Pre-Chapter A/N: Bit of a late upload. Been a bit of a wasteman tbh. More chapters on my patreon(https://www.patreon.com/c/Oghenevwogaga)— same username as here and link in bio. Experimenting with two chapters a week, we'll see how long I can keep this up for.
"They sure did manage to step on it this time, didn't they?" I commented to Laena from where we sat in front of Igneel.
"Yeah, I wondered why you were being so specific about timelines in your letter when there was so little chance of them being able to understand the timeline perfectly. You did it so they would move as quickly as possible, didn't you?"
"Indeed. They would spend their time trying to figure out when the letter was sent to figure out how much time they had, and then they would give that up as a waste of time and just hurry as much as possible to prevent Myr from hearing a dragon's roar over its skies."
"And then come here unprepared and easier to wrangle," she surmised.
"Well, I wouldn't say unprepared. These are some of the smartest men in the world, sister. They will surprise us if we give them time to," I said as I walked over to the palisade that Vaemond had overseen the construction of for these negotiations.
"Richest? Yes. But smartest?"
"How do you tell what makes a smart man, sister?"
"You'd ask them what they know, I guess. Interrogate them until you can see how smart they are."
"That would tell you a learned one. Learned men know a lot. Smart men might know very little. You can tell a smart man from how they behave. And if you can't observe their behavior for long enough, you look for other measures, other indicators that can give you an idea of where they stand on the hierarchy of things."
"And you think you need to be smart to make money?"
"Well, to make as much as these people have, to some extent. But we shan't deceive ourselves. They made their money in much the same way I made mine."
"Which is to say, they didn't."
"Exactly. They inherited it. But I think they are smart men because they haven't pissed it all away. If half the world is of below-average intelligence, then you can expect that quite a few people in their place would have pissed away their immense fortunes already. Either on stupid business ventures, risking what they have and need for the little they don't have or need, or on expensive whores, or slaves, or silly hobbies. They've managed to do none of that, so they are some of the smartest men in the world," I said.
"But you don't think they're smarter than you."
"They started a war against a family of dragonriders using wooden boats. I don't think anyone is smarter than me, but they're nowhere near my level," I said with a smirk that she returned. As we had gone closer to the palisade, our dragons had stirred and followed. Thankfully, the Bronze Bitch understood not to pull any of her usual nonsense here. Gods be good and merciful.
"Presenting: their majesties, the representatives of the Grand Council of the Triarchy…" They had brought an orator, of course. A very long-winded one, it seemed, as I shared a look of long-suffering with Laena before we took our seats. The man was still talking, taking great care, it seemed, not to forget a single irrelevant and undoubtedly self-invented title this group of eight had given themselves in their long and insignificant lives.
The gist of it was that there were four of them from Tyrosh, two from Lys, and two from Myr. Undoubtedly because Tyrosh was still considered the 'injured' party in this war of ours and would probably be the ones to push the most. But then I had to wonder—if they wanted peace, why bring so many Tyroshi? Enough to fuck things up if they got it in their heads to.
They couldn't be stupid enough to think there was some way out of this for them without making a deal of some sort, so the other possibility was that it was some sort of tactic. Feign not wanting a deal until the very last second so they could then get the very best deal possible in the end. Not a bad idea, and maybe it could even have worked with someone else. Someone who cared more about peace. Someone who did not have a list of ambitions they considered non-negotiable and who wouldn't go straight back to war to get what they wanted by force.
When they finally finished the pomp and circumstance, taking their seats across from us, it felt like the sun had visibly lowered in the sky. Vhagar had yawned once, forcing the announcer to stop and stare, losing track of his place and having to start a bit behind.
I hadn't brought anyone trained in announcing or anything of the sort out of the mistaken belief that this lot would just want to get to business, so I took the duty upon myself.
"I am Laenor Velaryon, Lord Protector of the Stepstones, Lord of Driftmark, Master of the Tides. This is my sister, Laena Velaryon, rider of the Queen of Dragons, Vhagar, and my uncle, Vaemond, Captain of the Seahorse's Wrath, Driftmark's Fury, and Corlys' Rest. Here to make note of what we discuss and agree is Maester Bernard of the Citadel, attached to High Tide and briefly loaned to Bloodstone," I said, taking a fraction of the time, and taking my seat thereafter.
The announcer, it seemed, doubled as a translator, and after I spoke, he turned and relayed my words in Bastard Valyrian, a language that seemed to be at least somewhat mutually intelligible with the High Valyrian I could speak. I turned to look around the small island as my words were relayed. Beyond the twenty-three proper islands that called this region home, we had dozens of floating landmasses like this one. Too small to be usefully considered anything other than rocks for your ship to dash itself against most of the time, and too large to be ignored and just left unattended. These islands would house my first 'inventions': proper lighthouses.
