It has been a little over a month since the expedition was sent south. Having loaded everything necessary and accommodated the passengers, Dale Seaworth led a squadron consisting of the Spirit, Lady Maria and the Ebony Elephant to Tartu, where he successfully met with the remaining two carracks: the Bronze Forehead and the Ermine. Three days later, the squadron was at Estermont Island, where it stayed for several days, handing over numerous gifts to my dear maternal grandfather, Lord Estermont, as well as other relatives.
Two weeks later, a raven from Sunspear came. The squadron safely crossed the Steps and reached the capital of Dorne, where Dale planned to stay for a week. To replenish supplies, renew water, repair ships if necessary... especially the Carrack. No matter how they were restored, long-term conservation did not benefit them. God willing, they will survive this journey, which can already be considered a great success. Oh, yes, I couldn't ignore the Martells. And, of course, the most expensive and exquisite gifts were intended exclusively for Sand Snakes. Nevertheless, in some matters it is necessary to be demonstratively principled.
Currently, the squadron should be on its way for at least a few days, and in another ten or fifteen days it will reach the Summer Islands. Everything is as simple and predictable as possible in this maritime business, but the way back is a completely different song. It will be much longer and much more dangerous. The thing is (and thanks to the Seaports for putting everything on the fingers of a land rat) that the western part of the Summer Sea, separating Westeros, Essos and the Summer Islands, is an extremely treacherous place. The devil here lies in the currents and monsoon winds. There is a powerful current from Westeros to the Summer Islands, which leads in a slightly circular way, thanks to which you can get from Dorne to the archipelago in a very pleasant time. But there are difficulties with the return trip, in the form of monsoon winds blowing from Sotorios to the north.
Although, who knows what to call these winds correctly. The monsoon, if my memory serves me correctly, is the wind blowing from the tropics to the equator in summer and in the opposite direction in winter... or vice versa? And in relation to the local world... what kind of winter is it? Calendar or climate? It's like winter here once a decade. And the equator, where is it at all? So, I have to shift the local realities to my own basis and formulations, otherwise, it is possible that I will become completely confused.
It would seem, but where exactly is the problem? Oh, she really is. And here it is worth returning to the explanations provided by Seaports that opened my eyes. Why did Volantis and the Fox manage to close the trade with the archipelago on themselves? The summer islands are surrounded by many currents, small and large, but not all of them are equally useful to seafarers. Taking into account the powerful monsoon winds, an attempt to circumnavigate the archipelago from the west and return to Westeros the same way you arrived can turn out to be, if not a disaster, then very unpleasant consequences. Under the most favorable conditions, if you reach the Arbor after thirty or forty days, then consider that the journey has ended successfully. Add another month, and you're in King's Landing, and everyone will consider you a real lucky guy, because you've passed... everything. You didn't crash in one of the most powerful storms so typical for this part of the Summer Sea. You haven't encountered Leviathans, frequent visitors to this sub-region. You avoided the currents that could have carried you even further west and... and so on and so on. Despite all of the above, many people have tried, but there are still very few who have succeeded.
An alternative? The way to the east. In a week (two or three, if you're not lucky at all), the winds will take you to Volantis or Lys, from where it will take two weeks to reach the capital of the Seven Kingdoms. The advantages are obvious, and they are led by almost a month of saved time. The only really significant disadvantage is the pirates. There are already an indecent number of them there. They definitely won't attack our squadron – they can't handle such large ships with numerous crews. But this is now, and anything can happen in the future. If my Summer expeditions become familiar, then nothing prevents another pirate shaitan batyr from gathering a bigger gang and going to intercept, and it is necessary to deal with this problem right now. I hope that Ser Davos will help me here too.…
In any case, the squadron is already in the Summer Sea, and I can only wait and pray for my own. But even after they were sent, I didn't have any less to do, to say the opposite. While the leader of my seven merchants is hanging out somewhere in the seas and oceans, many functions have been secretly transferred to me, as almost the entire "team" has been forced to scatter around the area. The only exception was Master Ethan Crowe from Oldtown, who remained in charge of the capital.
