Title: The Great Restructuring

Title: The Great Restructuring

Year and Month: 115 AC, 9th Moon

The Royal Progress had been the most extensive data-gathering operation in the history of the Seven Kingdoms. For two years, I had audited my assets, assessed my personnel, and analyzed the systemic inefficiencies that had plagued the continent for a thousand years. Now, back in the iron heart of my capital, with the realm pacified by prosperity and awed by the displays of my power, it was time to implement the final and most critical phase of my grand strategy. It was time to dismantle the machine of the past and build a new one in its place.

Feudalism, as a system of governance, was an operational nightmare. It was a chaotic, decentralized network of competing interests, personal loyalties, and redundant power structures. The great lords were not merely vassals; they were regional CEOs, each with their own army, their own laws, their own ambitions. They were a board of directors I could not fire. This was an unacceptable business model. My reign would not be a continuation of this archaic system. It would be its termination. I would transform the Seven Kingdoms from a loose confederation of feuding fiefdoms into a single, unified, centralized state. My state.

I spent a year laying the groundwork. My initiatives in the North, the Reach, the Stormlands, and the Westerlands were not just about creating wealth; they were about creating dependency. The lords were growing rich on my roads, my canals, my granaries, my banks. Their prosperity was now inextricably linked to the stability and efficiency of the Crown. I had given them a taste of a better, more profitable world. Now, I would present them with the bill: their autonomy.

I summoned the Small Council to the throne room for what I had privately termed the "shareholder's ultimatum." This was not to be a debate. It was to be a briefing on the new corporate structure. I had my scribes and maesters prepare dozens of scrolls, charts, and legal documents. The room was set not for a conversation, but for a lecture on the future of Westeros.

My council filed in, their faces a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. They knew my methods by now. They knew that when I summoned them with this level of formality, a fundamental change was coming. Lord Corlys Velaryon, his silver hair now almost entirely white, looked intrigued. Lord Beesbury looked nervous. My nephew Daemon, who I had insisted be present, looked bored, though his sharp violet eyes missed nothing. My Queen, Lyanna, sat on her throne beside me, a silent, powerful ally, her presence a constant reminder of the unbreakable bond I had forged with the North.

"My lords," I began, my voice echoing in the cavernous hall. "We have spent the last few years optimizing the productivity of our regional divisions. We have increased yields, secured supply chains, and modernized our military assets. But these are all tactical improvements. The underlying operational structure of the realm remains inefficient, unstable, and vulnerable to systemic risk."

I paused, letting my gaze sweep over them. "The feudal system is a relic of a bygone age. It is a system built on personal oaths rather than professional duty, on regional pride rather than national identity. It is a system that invites conflict and stifles growth. Today, we begin the process of replacing it."

I then unveiled my Great Restructuring, a series of four Royal Decrees that would, in a single stroke, shatter the power of the feudal lords and centralize all meaningful authority under the Iron Throne.

"The First Decree," I announced, "is the Edict of the Royal Army."

I gestured to a chart showing the disparate sizes and equipment of the various lordly armies. "As of today, the right to raise and maintain a personal army is revoked for all vassal lords. The private armies of the Starks, the Lannisters, the Tyrells, the Baratheons, the Arryns, and the Tullys are hereby disbanded."

A collective gasp went through the room. Daemon actually sat up straight, his boredom vanishing, replaced by a look of sheer, predatory delight.

"This is madness!" Lord Beesbury stammered. "You would leave the lords defenseless?"

"I would leave them with nothing to defend against but the King's own justice," I replied calmly. "The Iron Shield initiative in the Stormlands has been a successful pilot program. We will now expand it to the entire realm. In place of a hundred small, private armies, there will be one army: the Royal Army of Westeros. It will be a professional, standing force of one hundred thousand men, funded entirely by the Crown, trained to a single standard, equipped from the royal armories, and loyal only to the Iron Throne. The sons of noble houses will be its officers, their careers based on merit, not birth. The safety of every corner of this realm will be the responsibility of the King, and the King alone. Regional rivalries will no longer be settled with banners and blood, because only one banner will be permitted to march to war: my own."

I had just nationalized the military. I had stripped the great lords of their primary source of power and independence.

Before they could fully process the shock, I moved to the next point. "The Second Decree: The Edict of Royal Justice."

"The reforms in the Vale have also proven successful. The idea that a lord can be the ultimate judge, jury, and executioner in his own lands is an archaic conflict of interest. Therefore, while local lords may continue to adjudicate minor disputes, all major criminal and civil cases will now be subject to appeal to a new body: the Royal Judiciary. I am establishing a circuit of King's Magistrates, professional judges trained in the law at the Citadel and appointed by the Crown. They will travel the kingdoms, ensuring that the King's Law, not a lord's whim, is the ultimate authority in every courtroom. Trial by combat is abolished. The Moon Door is a memory. Justice will be a function of the state, uniform, predictable, and absolute."

