In King's Landing, Lynd's financial officer, Mus, stepped out of his carriage and gazed wistfully at the buildings before him. This was the Seafarers' Hall, a place where, only months ago, he had been an honored guest. But his fortunes had since shifted; bankruptcy had seen him cast out in disgrace. Now, he was back, but not as an ordinary rchant.
Mus steadied himself and entered the hall with purpose. He had anticipated his arrival might draw attention. The mory of his humiliating expulsion, a spectacle he was sure had provided much amusent to others, still stung. Yet, as he stepped inside, he realized he had overestimated his significance. Those present barely noticed him. Whether they recognized him or not, they offered only polite nods before resuming quiet discussions about their next deals.
The lack of acknowledgnt stung, stirring a pang of disappointnt within him. Mus chuckled bitterly at his misplaced expectations.
Near the entrance, a servant stationed by the door froze montarily upon seeing Mus. The white-haired, wrinkled man before him bore little resemblance to the middle-aged figure he rembered. If not for the certainty that Mus’s father had long passed, he might have mistaken this elder for him.
"Master Mus, Lord Lys is waiting for you. Please, follow ," the servant said, quickly composing himself and approaching Mus.
With that, the servant led Mus to a small house at the rear of the clubhouse. Knocking lightly, he announced, "My Lord, Master Mus is here."
"Let him in," a man's voice responded from within.
Mus opened the door and stepped inside. A middle-aged man with a face weathered by years at sea sat beside a bookshelf. His attire was simple, and he was engrossed in a book, which he set aside as Mus entered.
“I must apologize, Master Mus,” the man said coolly, “my legs are not what they once were, so I cannot rise to greet you.”
Mus approached and bowed deeply. “Lord Lys, you are too gracious. I—”
“There’s no need for pleasantries. Ti is valuable. Do you have the list?” Lys Falwell interrupted, his tone brusque.
“Yes, I have it,” Mus replied, his deanor ek before the commanding presence of the rchant lord. He produced the supply list that Lynd had entrusted to him and placed it on the desk.
Lys took the list and began scanning its contents. It was extensive, with a particular emphasis on horses—200, to be precise. Not just any horses, but warhorses, whose cost far exceeded that of ordinary mounts.
Suppressing his anger, Lys Falwell placed the list back on the table and said to Mus, “I will gather the items on the list as soon as possible and deliver them to your master.”
“Then I'll trouble you, Lord Lys,” Mus replied with a bright smile. He had been struggling for so ti to secure the goods on the list, and with Lys Falwell now taking over the task, a weight seed to lift off his shoulders.
Switching to his rchant instincts, Mus continued, “About the prices of these items, Lord Lys, could you lower them a little from the market rate? For such a large transaction, even a slight reduction would still leave you with a significant profit.”
Lys Falwell froze at Mus's suggestion, looking at him in surprise. “Lower them how?” he asked, incredulous.
“The prices we pay for these goods, of course,” Mus replied, perplexed by the question. Assuming his request was straightforward, he produced a price list he had compiled and began explaining patiently. “Although grain prices have risen sharply recently due to flooding from heavy rains in the south and intentional hoarding by major rchants here in King's Landing, once the Riverlands and The Reach resu shipnts, the prices will inevitably...”
“Wait, wait!” Lys interrupted, his expression shifting to one of disbelief. Speaking in a low voice, he asked, “Isn’t this list the ransom list prepared by your master?”
“Ransom list?” Mus repeated, confused. “Whose ransom?”
“My second son, Bert,” Lys Falwell replied.
“Lord Bert?” Mus’s bewildernt deepened. “Lord Bert is currently Ser Lynd’s trusted affairs officer. He’s deeply valued by Ser Lynd. He...” Mus trailed off, his expression turning into an odd mix of amusent and dismay. “What exactly did Lord Bert’s letter say to make you think he’s a prisoner in need of ransom?”
Lys, startled, quickly retrieved the letter from his pocket and reread it. It didn’t take long for him to realize the misunderstanding. The letter ntioned nothing about a ran
som or imprisonnt. Instead, Bert simply stated that he was currently working with Lynd and advised his father to contact Mus in King’s Landing for further coordination.
Reflecting on this, Lys recalled that Bert had been unexpectedly conscripted to join Lord Tywin’s army. At the ti, Lys was at sea and unable to intervene. Upon receiving Bert’s letter later, knowing of Lynd’s reputation as Bear Hunter and his ties to House Tyrell, Lys had mistakenly assud his son was a captive and that a ransom was being demanded.
Still skeptical, Lys asked, “Master Mus, can you tell more about Bert’s current situation?”
“I’m afraid I can’t, Lord Lys,” Mus replied. “I’ve been occupied with gathering supplies for Ser Lynd here in King’s Landing and don’t know much about Lord Bert’s affairs. However, judging by the nurous letters from Tumbleton bearing Lord Bert’s signature, it seems he’s overseeing the reconstruction of the docks there.”
“Reconstruction of the docks in Tumbleton?” Lys echoed, sensing potential business opportunities. “Can you elaborate?”
“Certainly,” Mus nodded. He explained that Lynd, in collaboration with the Lady of Tumbleton, had restored the road linking The Roseroad to Tumbleton, cleared the surrounding area of bandits to ensure safe passage, and rebuilt the river port to reopen the Mander River trade route.
Lys’s interest was piqued. “You’re saying that river transport on the Mander River has been fully restored from upstream to downstream?”
Mus confird with a nod. “Yes, though the news hasn’t spread widely yet. rchants in King’s Landing should hear of it within a few days.” A smile crept across his face as he added, “When they do, it’s bound to cause a significant stir.”
