"There were hints littered throughout this place, yet you were caught off guard."
It was hardly unusual for me to stride into the Small Council chambers in a good mood. Quite frankly, that had become the default state of my mind for quite a few weeks. Once the guilt at the perceived usurpation of Father's lawful authority had subsided, anyway.
I jest, of course. That guilt never fully subsided, but I did realize how much more of a difference a man could make in my position if given even the slightest shred of legitimate authority. And then realized how much good I could do.
And then leaped to convert that potential good into actual good.
Point is, I was starting to enjoy being the Hand of the King, even if the king was entirely uninvolved.
Which made it all the stranger for the Small Council to be silently seated. Quite strange for them to wait for me. They hardly needed me to carry out their duties. Regardless, I moved to my usual place at the table to Aemon's right.
"Good news," I greeted them. "I have managed to arrange for settlement and a permanent guard presence on Bloodstone. They can be on their way in as little as two weeks, we just need to settle on the fine details."
The room was quite silent at that. Lord Tyrell seemed to be brooding in his seat, eyes glued to some small metal object in front of him, a thin sheen of sweat gleaming on his forehead. Braxton was shifting nervously, much as a squire who knew the final blow was coming but not from where. Corlys, by contrast, hid his nervousness far better, but his hand still froze on his chin when he heard my voice.
And Elysar? He merely had a blank sheet of parchment in front of him, ink and quill prepared and ready to take the minutes of this meeting.
Oh, something was deeply wrong here, I could already tell.
"Brother," Aemon greeted me, which immediately set me on edge. Though we were brothers, we did not address each other as such. We were 'Aemon' and 'Vaegon' towards one another. Any more familiar forms of address were reserved for people with whom we were close. "I was inspecting my city recently, and I came across the most unusual thing. You wouldn't happen to know what this is, would you?"
On cue, my brother tossed a small piece of metal toward me.
I caught it easily, inspecting it in less than a second. Roughly shaped like a coin and made out of lead, I recognized it as soon as my fingers felt the images stamped on it. On one side was a lyre, the other a single number: one. This was one of my tokens.
"I do," I said matter-of-factly, letting the coin dance across my knuckles. "It's a token for reduced room and board at my inns."
"Yes, so I was told," Aemon said. "By a singer I found in one of your establishments. Not by the Master of Whisperers, who should have heard rumors. And not by the Master of Coin, whose people make coins. Both of whom claim ignorance of this object's provenance."
"It was a better reward than giving them coin," I explained. A purely financial reward would incentivize them to hand over a report, regardless of its verity. But by making the rewards only usable at my inns, I made it very clear that false information could easily be punished. "Singers hear much, which I am then able to pass on to the Master of Whisperers. Those same singers then spend more time in my establishments which then have better entertainment than my competitors. Everybody wins."
Especially since an increase in customers was good for the singers who were performing. A delightfully profitable cycle.
"And you had to mint coin of your own to do so?" Aemon asked pointedly, and that was when the alarms went off in my head. Minting coin without royal permission was, to put things mildly, high treason. Coinage was a sign of legitimacy, and to mint one's own coin was to usurp royal authority.
Aemon knew this fact.
Either he was trying to maneuver me into confessing to treason, which was idiotic, or he was giving me the easiest out imaginable.
"No," I corrected. "I minted lead tokens because they cannot be easily reproduced by others and because official coinage does not use lead as a primary component. Only a fool would mistake these for official coinage. Besides, scraps of parchment or ribbons bearing my seal are both more expensive to produce while no more difficult to reproduce."
There, a reasonable explanation. Now we could get on with our duty.
"So you do not deny issuing metal disks that could be exchanged for goods or services?" my brother pressed. At this point, the alarms in my head went from a mere shout to full-on blaring of horns and trumpets. There was no reason to press the point, not if he wished to maintain a reasonably harmonious, or at least effective, working relationship.
Would my brother really try to accuse me of treason?
"Your Grace, this line of questioning is becoming a touch adversarial," Corlys began to speak, only for Aemon to interrupt him.
"Lord Velaryon, I know perfectly well that my brother has ordered the creation of these token which are being exchanged for goods and services in King's Landing," my brother said. "I merely wish to hear his side of the story before passing judgement."
Oh.
Oh, he was actually doing this.
