One of the things that went unnoticed when your city was one of the three greatest known trading hubs on the continent, was the fact that that the opulence and prosperity that it brought to its denizens was taken for granted by everyone as akin to the acts of nature. And everybody had assumed that it would do so, for perpetuity.
Which was why the actions of the boy king in the Reach had resounded as a slap on the face of Braavos. A slap heard around the world in fact. Never before in history, not even during the existence of Valyria or during the bloodletting of the century of blood between Volantis and the rest of the free cities had Braavos been publicly shamed in such a manner.
For an envoy of the Iron Bank and the First Sword of Braavos to be beheaded in public like mongrel dogs and that their heads had been paraded through the streets of Braavos by their enemies, was a mortal insult. Before the city guard could take control of the situation, the damned westerosi had paraded the heads of the envoys of Braavos and more importantly, heads of ten faceless men. The fact that ten faceless men had been killed so had driven forth a hysteria and orgy of panic in the mind of every magister in the city. The words of the boy king where he had threatened the now dead Tycho Nestoris had spread to the far reaches of Essos. Of mere coin counters who had vastly overreached themselves. That Braavos might find itself under the heel of a king soon. Never before had Braavos been so threatened or so humiliated publicly with words of this sort. And the economic damages and fallout of this action were going to be enormous.
All of these thoughts ran rampant in the head of Sealord Ferrego Antaryon as he made his way to the city council. After the 'Parade of Heads' as the minstrels had so named it, the council of Braavos was boiling and it was necessary for him to soothe the tempers and try to resolve the situation, while ensuring that the will of the secret council was not overstepped. Something which would be hard to accomplish given the inflamed tempers and passions of the citizenry, who remained blissfully unaware of the shadow politicking and balance of powers.
Soon, he entered the council chambers where a stormy debate was going on between the representatives of the Iron Bank and the Trader's guild. He handed his cloak to his aide, who took it and quietly withdrew from the chamber. At a nod from him, one of his guards rang the bell at the corner of the room to indicate the beginning of the session, and slowly the hubbub subsided, as all servants and aides withdrew from the room and the doors were locked.
One by one the representatives of the council came and took their seats. The Iron Bank was represented by Keyholder Bessaro Reyaan, the Braavosi Navy by Admiral Dominic Nestoris, the brother of the now very dead Tycho Nestoris. And then, the Trader's guild was represented by Magister Hego Damask. And the final person to round of the council was Master Craftsman, Adaquo Terys, the master of the Arsenal of Braavos.
"Gentlemen, you all know why we are here, so I will not waste time on pointless greetings and pleasantries. The situation is serious, and there is a very distinct possibility that the citizenry may mutiny and demand a war with Westeros for the insult that has been laid at our door! We need a solution and fast," the Sealord spoke brusquely, while everybody became pensive.
A moment later, it was the representative of the Trader's Guild, Magister Hego Damask who spoke out in a brusque manner, "I blame the Iron Bank and its undue haste for this mess. If they were not so forceful in their arrogance of getting their due, then we would not be in such a position, where the prestige of Braavos itself is now at risk!" he almost growled, while the others in the room remained silent.
Bessaro Reyaan narrowed his eyes, and was about to retort before he withheld his tone. The position of the Iron Bank and its reputation were facing perhaps its greatest threat ever. Yes, the Iron Bank had always acted to recover its due, but never before had someone rebuffed it so violently and flagrantly. Because none had dared to do so till date, the current generation of keyholders were now floundering like fishes dropped in hot sand unable and not knowing how to deal with such a scenario.
"We only acted as was our right to recover our due," he insisted. "What did you expect us to do when faced with the risk of such a ruinous loss? Such a loss of reputation was not to be tolerated," he almost growled in rage and pounded his fist on the table, which unfortunately had no effect on his peers.
"And in attempting to recover your debt in such a boorish and ham-fisted way, you have suffered a far greater loss than a mere debt, and you have dragged down all of Braavos along with you due to the stupidity of your envoy," Damask retorted, while Reyaan flushed in rage even as his cheeks reddened.
Admiral Dominic Nestoris narrowed his eyes at the slight towards his late brother, but he remained still as the words of the magister were true. He had read the word-by-word byplay between his brother and that of the boy king in Westeros and he admitted to himself that mistakes had been made.
"Did it not occur to you that there were other avenues available to recover your debt? Have you not read the historical records?" Damask continued softly, "Even at the height of the Dance of Dragons, we did not intervene directly in support of either faction! We sat in the side-line's, and when Westeros had broken itself into a scorching ruin, we took our due. Not only did we get back our debts, we sold them the means to save themselves from starvation at exorbitant prices and made a handsome profit! We are a city of merchants and not a city of mercenaries! Why did you not wait a bit longer and wait for the civil war in Westeros to end before making a move?" he asked in a calm and rational manner, which made Reyaan squirm in discomfort.