Malcolm Black scours the nearest free cities, restoring and, where necessary, creating new acquaintances and connections. He probes logistics, looks for specialists, as well as profitable commercial offers, including for the purchase of new ships. Black is helped in this by Master Hugh Weinbag and the latter's abundance of "proper acquaintances." Messrs. Theobald Kamenny and Oswald Arquirt returned to the Stormy Lands, having begun to actively (with my blessing) correct the problems that had matured there.
Lord Swann, Gods have mercy on his cunning ass, having discovered the increased trade flow along the River Slane, did not appreciate that it was passing "by his mouth", and raised the passing duties two or three times, at the same time driving all his watercraft that he had at his disposal into the water. Did it hit my pocket hard? It's decent, but for a monopolist, and that's what I'm rapidly becoming in my fiefdoms, it's quite bearable. And the volumes... sooner or later, the volumes will grow. Most likely, it's early. The harvest is coming to an end in the controlled Dornish marches, and very soon the barns of local landowners will be filled with thousands of tons of grain that we have already bought. And which lord or knight would give up silver in the "right here and now" format? However, given the behavior of the Swanns, we have a more acute problem of choosing a path. On the one hand, it appears that the increase in duties on the part of the lords of the Stone Helmet will eat up a significant portion of the profits, and if we take into account the increased cost of shipping, it may well be that we will not see profits at all. On the other hand, we can always go the beaten path and sell grain to Chinese merchants, as the locals have always done, but at a much lower price. So it turns out to be an unpleasant kind of zugzwang.
My gifts and requests were meekly and gratefully accepted by Lord Swann, while my exhortations were tactfully wrapped up and ignored. Why do the Svanns do this to their overlord? Considering that I've only recently begun to behave and fully rule as a high lord, I think I'm being tested for lice, while simultaneously squeezing out potential buns and preferences for myself. So the Svanns got involved in this business, keeping the most important trade route of the Stormlands under control. And the rest of my vassals will build their line of conduct based on how I get out of this situation. The Swanns, they think, have practically nothing to lose. And they are not as far from the truth as I would like.
That's why I'm trying to attract the Ironborn for transportation–they're not merchants from a vile class. All Ironborn captains are considered knights, that is, aristocrats. A noble person cannot be charged a fee if he travels freely. Otherwise, at least, a specific nickname will stick to you, which will soon be heard all over the continent. "Groshelyub", "miser" and so on. The precedents are well known, as well as their impact on later career and life. And yes, most likely, it won't be possible to connect the Ironborn on a permanent basis, but... at least I'll knock some arrogance off someone, and that'll be enough. And then we'll figure something out.
The Whiteheads appear in a completely different light in this story – the owners of the Grieving showed themselves to be on their best side. Old Lord Whitehead, pleased with the generous fees and deductions, as well as my letters of thanks and gifts, for a small loan of several thousand dragons and vague promises to bring his son closer, gave us full carte blanche for the city. Considering that the local merchant guild was already under our control, we expanded to the fullest extent, laying new warehouses and expanding the port.
But we are not united by the Stormy Lands. Lately, I've been paying more attention to River Lands as well. The reasons and hopes, I think, are the most obvious – to stick to the local trade routes. A native of these lands, Master Herbert Butcher, went to these lands on my behalf. He knows the locals, the locals know him. His mission is simple – to gain a foothold in the mouth of the Trident, namely in the Saltworks. The town is small in size and does not shine with special wealth, which, from my point of view ... is just an incredible fact. From the upper reaches of the Trident comes just a mind-boggling flow of goods: grain, wood, tar, hemp, corned beef, lard, beer and wine. And all this, in some way unknown to me, bypasses the Saltworks and goes straight to Maiden Pond, the city of Mouton, in the port of which everything is loaded onto ships and goes straight to Essos, the Valley or King's Harbor.
