Chapter 315: Terms

Storm's End.

The white dragon descended slowly into the courtyard, its massive wings stirring up clouds of dust that forced onlookers to shield their eyes.

When the dust settled, the castle steward, Gavin Mander, stepped forward to greet the arriving king.

"Your Grace, welcome back."

Samwell dismounted from the dragon's back, took a damp cloth from a maid, and wiped his face. Without delay, he asked:

"How are things in Dorne? Has Arianne started killing?"

"She has," Gavin reported. "But only Anders Yronwood, the Lord of Yronwood. She declared House Yronwood as traitors and issued a call to arms, summoning the other Dornish houses to help the Martells quell the rebellion."

Samwell raised an eyebrow in mild surprise, then chuckled.

"Did Arianne grown some brains? Managing to keep her temper in check and picking off enemies one at a time?"

"Tyrion Lannister went to Sunspear. I suspect it was his idea," Gavin added.

"Tyrion… That makes sense," Samwell replied with a knowing smile. "Have the other Dornish houses sent their troops yet?"

"Not yet," Gavin replied. "Right now, they're demanding the release of their respective lords from Sunspear. Meanwhile, Anders Yronwood's heir, Cletus, has inherited his father's title and is rallying his bannermen under the banner of vengeance. It seems a battle with Sunspear is imminent."

Samwell nodded. "Keep monitoring the situation."

"Yes, Your Grace," Gavin replied but hesitated before asking, "Should we intervene?"

"I'll send a letter to Starfall and make some arrangements," Samwell said after a brief pause. "But other than that, we will not interfere in Dorne's civil strife. Stirring up Dornish unity against us would be counterproductive."

"Understood."

"Have you gathered scholars and craftsmen with expertise in waterworks?" Samwell asked, switching topics.

"We've found about a dozen," Gavin answered. "But I suggest you meet with the representative from the Iron Bank first. He's been waiting here at Storm's End for over ten days."

"The Iron Bank?" Samwell looked intrigued, a smile spreading across his face. "Very well, bring him to me."

After changing into fresh clothes, Samwell met the Iron Bank's envoy, Nahor Demetis, in the Storm Hall.

"Your Majesty, I extend my most sincere greetings," Nahor began.

"Nahor," Samwell said as he settled into the Storm King's throne, a faint smile on his face. "I hope you bring more than just greetings."

"Of course," Nahor replied, returning the smile. "As you may know, the Iron Throne borrowed one million gold dragons from the Iron Bank. That loan is coming due, but they've refused to repay it."

"So you've come to me, hoping I'll help you recover the debt," Samwell said.

"In a manner of speaking," Nahor replied carefully. "The Iron Bank is willing to generously support your campaign to overthrow the defaulting king on the Iron Throne."

"Your generosity isn't free, is it?"

"Certainly not," Nahor explained. "Our support comes in the form of a loan. You will eventually need to repay it—along with the Iron Throne's million gold dragons."

Samwell laughed. "So, not only do I repay my own debt, but I also pay the Iron Throne's debt?"

"Exactly. That's how the Iron Bank operates," Nahor said, sensing Samwell's displeasure. "But Your Majesty, by then, you'll control all Seven Kingdoms. What's an extra million dragons to you?"

"It's not 'nothing.' No one wants to take on an extra million of debt."

Nahor hadn't anticipated such resistance. He'd assumed Samwell would eagerly agree once he learned of the Iron Bank's support.

"Your Majesty, perhaps you underestimate the Iron Bank's generosity," Nahor pressed. "With our immediate loan of one million gold dragons, you could hire an army of over ten thousand across the Narrow Sea to fight for your cause."

Samwell smiled faintly but did not respond. Instead, he said:

"In Westeros, I've never heard of a king winning the Iron Throne with mercenaries. Those who fight for gold will just as easily betray you for more gold."

"If you don't wish to use mercenaries," Nahor countered, "you could use the money to recruit soldiers from your lands, purchase food, weapons, and supplies. This sum could significantly bolster your campaign."

"Nahor, why did the Iron Bank choose to support me and not someone else?"

"Because, Your Majesty, we recognize your potential to challenge the Iron Throne."

Samwell chuckled coldly. "No, it's because you have no other choice."

Before Nahor could argue, Samwell continued:

"Who else can oppose the Lannisters besides me? Stannis Baratheon lost everything at the Battle of Blackwater Bay. Eddard Stark has lost Winterfell and is being hunted by the lions. The Martells have always been weak and are now mired in a civil war.

"If the Iron Bank wants to recover its debt, I'm your only option. So don't act like you're doing me a favor or charity. Instead you're asking me to do you a favor."

Nahor hesitated, unable to find a rebuttal.

Samwell leaned forward with a smile.

"Let's be clear: you're asking me to help recover your debt. That calls for a service fee, don't you think? Let's split the recovered amount—fifty-fifty."

Nahor froze, unsure how to respond.

"Additionally," Samwell added, "if you're offering a loan, make it substantial. Don't nickel-and-dime me with a mere one million gold dragons. Here's my proposal: the Iron Bank provides me with three million gold dragons. When I take the Iron Throne, I'll repay three and a half million, including interest."

"Three million?" Nahor exclaimed. "And you only repay half of the Iron Throne's debt?"

"Correct. That's my condition," Samwell said as he stood. "If you agree, we'll draft a contract."

"Your Majesty, I don't have the authority to approve a loan of three million," Nahor replied, clearly uneasy. "I can relay your terms to the keyholders for review. However, under our rules, the Iron Throne's debt must be fully repaid."

"Your rules need updating," Samwell retorted. "As I said, you're the ones asking for my help, not the other way around. If you won't accept my terms, feel free to find someone else to recover your debt. But be careful—don't lose your investment again."

Nahor's expression darkened.

"Perhaps you underestimate the power of gold. With our support—"

"You overestimate gold's power," Samwell interrupted impatiently. "Gold can buy many things, even loyalty. But true power lies in iron and blood. If gold alone were enough, the Iron Bank would rule Braavos—not just be its bank."

With that, Samwell turned and left.

Nahor watched him go, seething yet unable to retaliate. Finally, he called out:

"Your Majesty, I will write to the Iron Bank immediately and provide you with a swift response."

"Good. Be quick about it," Samwell replied. "I'm a busy man. And soon, I'll be crossing the Narrow Sea. Remember, the Iron Bank isn't the only financial institution in the Free Cities. If I need money, I have plenty of other options."

"But the Iron Bank is the wealthiest," Nahor argued, trying to salvage the negotiation. "Richer than all the others combined. No one else can lend you this much."

"They won't burden me with debts that aren't mine, either," Samwell said dismissively. "Send my terms to the Iron Bank and make it clear they are non-negotiable. Either agree, or look elsewhere."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Nahor replied, bowing deeply, his demeanor far humbler than when he first arrived.

(End of Chapter)