chapter 14 food situation

Caesar Lannister's POV:

I stand at the balcony of my private study, gazing at the sprawling expanse of the Westerlands. The fields stretch as far as the eye can see, but all I can think of is how small it all feels now. Five months ago, my liquor business was a gamble since i didnt know if I'd make it in time before mh gold ran out and id be forced to ask my grandfather for a loan thatd show weakness. But today, it's a cornerstone of the realm's economy. The gold flows in faster than even the lannister mines, and while my peers squabble over their inheritances of a dying mine, I'm quietly building an empire. Ships, steel, glass… and soon, the land.

A chuckle escapes me. I know nothing about glassmaking, except what I've learned from YouTube videos but that should be enough once taught to a few craftsmen. The best part is that glass isn't just for windows—it's for art, for advancement. With my steel forges nearing completion, my army will be clad in the finest armor Westeros has seen. And thanks to all the gold i have finding the material for a compass wasnt hard than you youtube now my fleet will navigate faster and farther than anyone else's, dominating trade across westeros and Essos.

But what excites me most? The land. Farming. I'm no farmer, but I remember the small garden I once tended. Crop rotation, fertilizer… bones. We've left enough behind in my campaign. Bone dust, if applied properly, will nourish the land. I'll start with my holdings, then spread it through the Westerlands. Once I convince my grandfather, I'll control not only wealth but sustenance. When the North grows dependent on my grain, I'll offer it cheaper than the Reach ever could, build alliances, and when the time comes, cut them off. They'll starve.

The Reach might do the same, but no matter. By then, the North will already be at our mercy. And with my steel-clad army, strengthened by trade and innovation, they won't stand a chance. But for this to happen, I must be named heir.

It's time to make the old lion choose me.

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Tywin Lannister's POV:

The child is cleverer than I gave him credit for. No, not a child—Caesar is far more than that now. His betting schemes alone made him wealthier than most minor lords. And now, with this cursed liquor business of his, even the King himself is demanding more. Thousands of barrels move across Westeros, even into the North and Dorne. The North is drowning in his rum and vodka, and small Dornish houses have started to buy from intermediaries since they dont want to buy from a lion. His merchant fleet, only six months old, is already the fastest in the realm, outpacing any vessel on the seas. Caesar's ships don't just carry liquor anymore—they trade goods with surgical precision, taking cheap fish from the North and selling it at high prices in the Reach, turning the simplest transactions into profit.

The boy doesn't even bring his wealth here to Casterly Rock. It's all spread across the realm, feeding his own coffers. And I feel the mines drying. The gold, once so abundant, now trickles slower with each passing year. He knows. The lad knows too much, and worse, he's kept his secrets guarded. Every spy I've sent, every attempt to infiltrate his operations—none have succeeded. Instead, they return in pieces. Small, bloody parcels delivered across Lannisport, a macabre reminder of what happens to those who try to pry into his affairs. Even Littlefinger, Olenna, and the Spider have suffered losses. It's as if Caesar plays this game better than any of them.

But what unsettles me the most is his army. Small, only eleven thousand, but fiercely loyal. I've tried to bribe his men. They won't take the gold, no matter the amount. Fear, perhaps. Or something more sinister. What has the boy done to them? I've ruled with fear and respect, but Caesar… he's bred something else.

"Lord Tywin," a soldier enters, interrupting my thoughts. "Your grandson is here."

I feel a slight tightening in my chest. "Send him in."

Caesar strides in, confidence pouring from every step. He's no longer the boy I once dismissed. His sharp, calculating eyes fix on mine.

"Grandfather."

"Caesar. What is it that you need?"

He smirks. "I'm here to be made your heir."

I raise a brow. Bold. "And why, pray tell, should I do that?"

"Because," he says, "I've proven myself worthy."

I lean back, curious. "And how's that?"

"I've built a business empire without a coin of your gold. I command the fastest fleet in the realm and have driven your enemies to frustration and failure. I've halted every spy you sent, and every bribe you've offered my soldiers has been rejected. No one can touch me."

The smug grin on his face grates against my patience, yet I feel a surge of something else. Pride? Could it be? This entire time… the boy just wanted to be my heir.

"Indeed, you've proven yourself," I say slowly. "But being heir to Casterly Rock isn't just about wealth. You can't just kill every inconvenience, Caesar. You need to understand politics. Control people without cutting off their heads."

His grin deepens. "Teach me then."

I shake my head, a laugh escaping my lips despite myself. This was always his goal. It was never about gold. He has all the wealth he needs. He wants power.

"Very well," I say, pulling out a parchment and writing the decree. I stamp it with the Lannister seal and hand it to him. "It's done. You are my heir."

He looks at the paper, nods, but doesn't linger on the achievement. "Good. Now, I need land."

I blink, taken aback by the sudden shift. "Land? For what?"

"A few acres for now. I've got some ideas. And the mountains. I'll need them for expansion."

I feel my interest pique again. "Expansion?"

"Glass. Steel. I'll revolutionize trade and arms production. But more importantly, I'll need the ports. Lower the taxes, and I'll make sure the Westerlands get first pick of all goods that come through my ships. And I'll need blacksmiths. More of them."

The boldness of his demands makes me pause. He asks as though it's his right. And soon enough, it will be.

"Done. But remember," I say, narrowing my gaze, "you have my resources within reason. Anything major, you come to me first."

He nods, respectful, yet already distant. "Of course, grandfather. That's all for now."

I watch him leave, feeling a strange mix of emotions. Pride. Worry. And something I haven't felt in years—hope.

That boy… Caesar may be the only thing my son ever gave this house worth keeping. He will save House Lannister from ruin, from the poverty that creeps toward us as the mines dry. I take a sip from the goblet of his strawberry mead, feeling the warmth and flavor wash over me. Yes… a new lord will soon rise in the Westerlands.

And the realm will tremble.