"If winter comes, Braavos will feel the cold as well."
Naho swirled the wine in his cup as he spoke. The Braavosi banker was slightly drunk, but his mood had never been better. Recovering such a massive sum of money would significantly improve his standing within the Iron Bank.
For loan officers of the Iron Bank, performance determined everything. The more successful their investments and recoveries, the higher their status and influence became.
Not only had Naho successfully recovered a large portion of the debt, but he had also established a cooperative relationship with one of the strongest contenders for the Iron Throne.
To him, this was a tremendous victory.
Across the table, Gendry nodded and raised his cup. A faint smile appeared on his face, though only he knew how much of it was genuine.
"Then let us drink to the Iron Bank."
The two men clinked their cups.
Naho chuckled.
"To be honest, our relationship with House Lannister has never been particularly pleasant."
Gendry raised an eyebrow.
"Oh?"
"The Lannisters have occupied far too much of the financial market in the Seven Kingdoms."
The statement was unsurprising.
Competitors were rarely friends.
For generations, House Lannister's immense wealth had allowed them to lend money not only to the Iron Throne but also to countless noble houses throughout Westeros. Every gold dragon lent by the Lannisters was a customer the Iron Bank could not claim.
As a result, many Braavosi bankers had long viewed House Lannister as an irritating rival.
The situation became even worse after the crown accumulated massive debts. The relationship between the Iron Bank and the Iron Throne gradually deteriorated, creating a widening divide.
The Iron Bank was not merely a lender to kings.
Its influence stretched across continents. It financed merchants, nobles, trading companies, and entire cities.
If the Iron Bank suddenly demanded repayment from Westeros and refused further loans, the economy of the Seven Kingdoms could descend into chaos overnight.
That was why even powerful kings treated the Braavosi with caution.
Naho leaned back comfortably.
"I hope to hear good news from King's Landing soon. After all, there is still one million gold dragons tied to my future performance."
Gendry laughed.
"You won't have to wait long."
He lifted his cup again.
"I don't enjoy owing money."
His words sounded casual, but his thoughts were far more ambitious.
Once House Lannister was destroyed, the crown's largest creditor within Westeros would disappear. More importantly, the legendary gold mines of the Westerlands would eventually fall into his hands.
At that point, a debt of one million gold dragons would be insignificant.
"To our cooperation."
"To our cooperation."
The cups met once more.
For a moment, the atmosphere felt almost like that of old friends rather than political allies.
Soon afterward, Naho prepared to depart.
The Braavosi fleet would return home carrying news of success. Although the repayment plan relied partially on the five hundred thousand gold dragons recovered from Littlefinger's schemes, it was still considered an excellent result.
Three hundred thousand gold dragons would be repaid immediately.
The remaining debt would follow according to schedule.
Before leaving, Naho handed over a duplicate copy of the agreement.
Gendry carefully examined every clause before entrusting the document to Ser Barristan Selmy.
The old knight accepted it solemnly.
The agreement represented far more than money.
It represented trust.
And in politics, trust was often worth more than gold.
After the Braavosi delegation departed, silence settled over the hall.
Gendry stood by the window, staring northward.
The coming war was important.
But another threat lingered constantly in the back of his mind.
Winter.
Not merely a season, but a catastrophe.
Most of Westeros would struggle when winter truly arrived.
The North would suffer.
The regions around the Wall would suffer even more.
Braavos might experience hardship as well, but the Braavosi had never witnessed the horror of a winter lasting ten or even twenty years.
Few people truly understood what was coming.
As his thoughts drifted northward, another question surfaced.
The Others.
The White Walkers.
The undead.
Why did such creatures seem concentrated around Westeros?
Why were they rarely mentioned elsewhere?
"Lady Melisandre."
The Red Priestess stepped forward.
"Your Grace."
Gendry folded his arms.
"I've always wondered something."
"Why do stories of wights and Others appear mostly in Westeros? Why do we hear so little about them elsewhere in the world?"
Melisandre considered the question for a moment.
"Westeros is a land deeply connected to ancient powers."
"The gods have left many traces here."
"The Great Other and his servants have remained entrenched in the far North for thousands of years."
"However, reports of similar phenomena do exist elsewhere."
Gendry became interested.
"Go on."
"The Shivering Sea."
"The frozen waters north of Braavos."
"And beyond that lies the White Waste."
