Chapter 103: ' The Poor Thrifty Wolf '

POV: The Lord of Winterfell;

King's Banquet, Main Hall of The Great Keep, Isle of Pyke.

Four days after the fortress was taken and House Greyjoy surrendered unconditionally...

It took more than two days of work and cleaning to make the hall presentable. The remaining two served to await House Lannister's triumphant return from Great Wyk. Only the fortress of Hammerhorn still had the strength to withstand Tywin Lannister's siege. Lord Gorold Goodbrother, Lord of Hammerhorn and last bastion in defence of the rebellion, lowered the banners of war and opened the castle gates as soon as the raven from Pyke reached his manor. King Robert Baratheon had broken the rebellion and annihilated the Golden Kraken before the new moon rose. This was the rumour that was blazing like wildfire throughout the fortresses and cities of Westeros.

Ned loved the naked truth. He was slightly annoyed that the glory and merits of the conquest were only centred on the Crowned Stag. So many good Northmen had fallen in the field in the first assault to capture the first tower. The heaviest losses in the assault on the fortress were borne by House Stark, House Dustin, and House Mormont. Not to mention Bloody Snow and the ninety-eight volunteer heroes who risked and fought harder than anyone else on that island. Without access to the gates and bridges of Pyke, the siege could have lasted months, and the price of blood and gold to pay would have been enormously higher.

Six hundred lives were lost and two hundred wounded, a third of whom were still hovering between life and death.

[Remember, Ned, the critical factor in this war is contributing more than anyone else to the victory and letting the crown take all the honours and glory. In this way, we will be able to achieve the best benefits for the North]. The words spoken by his new unexpected trusted advisor redounded through Eddard's thoughts.

Dozens of long tables were arranged in the vast hall. The King's table was reserved only for the greatest lords of Westeros and the lords and knights who had contributed the most in this war. Ned sat to the right of the King, the seat on the left was reserved for Lord Tywin Lannister, who had yet to arrive along with other guests. The announcement of the celebrations had not yet been acclaimed.

To the right of the Lord of Winterfell sat Ser Helman Tallhart, the representative of the first victory of the crown against the Greyjoy rebellion. But unfortunately, his heir, and true representative, was still indisposed and unable to attend the celebratory events.

"Lord Helman, any news of your son Duncan?" asked Ned with genuine concern.

"On the mend, my lord, thank you for your interest and thoughtfulness. According to my chief healer, that reckless wretch, who has no regard for the health of his father's fragile heart, is making a speedy recovery. Just too much accumulated physical and mental stress, nothing more. Two more days of rest at most, and he'll be back on the front lines with some crazy suicide plan, guaranteed." Helman replied, making the Lord of Winterfell smile with spontaneous levity.

"The entire North hopes that their Hero will return as soon as possible and enjoy his well-deserved honours, Lord Helman. Please do not be shy about asking if there is anything I can do to facilitate his recovery," said Ned.

"Thank you, my lord. House Tallhart is honoured by your help and that offered by all the noble lords of the North." Helman's attention was caught by a toast offered by Lord Umber a few feet away from the duo.

Ned released the man from his attention with a simple nod by joining in the toast.

Duncan Tallhart was not the only one absent from the Banquet. The newly ordained young knight Ser Wex Unfear, Ser Balon Swann and the remaining comrades-in-arms who fought alongside Bloody Snow in defence of the Sea Tower Bridge were all indisposed and in no mood to celebrate. Only the Old Gods and that dozen individuals knew what had happened in that macabre corridor of death. No one recounted in detail the events of that confrontation...

It took almost a good half hour just to clear the passageway of that pile of ironborn dead.

Ned recognized a few looks similar to those of inexperienced men seeking glory, traumatized later by the true faces of war. More than a dozen slumped, shivering on the walls, some vomiting as soon as they realized the danger was over. The Tallhart boy was smeared with blood from head to toe, and soon after reporting to him and Robert with his last remaining strength, he lost consciousness and collapsed to the ground.

Bloody Snow did not appear to have suffered any injuries or head trauma, but he slept for two days and nights straight before regaining consciousness...

