From Jon's angle, the words Ned Stark wrote on the slate were painfully clear:
> "NO. We absolutely cannot provoke Robert. Not unless you give me a reasonable explanation."
Seeing the stubborn set of Ned's jaw, Jon could only shake his head with a bitter smile. He continued their verbal charade of discussng "parenting advice" aloud, while simultaneously carrying on a silent, ink-stained negotiation on the slate.
Sansa, watching from the side, was wide-eyed at the content of the writing, but she didn't seem to resist the idea. Jon noted her reaction carefully.
Why was the "Shadow Hand" so insistent? Because he knew Joffrey wasn't just cruel—he was a monster in the making.
Jon knew that on the journey back from Winterfell, the Crown Prince had been humiliated by Jon and had barely held his temper in check. Since returning to the Red Keep, Joffrey had tortured over five servants and two handmaidens to death. Worse, he had been sneaking out in disguise to visit brothels.
Because Jon couldn't pry open Varys's secrets, the full extent was hidden, but he could safely assume that numerous lowborn women had already met grisly ends, their bodies likely feeding the rats in the sewers.
When Jon scribbled these details on the slate, the color drained from Ned's face. It wasn't just the pain from his broken leg; it was shock.
Jon was betting on that shock. No matter how rigid Ned's code of honor was, when the potential victim was his own daughter, the Wolf's protective instincts would override his loyalty to the Stag.
Just as the silent argument reached a stalemate, Sansa unexpectedly chimed in aloud, offering the perfect pretext.
"Father, Brother Jon," she said, her voice sweet and innocent. "Arya recently invited me and some other highborn ladies to visit Tampa. I've heard the beaches there are beautiful..."
As she spoke, her doe-like eyes darted to Jon, seeking validation.
The Wolf of the North didn't hesitate. He snatched the opportunity out of the air.
"That's right," Jon said quickly. "Compared to the stifling heat and filth of King's Landing, Tampa is a much cooler retreat. I've even considered suggesting you go there to recover, Father. The sea air would do wonders for your leg."
While speaking, Jon scribbled furiously on the parchment:
> "As soon as Robert returns to the city, I will bring Sansa back immediately. No suspicion will be aroused."
Ned wiped the sweat from his brow. After a long, heavy silence, he finally nodded his consent.
When Jon left the Tower of the Hand, he walked out with a stack of fresh orders signed by the Hand of the King. These papers were his bargaining chips—leverage to twist the Small Council to his will.
Among them was a directive assigning Jon a new task: managing the "Rest and Rotation" schedules for the City Watch and the Royal Fleet of Dragonstone. The official reason was to show the Hand's appreciation for their hard work.
It was a flawless excuse. It gave Jon a legitimate reason to extend his reach into the military.
Ned had long despised the City Watch—the Gold Cloaks were corrupt, incompetent, and loyal only to gold. He had been itching to clean house but lacked the opening. Now, hearing Jon's proposals and seeing his nephew's uncanny competence, the bedridden Hand was willing to delegate this authority to Baron Jon Stark.
Of course, there was a deeper, unspoken reason for Ned's compliance.
It was a quiet rebellion. Ned was still furious at how Robert had treated him, and by delegating his duties, he was subconsciously disengaging—perhaps even preparing to resign and leave the capital for good.
---
### Building the Fiefdom
Meanwhile, developments in Tampa were exceeding Jon's expectations.
Although he hadn't publicly declared his ownership, the locals knew. Word on the street was that the territory now belonged to a certain Baron.
However, information didn't travel evenly.
The Squirrel Gang seemed to know exactly who Jon was and refrained from causing trouble.
The Golden Button merchant group had also used their private channels to confirm that the new ruler of Tampa was none other than the rising "Shadow Hand" of King's Landing. Consequently, they had dialed back their aggressive expansion in the area.
The only outliers were the monks of the Hidden Order, who continued their operations brazenly, ignoring the change in leadership.
To clear these obstacles, Jon used his influence in the Small Council to pour concrete foundations for his new domain.
He couldn't order Stannis Baratheon around directly—the man was as stubborn as a mule—but he could use Ned's authority. Jon issued a decree from the Small Council to establish a "Naval Convalescence Center" in Tampa.
The term "convalescence" was foreign to most Westerosi, but they understood the gist: it was a perk for the sailors.
With the decree signed, Jon, acting as the project manager, petitioned the treasury for funding.
Here, Petyr Baelish, the Master of Coin, made his move. He couldn't openly defy the Hand, but he could certainly stonewall Jon. Littlefinger simply smiled and spread his hands: "There is no gold."
"The Crown is heavily in debt," Littlefinger explained with practiced smoothness. "Asking for more funds is a fantasy."
Jon had expected this. He nodded in agreement, springing his trap.
"Quite right, Lord Baelish," Jon said. "Which is why I propose we issue Infrastructure Bonds in the King's name."
He laid out the plan: the Crown would borrow money from wealthy nobles and merchants to fund the construction. In return, the lenders would receive franchise rights and tax credits on future trade tariffs.
Varys, seeing an opportunity to clip Littlefinger's wings, immediately voiced his support.
Even Renly Baratheon, the Master of Laws, could see the wind shifting. Jon and Varys were teaming up to check Littlefinger's power, and Renly had no reason to object.
Realizing he was outmaneuvered, the Mockingbird knew when to fold. Littlefinger conceded, though the smile never left his face.
With the Small Council's endorsement, the skepticism of the investors vanished. Gold began to flow from hidden vaults into the project.
With the startup capital secured, Jon funneled it straight into Tampa, kickstarting a massive construction boom.
And the person he put in charge of executing this grand vision on the ground? None other than the spirited, unruly Arya Stark.