Arya had already made her kill for the day. A man who was of the stature of Lord Baelish. He had similar hair and a natural beard, which she would be able to cut into the style of Littlefinger.
The man was wondering out of an inn, which Arya knew to be of disrepute. She followed him, where she found him attempting to rape a woman in an alley. Arya threw a rope around the man's neck and pulled tight, giving the woman chance to flee. Arya didn't want his neck bruised from being strangled to death, she just wanted him unconscious long enough to poison him.
Arya pulled out a vial of the sweetsleep from her pocket. She pinched the man's nose, until he opened his mouth for breath, and poured the contents down his throat, enough to kill a mule. Less than a minute later, the man breathed his last.
The dead man was placed in a sack. She tied the hessian up, carried the man in Littlefinger's quarters, on the ship, telling the sailors the sack contained a rug for Lady Arryn. She left the boat, instructing the captain to prepare to sail later that day as soon as she returned with the cargo.
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Arya stood on the docks of the Purple Harbour in Braavos, taking in the salty breeze. Once upon a time, she had roamed this city wearing her own face, in the guise of others. Playing the part of an assassin.
Today she wore the face of another, that of Lord Baelish. She was using her skills, not to be an assassin, but to be a thief. Although, in truth, the money was stolen from the royal coffers, and ran up debts, repayable to the Lannisters and the Iron Bank. Today, she hoped, she would take that money and replenish the coffers it was stolen from, and repay the loans owed to the Iron Bank.
Arya missed the sea. Despite her love for the North and her family, the time she spent in Braavos had given her a desire to spend time out on the open ocean. Although she hadn't told her family, she still held the same dream. Once they overcame the Others, she wanted to become an explorer. To sail west of Westeros, because there must be land somewhere. For now, she would be content to survive the Long Night.
Footsteps from behind alerted Arya to the approaching Tycho Nestoris, the very man she sought. She turned around to face him and smiled.
"Lord Baelish," the banker greeted her. His common tongue perfect, with only a hint of an accent.
"Lord Tycho," Arya smiled in return.
"I am no Lord, merely a simple servant," Tycho pressed his hands together and bowed his head.
"Ah, but you have almost as much power as the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. Without you, men, businesses and kingdoms would not flourish," Arya flattered the Braavosi man. Tycho gave her a wary look.
"Almost. If you'd like to follow me," he said, leading her into the bank itself.
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They arrived in a round room. The room was bright from the alabaster walls, and the floor was made of marble, just like the hearth, where a fire burned bright. There was a small window and two other doors, both made from what looked to be ironwood. One of the doors had twenty-three locks, if Arya had counted right.
In the centre of the room was an ornate desk made from ironwood. Tall leather chairs were placed side of the desk. On top of the desk was a glass carafe of water with two glasses, quill, parchment and an ironwood box. Tycho sat on one side of the desk, and Arya sat on the other. Tycho poured them each a glass of water and pushed one to Arya, who placed the books she was carrying on the desk.
Tycho took a sip of the water before opening the box, pulling out a letter Arya had written to them. He unfurled the scroll and read it.
"I see you were the one to send this letter," he said. The scepticism in his voice put her on edge. However, she held firm, showing no sign of weakness. "Why do you wish to withdraw all of your funds?"
"I am sure you are aware of the situation in the Seven Kingdoms," Arya started. "The rumours of both King Joffrey and King Tommen appear to hold some truth. I overheard the Queen Mother discussing the matter with Ser Jaime."
"I'm afraid it is not my place to speculate of such a matter. I deal in coin, not idle gossip."
"If only that were an option for myself. You see, as you know, I was master of coin for the Iron Throne. I know of the debts, and I am aware they are no longer being repaid since I left my role."
Lord Tycho shifted in his chair. "I am all ears."
"My loyalty is to the Seven Kingdoms, as Lord Varys would say, the realm. I am not beholden to any King or Queen. I have never been able to assist the crown financially, but I wish to change that."
"I thought you wished to withdraw the funds, not repay the crown's debt."
"I have no intention of lining Lannister pockets. I have not worked my entire life to gift those wealthier than I even more money. Especially when they are the ones spending the money as if it were their own."
"Then how do you intend to assist the Iron Throne?"
"Over in what used to be Slavers Bay, sits the Dragon Queen. Young and unmarried. The longer she stays there, the more damage she does to the economy of Essos. As abhorrent as you and I find slavery, it is the way of life there. By destroying the economy, she will make the lives of the former slaves worse than before."
"Continue."
"I am of the opinion, this also affects the Iron Bank. Therefore, the sooner Daenerys Targaryen sails for Westeros, the sooner Dragons Bay will return to Slavers Bay. With that, the wealth of the cities will return, as will your investments."
"How will your withdrawal help that?"
"I intend to sail east and offer to fund her endeavours. There are no slaves to free in Westeros. With the threat of dragons, it should be a simple conquest. Of course, she will still need an army and a fleet of ship. That is where my money becomes necessary. I will support her claim, pay for as many sellswords as possible and purchase a fleet of ships."