"There was a risk that the winning side would not honour their debts and we judged the possibility that the Iron Throne itself would cease to exist as a functioning centre of power if the war raged on further. The decimation of House Lannister only hastened our belief on the matter. So, we acted in haste to recover our debts from all sides before the situation became untenable," Reyaan spoke in a listless voice, while others considered his words seriously.
"And you botched that in the most flagrant way possible beyond recovery," Damask spoke out crossly while others looked at the normally silent magister who seemed unusually expressive today. "Regardless, this is the most serious war those Westerosi have fought since the Dance of Dragons, and I include the Blackfyre rebellions in those. Just as there is a war, there will be an aftermath. They will still need to feed a broken kingdom, need to buy provisions to tide them over winter and rebuild their lands! And who do they turn to get those resources, but us? We could have held those resources and trade hostage and forced whichever body that succeeded the Iron Throne to take on those debts! That is what we did after the Dance, and we could have done that again, had you but exercised a little bit of patience! Instead, now we are humiliated in front of the eyes of the world, and are forced to take a side in a war which has nothing to do with us, costing precious materiel, men and resources which we need not have wasted!" he thundered as he pounded his fist on the table, while his words rang in the ears of everyone present.
"Indeed," came the voice of Admiral Nestoris, who was not pleased at the fact that his navy would now have to face the seasoned seamen of Westeros in battle. "I too must add that the Iron Bank acted in undue haste," and that was a supreme concession coming from the Admiral, considering that it was his brother that had been executed by the Westerosi scum.
"To threaten magisters and merchant princes is one thing, but to threaten a king in open in his own court is another," he spoke crossly as he looked at Reyaan. "The word of the Iron Bank is taken seriously in Essos, but you forgot that you were dealing with Westerosi, who value their pride greater than their lives. Those fools fight for the smallest of slights for dozens of generations, and you attempted to threaten a new king, one who is riding high on the successes he has won on the battlefield in his own home! How exactly did you expect him to respond to such a blatant insult? What made you think that he would honour those debts after such insults? And to think, that you failed even after sending ten faceless men …" Nestoris was in full stride, when Reyaan rose and screamed shrilly.
"WE SENT NO FACELESS MEN! That boy killed some people in the Starry Sept yes, but they were most definitely not faceless men from the House of Black and White!" Reyaan roared with bloodshot eyes, his jowls quivering with rage as he looked at them all, and they all saw behind his rage, the desperation in his eyes and the anguish that clouded them.
"What?" the Sealord whispered in shock, while the others in the council reeled as if they were physically struck.
"Did you think that faceless men are something that can be bought like cabbages on the street?" Reyaan half whispered in a broken voice. "We did commission the faceless men, but the house of Black and White is yet to dispatch their assassin! And when have you ever heard of the faceless men dispatching ten of their members to kill a single person? Not even the dragon lords of Valyria had earned that kind of honour. Why would we send ten faceless men to kill a mere boy king, no matter his ability to win battles?" he half sobbed and then buried his face in his hands.
"Then that means …," Hego Damask still muttered in a half-dazed tone, as the implication sunk into everyone's minds. The boy king in the Reach had killed the most devout of the Starry Sept himself and had blamed Braavos for the act. It was an act of unprecedented audacity, of sheer brazenness and scope, and solved all his problems … while leaving Braavos to take the fall.
"That misbegotten son of a whore … curse him and all the generations of his family to … **#! %^," Adaquo Terys launched into a masterful diatribe full of vitriol which was frankly unspeakable in polite company. While the others in the room were not as loquacious, their thoughts ran on the same vein as that of the master of the Arsenal.
Ferrego Antaryon leaned back and considered the significance of the matter. He gnashed his teeth in impotent rage at the fact that the city of Braavos had been so badly outplayed. For once, Braavos had met with an opponent who had dealt with them in a subtle manner worthy of admiration, if not for the fact that Braavos was the one facing the consequences of said actions.
"So …he knows or he suspects, there can be no other reason," Hego Damask spoke in an extremely serious tone after the others at the table settled themselves.
"The fact that we have worked continuously to keep Westeros in a weakened state and that we have exploited them to the hilt to keep them downtrodden, yes, I figured that out myself, thank you," Antaryon snarked back as he tried to consider his next steps.
