The feast in Wolf's Den City was joyful and unrestrained, with the banquet hall filled with the aroma of roasted meat and freshly baked bread. A dazzling array of fine wines was on display: Myr's fire wine, green wine, Tyrosh's pear brandy, and Dornish summer red.
"Lord Gendry, Magistrate of Myr, Tyrosh, the Narrow Sea, and the Stepstones, guardian of Prince Viserys and Princess Daenerys."
"The Magistrate's fiancée, Princess of Dragonstone, Daenerys stormborn."
The two walked hand-in-hand into the banquet hall, as if the myriad stars had converged upon them, the powerful figures of the Narrow Sea.
Gendry wore a light black velvet long coat adorned with a Wolf Pack emblem, leather high boots, and a wide leather belt with a silver-plated buckle. He didn't need much ornamentation to appear distinguished.
Daenerys had changed into a princess's attire: a black velvet gown with a red gemstone pendant at her throat, and a red-gem-encrusted crown that complemented her long, silver-gold hair and purple eyes. At this moment, she appeared even more beautiful.
Gendry led Daenerys to the high platform and they took their seats.
Next came the Magistrate's capable subordinates: The Handsome Man, Longspear, Ser Jorah, the white-haired Dick the Arrow Maker, Myr's fleet commander Moros, and others.
There was also a guest reeking of alcohol, the emaciated "Beggar King" Viserys, thoroughly drunk.
Everyone implicitly led Viserys to a seat at the head table. The expression on Viserys's face grew increasingly angry; he was the "legitimate" King, yet the damned master of ceremonies hadn't announced his position. Even by order, he should have a separate seat, not be lumped in with these rude soldiers.
After all the esteemed guests were seated, everyone raised their glasses in toasts and exchanged congratulations, then the dinner began.
"The bankers of Myr and Tyrosh wish to see you!" Grey Wolf whispered to Gendry.
"Bankers?" Gendry noticed a certain direction at the lower end of the table, where those bankers were looking at him expectantly. The olive-skinned ones from Myr, and those with various hair and beard colors from Tyrosh.
The banking industry holds considerable weight in the Free Cities, typically exemplified by Braavos, where banking, commerce, and fishing are its three pillar industries.
The bankers of Myr and Tyrosh also held significant influence. As a relatively high-tier industry, bankers suffered less during the slave emancipation turmoil and maintained a humble attitude. The industrial structures of Myr and Tyrosh mostly consisted of fishing, banking, and handicrafts.
Although the various delicacies on the tables were piled high, everyone's thoughts were not entirely on the feast. The dinner was merely an occasion to bring everyone together.
Glasses clinked together, producing a crisp sound.
"I'll be right back," Gendry told Daenerys. Daenerys nodded uneasily; she rarely witnessed such scenes. She had once been a princess, but exile had consumed almost her entire life.
There was also a secret small room in the banquet hall. Gendry whispered a few more instructions to Grey Wolf, then excused himself.
The bankers from Myr and Tyrosh swarmed around Gendry like flies, smiling, seemingly harmless. But Gendry knew they were hungry wolves who devoured people whole, each banker meticulously calculating every penny.
Gendry also stood up and exchanged pleasantries with the surrounding bankers.
"Magistrate, we and our colleagues from Tyrosh have a small proposal," a Myr banker said softly.
Gendry became interested and motioned for them to continue.
"No one has ever truly controlled the Two Cities before. Now you are the master of the Alliance of the Twin Cities, and you also control the Stepstones and the Disputed Lands. You have the ability to merge the banks of Myr and Tyrosh," said an olive-skinned Myr banker.
"One bank, you say? So, this is the desire of your banking industry?" Gendry surveyed the bankers before him.
"Yes, Lord. If you are to become King, there should be a unified bank and a unified currency," the Myr banker said, mustering his courage.
"If the Magistrate can empathize with the sentiments of our banking industry, then we will fully support your new policies, your army, and even the crown you desire," the red-haired Tyrosh banker added from the side.