Mus’s prediction proved accurate. The restoration of Tumbleton’s infrastructure and the reopening of the Mander River trade route created an uproar among King’s Landing’s rchants. The opportunity was too lucrative to ignore.
Caravans traveling along The Roseroad had yet to resu, forcing rchants to rely on the Ocean Road, which extended from Casterly Rock to Highgarden. This detour not only increased travel ti but also subjected rchants to exorbitant comrcial taxes in the Westerlands, severely cutting into their profits. With the direct route to Tumbleton and the Mander River trade route restored, rchants could save both ti and money while enjoying a safer journey.
The area around Tumbleton had long been regarded by rchants as a haven for banditry. When news spread that the abandoned road had been repaired, the bandits dealt with, and safety ensured, it left many rchants skeptical and uncertain about the truth of these claims.
Among them, however, were adventurous businessn who believed in the potential for small actions to yield significant results. Upon learning that the individual responsible for clearing the bandits was none other than Bear Hunter Lynd, they grew confident that the reports might be credible. While others hesitated, these daring rchants organized a caravan and set out for Tumbleton.
This caravan carried not only goods but also individuals involved in industries such as real estate and entertainnt. These pioneers anticipated that with the restoration of the trade route, Tumbleton would soon flourish, leading to a surge in the value of land and property. They also foresaw a need for establishnts like taverns, brothels, and casinos to cater to the influx of people. By acting swiftly, they hoped to seize the opportunity before others.
anwhile, the more cautious rchants chose not to join the initial caravan but remained busy preparing supplies. They aid to act imdiately once the news of Tumbleton's revival was confird, ensuring they could embark without delay.
As excitent about Tumbleton's recovery swept through King's Landing, events in the Westerlands at Casterly Rock took a different tone. Duke Tywin Lannister, recently returned from King's Landing, sat at his desk, listening impassively to reports from his officials while perusing military correspondence.
“Where is Kevan?” Tywin asked after finishing the reports.
“Lord Kevan went to Crakehall a few days ago,” an official replied promptly.
“What was he doing in Crakehall?” Tywin frowned.
The official explained, “Recently, the ironborn landed near Crakehall, looting the surrounding villages. One of our house’s rchant caravans was also attacked.”
“A rchant caravan was robbed, and Kevan needed to go there?” Tywin asked skeptically.
“It appears that so ironborn were captured at Crakehall, and they provided information under interrogation. After reading the report from Crakehall, Lord Kevan departed imdiately,” the official elaborated.
Knowing his brother’s careful nature, Tywin realized that Kevan would not have abandoned his duties to travel unless the matter was serious. “Bring that letter,” Tywin commanded.
The official retrieved the docunt and handed it to Tywin. As he read, Tywin’s expression grew more somber. The letter was brief: the captured ironborn revealed that Balon Greyjoy was gathering n, though his intentions remained unclear.
Kevan, alard by the implications, had gone to Crakehall to verify the information, suspecting Balon Greyjoy might be preparing to raid the Westerlands. Tywin, however, remained composed. While he viewed the ironborn raids as irkso, he did not believe they posed a significant threat to the region. To him, Balon Greyjoy and his followers were little more than a nuisance, akin to flies to be swatted away.
Despite his outward calm about the ironborn, Tywin’s thoughts were preoccupied with more pressing matters: the intricate plans he had devised concerning The Goldroad and Blackwater Rush. Intelligence reports suggested that everything was proceeding smoothly, yet Tywin couldn’t shake a nagging sense of unease, as though sothing about the plan wasn’t quite right.
Lord Tywin poured himself a glass of wine, took a asured sip, and turned to his steward. “Do you have any latest intelligence from The Goldroad?” he asked.
“No,” the steward replied honestly.
Tywin’s unease lingered. Setting the wine aside, he picked up the relevant intelligence reports and read through them again. This ti, with a sharper state of mind, he quickly noticed sothing amiss. The reports contained no information about the army he had sent east of the Mander River.
This particular force, though not critical to his overall plan, had been tasked with cooperating with bandit groups such as the Scorpion Brotherhood to create unrest along The Roseroad. The goal was to divert House Tyrell’s attention to that region. However, after the tournant, the Hand of the King, Jon Arryn, had initiated discussions with House Tyrell. These developnts ant that even without Tywin’s machinations, House Tyrell’s focus had already shifted to The Roseroad, reducing the importance of this army’s role.
Still, the lack of updates was troubling. According to protocol, that army was supposed to report its status every five days. Yet, for over a month, there had been no communication—a clear deviation from the norm.
As Tywin pondered this troubling silence, the door opened, and his Master of Whisperers entered, handing him a raven’s ssage. “This ca from King’s Landing,” he announced.
Tywin unfolded the ssage and scanned its contents. His expression darkened, his face taking on a grim and serious cast.
“Has it been confird?” Tywin asked in a low voice.
“Not yet,” the Master of Whisperers replied, shaking his head. “But since King’s Landing dared to send it, it is likely accurate.”
Tywin placed the note on the table. The ssage confird that the trade route to Tumbleton had been restored.
After a mont of silence, Tywin gave a decisive order. “Cancel all plans for The Goldroad. Withdraw all troops from Tumbleton.”
“Just give up?” the Master of Whisperers asked, visibly puzzled.
“If we don’t, do you intend to wait until the Tyrells and the Footlys file a formal complaint with the Iron Throne?” Tywin replied coldly, fixing his gaze on the Master of Whisperers. His tone turned steely. “And when they withdraw, ensure they take everything they can, especially the people.”
“Yes, my lord,” the Master of Whisperers answered.
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