The most pitiful sight remained Balon Greyjoy, without a doubt. Never had Eddard expected such vulnerability and dishonourable squalor from a man who, only weeks before, had had such arrogance and thirst for conquest. The former King of the Iron Islands literally grovelled at Robert's feet, invoking mercy and forgiveness in front of the entire Pyke court left in Sea Tower.

Robert had not yet expressed his judgment. He segregated the wounded Balon in rooms appropriate to his rank, leaving him in the care of his maester. No member of House Greyjoy was harmed. A small glimmer of consolation for Ned. Little violence had occurred in Pyke. No looting at the port town of Lordsport or in nearby villages. Lord Germund Botley, the protector of Lordsport, surrendered to Robert a few hours after conquering the beach and revealed to the King that the 'false King' Balon had had any valuables in the Sea Tower coffers moved. Therefore, the crown's allied forces had no 'reasonable' reason to raid the city.

Pyke's royal coffers were overflowing with gold, silver, precious stones, silk, tapestries and jewels... Royal scribes and accountants had estimated roughly two million golden dragons worth of goods. Half of the spoils belonged to the crown. The remaining assets were to be divided among all the Lords who had contributed to the military campaign, prioritising the Houses that had suffered direct attacks on their lands. House Lannister, House Mallister, and House Redwine received the largest share. Not a copper piece of that treasure would be touched by House Stark or the other Northern Houses.

Thrifty poor Ned's pockets wept tears of blood.

The Thralls were the rewards for the nobles of the North, but the costs of transporting and placing it on his lands were half borne by House Stark...

At least House Tallhart had done him the favour of convincing his 'prosperous' and 'carefree' vassals to accept the partition agreements made with the crown.

Robert returned to sit in the place of honour at the Great Table; his' visit to the privy' had been rather long and rather eventful from what he could see. A servant girl with loose curly hair, a rumpled dress, and a heated face walked swiftly out the same side door past the royal guard with embarrassment...

"I swear if my father-in-law Leo doesn't show up by the end of the hour, I'll devour that roast suckling pig before anyone can utter the word 'Lannister', phew. Always the centre of attention," Robert muttered, keeping his eye firmly on another pretty young maid who had just refilled his cup.

"The harbour is still blocked by debris, Robert. It's at least a two-hour ride from Lordsport. I'm sure the delay isn't intentional," Ned snapped a spear in the Old Lion's favour.

"Yeah, right. If I'd sent the emissary specifying that the divisions of the spoils would take place late this afternoon, I'd have half Lion's lineage here in front of me by now. Ahahah! Am I mistaken, or do I notice certain favouritism for golden locks? And to think that only five years ago, you almost begged me to send Jaime to the Wall. Ahahah!"

"You were right. That time, the disgruntled part of me was talking and wanted to execute Aerys with my own hands... For once, you were the one who brought me back to my senses." Ned admitted, omitting several other 'new reasons'.

"A memorable day! The Quiet Wolf admitting he's lost his mind in the face of the perpetually drunk Furious Stag! Ahahah! A toast!" Robert embraced his brother-in-arms by shaking him with affectionate exaggeration, then forced Ned to raise his cup. Ned snorted smilingly and surrendered to the cup.

A few minutes of storytelling, memoir, and wartime exploits later...

"So... Before my 'beloved father-in-law' comes along and kills me with that icy stare, are you sure you and your people don't want any part of the spoils? Screw the deals. We wouldn't have gotten a crushing victory without you and your 'Hero Boy'. Ah, for the Seven! Better to deal with you than that Enchanting Bard. A few words, and I was forced to shell out a war dromon, four knighthoods, and a castle! Ahahaha!" Said Robert moving on to more serious topics.

'An empty castle', Ned thought as he caught a glimpse of the future Lord of Pyke at two tables in the distance. Lord Amon Fury could have considered himself lucky if the King had left him at least ten thousand gold dragons in his coffers, the minimum amount needed to manage the vast damaged fortress and the island... Lord Jason Mallister had already made (with courtesy and respect) requests for at least a third of the ships anchored in the harbour. Lord Paxter Redwine demanded almost all of the remainder, although he had already compensated for his losses in Fair Isle's battle...

