Game of Thrones: Rise of the Supreme Dragon Queen

The key-keeper Bessaro forced a sheepish smile onto his face. His palm, pale like white bread, rose up with all five carrot-like fingers extended.

"Five million gold dragons?" Daenerys raised an eyebrow, a little surprised.

"Mm." Bessaro nodded, lips pursed.

"Heh, what's this now?" Gerold Dayne sneered. "You're just a key-keeper, yet you know the Faceless Men's price. And you claim the House of Black and White has nothing to do with the Iron Bank of Braavos, where the gold dragons are stored?"

"The Iron Bank of Braavos accepts deposits from all over the world. The former King Aerys, and now the Martells of Dorne—they all have accounts here," Bessaro looked upward as he rubbed his chubby hands.

"No wonder," Daenerys said with a complicated expression. "In just over three hundred years, Braavos rose from a remote sea-town to the head of the Nine Free Cities."

During the Valyrian era, Braavos was just a "bastard daughter."

Let alone the other eight cities—even the nearby White Harbor in the North surpassed it in influence. In its early centuries, Braavos could only scavenge leftovers from Narrow Sea trade, mainly competing with White Harbor for routes through the Shivering Sea—but White Harbor had the advantage of age and history.

After the Doom, Volantis remained dominant for more than a century. By the time Aegon and his sisters landed in Westeros, Braavos had already become the foremost of the Nine Free Cities.

Such rapid ascension to wealth and power…

No wonder even an "unproven" Dragon Queen could have a bounty of five million gold dragons on her head. Even if others weren't as valuable, with enough clients, the House of Black and White would earn...

Well, Daenerys didn't know how many Faceless Men the House had, nor how frequently they accepted contracts—so estimating their income was difficult.

But the Faceless Men operated on a no-investment model. The assassins were devotees of the Many-Faced God and often didn't even take a share of the reward.

All the gold went directly to the House of Black and White and was locked away in the Iron Bank.

"How many Faceless Men does the House have?" she couldn't help but ask.

The Kindly Man became kindly again, speaking gently: "There is only one 'No One,' but the faithful are spread throughout Braavos—and the entire world.

Much like the Faith of the Seven, outside of scheduled gatherings, its followers don't reside in the Sept every day.

The House of Black and White is the 'Great Sept of Baelor' for the Many-Faced God—nothing more."

—So, if you ride your dragon and burn the House of Black and White, at most you'll kill just me. Wiping us all out? Wishful thinking.

To Daenerys's surprise, she understood. And the more she did, the more she felt the Faceless Men were a huge problem.

But she had to pretend she didn't understand, so she offered the Kindly Man a courteous smile and asked:

"The High Priest seems to be emphasizing that only Faceless Men under the House's control are forbidden from targeting me. So… is it possible for someone to break free from the House and regain their freedom?"

The Kindly Man appeared shocked. He hadn't expected the Dragon Queen to catch even such a subtle loophole.

But he didn't realize he was facing a white-skinned, yellow-hearted Tianchao woman—a Chinese mind playing word games with a foreigner.

"Your Majesty, allow me to introduce the Church of the Many-Faced God," the Kindly Man cleared his throat and solemnly explained. "The so-called Faceless Men are priests of this faith. They are unattached, fully devoted to the Many-Faced God, bringing His blessings to those marked for death—thus, they are under my authority as High Priest.

But no church consists only of priests. There are also ordinary believers.

Some monks may even secularize—yet still keep their faith. In such cases, the 'No One' becomes 'Someone,' and is no longer 'No One.'"

Yet Daenerys didn't believe the House of Black and White would allow old Faceless Men to retire.

In films, when a killer wants to leave the life behind and return to normalcy, almost none succeed—they're usually hunted down by their own organization.

Even setting aside the greed for an old assassin's pension, a dead man is simply better at keeping secrets.

How many people might a skilled Faceless Man kill in his lifetime?

If he ever spilled the truth about his missions or the House's secrets, the storm it would cause...

"What if a 'Someone' used the skills of a 'No One' to try and kill me—who would be responsible then?" Daenerys frowned.

"You have the House of Black and White's solemn promise: no faithful servant of the Many-Faced God may harm you. This vow is stronger, more sacred than guest right or any holy oath.

If anyone breaks it—even if the House could not foresee it—they will face the harshest punishment afterward," the Kindly Man said with firm conviction.

Heh...

The old Faceless Man spoke so seriously, but Daenerys only felt like laughing.

A Faceless Man traded for a Queen? What a bargain!

After a long silence, the Kindly Man asked, "Dragon Queen, are you satisfied with the House of Black and White's response regarding the assassination attempt?"

"It'll do," Daenerys replied through clenched teeth.

What else could she say?

Since ancient times, the outcome of negotiations hasn't been determined by who's right or wrong—but by how big your cannons are and how far your shells can reach.

After some probing, the Dragon Queen realized her cannon was big—but not enough to destroy the enemy with a single shot.

Against an entrenched, sprawling, and secretive organization like the Faceless Men, she felt powerless—armed, but with no target to fire at.

Clap, clap, clap. Fat Bessaro clapped his hands and beamed with joy, his face blooming like a flower.

"Well then, the misunderstanding between the Dragon Queen and the House of Black and White is perfectly resolved. Shall we go to the Sea Lord's Palace and celebrate?"

The Kindly Man rose to his feet and shook his head. "I must return to serve the Many-Faced God. Farewell."

He bowed once more to the Dragon Queen, then led Arya and the waif toward the stairwell.

