A Soldier Adrift: Captain Westeros

There were few smiles amongst the delegations that waited to make their cases to the new rulers of the city that day, but then they had little reason to smile. Not after Lord America had infiltrated their city, slain their sellswords, commandeered their Unsullied, and seized control of their government. The seizure of the property of the auction house owners and slave breakers was hardly worth mentioning in the face of the execution of the city leaders. The pride of the city was thoroughly shattered, at least for now. All that was left was to divide the spoils.

What had once been the opulent manor house of a leading citizen was now the centre of government for the new regime. Wide open spaces meant to do nothing save announce the wealth of a man who could afford the waste were in the process of being transformed into the offices of the new bureaucracy. Those who had once been slaves, responsible for the hundreds of inglorious but important tasks that kept the city running now found themselves with staff and paychecks, as those who had once bought and sold their very bodies made appointments and forced polite words through gritted teeth in hopes of their favour.

Many who came to the White House came to see the Lord America, and those who did either left in great joy or great despair. There had been some concern at first, on hearing what he had named the government building, that the new ruler was in league with the Faceless Men, but so far the only deaths after the conquest had been of those slave masters foolish enough to try to use their slaves at hostages. The swiftness of their deaths was one of the few consolations to their families.

Not all who came to the White House were there to see Lord America or his chosen deputies, however. One party was shown to what had once been a sitting room for more relaxed entertainments, but was now an office for a young woman who had once been a bastard girl from a backwater seat with scant silvers to her name. She was somewhat more now, and as a servant showed the group of the leading traders and merchants in to her domain, she hid the nerves and anticipation she felt behind a polite smile.

“Welcome,” Naerys Waters said to the dozen and change men and women as they settled into the seats provided for them. They were arrayed before her desk, the heavy slab of ironwood commandeered from the personal office of the man who had once owned the building. A range of people they were, of different nationalities and origins, even if they all shared the same loyalty to coin, and she inspected them with a keen eye.

Few responded to her, most staring with ill concealed contempt. One Braavosi gentleman inclined his head.

“Tea?” she asked, ringing a small bell. Two servants entered, one bearing a tray laden with cups and a teapot.

Most declined, interested only in what they had been summoned for.

“Thank you, Zary, Iria,” Naerys said to the women as she accepted a cup. She held it in her hands, savouring the warmth.

“We did not come for tea,” one of the merchants said, a man with extensive shipping contacts who always seemed to know how to undercut his rivals. “Where is Lord America?”

“You won’t be dealing with Lord America,” Naerys said. “As the Minister of Trade, you fall under my purview.”

Several glances were exchanged, but the men and women in the room were at least nominally competitors, and they had not come as a united group. Naerys had summoned them as she had for a reason.

“You wish to make a deal with us,” a woman said, face heavily powdered.

“In a manner of speaking,” Naerys said. “There have been a number of changes to the way things are run, and we are here to ensure the transition goes smoothly.”

“You have some nerve,” a man said in the high pitch of a eunuch. “You throw the market into chaos with your bumbling, you summon us like slaves, and now you wish to treat with us? To negotiate after you have cost us thousands?”

“This is a courtesy,” Naerys said. “I -”

“You have a strange grasp of courtesy, you little chit,” a man at the back said.

Naerys allowed her smile to fade, and placed her teacup on its saucer. “Then let us dispense with courtesy.”

“Yes, let’s,” the eunuch said. “If you don’t want the masses to starve and rise up against you, we will require conc–”

“The teamsters, the stevedores, the harbour pilots? Mine. The warehouses? Mine. The customs house? Mine. The docks? Mine.”

There was silence as the merchants and traders stared in shock at her pronouncement. The eunuch seemed to be having trouble speaking, mouth working soundlessly.

“You cannot be serious,” one fat man said, jowls trembling with rage or disbelief.

“I’m very serious,” Naerys said.

“What makes you think we’re going to sit back and allow this?” another asked. “The gall-”

“You don’t have a choice in the matter,” Naerys said. She took up her tea again and sipped at it.

The fat man’s face darkened. “I think you’ll find we do. We will see how long your little coup lasts when every ship in the Narrow Sea passes you by.” He rose to his feet, intent on storming out of the room.

“Every man that leaves this room without signing this agreement will see his tariffs, and the tariffs of everyone remotely associated with him, tripled,” she said.