A handful of gold, a handful of old longships, and less than a hundred words in his service. The title of Lord seemed more of a sentence than a prize in Ned's eyes...

"Are you sure you want to deal with this here and now? I would not wish to benefit too much from a drunken man," Eddard replied, teasing Robert amicably.

"You think three cups of wine can get me drunk? Ah! Go ahead and spit it out. What else do you want besides that royal pardon for... Mande Blader or whoever he is." The King.

"Mance Raider," Ned corrected him.

"Yes, yes, him. Come on, what else did you need? A permit for the fleet? Another wife? For me to legitimize your bastard? Come on, Ned! Be smart and squeeze your big, fat friend. But always remember not to dare take advantage of your King! Ahahah!" Robert's contradictory antics managed to get a laugh and take a perceptible weight off the Lord of Winterfell's shoulders, who would not be pleased with any further opportunity...

"Ships and men. Summer is coming, and with it, gods willing, and trade. I would like permission to expand the Northern Fleet to protect the sea routes against piracy. Too many people are starting to arrive from Essos and the South. We would need more men-at-arms to protect the lands. Phew... gold and goods attract too many greedy mercenaries disguised as bandits. House Tallhart and Umber have already foiled two assaults by foreign militias hired to hurt their business." So explained Ned noticing that his vassal seated at his right flank was lending a concealed merchant's ear in more than an interesting conversation.

Like father, like son. Thought Ned eyeing Helman Tallhart, feigning involvement in the conversation with Jason Mallister as he slid slightly further and further to the left to listen better.

"Go for the ships. You have over five thousand miles of coastline to defend. Hell, I wouldn't even consider it a favour. But for the men-how, many do you need? You're not going to march me south to get that devilish piece of iron, are you? Ahahah!" Robert asked with a hint of extra clarity.

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"No, you keep the scrap iron. I assure you the North is enough for me. Well, at least a thousand more men for House Dustin, Tallhart, and Manderly. Five hundred for the other Great Houses of the North, about fifty for the lesser Houses, and two thousand for House Stark to keep them from turning on me", 'assuming I can find the money to pay these two thousand men...' thought a worried voice in the head of the future indebted Lord of the North.

"Holy names, Ned! I thought this was a conversation between childhood friends, not a lesson in heraldry and mathematics! Burgh...what's the total?" Robert snickered with a burp in the middle.

"A little over fourteen thousand swords total," Ned shot off bluntly.

"Fourteen thousand, huh? Argh...I get a headache thinking about Cersei's screams when she hears about this. Ahahah!" *Sbam!* Robert pounded a fist on the table, making a decision. "Be that as it may...you'll need them if you really want to deal with that band of savages in the moon's mountains. Are you sure you want to go to parley with the Clans? Jon will name you his heir if you succeed, but I doubt you'll go back to Cat in one piece if you fail." Robert.

"It will be Benjen who will try his luck, and I hope swords are not how we will convince them to deal..." Bloody Snow would accompany his brother on that task, but Ned kept to himself this detail.

"Benjen, eh? Ah! Poor lad, I hope he is prepared for what awaits him. By the Seven, I still remember that barbarian of the Burned Men who tore Ser Oppel's head off with his bare hands." Ned faltered as he remembered the massacre he had witnessed during his first battle.

"You can have those men. Keep the North at bay, Ned, and make sure that the barrels of alcohol from House Tallhart and Umber keep arriving in King's Landing in one piece. Ahahah!" With a smack on the table, a few words and a few laughs, Ned managed to get the consensus to increase the North's forces by a third...

"Thank you, your majesty. The North will be forever grateful." Ned.

It almost didn't seem true to him. Although expectations of success were high, Eddard expected at the very least a drunken fishmonger's bargaining over numbers. However, even the excellent eavesdropper Helman appreciated the novelty by increasing the jovial tone with Lord Jason.

Only two more requests were missing: House Blackwood and the Green Knighthood. The last one was certainly the most insidious. Robert would have the entire creed of the Seven against him by granting the priests of the North the power to consecrate a Green Knight in the name of the Old Gods...

"If you have any more favours to ask, I'll stop you. However, you'll have to grant me at least one more 'small favour' first. And don't you dare call me 'your majesty' again, or I will withdraw all decrees back!" ranted Robert.