"Wait," Darkstar reached out his right hand toward the Faceless Man. "Your Grace, you still haven't asked who hired them to kill you!"

"Ser, I'm afraid I cannot comply," the Kindly Man said, pausing in his steps. "The House of Black and White never betrays its 'contributors.'"

Though it seemed like he was replying to Gerold Dayne, his gaze was fixed on Daenerys.

"Contributors?" Daenerys's expression turned strange.

Fat Bessaro explained, "According to the teachings of the Many-Faced God, death is His 'gift'—an end to suffering.

Therefore, anyone seeking that 'gift' must make an appropriate offering, a sacrifice to the deity. The Faceless Men act on the god's behalf and bestow that 'gift' upon anyone in the world."

Damn, you guys really managed to make a shameless assassination seem so elegant and refined—I have no choice but to be impressed.

"Jero, there's no need to trouble the priest. I already know who it was," Dany said with a helpless smile. "In all of Westeros, who else but Duke Tywin could decide to hire the Faceless Men the moment he heard I had hatched dragons?"

The kindly man's pupils contracted. He said nothing and turned to leave.

"Tywin Lannister," Arya's eyes flashed. She cast one last glance at the Dragon Queen before following the kindly man.

"Your Grace, you're truly brilliant!" Fat Bessaro gave her a thumbs-up in admiration. "If Duke Tywin hadn't used the Iron Bank as a guarantor, I wouldn't have believed he could be so fearful of someone thousands of miles away.

Looking at it now, he was absolutely right. You are the greatest threat to the Iron Throne."

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"Sigh, there's no one in Westeros more clear-headed than Duke Tywin," he added.

"Tywin needed a loan to hire the Faceless Men? I thought people said even Tywin's shit was made of gold," Dany said in surprise.

Fat Bessaro's eyes flickered with meaning as he said, "Your Grace, do you think the Targaryens' only enemy is House Lannister?"

"I don't care what I think. I want them to feel that the Targaryens are their enemy," Dany replied cheerfully.

"A wise decision," Bessaro said approvingly. "If you were to insist on vengeance, at least five and a half of the Seven Kingdoms would find their conflict with you irreconcilable."

"What does that have to do with Tywin's loan?" Ser Gerold Dayne asked.

Bessaro gave a shrewd smile and said, "Since Baratheons sit the Iron Throne, and most of the nobles in the Seven Kingdoms are hostile to Targaryens, Duke Tywin saw no reason to spend his own money to serve the realm.

Even if the Targaryens were mortal enemies of the Lannisters—even if the one sitting on the Iron Throne was his grandson. Or perhaps, even his direct grandson."

"That makes sense," Dany said with admiration. "No wonder the Lannisters became the richest family in the Seven Kingdoms. Even in far-off Slaver's Bay, we've heard stories about Tywin shitting gold."

Suddenly, Fat Bessaro's face fell, and he stammered, "Your Grace, there's something I don't know if I should say..."

"Go ahead. Whatever bad news it is, I can handle it." Dany rolled her eyes and sighed.

"The Iron Bank does not tolerate default. You know that, right?" Bessaro asked.

"Yes."

"The royal debt is backed by the Iron Throne," Bessaro said cautiously, watching the Dragon Queen's expression. "By tradition, a new dynasty is obligated to repay the debts of the previous one."

Dany's heart blazed with fury, but her face remained calm. She said coldly, "So if I take the Iron Throne, I have to pay for the Faceless Men Tywin hired to assassinate me?"

Bessaro looked as if he were facing the most difficult thing in his life. His doughy, greasy face scrunched up like a steamed bun, and his pudgy hands twisted together like a knotted rope.

"In theory… yes."

He was so ashamed that his head nearly sank into the table, and his voice dropped to a near-whisper, like a mosquito trapped inside a summer bed net.

Dany showed no expression. Gerold Dayne sneered repeatedly. Both of them stared silently at the fat man's shiny bald head.

The atmosphere grew stifling. The firewood crackled softly in the fireplace, and fat beads of sweat oozed from Bessaro's gleaming scalp.

After pretending to sleep for a while, the Sea Lord of Braavos suddenly seemed to wake from a dream. He muttered, "The Dragon Queen grew up in Braavos. She's a good friend of ours. Bessaro, for my sake, how about a 30% discount?"

Bessaro Ryan instantly came to life, his wide, guileless eyes widening as he exclaimed, "Your Highness, I'm just one of the keyholders. I don't make the decisions for the Iron Bank."

"The best I can do, the very best..." he grit his teeth, his face twisted with pain, "...is 20% off! The Ryan family will forfeit its dividend from the Iron Bank this year."

"Dany, what do you think?" the Sea Lord looked at the Dragon Queen with sincere eyes.

Dany didn't answer directly. Instead, she asked, "How much debt does King's Landing owe? Or rather, how much must be repaid to the Iron Bank to claim the Iron Throne?"

Bessaro immediately responded, "If repaid within a year, just 6.35 million. And if it's you, the loan for hiring the Faceless Men would get the 20% discount—bringing it down another million."

"What's the annual interest?" Dany asked again.

"Not much, just 6.5%. Much lower than the 9.3% charged by the Faith's bank in Oldtown," Bessaro said with a smile.

That rate was lower than many modern-day low-interest bank loans—not quite usury.

But in this world, deposits don't earn interest, and large withdrawals from afar might even require custodial fees.

This rate was more in line with national bonds.

(End of chapter)

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