The saltworks are run by the knightly house of Cox. Apparently, he doesn't rule very successfully and, frankly, they behave badly. A striking example of this is the situation with Master Herbert, who unfortunately lent money to the head of the House, Sir Quincy Cox. He didn't just dump the merchant, but also created a lot of problems. And Herbert is far from the only one who has been treated in this way.
Butcher went north with two letters and a caravan. The first letter is addressed to Sir Quincy, and in it I inform him that I have bought out his debt from Master Herbert and I am very interested in when he plans to repay the debt to me and, of course, the interest that has accumulated from above. The amount there is, frankly, small... for me, but for a noble family of the Cox level, it is quite decent. I don't need the money from the Cokes as such – it's much more interesting to be able to bargain with them in the future for the purchase of some real estate in the Saltworks. And, of course, to knock out a certain list of preferences for your people in order to take at least a small bite out of this trade flow. I think the Coxes will be happy to jump at this option, because such small houses are not doing very well with cash. But the second letter, as well as a caravan of useful things, are intended for the abbot of the septria (that is, the monastery), located on a Quiet island at the mouth of the Trident. This monastery boasts an ancient history and a strict charter. All the brothers of the monastery, except for the "Elder Brother" of the abbot, have taken a vow of silence, and only confess aloud. The septrium, according to the stories, is a whole complex of buildings, structures and, as expected, fortifications. The brothers are mostly retired men of extremely specific professions: warriors, mercenaries, and knights. They live modestly and do not eat fat. Unlike many others, they do not provide banking services. They treat, feed and help for free. Decent people, but I'd be lying if I said that's what attracted me to them. First of all, I am interested in the island and the monastery. A strategically important point on the map, under control of which it will be very difficult to uproot me from the region. But we need to act carefully and very tactfully here, so as not to scare the local monks away from me.
"Your Grace," Master Ethan appeared in the meeting room, "the guests have arrived.
"Very well, Master. Invite them in.
Bowing, Crowe disappeared, going after the guests. The renovation work at the Rusalka, the inn that sheltered us, has come to an end. The complex of buildings has a common fence, a tavern, as well as a decent-quality hotel, which allowed us to safely move our "office" here, so as not to embarrass the metropolitan public with my social circle.
Timidly and with some apprehension, three respectable men, aged from forty-five to sixty years old, followed Crowe into the room. Rich but not flashy clothes, status-enhancing jewelry, and full beards streaked with gray to varying degrees. In a word, the richest people of this "capital of merchant dignity."
"My lord! All three of them bowed deeply when they saw me.
- Masters, I am glad to welcome you! – Leaving the table, he greeted the guests and stretched out his arms to the table. "Please."
And now, I'm not afraid to use this word, a historic day has arrived. It would be extremely unwise of me not to take advantage of the moment, namely my stay in the capital, the largest trading hub in Westeros. Through the Royal Harbor, along the Blackwater River, there is a wide range of goods from the Expanse, Western and River Lands. It is going on in volumes in no way comparable to either Oldtown, Lannisport, or any other city in the kingdom. Until recently, a significant portion of the goods from the Stormlands also passed through the capital, but yours truly intervened. Which, to my surprise, caused quite significant damage to the merchants of the capital. As it turned out, the locals had nowhere to compensate for these volumes.
After the economic decline of the end of the reign of the Mad King and the repeated devastation of the capital at the end of Robert's rebellion, the local merchant class is a shadow of its former success. Overseas merchants have deeply rooted themselves in the capital, crushing trade and transportation, preventing local competitors from raising their heads. However, the locals eventually recovered and quietly began to restore old ties and establish new ones in the depths of the country, where few foreigners look. Gradually, the locals got back on their feet and strengthened their positions. Successful? Well... rather yes. They won't be able to get back to their old days yet, but they won't be able to call them minnows either. Until I came along and broke the established schemes in the Stormlands, which collectively brought in up to a third of the profits.
