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Waifu Catalog Nightmare Mode by BatRou-Dawg

Misc » Book X-overs Rated: M, English, Supernatural, Words: 294k+, Favs: 159, Follows: 172, Published: Jun 27, 2023 Updated: Jun 29, 2023

16Chapter 7

Stannis Baratheon POV

A Year Later.

Jon Arryn let out a tired sigh as he took his seat and he already knew that this small council meeting will be one that he won't enjoy.

Not that he came to council meetings to enjoy himself. It was his duty to attend these meetings, and he'll do so regardless of whether they were enjoyable or not. But some of these meetings really grated on his nerves.

"Robert wants another tourney." Jon Arryn informed them with the look of a man who desperately wanted some wine.

He grit his teeth at those words and Lord Penrose, the Master of Laws shifted back in his seat after noticing the look of rage on his face.

"Didn't we have one just a mere moon's turn ago?" He asked.

"u… we did, my lord." Pycelle said in his decrepit voice. Why Jon Arryn didn't remove this man from the office when he was clearly too old to serve the realm was beyond his understanding. "For… Princess Myrcella's nameday, if I recall."

"What reason did he gave this time?" He asked.

"He didn't." Jon Arryn said with another sigh.

"He didn't even give a reason! Is he serious?" He asked.

"Come now my lord. Surely you must know by now, how much our King loves his tourneys and feasts." Petyr Baelish said in his silky smooth voice. "If his grace wants a tourney, then the reason will present itself, I'm sure."

He ground his teeth harder at that. Hating that the Master of Coin was right, despite his distrust and dislike of the man who took his post only a few moons ago.

"I'm afraid that Petyr is right in this instance." Lord Arryn said, looking his age for once. "Robert will have his tourney whether he has a reason for it or not. It'll be up to us, to provide the public with a reason for this tourney."

"I doubt the public cares about the reason my lord Arryn. All that they care about is gold. And a tourney fills all their pockets well enough." Baelish said with a smile. "Be it a smith who works on creating new armour and weapons, a woodworker who makes the lances and shields, a tradesman who has more customers to sell his goods, or the whores who love to open their legs to these chivalrous knights."

'And then hand over that gold to you.' He thought with slight disgust, having heard more than once about the Master of Coin's recent purchase of the high-end brothels in the city.

He was sure that the weasel was stealing some of the gold from the treasury. But he didn't have the mind or ability to find the evidence to prove such a thing. And Lord Arryn refused to accept that his own Bannerman (a man that he himself installed to the office) was stealing from the crown.

As it was, he could only hope that the weasel would slip up somehow and give him a chance to cut head his head off.

"Does the treasury has the gold for this tourney?" Lord Penrose asked and Baelish shook his head.

"I'm afraid not my lord. We are already 800,000 gold dragons in debt. And the taxes from the other kingdoms won't come in until the next year. I'm afraid that I'll have to borrow from the Iron Bank once again."

He ground his teeth harder at that. Once again being reminded of just how much Robert's proclivities were costing the realm.

Hosting tourneys once in a while to boost the morale of the public is not something he liked but it was something that he could understand. But hosting tourneys every other moon's turn just because Robert got tired of his whores and wanted to see some blood… that grated on his nerves like nothing else.

Still the Seven Kingdoms were in peace and the treasury would be capable of baring these expenses, if with some difficulty. But then Robert had to go ahead and give an astronomical amount of gold to the purses of the champions of the joust, melee and archery.

10,000 gold dragons to the winner of the archery contest! That was more than the amount of gold that Dragonstone was able to generate on a good year. And that's not even mentioning the reward for the champions of the melee and joust, which were even more exhorbetant.

If he didn't knew any better, then he would suspect that Robert was intentionally bringing the Iron Throne to ruin. But as it was, he doubted that his brother even cared.

He could still remember the last time he'd brought this problem to Robert. His brother had called him a dour man who had nothing better to do than copper pinching. After being insulted for his worries, he was told to keep to his ships and then promptly dismissed.

