most optimistic projections. The iron from Aeryn's Hold fed the growing shipyards at White Harbor, and the new Northern Fleet, though still small, was beginning to ply the trade lanes to Braavos, bringing unprecedented wealth to the Manderlys and, through them, to Winterfell and the Crown. The King's Scales roads into the Dornish Marches had transformed the region. The marcher lords, once poor and belligerent, were now wealthy merchants, more concerned with trade tariffs than ancient hatreds. My ongoing negotiations with Prince Qoren Martell of Dorne were slow and meticulous, a careful dance of diplomacy and economic pressure, but the flow of goods and gold between our realms was undeniable. The Unconquered Kingdom was being conquered, not by swords, but by supply chains.

The Stepstones, once a den of pirates, were now firmly under the heel of Lord Corlys and the combined might of the Royal and Dragon Fleets. The fortress of Aegar's Pride was a grim monument to Targaryen will, and the shipping lanes were safer and more profitable than they had been in a century. The machine was running well.

But a wise CEO does not manage his enterprise exclusively through reports and ledgers. Data can be manipulated. Subordinates can mask inefficiencies to protect their own positions. True understanding requires direct observation. It requires an audit. A physical inspection of the assets. It was time to leave the corporate headquarters and conduct an on-site review. It was time for a royal progress.

This decision was not met with the cheerful enthusiasm that had greeted my grandfather's famous progresses. My court understood that my journeys were not for pleasure or for winning the love of the smallfolk. When I traveled, it was to measure, to assess, and to correct.

I announced my intention at a Small Council meeting. The atmosphere was, as always, one of focused, professional tension.

"My lords," I began, spreading a map of the Six Kingdoms on the table. Dorne was conspicuously absent from the planned route. "In three months' time, I will begin a grand progress of the realm. We will begin in the Riverlands, travel to the Westerlands, then the Reach, the Stormlands, and finally, a prolonged stay in the North. The entire journey is expected to last the better part of two years."

A stunned silence fell over the room. A two-year absence from the capital was unprecedented for a king so involved in the daily minutiae of governance.

Lord Beesbury was the first to speak, his voice trembling slightly. "Two years, Your Grace? The cost… the logistics of moving the royal household for such a period…"

"The cost," I interrupted, my voice flat, "is an investment in quality control and stakeholder relations. The logistics are your problem to solve, my lord. You will provision the entire progress. I want it to be a demonstration of the Crown's wealth, but I also want it to be efficient. There will be no waste. You will create a new office, the Quartermaster of the Royal Progress, to oversee every cask of wine and side of beef. You will present me with a full logistical plan and budget within the fortnight."

Beesbury paled but nodded, understanding the command was not a suggestion.

I then turned to Lord Corlys. "Admiral. Security will be paramount. While I am away, my nephew Prince Daemon will command the City Watch and act as the senior military officer in the capital. You will coordinate with him. Your fleets will shadow our progress along the coast. When we are in the Westerlands, I want a Velaryon fleet in Lannisport. When we are in the Reach, I want them in Oldtown. It will be a constant, visible projection of the Crown's naval power."

"And what of you, Your Grace?" Corlys asked, his shrewd eyes assessing me. "Will you be traveling by wheelhouse, or by wing?"

"Both," I replied. "The Queen and the royal children will travel with the main party. I, however, will not be so constrained."

This was the core of my plan, the element that made a progress of this scale and duration feasible. I was not my grandfather, reliant on horses and carriages. I possessed the ultimate executive transport.

The mental link between myself and Balerion had evolved over the years into something seamless, a perfect fusion of consciousness when I desired it. It was no longer just a tool for spying or a weapon to be commanded. It was an extension of my own being. My thoughts were his, his ancient senses were mine. I could taste the salt on the air from a hundred leagues away, feel the shift in the wind before the maesters could predict it. The serum I had given him had arrested his aging, filling his ancient body with a dark, boundless energy. He was stronger now, in his 225th year, than he had been in his 150th. He was my greatest asset, and he would be the key to this audit.

I would travel with the progress, but I would also move ahead of it, around it, a silent observer in the sky. I would arrive unannounced at castles, inspect my road-building projects from a thousand feet in the air, and descend upon garrisons to test their readiness. The lords of Westeros would learn that their King's eyes were everywhere.