It is worth noting the prudence of the capital's merchants. They didn't immediately get excited and shit on my people, as did, for example, the trading circles of Oldtown and some magnates of the free cities. After a closer look, it became obvious to them that if they were uncomfortable with the change in trade routes, then their overseas competitors, who resold ore and metal products from my lands to the east with huge profits, had to put up with simply fabulous losses. But aside from the shaky positions of our overseas friends in the capital, let's get back to "our own". A community of interests and a desire to earn money would inevitably bring us together, which, in fact, happened. My henchmen, once in the capital, almost immediately began to contact local circles, sometimes conducting common business, probing each other for adequacy and negotiability. The lapping results can be observed right now.
Having settled down opposite each other and moistened our throats and spirits with light wine, we began negotiations.
"Your Grace," the most senior of the delegation, a handsome, slightly pot-bellied man, apparently took the floor, "allow me to introduce myself. My name is Horras, and my companions are Elliot and Brian.
- I am glad to meet you, dear ones. – A soft smile and a nod of greeting. – I don't think it makes sense to introduce my dear friend, Master Ethan. As well as introducing yourself.
"Of course, my Lord," the guests smiled politely, showing that they appreciated the light joke.
"Then let me speak first. – The gentlemen were clearly not against it. "I would like to sincerely apologize to the merchant class of King's Landing. I had no idea that your families were in such need of the goods and raw materials that are produced in my fiefdoms. I am already aware of the rising prices of metal products, weapons, and armor in the capital. It is also known that it hurts, including your household. Before we start, I want to say that some of our goods will go through the capital again. To our mutual benefit, of course...
It's a vile class, but the gentlemen know how to keep their faces. One word is "metropolitan". But still, they quickly exchanged glances with a spark of emotion, if not happiness, then certainly deep satisfaction.
- I will leave the coordination of purchase prices and all related issues to Master Crowe. However, the purpose of our meeting is much more extensive. I think it's obvious to everyone here that my associates and I have great interests in the capital. I can't tell you the details, but our efforts may soon increase the trade turnover in the capital. It will be much more difficult for us to cope with these volumes alone, and therefore we are looking for partners. We need warehouses, marinas, ships, people, access to internal trade routes and, of course, communications.
"Sir," the head of the delegation took the floor, slowly choosing his words, "what goods are we talking about?"
- Spices, mahogany, gems, wine, fabrics. Silk, perhaps.
The gentlemen exchanged glances again, but this time they couldn't contain their emotions. Shock and awe.
"Sir..." Horras wanted to say something. Perhaps something spiritual or patriotic was planned, but I didn't really want to waste time. Princess Kalmarova doesn't fool herself.
"Dear friends," I raised my right hand, interrupting the merchant in mid-sentence, "I am well aware that all the money in the world cannot be earned, no matter what efforts my partners and I make. But through mutually beneficial, honest and open cooperation, sharing not only profits but also risks, it is possible to achieve a more lasting and stable success. That's what I'm offering you. I don't promise mountains of gold, but I can guarantee that you will have the opportunity to earn these mountains. Together with us. So that my words do not seem like an empty mountain echo to you, as a sign of good will and good intentions, I am ready to lend your merchant guild, let's say, - a carefully inquiring glance at Ethan, who, as we agreed, nodded benevolently, demonstrating to the guests that he has any influence on my noble person, - Five thousand golden dragons. For three years and without interest. In order to make it easier for you to invest in a common cause.
I'm not exactly an expert at reading emotions from bearded faces, but even without the physiognomy, it was clear that the gentlemen merchants were impressed. Maybe even happy.
"Sir," the trio stood up sedately, showing respect, "let's not hide it, your offer is extremely generous and noble. It was impossible to expect anything else from you. We will convey your wishes to the rest of the guild. Please, Your Grace, give us a few days.