He'd kept quiet about the haemorrhaging treasury since then. But the shimmering rage in his heart grew every time he heard of how much gold they were wasting on these things.

"Then do so." Jon Arryn said with a wave of his hand. "I'll try to get Robert to lower the amount of Champion's purse this time, but I doubt he'll listen."

The other small council members silently agreed on that before they moved on to the next topic at hand.

"There is the matter of the luxury goods being produced in Dragonstone my lord." Baelish said, giving him a side glance. "Are we going to put a tax on them as well."

"Luxury goods?" Lord Penrose asked, looking bewildered. "Since when did Dragonstone started producing luxury goods? Erm… meaning no disrespect Lord Stannis."

He grunted in acknowledgement and then glared at Baelish. "This is the first time I've heard about this as well. What in the seven hells are you talking about Baelish. The only things produced in Dragonstone are ships, fish oil, dragonglass, salt, and some leather. And none of these count as luxury goods."

"I would like hear about this as well Petyr. What luxury goods are you talking about?" Lord Arryn asked.

"I'm talking about spices my lord Arryn. Since a few moons ago, the traders from Dragonstone started selling Spices to Kings Landing, Gulltown, Maidenpool, Planky Town, and Wintertown. Even Braavos and Loath, if rumours are to be believed." Baelish explained, much to his growing confusion.

"At first, it was in small quantities. Nothing worth being mentioned in the Small Council. But recently, they've started selling more and more of these spices along with a new produce of dry fruits, a beverage called brandy, exotic wood, and even some pearls. And I'm not sure how these goods are to be taxed, considering that Dragonstone falls under the King's direct jurisdiction."

"Spices…" Grandmaester Pycelle wheezed out as he glanced at Petyr like he was looking at an idiot. "Dragonstone… is a stony and barren island. People there… barely grow enough food… *cough* for themselves. How would they grow *wheeze* ...spices? "

"The Grandmaester is right." He said, as much as it galled him to agree with Pycelle on anything. "Last time I checked, Dragonstone was still a barren island, with little to no fertile lands in it. How would anyone grow spices in there. Especially in such large quantities as to sell to all these cities and towns?"

"That, I do not know my lord. For I am no master of whispers. But my words are no lies. A large quantity of spice is indeed being produced in Dragonstone." Baelish said. "I don't know how the people there are producing it. But I do know that it's being done."

He continued to glare at Baelish even as his mind went back to the letter he'd read a few moons ago. About his son telling him about some spices he was growing at the foot of Dragonmont. He hadn't given much thought to it then, thinking it to be one of is son's eccentricities. But… could it be? Surely not? His son was still only a boy. And if growing spices was so easy, then everyone would be doing it.

So what the hell was going on?

"Speaking of it… where is Lord Varys? It is very unlike him to be absent from a Small Council meeting." Lord Penrose said, gesturing to the empty chair that everyone in the small council had noticed.

Indeed, for Varys to be absent from a meeting like this was suspicious. Especially when people already suspected him of having loyalties to the Targaryens.

Varys would have to be questioned thoroughly once he's found.

Once it was clear that no one had any idea about where Varys was, the small council moved on to the next topic.

"People are being recruited from the city to work in Dragonstone." Petyr said and he clenched his fists.

"What do mean by that?" He asked.

"I'm merely stating what my servants have told me my lord." Petyr said. "People in the city are being hired to work in Dragonstone. Probably in the new spice farms. Once again, I am no spy master, so I don't know the intricacies of what is going on in that Island."

"How many people have been taken so far?" Lord Jon Arryn asked with a frown.

"Two to Three Thousand my lord."

"Preposterous!" Lord Penrose bellowed. "You're telling me that two or three thousand people from the city have been taken without my knowledge. Do you think I'm daft and would not notice such a thing you whoremonger!?"

"Please mind your words Lord Penrose." Lord Arryn said in a chiding tone. "And Petyr, despite his crass words, Lord Penrose is right. If so many people were taken from Kings Landing then everyone would know about it. Please explain yourself."