I had just nationalized the legal system.

"The Third Decree," I continued, my voice relentless, "is the Edict of the Royal Mint."

"At present, several great houses still mint their own coinage, a holdover from when they were kings. This creates confusion and economic friction. From this day forward, only the Royal Mint in King's Landing and its new, chartered branches in Lannisport and White Harbor will be permitted to produce legal currency. All other mints are to be shut down. There will be one coin, the Golden Dragon, and its value will be guaranteed by the full faith and credit of the Iron Throne, regulated by our partnership with the Iron Bank of Braavos. A unified currency for a unified economy."

I had just nationalized the monetary supply.

Finally, I delivered the fourth and final part of my restructuring. "The Fourth Decree: The Edict of the Royal Service."

"For centuries, the realm has been managed by hereditary lords. A man governs a territory not because he is the most capable, but because his father did so before him. This is the single greatest inefficiency of all. Therefore, I am creating the Royal Civil Service. This will be a body of professional administrators, recruited and trained by the Crown. They will oversee the collection of taxes, the management of the royal granaries, the maintenance of the King's roads, the administration of my new infrastructure projects. They will be the managers of my kingdom. And they will be chosen based on merit alone. A common-born man with a genius for numbers will have more power in my government than a highborn lord with an empty head. The governance of the realm will be a profession, not a birthright."

I had just ended the aristocracy's monopoly on power and created a professional, meritocratic bureaucracy.

I stood back from the table and looked at their stunned, terrified faces. In the space of an hour, I had announced the complete and total dismantling of the feudal world they had known their entire lives. I had stripped them of their armies, their laws, their coin, and their inherited right to rule. I had torn down their ancient house of cards and laid the foundation for a modern, centralized, bureaucratic state.

Lord Corlys, ever the pragmatist, was the first to speak, his voice a low, awed whisper. "You are not a king," he said, looking at me as if for the first time. "You are an emperor. You are building an empire in the mold of Old Valyria or the Ghiscari. A single, unified state, ruled not by oaths, but by a professional class of soldiers and administrators loyal only to you."

"I am building a company that is too big to fail," I corrected him. "A kingdom whose systems are so strong, so integrated, and so efficient that it can withstand any shock, any famine, any war, any long, dark winter. A kingdom that will last a thousand years."

"The lords will not stand for it!" Lord Beesbury cried, his face pale with fear. "They will rise in rebellion! To take their armies, their laws… it is everything they are!"

"Will they?" I asked, a cold smile touching my lips. "Will the Tyrells rise up, when their entire economy is now dependent on my granaries and the stable prices I guarantee? Will the Lannisters rebel, when their future lies in the royal charters I have granted their new Bank and Guilds? Will the Starks break faith, when they are now my partners in preparing for the true enemy beyond the Wall? Will the Stormlords fight me, when their sons are now officers in my professional army, earning good wages and the promise of a glorious career? And if they do rise," my voice dropped to a chilling whisper, "with what will they fight me? Their scattered household guards? Their rusty swords? I have their armies. I have their food. I have their gold. And I have Balerion the Black Dread. They will not rebel. They will complain, they will grumble, and then they will adapt. Because it is the most profitable and logical course of action for them to do so."

Daemon laughed, a loud, genuine bark of pure admiration. "Gods be good, Uncle," he said, shaking his head. "You have just conquered the Seven Kingdoms all over again, and you haven't spilled a single drop of blood. You've simply made rebellion bad for business."

He understood perfectly.

I looked at my council. They were my executive board, the first members of a new kind of government. They were afraid, yes. But they were also intelligent men. They could see the undeniable, terrifying logic of my new world order.

"This is the future," I declared, my voice resonating with the absolute certainty of a man who has already seen it. "This is the Great Restructuring. Your task is to implement it. To manage the transition. There will be resistance. There will be fear. It is your duty to replace that fear with the promise of order and prosperity. This is the work of our generation. There will be no more petty wars between lords. There will be no more famines. There will be only the King's Peace, the King's Justice, and the King's Prosperity."

I turned and walked towards the throne, the symbol of the old power I was now rendering absolute. "I have audited my kingdom," I said, looking back at them one last time. "And I have found it wanting. The restructuring will proceed as planned. See to it."

I left them in the throne room to grapple with the sheer, world-altering scale of my vision. I had used my knowledge of a future world—a world of nation-states, of central banks, of professional armies, of meritocratic bureaucracies—to completely reshape this primitive feudal society. I had done it not for glory, not for honor, but for the one principle I truly believed in: the relentless, uncompromising pursuit of efficiency and control. The Seven Kingdoms were now truly one. One company, under one CEO. And the business of the future was about to begin.