“You Westerosi barbarian,” the man said, scorn clear on his face. “You can’t impose tariffs on ships that don’t stop at your port.” He looked around the room, and something occurred to him as he saw a man from Braavos. He laughed. “Please, let me know how your little scheme goes, trying to triple the tariffs on the Braavosi!”

Naerys smiled, a slow thing more suited to a shark. “What makes you think the Braavosi are on your side of the table?”

The fat man froze, beady eyes darting between Naerys and the few Braavosi merchants present. They had all sat together, and for the first time, the local merchants noticed just how unconcerned they were.

“The Sealord found it most refreshing to deal with Lord America and Lady Naerys,” one of the soberly dressed men said. He took a sip of his own tea, delicately ensuring his white moustache wasn’t dipped in it.

“You’ve ruined us,” the fat man said, sinking back into his chair.

“No,” the elderly Braavosi corrected, “We’ve ruined you.” He smiled. “It’s nothing personal. Just good business.”

Naerys pushed the contract over to him, and he took up the quill and signed without looking at it. It was all dramatics, of course. The real contract between Naerys’ fledgling enterprise and Braavos had been haggled over and agreed upon before they had even stepped foot in the city.

The Braavosi passed the quill on to the man beside him, who accepted it without really seeing it, gaze distant.

“I suppose you mean to bleed us for every copper you can,” another man, a noble with a ridiculous beard, said bitterly.

“The Company does not intend to meaningfully change the fees and charges that apply to its recent acquisitions,” Naerys said, watching as the man with the quill signed the contract reluctantly, again passing it on.

The man now holding the quill squinted at her suspiciously. “That sounds too good to be true.”

“I can shear you again and again, but I can only skin you once,” Naerys said.

Like he had a real sword to his neck and not a metaphorical one, the merchant signed, and passed the quill on. The man after him read the contract, but he too signed, as did the woman after him, and the man after her. The gates were opened, and now that some had given in, they would all have to. Naerys smiled.

“There’s a sting in the tail, don’t pretend there isn’t,” a woman in brilliant blue robes said.

“Of course there is,” Naerys said freely. “You don’t expect that we’ll leave you with an abundance of coin just waiting to be spent on sellswords, do you?”

Her audience was thrown, and those who had signed looked to be regretting their actions already. The man with the quill paused mid signature, as if there was any other way this was going to end.

“What is it then?” he demanded. “If you’re so certain you’ve won.”

“I’m sure you’ve heard the rumours that Lord America will be announcing the outlawing of all forms of slavery,” Naerys said. “You may have to adjust your business practices, now that your employees require payment.”

Horror began to dawn across their faces, as those who had grown fat and happy on the misery of others put two and two together and realised that no longer could they crew a ship for the cost of a bit of gruel. Pure schadenfreude danced in the faces of the Braavosi as they watched one of the largest advantages of their competitors turn to smoke before their eyes.

Defeat heavy in the air, quill and contract were passed around the room, until all present had signed.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” Naerys said, as she passed the contract to a servant behind her. “I look forward to a profitable relationship with you in the future. You may go now.”

Slowly, the leaders of what had once been the premier trading houses of the city filed out of her office. The Braavosi inclined their heads to her as they left, their chipper moods a direct contrast, and then it was only Naerys and the Braavosi leader left.

“I’ve dreamed of a moment like this for some time,” he said, letting out a pleased sigh. “I’ll be telling the tale of this meeting for moons to come.”

Naerys let out a breath. “I couldn’t have done it without your assistance.”

The man scoffed. “I’m sure you could have. There would have been some blood, and some minor seizing of property, but that lot lack the strength to oppose you.” He leaned forward, fixing an eye on her. “The ones you need to watch out for are those who weren’t quite powerful enough to be the city leaders before America arrived. They’ll try to fly under the bow, and they’ve plenty of strength left outside the city itself.”

“Steve has a plan for them,” Naerys said. “I trust he has it well in hand.”

“Well, if Lord America says it is handled, it must be so,” the man said. He began to rise. “Give him my best wishes, won’t you?”

“I shall,” Naerys said, leaning back in her chair. “He asked me to tell you that we’ll be able to attend your granddaughter’s wedding after all, what with how smoothly our venture here went. If things continue to go well, I may have another proposal for you then.”

“Excellent,” he said. “I look forward to a profitable relationship with you.” The words, a mirror to those she had said to the ex-slavers, brought sharp smiles to both their faces.

Naerys relaxed as she was left alone. The Still Waters Company was off to a smashing start.