Of course, a plan is nothing but ink on parchment until it is executed. To turn these schemes into reality required effort, precision, and reliable hands.
Currently, the only people the Baron could truly rely on were Lady Anya—whom he had effectively coerced into service—and Arya, his own flesh and blood.
Gendry and Ser Wendel were loyal enough to follow orders to the letter, but there was a vast ocean between simply following orders and actually achieving a vision. They lacked initiative.
As for the two new additions, Anguy and Qyburn, Jon didn't hold his breath.
Anguy was a peerless marksman, true. But a man who could drink and gamble his life away until he fell into the clutches of a necromancer like Qyburn had deep flaws in his character. To Jon, Anguy was a weapon to be pointed at enemies, not a bannerman to build a future with.
Qyburn was a different beast. Putting aside his fanatical obsession with forbidden knowledge, the man was a genius. His intellect was a sharp blade.
But that intelligence was exactly why Jon couldn't trust him with critical tasks yet. A blade that sharp could easily cut the hand that wielded it.
In the end, Jon's biggest problem was a lack of manpower.
As a newly minted Baron, he had stretched his resources to the limit. Though he bore the name Stark, he didn't have the deep roots of Winterfell, where a single word from Lord Eddard could summon generations of loyal retainers.
To steal real power, one needs the capacity to delegate. That capacity takes time to build, and time was the one luxury Jon didn't have.
---
Stepping away from his grand strategies, Jon took a moment to listen to Arya's report on the construction. The reality on the ground surprised him.
He had assumed his twenty thousand Gold Dragons would have been swallowed up by the massive building projects. But according to Arya, the coffers were still relatively full.
Because most of the structures were timber rather than stone, materials were cheap. More importantly, labor costs were shockingly low.
This was due to a shift in the local economy that Jon hadn't fully anticipated.
When the original fishermen of Tampa received their generous "relocation compensation," they didn't pack up and leave, nor did they buy farmland to become peasants. Guided by Arya and Lady Anya, they transformed into a new class of freelancers.
The smarter ones saved their coin and invested in small businesses to serve the booming town—opening stalls, running errands, or offering services to the influx of visitors. It was a safer life than fighting the sea.
Others used their small boats to become a "mosquito fleet," ferrying goods for the smugglers or transporting cargo from the hidden coves to the docks of King's Landing.
As for the hard labor—the digging, hauling, and building—that was done by the desperate.
Refugees and broken men from the Riverlands, the Vale, and even the North had drifted south looking for work. For these people, a warm meal was often payment enough. The fact that the "benevolent" Lady Arya paid them a small wage on top of their rations won her their undying gratitude and loyalty.
---
Gendry's report was equally illuminating, though the Bull—honest to a fault—attributed almost all the success to Lady Anya.
Listening to him, Jon realized he hadn't just won a clever woman; he had secured a partner capable of building an empire.
While Jon was away, the "Fiery Vixen" had been working night and day.
Empowered by Jon's authority and protected by the hundred White Harbor soldiers, Anya hadn't wasted energy fighting over the scraps of the existing smuggling trade. Instead, she pivoted to bulk commodities.
She ignored the high-margin, high-risk luxury goods like silk and Arbor gold that the nobles craved. Instead, she cornered the market on essentials: frost-sugar, spices, and raw materials from Essos.
The profit per crate was lower, but the volume was massive.
More importantly, the turnover was fast. A ship could leave the Free Cities, cross the Narrow Sea, offload at Tampa, and be back at sea in days. It was a machine that printed money.
And she was thinking ahead. Currently, ships were coming in full and leaving empty. If she could secure a steady supply of Westerosi exports—grain, furs, timber—to send back to Essos, the profits would double.
To solve the shipping bottleneck, Anya had sent invitations to ship captains and merchants across the Narrow Sea. She was "borrowing chickens to lay eggs"—inviting them to join the Tampa Merchant Fleet. They would provide the ships; she would provide the protected trade routes.
Eventually, she would use the profits to build her own ships, creating a fleet loyal only to Tampa.
---
Jon smiled. A fleet.
He knew Westeros had few true naval powers.
The Iron Fleet was the strongest, but the Ironborn were rabid dogs. Even if Jon held Theon Greyjoy as a hostage, trying to control Balon Greyjoy was like trying to hold a wolf by the ears. And even if Balon broke, his daughter Asha was a force of nature.
The Ironborn were too likely to bite the hand that fed them.
That left the fleets of the Shield Islands, the Arbor (House Redwyne), and the remnant Royal Fleet at Dragonstone.
Acquiring any one of them would be faster than building a navy from scratch.
A thought crossed Jon's mind. I just saved the Rose of Highgarden. Surely, House Tyrell owes me a debt.
The Tyrells controlled the Redwyne fleet by proxy. Perhaps he could demand "naval protection" for his trade routes as interest on the debt owed for Margaery's safety.
It was a solid idea.
But just as the thought formed, an urgent, impatient voice exploded in his mind.
read more inpat***
CaveLeather
please vote..