Baelish's smile curdled a bit but he continued speaking. "I meant no disrespect Lord Penrose, Lord Arryn. And the people who're taken mostly live in Flea Bottom. People that hardly anyone cares about. So it would understandable that the gold cloak did not notice such a thing."

"Flea Bottom. Hmm… that detested place. You're right, no one cares about that slum. And if people are leaving that place, then all the better for us." Lord Penrose said. "But what do you mean when you say that people are being taken from there, Lord Baelish? Are they being captured in the middle of the night?"

"That's not the case Lord Penrose." Petyr said "From what little I heard about it, it appears that a few recruiters came from Dragonstone and promised work for 5 silver moons for each moon of hard work. Many young people left to find work in Dragonstone. From what I've heard, this has been going on for a while now."

"5 silver moon… that's… 60 silver moons a year. Or 2 gold dragons a year. Why would *cough cough* anyone pay that much gold to the dregs of… that slum?" Grandmaester Pycelle asked and he found himself agreeing with the sentiment.

"Unless Baelish is lying about everything." He said, glaring at the whoremonger but Baelish only smiled sweetly under his glare.

"I'm afraid I'm only telling you what my own servants have informed me my lord. If you want to know more, then please ask Lord Varys about it."

"That's enough. Lord Penrose is right." Lord Arryns spoke up, silencing their bickering. "If this is true, then people leaving Flea Bottom is hardly a bad thing. Even a good thing, some would say. But small folk being taken from a lord's land is not to be taken lightly. Lord Stannis, Lord Penrose, please look into this matter. And make sure that these recruiters only recruit people from Flea Bottom and no other place. We do not want the lose the productive population of the city. Is that clear?"

He nodded. Intent on sending a few letters to Dragonstone and demanding an explanation as soon as this meeting is finished.

"Now onto the next topic. What is this about a herd of cattle being stolen from Lady Stokeworths' land?" Lord Arryn asked but before anyone could answer to that, the door of the small council chamber flung open and Robert of all people strode into the room, carrying a Warhammer in his hand with an ease that belied his strength as the 'Demon of the Trident' despite all the fat he'd gained over the years.

He along, with the rest of the Council members got up from their seat in respect and Lord Arryn moved to the side to give the main seat to the King.

A moment later, Varys entered the room as well. And his eyes narrowed as he wondered what this was all about.

A small part of him hoped that Varys had found some evidence of Petyr Baelish stealing from the crown's treasury and that Robert was here in order to smash the weasel's treacherous little head. But he knew that such a thing was unlikely to happen.

Judging by the state of Robert's clothes, his blood shot eyes and the smell of perfume on his clothes, it would appear that he come here directly from his bed chamber. No doubt after spending a drunken night with some of his whores.

No, Robert would not come in such a hurry if he was only here to smash Petyr's head. This is something else. Something big.

But what could be bigger than smashing the head of a traitorous small council member.

Finally, Robert stood at the head of the table and looked at each one of them with a piercing gaze before he turned to glare at Varys. "Tell them what you just told me."

Varys gave a bow and then looked at all of them before speaking. "My lord, the Iron Fleet, under the captainship of Victorian Greyjoy has destroyed the Lannister Fleet and has sacked and pillaged Lannisport. In addition to that, Seagard has fallen to the Ironborns as well, with Rodrik Greyjoy being rumoured to have slain Lord Jason Mallister and his heir before taking the castle."

A dreaded silence fell over the council chamber at the grave news and no one made so much as a peep as Varys continued.

"The Ironborns are now raiding and pillaging their way through the undefended Riverlands as well as the coastal areas of Westerlands. Most importantly, Lord Balon Greyjoy has worn the Driftwood crown, and named himself the King of the Iron Islands." Varys sighed and rubbed his head. "My lords, it saddens me to bear such ill news to all of you, but I'm afraid… that we have a Rebellion in our hands."