"Passing judgement?" I asked, my voice icily calm. By pure instinct, my hand twitched towards my stolen blade as rage began to bubble within me. I could feel the ache in my arms, the desire to silence those accusations, but I clamped down hard on them. Self-control had helped end the war in Dorne. It would help me now. "Is that an official accusation? Am I on trial?"
"Vaegon, please…" Braxton grabbed my arm, but gently enough that I could have torn loose without difficulty. Well, I could hardly blame him for his caution. The last time he had seen me lose my temper had ended with Aemon down several teeth.
"Vaegon, I have reason to believe you guilty of tax evasion and owning property without royal permission," he said. "Either of which could be construed as treasonous on its own. And you are telling me you issued your own coin for the sake of convenience. I could understand the first two, could ignore the potential treasons, but minting your own coin? That is most certainly treasonous. But please, tell me what I am missing. Tell me that I am wrong."
Well, at least he had not realized my bank was engaged in manipulating monetary policy by sheer dint of existing. That was reassuring.
"Aemon, everything I have done has been for the good of the people of King's Landing," I said simply. "You walked the streets yourself, have you not? You have seen how the workshops are growing, how the market squares cannot contain all the merchants, how crime has declined, and how the beggars are fewer and markedly less starved. That is all because of me. You can accuse me of treason all you want, but my actions have made this city a better place to live than any other city in Westeros."
"So you admit to committing treason?" Aemon asked. "Treason for some greater good?"
"Why are you so intent on my alleged treason?"
"Because I have a Hand of the King who owns what feels like half of the capital, operates a bank without royal oversight, has both a personal army and navy, never paid taxes, and is issuing his own damn coin," my brother pointed out. "What do I call that other than treason? Please Vaegon, tell me. I am asking you, what can I call that other than treason?"
"It is not coin, they are tokens," I corrected even as I felt the anger burning within me. Why even raise the topic? What harm was I doing? My actions benefited the realm! And now he was trying to put an end to them? "Made of lead, no less. Only a fool would mistake them for legal tender."
"His Grace the Hand makes a point," Lord Tyrell spoke up. "The true definition of coinage is not so simple…"
"They are being exchanged for goods and services!" Aemon interrupted. "He is stamping metal disks with his own designs, and they are being traded for goods and services. Openly! What else can we call that but coin?"
"They are discounts," I corrected, barely keeping my tone calm. Even I had to admit, however, that there was an edge to my voice.
"So you admit they have value!"
Corlys shot an alarmed glance at Braxton. Yes, it would take a blind and deaf imbecile to realize that this discussion was going to end in disaster. And since my current strategy for de-escalation was not working, I needed to change my approach before I decided to compound my brother's severe brain damage.
"And?" I asked at last.
"And what?" Aemon seemed confused by my response.
"You are accusing me of treason," I pointed out. "Multiple acts of treason, in fact, so I am rather confused why you have not called in the guards to start to process of making yourself a kinslayer."
Dead silence reigned in the Small Council Chamber for several moments afterward.
"I am the Master of Laws, Vaegon," my brother pointed out. "And while there are potential defenses for your actions, you all but admitted to several acts of treason. There is no way I can simply ignore this."
Seven save me, this man really was that foolish.
"Then we can look forward to a trial where two judges are the good brothers of both accuser and accused, while the third is the accused's mentor," I said, my voice dripping with the barely suppressed urge to once again flatten my idiot brother's nose. "All the while the people of the city are actively burning the city to the ground."
"Are you threatening me?"
"Vaegon, you are not helping things," Corlys commented.
"I am giving you a prediction," I corrected. "Your potential judges are all compromised. The people of the city know who is responsible for making their lives better. And you are about to try and have him sent to the executioner's block."
"Are you trying to use your own treason as a shield from the consequences of your treason?" Aemon's incredulous tone made it clear what he thought of that.
"Your Grace, please…" Braxton tried to get a word in.
"Are you trying to reverse all the good I have done for the realm?" I asked in turn.
"Treason is treason, Vaegon, no matter how good your intentions."
And just like that, I knew I was wasting my time. Aemon had already decided I had committed treason. Relying on procedural tricks and loopholes in the laws themselves was not a guaranteed victory strategy against the man who was enforced those laws. Given how treason had punishments that I would prefer to avoid, even at its most merciful, I knew what I had to do.
"And kinslaying is kinslaying," I told him, rising to my feet. "And know that if I feel like you are trying to force a conviction that I know my rights."
Because even Aemon would not risk becoming a kinslayer for something this insignificant, would he?
Would he?
...
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