Baelish 1, 295 AC

He could hardly deny that there was a certain… catharsis in watching what seemed like the entire noble population of Westeros begin to arrive in King's landing. It was the work of a good plan well laid, and something that despite himself he allowed a little pride towards.

In truth it hadn't been all that difficult to arrange, not once he suggested the idea to the queen, seemingly in passing that a royal wedding would surely bring Prince Joffrey back home.

Oh, it took a little arranging on the lesser noble side, it was true, just a little bit of money here and there to spread the news of it. To give the impression that every lord worth their salt in the land was attending, or at least sending a wife or heir to attend.

It had worked like a charm. The nobility south of the neck, ever wary of their status, were heading to the city in their hundreds, all spending money which went straight into his coffers as they paid for themselves and their often elaborate delegations. All coming with the intent of currying the favor of their betters, whether it be the King, their Lord Paramount, or even the Prince of the Stepstones.

Why, his brothels and taverns were filled with loose-tongued young nobles, with the unwitting cooperation of whom he was constructing a truly large library of intelligence regarding the financial, political, and agricultural states of the Seven Kingdoms. Even now the closest or most forward-thinking of the lot had already arrived in King's landing. Straight into his trap with nary a one the slightest bit aware of their predicament.

It was almost enough to put him at a Party with Lord Varys, or it might be, that man was inscrutable these days, far more than he had ever been before. He seemed to be deep in his own plans, but with what Peter was planning they would surely be drowned out.

Well, perhaps, Peter hadn't entirely decided on what her he really wanted to execute his plans just yet. Chaos was a ladder it was true, but if one didn't keep a firm grip on a ladder it was still easy enough to fall to one's death. 

He wasn't sure quite how much chaos his plan would cause, and as such he had not yet relocated his assets entirely. There were still too many variables not yet in play, he wouldn't have a certain path until the Lannisters and the Storm Prince himself arrived, the size of their parties, and the leaders themselves, might make things too difficult if they were overly scrupulous, especially since Arran had turned down his plan for the Alchemists to perform.

It had always been a long shot, but he had hoped that the additional pressure the man's wife exerted would have been enough to get it through, at least in some capacity.

Still, it was no great setback, another scapegoat merely had to be prepared, and they were already en-route according to his contacts in Essos. He just had to hope they made it in time or made it at all. A lot of folks were out for their blood these days.

Peter reclined in his chair, taking out his reports on the preparations and costs for the tournament a final time. Cycling the money through his own businesses to take back into the crown in taxes and shovel even more of it into his pockets was as profitable as it always was, and the tournament especially was going to be spectacular in his view. It was only the second one Robert had held since his return from Essos, but it was easily the biggest Peter had ever organized, even the grounds themselves had needed to be expanded, buying land from the Crownlands Lords at a truly exorbitant price just to afford more room and the construction of an even greater and more magnificent tourney field. The King had wanted no expense spared, and the new ring was truly above and beyond the size of any other arena in Westeros.

Of course, with what he was taking out of it, it had cost the crown nearly triple what it normally would, and he smiled at the thought that nearly ten thousand dragons had been pocketed in the tourney renovations alone, with thousands more coming in from all varieties of business, legitimate and illegal, they were all the same as fat as he was concerned, just avenues of power to let him claw his way up into the ranks with King Robert, his nephew, or the Lannisters. 

Of course, the Game of Thrones was not so easy, and his only shield at present was obscurity. Hiding his dealings from others, a task made easy with the cuckold hand of the king, but one that would surely not remain as such when all the Lords of Westeros descended on his city. For now, it was only a bit more than usual, but soon as the Major houses arrived from beyond the Crownlands over the coming weeks, it would be a raging torrent and one that he could not even hope to control. Only learn from.

He closed the ledger, happy to see its ever-increasing value, but still having far more to do before his evening was over. He needed to check on the Iron Swan in the docks, and then visit the Tarmakers Guild, then a quick tidying up and a visit to Lisa.

Come to think of it, Cat would be in the city soon. He half-wondered if she might want to join them. Not that he would offer it, but still, it was an eager fantasy.

Well, a man could certainly dream.