Tycho furrowed his brow as if he didn't believe her. "I never took you to be such a benevolent man."
Arya laughed. "As much as I am eager to see the realm flourish, I must admit, there is something in this for me."
Tycho Nestoris raised an eyebrow. Of course, Petyr Baelish would wish to serve himself, and only himself.
"I will ask the Queen for her hand in marriage. I here she is most beautiful. How could she refuse the man who would fund her passage to the Iron Throne?"
"Have you costed this exercise?" Tycho asked.
Arya pushed the ledgers she brought towards the Braavosi man, who opened them and read the contents. Once he'd finished, he looked up at her.
"This is only a tenth of your funds. I still do not see why you must withdraw all of your investments."
"Once we are wed and have taken the Iron Throne, I will be Prince Consort. I wish to repay all the debts the Iron Throne owes. I believe they owe several houses as much as they owe the Iron Bank. I admit, it is almost two years since I was master of coin, but I doubt the debts will have lessened. If anything, I suspect them to have grown under the Kingship of Joffrey Baratheon. Once the debts are repaid, whatever is left will fill the crown's coffers."
"How very gracious of you."
"Not really. I will, of course, gain personal benefit from it. The debt to the Iron Bank will be paid, and I hope to have a branch set up in Kings Landing. It would be useful for any future savings the crown needs to keep aside for emergencies, such as long winters."
Tycho smiled. It appeared he liked the sound of such a business venture, just as Arya suspected he would.
"And what about your betrothal to Lysa Arryn?" Tycho asked.
Arya had expected this question once she had decided upon the reasoning for the withdrawal. Her first instinct was to pay for the restoration of Harrenhal. However, despite the expense, the balance of Littlefinger's account with the Iron Bank outweighed the costs of renovation by a multitude of ten. It had taken her many revised excuses to come up with the plan of helping Daenerys.
"One which was arranged by Lord Tywin. Not one I truly desired. Of course, I needed to keep up the appearance of agreeing with the match. I told Lady Arryn as much in private. We needed to keep quiet, for she also wishes to see the Dragon Queen seated on the Iron Throne. The Vale army is readying themselves for war, just in case her grace needs forces in the North."
Tycho stroked his beard. "Quite the plan. Although I fail to see why Lady Lysa would wish to seat a Targaryen on the Iron Throne."
"Lady Lysa is a dear friend of mine. I am not one to spread idle gossip. Therefore, what I will tell you now must never leave this room."
"Of course."
"Few people know that Lord Arryn was not a good husband to Lady Lysa."
"Many Lords are of the same nature. Or so I hear."
"That is most true. Although not all, Lord Tycho. However, Lady Arryn believes Robert's Rebellion to be the cause of her unhappiness. Had it not taken place, she may have been married to someone who was of a more gentle nature. She mostly holds the Baratheons, the Lannisters, and her husband as responsible. It matters little who was to blame. Lysa Arryn blames her late father, the late Lord Arryn and Tywin Lannister. She wishes to restore the Iron Throne to the rightful heir."
Arya was careful with her last words. She knew Jon was the Targaryen heir. Therefore, Lysa's change of heart would be consistent with the story she was telling him. Tycho Nestoris looked defeated. Every part of her story he had countered, Arya had a response for.
"Well, it appears your intentions will be of a great benefit to us both. Upon receipt of your letter, I had the gold set aside. Gold dragons are not the currency of all, therefore the withdrawal will be in gold bars. Each worth fifty thousand gold dragons. Three hundred gold bars in total. Is that suitable?" Tycho asked.
Arya was stunned. The books stated Littlefinger's Iron Bank deposits totalled ten million gold dragons. Tycho Nestoris was suggesting there was fifteen million. No wonder he was surprised by her withdrawal.
"It will make the gold easier to transport to Meereen."
"Here," Tycho passed Arya a wad of parchment. "I need you to read through this document. There are twenty-four copies, one for yourself and one for each keyholder, who has already signed it. Arya read through all the boring wording twice. She knew Littlefinger would never glance over the document, he'd double check everything. Once done, she looked up and held her hand out. Tycho handed her the quill, and she signed each document, using her right hand, in Littlefinger's writing. Once she'd finished, her hand ached.
Tycho took the quill from her and initialled each document. Once he'd finished, he handed one to Arya, who put it in her book, and put the rest away in a drawer. There, he also pulled out an enormous bunch of keys. He closed the drawer and stood, as did Arya.
"I hope you have sufficient guards to help you with your journey."
"The gold will be well hidden and protected, Lord Tycho."
Tycho gave one nod of his head and gestured towards the door with the twenty-three locks. He unlocked each one with a different key. Once upon a time, there were twenty-three keyholders, but now that was a ceremonial role. Arya had come across many of them during her time in Braavos while training for the House of Black and White, posing as Cat of the Canals.
He led her through the door and into a large dark room, lit by torches along the wall. On the floor lay fifteen piles of gleaming gold bars, all waiting to be transported to Littlefinger's ship, the Mockingbird, which was docked in the Purple Harbour. As well as the gold bars, there were fifteen medium-sized ironwood wooden chests. Each just large enough to carry the gold bars.
