The arrival of Tycho Nestoris sent a tremor of anxiety through the Red Keep. The Iron Bank did not send its most senior representative for trivial matters. To the court, his presence signaled a coming financial reckoning. To Aaryan, it signaled the beginning of a new alliance.
He prepared for the meeting not by donning fine velvets, but by arming himself with facts. When Tycho Nestoris was shown into his solar, he found Aaryan not behind a grand desk, but standing before a table covered in organized stacks of ledgers and charts. The office was a model of efficiency, a small island of relentless competence in the sea of the Red Keep's decay.
Tycho Nestoris was exactly as Aaryan had expected: a man who seemed carved from grey stone, his face a mask of severe professionalism, his dark eyes missing nothing.
"Lord Aaryan," Tycho began, his voice devoid of warmth or pleasantry. He did not sit. "Your letter was… unprecedented. In a century of dealings with the Iron Throne, the words 'early repayment' have never been used. The Iron Bank is intrigued."
"Intrigue is the mother of opportunity, Master Nestoris," Aaryan replied, gesturing to the charts on the table. "What I sent you was not a promise. It was a projection, based on a new economic model for the capital and, eventually, the Six Kingdoms."
For the next hour, Aaryan did not plead or promise. He demonstrated. He walked Tycho through his reforms, showing him the direct correlation between the loans from the Bank of the Rock and the rising profits of the city's guilds. He presented the new, rigorously honest customs revenues. He laid out his plans for infrastructure projects—a new sewer system, repairs to the city walls—all to be funded by his new, efficient system, not by borrowing. He was not presenting himself as a debtor seeking better terms. He was presenting himself as the CEO of a promising new venture, inviting the Iron Bank to be a primary shareholder.
Tycho listened in absolute silence, his eyes moving from the ledgers to Aaryan's face. He was a man who listened to numbers, not words, and Aaryan's numbers were singing a beautiful song.
"Your plans are ambitious," Tycho said when Aaryan had finished. It was the highest form of praise the banker could offer. "But they are built on an assumption of peace. The Iron Bank's sources tell us this peace is fragile. The Dornish are restless. The Ironborn are unpredictable. How can you guarantee the stability needed for such a return on our… investment?"
The opening. Aaryan had been waiting for it.
"Your sources are impeccable, Master Nestoris," Aaryan said, his tone shifting from that of a banker to a strategist. "Stability is the foundation of all profit. It is a foundation I intend to lay myself. My own audits have revealed certain economic anomalies that threaten it. A significant, undeclared flow of capital into Sunspear from unknown sources. Volantene trade envoys appearing on shores where they have no charters and no business."
He paused, letting the information settle. "These are threats not just to the Crown, but to the security of the global trade routes that ensure our mutual prosperity. An unstable Westeros is a poor client for the Iron Bank."
Tycho's impassive mask did not slip, but Aaryan saw a flicker of understanding in his dark eyes. The Iron Bank knew. Of course, they knew.
"Volantis has grown bold," Tycho stated, his voice a flat confirmation. "Their Triarchs are drunk on dreams of old Valyria. Such dreams are expensive, and their treasury is not what it once was. The Iron Bank does not invest in dreams. We invest in certainty."
In that moment, an unspoken pact was forged. Aaryan had a domestic conspiracy he needed to manage. The Iron Bank had an international rival it wished to contain. Their interests were now perfectly, profitably aligned.
"Then let us work together to create that certainty," Aaryan proposed. "The Iron Bank has the largest information network in the world. I have the means to act on that information here in Westeros. I propose a formal partnership. Restructure the Crown's debt on more favorable terms, a sign of your faith in this new, stable administration. In return, my office will provide you with regular, detailed 'economic risk assessments' concerning any threats to our shared stability."
He was offering to be the Iron Bank's sword, and in return, they would be his eyes.
Tycho Nestoris considered this for a long moment. "The Iron Bank will consider your proposal," he said finally, which was his way of saying 'yes'. "We believe in competent management."
The meeting was a success. Aaryan had secured a powerful ally, a line of credit, and a source of global intelligence in a single conversation. He had played his hand perfectly.
As Tycho turned to leave, he paused at the door. He looked back at Aaryan, a gesture that seemed almost out of character, a break in his professional facade.
"A final word of advice, Lord Coinmaster," the Braavosi said, his voice low. "As a gesture of our new understanding. When a Tiger of Volantis—one of their ruling Triarchs—travels so far from home, it is often because he follows the scent of a dragon."
And then he was gone.
Aaryan stood alone in the solar, the banker's final words hanging in the air like poison smoke. His mind reeled, the final, horrifying piece of the puzzle clicking into place.
Drogon.
The Volantene envoy, the secret meetings with the Ironborn, the arming of Dorne… it was not just about destabilizing the Six Kingdoms. That was merely the first step. They were hunting.
They were hunting the last dragon in the world.
Their ambition was not merely to cripple a rival kingdom. It was to capture the ultimate symbol of the old Valyrian empire, the living key to absolute power, a weapon of mass destruction that was currently sleeping, unguarded, in the east.
Aaryan walked to the window and looked out over the city. The game he was playing was no longer about the debts of kings or the ambitions of princes. It was a race. A race to find and claim the most powerful weapon the world had ever known, before his enemies did.
And the fate of the entire world might very well rest on the outcome.