Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Chapter 277 Tetsu Nestos - The Iron Vault

Jon Clinton lost the Battle of Stonehall.

The Imperial Guards were captured, and more than half of their troops were killed or wounded; all of this was recorded in the cold battle reports.

In the midst of utter chaos and defeat, Jon Snow managed to regroup his remaining troops and direct their orderly retreat—an act that, in the eyes of a true soldier, was nothing short of heroic amidst defeat.

But Aerys II of King's Landing would never see it that way.

When the battle report was presented to the Iron Throne, the king's withered fingers gripped the letter tightly, as if he wanted to crush it. In his frantic eyes, he saw not the efforts of a commander to turn the tide in adversity, but unforgivable weakness and defeat.

"Woman's compassion!" The Mad King's shrill voice echoed through the throne room, filled with venomous sarcasm. "Utterly useless woman's compassion! If he had been decisive enough to set fire to the entire town, reducing that traitor Robert, those lowly people who hid him, and those filthy houses to ashes—this war would have been over long ago! Victory should have been mine!"

In his paranoid delusions, a swift and indiscriminate massacre was the shortcut to victory. Jon Clinton's relatively restrained tactics in order to minimize civilian casualties and to try to capture Robert alive were seen by him as the sole and foolish reason for failure.

In the Mad King's logic, merits and demerits, right and wrong, had long been distorted into something else entirely.

Jon Clinton received no comfort or understanding upon his return to King's Landing, only to be met with a cold decree of exile. All his struggles for the kingdom, his efforts to save his troops from defeat, were seen by the Mad King as evidence of "womanly compassion" and "incompetence."

This duke, who had just been promoted to Hand of the King, lost all his titles and territories in an instant after a defeat. He was forced to flee like a stray dog, going into exile on the continent of Essos across the Narrow Sea, and thus made a quiet exit from the game of power.

Before the Iron Throne, an absurd ceremony of rewarding meritorious service is underway.

Aerys attributed Jon's "failure" to his lack of "decisiveness" and "ruthlessness," and thus chose a minister known for "loyalty" and "obedience" to succeed him as Hand of the King—the Earl of Colton Chester, Chancellor of the Exchequer. This Earl may have been good at managing accounts, but he appeared mediocre and cowardly in the treacherous world of war and power struggles.

Colton Chester knelt tremblingly before the menacing Iron Throne, becoming the fourth Hand of King Aerys II. The fates of his three predecessors—either burned at the stake or exiled—sat like a heavy shadow over the new prime minister.

The change of the Hand of the King is like child's play!

The courtiers knew perfectly well that under this mad king, the crown of prime minister was less an honor and more a death warrant.

In the throne room of the Red Keep, candlelight flickered, casting the menacing shadow of the Iron Throne onto the stone walls. The newly appointed Hand of the King, Lord Colton Chester, took a deep breath before stepping forward, feeling the piercing gazes of his courtiers behind him. He lowered his head and reported in as calm a voice as possible, "Your Majesty, the messenger from the Iron Treasury—has arrived in King's Landing."

King Aerys II leaned against the cold iron bars, and scoffed at the words, his voice sharp and sarcastic: "The Iron Treasury? Those Braavos merchants who only know how to count copper coins? What are they doing here?"

Colton felt a tightness in his throat: "Your Majesty, we—we borrowed a huge sum of money from the Iron Treasury to support the war effort. Now, they've come according to the contract—to collect the first installment."

Iris frowned impatiently and waved her hand as if shooing away a fly: "You're my Chancellor of the Exchequer, you can handle this kind of trivial matter yourself. Why are you bothering me with this?"

Colton forced a wry smile and explained, "Your Majesty, our national treasury—"

It's completely empty; not even a single extra golden dragon can be found. Moreover, the pensions for fallen soldiers and the rewards for meritorious service urgently require a large sum of golden dragons—"

"No money?!" Iris sat bolt upright, her voice rising abruptly to a crescendo, echoing throughout the hall like the hooting of an owl. "No money in the vault? Colton Chester! What kind of Chancellor are you?! You actually come asking me what to do?!"

Faced with this unreasonable rebuke, Colton could only lower his head further, silence becoming his only shield.

Seeing that he didn't answer, Iris's anger intensified, and she roared, "If they don't have money, then get out! Tell those lowly merchants of Braavos that I am the King of the Seven Kingdoms, and I can pay their debts whenever I want!"

Colton felt a chill run through him. He knew better than anyone the ironclad rule that "no one can default on a debt to the Iron Bank." But he also knew that any rational explanation at this moment would only provoke a more frenzied rage. In the end, he simply bowed even deeper and replied in a barely audible voice, "Yes, Your Majesty."

All the free trade city-states had their own banks, but the Iron Treasury was richer and more powerful than all the other banks combined.

It had a terrible reputation for collecting debts. When a prince or king defaulted on his debts, or was foolish enough to disregard his contract with the Iron Treasury, new princes or kings (with the financial support of the Iron Treasury) would spring up like mushrooms after rain. These new princes or kings would then have to acknowledge the previous debts and repay the money they had borrowed from the Iron Treasury to win the throne, lest they suffer the same fate as their predecessors.

There's a saying in Braavos: "The Iron Treasury will not tolerate delays in payment."

Techo Nestorus, the chief envoy of the Iron Bank, was like a cold sword drawn from its sheath. He was tall and thin, almost gaunt, with long legs that made him appear superior wherever he stood, and a thin goatee that almost reached his waist.

He had a long, narrow face, always expressionless, and wore his signature purple felt three-tiered brimless hat and a dark purple robe. The stiff detachable collar and white mink fur trim added to his aloof and imposing presence.

He listened silently to Earl Colton Chester's statement about being "currently unable to repay," and even his audacity in requesting a "borrowing of another three million gold dragons." The air in the hall seemed to freeze.

Tychu Nestors' icy gaze pierced the shadows of the hall, landing on the Chancellor of the Exchequer. His voice, calm and even, was more chilling than any roar: "My Lord Hand," he said, "the King's army has just lost another battle at Stonehaven. Now, the rebels' advance is almost upon the walls of King's Landing." He leaned forward slightly, like a vulture surveying its dying prey. "If tomorrow, Robert Baratheon or Eddard Stark breaches this city, tell me, from whom shall I collect our debts? From a corpse, or from a crown that has changed hands?"

Cold sweat beaded on Colton Chester's forehead as he stammered, "Mr. Envoy—I can only say that I hope I'm still alive by then. And I hope even more that His Majesty the King will ultimately emerge victorious."

Techo Nestorus shook his head slowly and very slightly. The gesture itself was a verdict. He no longer glanced at the embarrassed prime minister, nor at the incomprehensible king on the Iron Throne, as if they were already dust destined to be eliminated by history.

He turned, the hem of his dark purple robe tracing a resolute arc, and silently left the throne room. He had his answer. The Iron Treasury would not waste a single copper on a crumbling dynasty. Now, he needed to cross the sea north to meet his new, more promising "investor"—Robert Baratheon.

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