"Threatening to attack our cities is not how one begins a peace negotiation." The announcer-turned-interpreter turned to me and said after one of the Magisters spoke. He was translating his words, then.
"Sending an insult is not how one replies to an offer to discuss the terms of peace," I shot back.
"What insult? This one is unaware of any insult?" Vaemond bristled in his seat but did not rise. On my signal, Igneel roared, before breathing the hottest flames he could straight into the sky. I didn't need to look backward to know that he had breathed blue flames at least twenty feet straight up.
"Then I will remind you. You sent a slave you had dared to take from the protection of House Velaryon. You not only boldly flaunted your previous breaches of the state of peace that had existed between us but dared to show that you were unafraid of the consequences of doing so. Now, the consequences have come due, and they are payable in full," I practically spat out the words, enjoying the way the grown men flinched backward. They were probably more scared of the fire-breathing creature than the teenage boy in front of them, but as far as I was concerned, we were one and the same.
"Then both parties will take it that we are now even." One of the Lyseni was the first to get himself in order and speak.
"Indeed," I replied once the words were translated.
"Now I will get into the terms of peace. You, all your cities, shall agree to the following: six million gold pieces upfront, and then three million gold pieces to be paid at the beginning of each year until a period of ten years has elapsed; twenty thousand slaves for me to choose from your key industries; all slaves of Westerosi origin shall be handed over to me, not forming part of the twenty thousand; you shall not attempt to increase your naval might or restore your warships for the next ten years; you shall not enter into any contracts with any sellsails or pirates to make war against the Stepstones; and in exchange, I shall recognize that the state of hostilities against us is at an end, I shall not make good on any threats or promises to burn your cities to the ground, and I shall allow ships from your cities access to the Westerosi market through the Stepstones at the same tolling rate I charge ships from all other locations—except Westerosi ships, of course," I said, making demand after demand and watching as they reddened with each one. Of course, I wasn't expecting to get so much out of them, but ask and it shall be given, and all that.
"This is highly objectionable," the translator said after one of the Tyroshi men ranted in Bastard Valyrian for over a minute. I gave him a look of amusement. I'd understood some of that and could say 'highly objectionable' was a gross understatement of what he'd been told.
"But it is my offer," I said, and the Magisters spoke to one another in Valyrian until one of the Lyseni men finally spoke to the interpreter. And the man finally turned to me, clearly more pleased to be able to actually relay the message that had been given to him.
"The Triarchy cannot afford the terms of the offer you have laid out before us. We can suggest other terms, however. The return of the Westerosi slaves who have found their way into Triarchy territory through whatever means can be secured. We can pay reparations of two million gold pieces upfront and an additional five hundred thousand a year for five years. We can sell slaves to you from industries other than our key industries at below-market rates. The terms you have laid out from your end are acceptable," he said. It was a bad offer.
I knew that. Much in the way my first offer had been designed to provoke and see how far I could push things, theirs was to see how little they could get away with giving.
"Good that we can agree on the Westerosi slaves. That can be noted down as an agreed term. Now let us discuss the rest. As for the gold you will be paying, it will be going towards strengthening the Stepstones in our mutual interests so that the pirates that once called the place home will not find fertile ground to return to. Surely this would be a worthwhile investment. And if you could find the gold for Braavos, you can find the gold for me."
"You would see us beggared with such a sum. We would have to raise taxes beyond sustainable levels. Our cities would cease to be if we tried to make that payment, and if our people are beggared, then who knows what they would turn to. If keeping piracy out of the Stepstones is your goal, then you would seek a more reasonable payment."
"What can you comfortably afford? Do try to be honest with me," I prompted.
"Four million upfront and seven hundred and fifty thousand a year for seven years."
"Then we can call it even at five million upfront and one and a half million a year for ten years. Your comfort is of little concern to me, to be honest."
"We cannot afford it, comfortably or not. Four million upfront and eight hundred thousand for eight years."
"You mistake the situation here, magisters. I could destroy your city. My sister and I have dragons that would make it child's play. The only reason I choose not to do so is because I see the value you can bring in peace. So let us stop counting coppers and end it at five million upfront and one and a quarter million a year for ten years," I said, making it clear with my tone that I would not be budging on this point. The Lyseni pursed his lips. He was clearly the leader of this lot, and his tiny nod was the sign that we had come to an accord on that term at least.
"Now to the matter of the slaves," I broached.
"Having us turn over our slaves would be an overreach."
"One that we must all stomach, I am afraid. It is non-negotiable. I will have twenty thousand slaves who work in the following industries: shipbuilding, glassmaking, dye-making, pleasure, administration, customs enforcement, cloth making, and agriculture," I said.
"You mean to build industry in the Stepstones?"