"By killing those useless holy men or whatever, he has united the rabble and peasantry behind him, and the fact that all of Westeros now believes us to be behind the attack makes it extremely hard for us to gain any support from the local lords in Westeros to act against him, lest they be set upon by their own subjects," Antaryon realized even as he spoke his thoughts out loud.
"And the one lord who could act on our behalf lies broken and defeated beyond measure," Admiral Nestoris spoke out, while the others at the table narrowed their eyes even as Nestoris brought up the fate of Tywin Lannister.
"What is the projected loss due to the embargo on trade with our city?" Antaryon asked after a moment, while Damask looked at a set of parchment in front of him and made some calculations.
"Taken into account all the revenues and taxes collected by the city, as well as the various trading houses, the revenue from trade with Westeros amounts to 31 million coins or 9 million Westerosi golden dragons annually, which amounts to a two-tenths of the entire revenue of Braavos, and these are excluding the debts that are held by the Iron Bank," he spoke in a heavy tone, while the others in the room winced. A look at the pinched face of Bessaro Reyaan told them all they needed to know whether the Iron Bank could recover any of its debts from Westeros in the future.
"So, he has deftly forced us into a corner," Admiral Nestoris summarized his thoughts for all of them to hear. "By this act of murder, he has united all of his people behind him and given them a common enemy to unite against. At the same time, by giving this a religious overtone, he has ensured that his enemies do not make common cause with us, lest they suffer a mutiny of their own by their own subjects. And finally, the one Lord in Westeros who would have dared to aid us against him already lies broken beneath his feet! We cannot bring him to heel lest we take to the field against him personally, in which case we cannot be assured of a victory given his own prodigious talent in battle!" he reluctantly shook his head in respect at the neat trap that they found themselves within.
"More than that," Sealord Antaryon spoke out with a guttural growl, "Like you said, we cannot even aid his enemies either directly or indirectly, because of this religious madness! Even a rumour that their Lords are taking aid from those who they believe have assaulted the Faith of Seven would see the forces of the Rebellion turn on their overlords and hand him complete victory without effort! And even if we do not aid them, I would not put it past the little bastard to spread those rumours himself regardless, to gain an even easier victory!" he cursed out loud, even as he gripped the armrests of his chair in impotent rage.
"You think he would do such a thing?" Adaquo Terys asked, startled out of his musing at the words.
"Considering what he has already done, what else would he not dare to do?" the Sealord asked rhetorically to which there were only muttered curses and gnashed teeth in response.
"What if we reveal that we sent no faceless men and that the boy did this on his own volition? What if we compel that Lord Tarly to admit that the boy forced him to do such a thing?" Reyaan asked with a hint of desperation in his tone.
Damask replied softly with a hint of melancholy in his voice, "At this point, who would believe us? This act was done with the intention of provoking a searing hatred against Braavos in the minds of the citizens of Westeros! Our own reputation has become a noose to our throat. Always the Iron Bank has taken its due without fail. So, by beheading the First Sword and the Envoy of the bank, he has granted legitimacy to his act of murder, because otherwise, why would anyone believe his words of this assassination being ordered by us? By defying the Iron Bank and making a mummer's farce of having survived an attack of ten faceless men no less, he has entrenched into the minds of everyone that he is the aggrieved party and we are the aggressors, while the situation is anything but. And, where would you get the proof to prove it otherwise, Reyaan? Why would Lord Tarly admit to such things, when he has gained the adoration and the prestige of having avenged the insult to the Faith of the Seven? The rewards and recognition, the fame and power that he will accrue for his house from this act alone, will far eclipse anything that you can offer him to tell the truth!"
Reyaan sighed and looked downcast, while Damask uttered the one thing that they all dreaded to hear. "We have lost even before we could make a move! For the first time in two hundred years, since the Dance of Dragons, Braavos no longer has the means or ways to influence the actions of the powers of Westeros! We have been locked out and the Westerosi will come out of this war, stronger and more united than ever before. At the same time, by blocking all trade with Braavos, he has weakened us considerably as the wealth of Westeros will no longer flow into our coffers. This will force us to stabilize our own situation, giving him precious time to consolidate his power and position, and once that is done, they will come after us for all that we have done to them for the past two centuries. The boy king has uncloaked our acts of subtlety and has now forced us to take a side for the first time!" he sighed in reluctant admiration at the masterful way in which they had been outplayed.
All of them had plotted and schemed against others. Plotting such schemes was easy as breathing air to a Braavo, but never had they faced such devilish effrontery. It appeared that Braavos had finally after three hundred years, earned the ire of a formidable enemy once more.
Author's note: And now, the shoe drops on the other side. Welcome to politicking and scheming, Ancient Chinese style!