Previously, the Three Daughters had merged into the Triarchy, but the High Council, composed of thirty-three Archons, made the entire state redundant, slow, and fragmented. But now, the Alliance of the Twin Cities had only one ruler and one army, giving it the potential to become a true state.
"They're trying to put me on the spot," Gendry thought. Braavos was currently an ambiguous friend. If he rashly consolidated the banks into one, establishing a unified bank to compete with the Iron Bank, the consequences would be difficult to bear.
"We'll discuss this another time. I will give your suggestions careful consideration," Gendry told the bankers, thanking them. At this moment, such a suggestion was indeed too risky. Many years ago, only the Rogare Bank briefly achieved greater prominence than the Iron Bank, but the price came quickly: the sudden death of the tyrant Lysandro and the decline of the Rogare family.
The bankers' faces lit up with joy; merely considering it meant there was at least a possibility of merging. Now that the Two Cities possessed vast territories, and with the potential to land in Westeros in the future, establishing a magnificent bank spanning two continents was the ambition of these bankers.
Fortune favors the bold, and profit filled the bankers with greed.
"Lord, to these wonderful years."
"To your endeavors," the bankers praised.
Gendry looked at them, and everyone raised their glasses together. Since the dissolution of the Triarchy, the Three Daughters had begun to harbor mutual animosity, so seeing these bankers gathered together was indeed rare.
As everyone was exchanging pleasantries, a commotion suddenly erupted in the hall.
"You're drunk, Prince," Ser Jorah stood up, looking coldly at Viserys.
"I'm not drunk," Viserys mumbled. "When will your King send his army? Does he have to wait until he's slept with my sister and fathered a Bastard cub?"
"I've been very generous; I've let that Bastard sleep with my sister. All I want is for him to send troops to take me back to Westeros."
Daenerys stood on the high platform, watching her brother, tears welling in her eyes.
"It seems you truly are drunk," Grey Wolf was also by Viserys's side, pouring a full cup of wine into Viserys's glass, then forcefully putting it to Viserys's mouth.
"I am King! How dare you treat a King like this?!" Viserys shouted, enraged.
Viserys choked on the wine, his nose stinging, tears almost flowing. Traces of wine appeared on his magnificent black clothes.
"Dead eunuch! I am King! How dare you treat a King like this?!" Viserys yelled.
The Unsullied looked at Viserys indifferently, continuing to pour wine into his cup and force it into his mouth.
"No! I won't drink!" Viserys struggled and fell to the ground. He suddenly had an even more terrifying fantasy: perhaps the wine was poisoned. He let out an indistinguishable shriek, like a pitiful fish flopping ashore.
"Grey Wolf thinks you should give him a few slaps to sober him up," Maester Qyburn said softly.
"I don't want him to be hurt," Daenerys hurried down, looking at the red-faced Viserys.
"Enough! Ser Jorah, Grey Wolf."
They stopped. Viserys lay on the ground, gasping for air, utterly miserable. All the guests witnessed this scene; they wanted to laugh but dared not.
"He's so pitiful," Daenerys suddenly felt a surge of pity. He had always been a wretch, but she only realized it now. Daenerys's nightmare seemed to vanish into thin air.
"You must be drunk," Gendry walked over to Viserys and helped the poor man up. Viserys, however, held his head as if afraid, seeing Gendry's smile. That gentle smile, yet so terrifying.
"It's you! It's all you!" Viserys shrieked. "Isn't anyone going to help the poor King? Hit him! Hit his cronies!"
"I think you've had too much to drink. If you don't go to sleep now, you'll become a true Beggar King immediately," Gendry said softly.
Viserys looked at him with humiliation, then at Daenerys. He wanted to resist, but he saw the watchful eyes of the strong guards, those steel-like Unsullied.
Viserys stumbled out of the banquet hall, finally losing everything.
"He's not a true dragon," Daenerys thought, "afraid of fire, and afraid of steel."
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