"I am at your service, Furious Drunken Stag King." The King laughed out loud after a long look of defiance.

"Ahahah! Well, that's more like it. So...I'd have a little cash flow problem, Ned. The Master of Coin says we're forced to take out a loan from the Bank of Braavos. I have no more desire to get into debt with those fish moneylenders than I go begging Cersei to get her father to open a little piece of that mountain of gold under my ass... Phew...

The last tribute you paid to the crown weighed almost as much as House Tyrell's. So business is booming to you in the North, eh?"

"Spruzz! Cough! Coff! Coff!" Ned sent a gulp of water sideways, but the lack of air wasn't the real problem...the shocking heart had yet to start beating again.

"Don't get killed by a trivial cup of water right after surviving a war, Lord Stark! Ahahah!" Robert thundered cheerfully, hitting his friend with hearty pats on the back.

"Anf... Anf... Thank you... I'm not complaining, Your Grace... coff... coff... but, I hope they can get better and better." Ned replied, regaining his breath, heartbeat and necessary humility.

'In the name of the gods, Robert! There were nearly ten million gold dragons in the royal treasury six years ago! In addition, the North paid out over six hundred thousand gold coins in a tribute last year! How on earth did you squander all that gold!!!'' howled the no longer so Tranquil Wolf fiercely within.

"I thought the loot..." Robert nipped that futile attempt in the bud.

"No, unfortunately, returning the loan to House Rosby and Bywater with the promise of a small portion of the royal share and removing the costs of the campaign... there will be no more than six or seven hundred thousand gold dragons left. The crown urgently needs at least one million liquid. Can you give me a hand, Ned? I promise to return the gold as soon as I can." Empty promises and Ned knew that more than anyone. The Thrifty Wolf hadn't forgotten about those famous twenty-six golden dragons and eight silver moons that Robert owed him before the war began. More than once, his 'faithful friend brother' begged him to lend him a few coins for wine and brothels in Eagle's Nest...

Whatever sum Lord Eddard Stark had lent King Robert the drunken whoremonger, he was unlikely to see it again.

"Well, coff, coff! If it's 'only' a few hundred...," an 'involuntary' elbow to the side from Lord Helman broke Ned's sentence.

"I meant...how much...how much would you need?" The Wolf asked with his guard firmly up.

"A million at least, two if possible. With two million (about 18 billion dollars), the crown will be able to breathe for a few years and look forward to the prosperous next summer just around the corner," Robert answered with sincere calm as if referring to pocket change.

'TWO MILLION?! No. I refuse. I will apologise in person to House Blackwood and all future aspiring Green Knights of Westeros, but no.' Thought the Protector of the North adamantly, until...

"Oh! I beg your pardon, my lord! I am mortified... please allow me to make it up to you. Fortunately, the wine has not yet dripped onto your robes. Your Majesty, Lord Eddard, forgive my carelessness and for interrupting your conversation." A flying hand towards a cup of red on the table, Lord Helman Tallhart hastily wiped the puddle away by urgently eyeing the Northern Protector with a clear message:

[Lend him the damn gold, my King!].

Ned didn't flinch and tried to answer with a fierce glare:

[But then I'd have to borrow almost FIVE MILLION from Lady Barbrey!!! Throw your gold in the privy if you care so much, Ser!]

"Never mind, Lord Helman. It's only wine! Luckily there's plenty in Pyke's pantries! Ahahaha! So, Ned, will you help me?" Lord Helman bowed and took his leave towards his previous conversation.

"Robert... Two million is a little over my head at the moment. How about half... ugh... One Million?" Another 'unintentional ' elbow or tread ' and Ned promised himself that he would start a fight in front of those noble witnesses.

"Ah! The same old stingy coin-counter, I thought life as a Great Lord had slightly softened you. Let's make it a million and a half and get it out of the way on your other demands. We have a deal, Lord Stark?" Robert proposed, offering an arm to squeeze.

'May the White Walkers curse you and that Bleeding Demon you raised, Ser Helman!'

"...House Stark is pleased to be of service to the Crown, Your Majesty."

End Chapter.

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