At the back of the room, Arya saw two men dressed in purple. She deduced they were employees of the bank, for as soon as Tycho nodded in their direction, they moved the gold into each chest. A job which took longer than Arya expected.
"They are incredibly heavy," Tycho said. "Would you like to hold one before it is packed?"
Arya suspected this was a test. She knew Littlefinger would know how heavy a gold bar was.
"I am already privy to the weight of a gold bar. I am a slight man, and I know my limitations. I wish not to overburden myself with physical weight. I leave that to others."
Once the gold bars were packed into the ironwood chests, a man banged on a door opposite. Men had been waiting on the other side, which looked to lead down a long passage. They filed into the room, two of them standing beside each chest. Tycho took one of the torches from the wall and lifted it in the air.
"I shall lead the way. You can follow from the rear."
Arya waited until the men left the room, following Tycho Nestoris. They walked down a passage which was already lit by torches along the wall, therefore it was easy enough to see her way. The corridor wasn't a long one. It didn't take long for Arya to hear the seagulls in the air, and the salt of the sea licked her skin.
The men came to a sudden stop, while Tycho unlocked a door. However, this did not lead outside as she assumed. It led into the reception area.
Strange, Arya thought. She couldn't remember seeing any doors, other than the main ones. The reason soon became apparent. The other side was covered in white alabaster to match the rest of the walls. Once it was closed by the man behind the reception desk, it would be impossible to see it again, for it blended in with the rest of the room.
Tycho had left the torch in the passage and was now whispering to the man at the reception desk. The main doors were opened and daylight flooded into the room. Tycho, Arya and the men marched from the room, down the steps and towards the pier, where the Mockingbird was moored.
Once they reached the ship, the captain lowered the gangplank, and the chests were carried onboard and place in Littlefinger's chambers, along with the dead body.
Arya stood waiting, watching as the chests boarded the ship. She heard the men whispering about a ghost ship crashing into the main harbour, crushing one of the other ships. Many men had died on the ship it crashed into, and apparently no one had jumped to safety from the mysterious ship, which had eventually sunk into the harbour. As interesting a tale it was, it had no impact on Arya, therefore she put it to the back of her mind.
As the last of the chests made its way up the gangplank, Arya took one final look around Braavos. If her life went to plan, this would be the last time she saw this place. If the faceless men found her, she would be bound to it for life.
She stared at the canals, watching as a boat ferried a small passenger in the direction of the Sealords Palace. From a distance, he reminded her of Bobono, the dwarf from the mummers troop. She shook her head, putting aside memories of the past. The present was more important.
Once they had finished, Arya bid Tycho Nestoris farewell. The Mockingbird lifted its anchor and left the Purple Harbour, to embark on its last voyage.
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The ship had been at sea, sailing south, for a full day when the first changes were made. The first thing Arya did was have the captain to ensure there were no other ships within the vicinity to watch what they were doing.
The name of the ship The Mockingbird, was painted on the stern, in black against a yellow background. Arya wanted to get rid of it. First it was painted black. Once dry, a placard with the words Wolf Bitch was screwed in. The next item to change was the figurehead on the prow, which had been a mockingbird affixed to the body of a woman. That was changed into a wolf, painted to look like Nymeria.
The final amendment to the ship were the yellow and black sails. The sailors lowered them and replaced them with the sigil of House Stark. After that, only one more task remained, to make it look like the original ship had sunk.
On the cargo deck, there were broken parts of a ship. Not a full one, but enough to make it appear the Mockingbird had sunk. A few planks of wood had been cobbled together to look like the stern of the ship. Painted upon it was the word 'bird'. The sails would be thrown out to sea, as would the figurehead from the prow, amongst a wooden chest containing Littlefinger's clothes.
The chest, wood, and sails were all thrown out as dusk settled. Then the ship changed course. No longer sailing south towards the Summer Sea. The ship was due north-west, heading towards White Harbor.
The last thing she needed to do was to kill Littlefinger.
The first step was already complete. The dead man in her chambers was to be turned into the former master of coin. First of all Arya dressed the substitute Littlefinger in his clothes. Then she cut his hair and trimmed his beard. The rest didn't matter, for his body would be too decomposed by the time he was found, only his clothes would identify him as the deceased Lord Baelish. That is if he was ever found. But Arya had to make certain he had disappeared.
Outside her cabin, the ship was quiet, for most of the sailors were abed. With help from the captain, they carried the fake Littlefinger, together in the sack, and made their way out on deck.
The ship contained two tenders, designed to ferry cargo to a port, or people, in case of an emergency. They heaved the body into one of the tenders and removed the sack he was wrapped in. Arya covered the face of the corpse in fresh fish, to entice the birds to peck at his face, defiling the features should the craft be found before the body was unrecognisable.
Between her and the captain, they lowered the small rowing boat using the winch and cut it free as soon as it hit the water. She watched as it floated off into the night. The death of Lord Baelish was almost complete. For the rest, she would have to wait until the ship docked in White Harbor.