[Chapter Size: 1300 Words.]
---------------------------------------
As expected, Tyrion became the prime suspect. With Tywin and Cersei already eager for his death, Tyrion had no way to defend himself.
The situation worsened with Sansa's disappearance. Chaos had lasted only minutes before she vanished from the feast, further cementing the belief that Tyrion had poisoned the king. It seemed almost inevitable: a wronged couple with deep resentment toward Joffrey could easily have plotted his murder.
Tywin showed little outward emotion at Joffrey's death. Without hesitation, he ordered the city sealed, no one was to enter or leave.
His sharp eyes swept the hall, lingering on Theon, who sat motionless, then shifting to Tyrion, and finally to the Queen of Thorns.
It was as if Tywin had already pieced together the truth. He likely knew who had poisoned Joffrey, yet he neither spoke nor interfered. After all, Tywin preferred a pliant king to rule in his stead.
Tommen Baratheon, the next heir, was ideal, obedient, honest, and only nine years old. In every respect, he surpassed Joffrey.
A new king also meant new ministers, and Tywin's gaze returned to Theon, already calculating how to deal with the "favorite minister" of the late king.
Theon, oblivious to Tywin's scrutiny, was preoccupied with thoughts of extorting supplies from the Reach. Yet he knew the odds were slim. The most powerful lords already understood who had orchestrated Joffrey's death. Unlike Littlefinger, who had neither troops nor loyal vassals, the Reach was Olenna's domain, and she could summon an army of one hundred thousand at will. To blackmail such a force was folly.
Abandoning the idea, Theon returned to his residence with Myrcella and Selena. Once there, he immediately summoned his men.
With Joffrey dead, the next great event would be Tyrion's trial, but Theon found little interest in court drama. His focus was elsewhere.
He longed to return to the Iron Islands, a home he had not seen in years. But before setting sail, he needed to complete the levies in the Riverlands and secure his hold before cleansing the Isles of rivals.
Soon after, Theon and his retinue packed their belongings and made for the city gates.
On duty that day was Ser Meryn Trant, newly appointed commander of the Gold Cloaks in King's Landing, a man not entirely without perception.
"Lord Theon," Meryn asked as he approached, "are you planning to return to the Riverlands?"
"Ser Meryn," Theon replied smoothly, "you know I have wandered for half my life. By fortune, His Grace once favored me. I wished only to attend his wedding and present my gift, but fate took him before I could."
From his breast, Theon produced a small wooden box. "This is for you, Ser Meryn. A bar of soap. It works as well as the soap nuts from Essos, but it is more fragrant and far more effective. Once you use it, you will see. It was meant as a gift for His Grace."
Theon had lost count of how many such bars he had distributed, but many lords already possessed them.
Meryn opened the box, and a sweet scent drifted into the air. His eyes lit with delight. He tucked the gift away quickly, then waved for his men to open the gates.
After Theon departed, a servant approached cautiously. "My lord, Hand Tywin commanded that the city gates remain sealed. If we allow them to leave so openly, I fear…"
Meryn waved the concern aside. "It matters not. Even Lord Tywin would not object to their departure. Besides, with the king dead, Theon will not find his footing here in King's Landing."
Days later, Theon arrived in Seagard, which had gradually replaced Riverrun as the political center of the Riverlands. There, he summoned the local nobility and appointed his sister Yara as guardian of Riverrun, charged with its defense.
One by one, Theon placed trusted defenders in command of the major strongholds of the Riverlands. Yet the greatest task still remained, taxation.
Tax evasion was rampant. Though Theon had established strict laws, he was uncertain how effective they would prove in practice.
…
Time slipped quickly by. Winter deepened, and the first days of December had already come.
The first round of tax collection in the region began in earnest, with soldiers and scholars alike moving across the countryside to oversee the process.
By mid-to-late December, the first reports from the various towns and villages began to arrive.
When Grand Maester Staffan presented the results, Theon could not hide the spark of excitement in his eyes. He had already entrusted several maesters with the method for producing fertilizer, and now the first experiments were complete.
The final stores of grain had been combined with the initial batch of chemical fertilizer. Though the quantities were small, the effects were promising.
Grain taxes had been reduced in proportion, yet the overall yield collected was nearly equal to previous levies. This meant that farmers were able to keep more than half of their surplus and even begin to save for the future.
What surprised Theon most, however, was the commercial tax. Revenues exceeded two million gold royals, this despite the fact that trade had only just begun to flourish. At the current pace of development, trade taxes would need to be levied at least twice a year going forward, and the sums would grow considerably. Beyond his own merchant caravans, the city would soon have the means to invest heavily in other industries.
With a good harvest secured and finances swelling, the time was ripe to expand the army.
Theon met with Grand Maester Staffan, and together they decided to recruit an additional six thousand professional soldiers, bringing the standing force to ten thousand.
At the same time, each city was ordered to maintain a garrison of one thousand men, raising the total strength of the permanent army to twenty thousand.
This was no levy of peasants but a true standing force, and its costs were immense. Annual pay for the twenty thousand men, along with their officers, ranged from one hundred to two hundred thousand gold coins, before accounting for the food, lodging, and supplies the army required.
Still, Theon resolved to dedicate thirty percent of tax revenues each year to military development. Unlike the lords of Westeros, who preferred to let their gold dragons gather dust in vaults, he viewed coin as useless unless it moved. Gold locked away was nothing more than dead stone; only when it circulated could it truly be called money.
Thus, order after order flowed from Theon: new recruitment, road building, the expansion of shipyards, soap factories, and even the construction of public latrines to collect waste. He hired cleaners, laborers, and builders, spending the freshly collected tax revenue in the blink of an eye.
Yet what was spent returned in greater form. Every project required workers, and Theon refused to enforce unpaid labor. Instead, he employed his own people, creating an abundance of jobs.
It was December, and though the South of Westeros faced only brief winters, rarely more than a month of cold, often without snow, the sudden chill was still enough to make farming impossible. Many households would otherwise sit idle. Theon's massive building projects not only gave them work but also gave farming families the confidence to raise more children.
For common folk, an extra child meant another pair of working hands. With surplus food and growing savings, population growth became not only possible but inevitable.
And this growth brought its own "benefits" to Theon.
—————————
Author's Note:
If you're enjoying the story and wish to support me, you can visit my P-@-t-r-3-0-n, where you can read 50+ extra chapters ahead!
Thank you so much for your support. It means the world! 💙😊
P-@-T -r-3-0-n [.] com / DylanBriak