As she spoke, her crimson eyes seemed to stare beyond the horizon.
"Sailors who travel those waters tell strange stories."
"Blizzards rage endlessly."
"The winds howl like the cries of spirits."
"The coastline shifts with the seasons, advancing and retreating beneath the ice."
"Strange lights dance across the northern sky."
Gendry listened carefully.
The descriptions reminded him of legends surrounding the Lands of Always Winter.
Melisandre continued.
"There are tales of pale blue ice fogs that drift across the sea."
"Entire ships become trapped and frozen."
"When darkness falls, drowned spirits emerge from the depths and drag sailors beneath the waves."
"Some speak of monstrous merfolk with pale skin and black-scaled tails, creatures far more dangerous than the mermaids of southern legends."
Her voice lowered.
"And there are stories of Ice Dragons."
That immediately captured everyone's attention.
"Ice Dragons?"
Melisandre nodded.
"They are said to be far larger than the dragons of Valyria."
"Their bodies are formed from living ice."
"Their eyes shine like blue crystals."
"Their wings are translucent and vast enough to cover entire villages in shadow."
"And their breath carries not fire..."
"...but endless cold."
A brief silence followed.
Even seasoned knights exchanged uneasy glances.
Gendry rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
Braavos lay north of most of Essos, yet it remained far south compared to the truly frozen regions beyond the Shivering Sea.
Perhaps the dangers of the far North extended beyond Westeros after all.
An even stranger thought occurred to him.
Could the Faceless Men be connected somehow?
The assassins of Braavos worshipped death itself.
The Others also embodied death.
Perhaps there was a deeper connection hidden beneath the surface.
For now, however, there was no time to pursue such mysteries.
The war demanded his attention.
Gendry turned away from the window.
"Ser Justin."
"Count Durran."
Several nobles immediately stepped forward.
"Your Grace."
Gendry's expression became serious.
"The Kingswood will be our next objective."
"The final battle for King's Landing will belong to knights and armies."
"But conquering the Kingswood requires different warriors."
"The forest belongs to hunters."
Everyone nodded.
The dense woodlands surrounding King's Landing were difficult terrain for conventional forces.
Local hunters understood every trail, stream, and hidden path.
They would be invaluable.
Outside Copper Gate City, thousands of soldiers were already gathering.
Rows of tents stretched across the landscape.
War banners snapped in the wind.
The Stormlands vanguard numbered nearly six thousand men.
Five thousand came directly from Storm's End under Ser Guyard Morrigen.
Five hundred elite Gold Cloaks marched beneath Gendry's personal command.
Additional forces arrived from Haystack Hall, Stonehelm, and numerous allied territories.
The combined army formed a sea of steel.
House banners fluttered proudly overhead.
Ravens, turtles, spirals, swordfish, and dozens of other sigils filled the sky.
Yet above them all flew the golden banners of the Liberator.
Long streamers trailed behind them like burning flames.
Upon the banner were four symbols.
A leaping stag.
A roaring dragon.
A howling wolf.
And a freed slave.
Together they represented the foundations of Gendry's growing power.
Mounted upon his warhorse, Gendry surveyed the army.
Black scale armor covered his body.
A golden cloak billowed behind him.
His warhammer hung at his side.
An arakh rested beside the saddle.
Clean-shaven and wearing a split-crested helmet, he looked every bit the image of a conqueror.
Thousands of warriors stared back at him.
Men from every corner of the Stormlands.
Veterans.
Young recruits.
Nobles and commoners alike.
They had chosen to follow him.
And he intended to reward their faith with victory.
Gendry slowly drew his sword.
The blade flashed beneath the sun.
"Advance."
The command echoed across the field.
War horns sounded.
Steel rattled.
Thousands of boots struck the earth in unison.
The great host began to move.
Like a living tide, the army marched toward King's Landing.
Yet Gendry knew the knights were not his most valuable asset.
Far ahead of the main force, dozens of figures had already disappeared into the forests.
Hunters.
Trackers.
Scouts.
The people known as Deer Catchers.
They knew every hidden trail and every secret path through the Kingswood.
For generations they had hunted deer among those ancient trees.
Now they hunted something far greater.
Guiding the advancing army through the wilderness, the Deer Catchers moved silently through the shadows.
And with every step they took, the vanguard drew closer to King's Landing.
The storm was coming.
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)