The most complex variable in this entire undertaking was my children. Prince Jaehaerys II and Princess Visenya were now two years old, no longer infants, but toddlers with burgeoning, powerful personalities. They were the living embodiment of the union of Ice and Fire, and their dual nature was becoming more apparent every day.

Jaehaerys, my son and heir, was a Targaryen in form—silver-haired, violet-eyed, with a solemn, watchful intensity that mirrored my own. But his temperament was that of his mother. He was quiet, thoughtful, and possessed a strange, deep empathy for a child so young. He was beloved by the servants, for he never cried without cause and seemed to understand their moods with an unnerving clarity.

Visenya was the opposite. She was a Stark in appearance, with a wild mane of dark hair and my mother's stormy grey eyes. But her soul was pure, unadulterated dragon-fire. She was fearless, willful, and possessed a ferocious, demanding temper. She was the one who climbed the furniture, who shrieked with fury when denied a sweet, who stared down angry hounds in the kennel without a flicker of fear. She was, in every way, a warrior princess in the making.

That evening, I found Lyanna in the royal nursery, watching our children play. The twins were a study in contrast. Jaehaerys was carefully, meticulously building a tower of blocks, his small face a mask of intense concentration. Visenya was gleefully knocking it down with a toy warhammer, laughing with wild abandon each time it fell, only for her brother to patiently begin building it again without complaint.

"Order and Chaos," Lyanna said with a wry smile as I approached. "The two halves of your kingdom, in a single room."

"Order must be resilient enough to withstand chaos," I replied, watching them. "And chaos must be managed to prevent it from destroying the entire structure. It is a lesson in governance."

"They are children, Aeryn, not a Small Council meeting," she said, her tone gently chiding. She had learned to push back against my cold logic, to inject a necessary dose of humanity into my calculations.

"They are the future of the dynasty," I corrected her. "Their education begins now. Which is why they will be coming with us."

She turned to me, her expression serious. "A royal progress is no place for two-year-old children. The road is hard, the journey long."

"They are not normal children," I said. "And this is not a normal journey. They must see the kingdom they are to inherit. They must understand its scale, its people, its complexities. And the people must see them. They must see the future, hale and healthy. It is a vital piece of public relations."

"And what of their safety?" she asked, her mother's fierce, protective instinct flaring.

"Their safety will be absolute," I assured her. I looked at her, and for the first time, decided to reveal a fraction more of the truth of my abilities, a necessary disclosure to secure her cooperation. "You have wondered how I always know when a storm is coming, or when a guest has arrived at the gates before the horns are blown. It is the bond I share with Balerion. It is more than just rider and mount. When we are linked, his senses are mine. I can see what he sees, hear what he hears, from leagues away. During this progress, he will be our silent guardian. No threat will approach my family without my knowledge. I will be their shield, from the sky and from the ground. I give you my word."

She stared at me, her mind processing the incredible truth of what I was telling her. She had always known I was different, but she was now seeing the true scale of that difference. She was not just married to a king; she was married to a creature whose consciousness could span a continent.

She finally gave a slow nod. "The wolves will ride with the dragons, then," she said, her voice full of a new resolve. "But know this, husband. You may see them as assets. But if any harm comes to them, you will find that the northern winter is a far more terrible thing than a dragon's fire."

It was a threat, a clear and loving one, and I accepted it as such. "The security of these assets is my highest priority," I assured her, which was the honest truth.

The preparations for the great Royal Audit began in earnest. The Red Keep became a hive of activity. My nephews were given their duties. Viserys would remain on Dragonstone, overseeing the Dragon Fleet. Daemon, to his immense pleasure, was named Warden of the Capital and given command of its defense in my absence. My sister Gael's Office of Almonry was tasked with distributing gifts and charity along the entire route of our progress.

Every detail was planned, every contingency accounted for. This journey would be the ultimate demonstration of my reign. I would not just be visiting my vassals; I would be inspecting them. I would not just be showing them their king; I would be showing them their future Queen, a Stark of the North, and their future rulers, the children of Ice and Fire.

As I stood on the balcony overlooking the preparations, I felt a sense of profound, cold satisfaction. The board was set. The pieces were in motion. And the King was about to personally visit every square, to ensure his ownership was not just known, but felt, in every corner of his kingdom.