- Of course, friends! I smiled cheerfully in the style of the canonical Renly. – I didn't expect an immediate response. If necessary, Master Crowe is at your disposal.
"Thank you very much, my Lord."
***
"What do you say, Ethan?"
After seeing off the delegates, only Crowe and I remained in the meeting room. A light lunch soon joined us.
"My Lord," he smiled slyly, straightening his gray head with his left hand, "I'll be careful not to make loud statements, but the merchant guild of the capital is in your pocket.
"That would be nice." He shook his head approvingly. – But I still worry about possible interference in our enterprise.
"Not just you. But here in the capital, if we manage to win over the local trade circles, we will be irresistible.
"Then let's drink to our imminent success."
***
At the end of lunch, when I was about to go to the Red Castle, a servant approached Ethan, quickly whispering something to the merchant. Crowe listened to his subordinate and looked at me with apprehension and awkwardness.
- Has something happened, Master? – I immediately tensed up, expecting trouble.
"I can't say for sure, my lord. Ethan chewed his lips uncertainly. – My people have been noticing surveillance of this place for several days. As you warned, many people are really interested in us, and observers are always present somewhere nearby. But a few days ago, a man showed up... clean and well-dressed, polite, pays, doesn't make a fuss. He arrives at almost the same time, ordering a glass of wine. But at the moment, he has contacted the manager, asking to meet... with you.
I wonder what kind of character is so eager to meet me? Clearly not a murderer or some kind of undercover lord. Okay, let's see. The table was cleared of the meal, leaving it empty, and the room immediately became crowded due to the presence of four armed muggers. Ethan also stayed. A middle-aged man with the same average build was brought into the room. His hair and beard are the color of chestnut, but with streaks of gray. He is dressed like a middle–class citizen or an impoverished nobleman - a dark jacket, trousers and, though worn, but sound boots, a chaperone on his head without any decorations. But I recognized the guest. The steely will quietly glowing in those bright blue eyes left no doubt.
- What an unexpected meeting, Mr. Thief! Everyone around him visibly tensed, turning unfriendly glances at the guest. – What business forced you to seek a meeting with me?
"My lord! The thief hastily fell to his knees, folding his palms on his chest. – I came to pay my debt.
He unfastened a bulky purse from his belt and held it out to me. At my nod, one of the guards accepted the purse and handed it to me. Or rather, he put it on the table in front of me.
"Interesting." – He said loudly, alternately examining the purse, then the visitor. "Leave us alone.
Ethan and the guards left the room, leaving me alone with the thief.
"What's your name?" – I was really wondering, why don't I address a man solely by profession?
"Jean, my lord. – The guest replied, now calmly looking into my eyes. The name is quite rare for the local "Anglophilia".
"What brings you to me, Jean?" – I put on a friendly and polite mask of a kind and still quite young lord on my face... although, I suppose, my eyes gave me away.
"To repay the debt, Your Grace." Jean bowed his head gratefully, hiding his eyes again.
- I can't stop being amazed by the honesty and nobility of the local thieves. I'm really impressed, Jean. To find an honest and decent income in such a short period of time! – Watching the thief frown, I couldn't help but laugh. – The hunchback's grave will fix it. Tell me, Jean, are you a good thief?
- Khm-khm... - Jean began to clear his throat, but after gaining strength, he raised his clear eyes to me again and said humbly, - Yes, sir.
- So, not a fool. – I stated. "Which means you didn't just come here to pay me back for my freedom." I don't need silver, and you know it. So tell me the real reason for our meeting, Jean.
I know the answer to my question perfectly well. Who would have thought that even such grains, carelessly thrown in a hurry, could germinate.
"Service, my lord. Jean's voice gained a firmness that finally fully matched the man's gaze.
Very interesting.
- Tell me about yourself, Jean…
Renly could smile kindly and kindly.