"What I mean to do with the Stepstones is none of your business. I have made my demands."
"Demands we cannot fulfill. How would we make the gold to pay you your due when we will be giving out integral parts of our workforces and propping up a competitor in all our major industries?"
"Are you not the most industrious magisters in the world? I am sure you will find a way."
"It is impossible."
"What can you afford?" I asked the question again.
"A thousand slaves."
"Have you no interest in negotiating? I came here with a list of minimum requirements. If you are not able to match them, then there will be no deal between our peoples and we will go right back to fighting each other without recourse. I assure you, that is not what you want to happen. You have no more navy. You are bleeding gold every day that your goods sit in your harbors and are not being moved to the massive market across the Narrow Sea. You have the threat of my dragons hanging over your heads. You have been sent here to make a deal. So make a deal. Because I can promise you that if you leave here without one, then there will be no peace between us that comes without total vassalage," I laid out the threat, knowing full well that Igneel was more than excited at the thought of burning a city down. He wanted to see if he could manage it just as surely as I did.
Maybe it was something they saw in my eyes, or something they saw in the dragons that stood behind me, but they agreed, and the negotiations moved forward.
Fifteen thousand slaves was the consensus, while I made the concession that they would be chosen from the lower ranks of the various industries. I was sure they were going to give me the least competent people they could while abiding by the letter of the deal, but that didn't matter to me. They might have thought I was looking to establish the industries from scratch using their expertise, but I had ideas of my own. I just needed hands to move the stones where I needed them to be, and even idiots could manage that.
The rest came easily. Terms as to shipbuilding were negotiated, and then I granted the concession that they could freely build ships as long as they did not build more than six dozen warships over the next ten years. They'd probably flout that one, but if they thought this war with me just setting my roots into the Stepstones was bad for them, then they were going to have another thing coming in a decade or so.
"So, we are fully in agreement as to everything then," I said, basically ending the negotiation after what felt like hours of talking and grinding out specificities.
"Yes. The terms are satisfactory. Our scribe and yours can exchange copies now," the interpreter relayed the Lyseni's words. I gestured to Bernard, and he walked forward with his draft of the treaty. I read it over to make sure everything was in order before handing it over to the Lyseni, who was doing the same with his own draft. I looked at their draft, finding it also satisfactory. Then I signed it and handed it back before signing my own copy that the Lyseni had already signed.
Then both Bernard and the scribe got to work producing copies that we both signed and exchanged as well after careful reading.
"That will be all then," I said, rising and prompting the magisters to do the same.
"Yes, Laenor Velaryon. It is good to see that you are everything that I expected and more," the Lyseni said, turning directly to me and speaking High Valyrian. The other magisters seemed to be confused at the sudden switch, furrowing their eyebrows.
"You speak the true tongue?" I asked, shocked. The daughters of Valyria had a tendency to distance themselves from the Empire that had spawned their existence these days, especially since Volantis was still established as the spiritual successor of the empire in a lot of ways.
"I do. I am of the old blood," he said.
I almost scoffed. Old blood was code for a child of a slave who just so happened to be able to trace his blood back to the Valyrian house that had sired his ancestors. But pointing that out would be far from helpful in this case, so I nodded like it meant something.
"Indeed. It is good to meet one such as you, despite the circumstances."
"Circumstances? There is peace between our peoples now, Laenor Velaryon. And now that there is peace, there is room for an accord. One between the Triarchy and the powers of the Stepstones would be highly profitable," he said, and I could see little on the faces of the other magisters, but Igneel's senses detected the rage in the Tyroshi and the anticipation in the Myrish. Ah. I could see it now.
This wasn't just about peace. Of course it wasn't. I needed to stop thinking of these people the same way I thought about Westerosi. The Westerosi, when it came to war, held long grudges, and peace negotiations were over the barrel. With these people, they didn't seem to care for holding the grudge. They'd lost, and they were ready to move on, already seeing the potential for profit. Merchants, I thought to myself. Did anything matter to them more than gold? It seemed not.
I plastered a smile on my face. If they wanted to play ball, then I would play ball.
"Of course. We can begin discussions on that end in a year or so, when things have settled down somewhat," I said.
"We will be looking forward to hearing from you, and I wish you the best with your new Kingdom," he said in turn, and then they began making the walk down to their ships.
"I think that went well, did it not?" I turned to my group, only to find Laena looking at the terms, mouth wide open.
"How did you get them to hand over so much gold? I couldn't be sure I was hearing the numbers correctly," she asked.
"A dragon is a powerful stick, I guess," I said with a chuckle.
A/N: And so the war ends. Next six chapters up on patreon(https://www.patreon.com/c/Oghenevwogaga)(same username as here and link in bio), support me there and read them early.