The rumors sweeping through King's Landing had been carefully seeded by Gaemon's own agents.
Once the domain's core construction had settled into a steady rhythm, Gaemon began looking for ways to push development even faster.
After weeks of quiet observation, he realized something important. Decades of peace under King Jaehaerys had allowed many merchants in the capital to build up solid fortunes. Yet the city itself was bursting at the seams. Families lived packed into cramped houses, and land inside the walls was insanely expensive. Most plots were controlled by the Crown, great lords, or the wealthiest merchant houses. Mid-tier traders—rich enough to dream bigger, but not powerful enough to elbow their way into the inner circle—had almost no chance of buying decent property.
Moving outside the city walls to build a larger home? That was even riskier. Between roaming bandits, hedge knights turned extortionists, and the endless web of local taxes and "tolls" invented by petty lords, a merchant could be skinned alive before the roof was even finished.
King's Landing had become the most populous city in Westeros partly because the Targaryen Crown had always been relatively light-handed with the middle and lower classes. The royal family cared about its image; it avoided the kind of bone-crushing exploitation common among lesser lords. That breathing room had drawn people in.
Once Gaemon spotted the opportunity, he acted.
He issued a formal decree: any merchant willing to build in the Wendwater Domain would receive a free plot of land. Inside the future city of Oros, the maximum was one acre per merchant. Outside the walls, up to one hundred acres for private estates.
The announcement hit King's Landing like dragonfire.
Because the order came from a prince of the blood, it carried real credibility. Everyone knew some lords liked to promise land one day and confiscate it the next. But a Targaryen prince? His word still meant something.
Merchants who had spent years dreaming of their own manor houses suddenly saw a path. Even with the size limits, it was more than they had ever been offered before. And where a new city rose, new fortunes would follow.
Within days, the shipping lane between King's Landing and the Wendwater grew noticeably busier. From the air, the route wasn't yet a constant stream of sails, but scarcely an hour passed without another merchant cog or carrack cutting through Blackwater Bay.
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Inside the newly finished City Hall of Oros, Gaemon leaned back in his chair and looked across the desk at Jon Connington.
"Jon, how many merchants have come to invest so far?"
Jon's face lit with quiet satisfaction. "Hundreds have already inquired at the hall, Your Grace. Just this month we've had over a hundred serious visitors from all over. Most are still weighing their options, but more than a hundred have already committed. The majority have started clearing their plots and laying foundations for houses or workshops."
Gaemon's grin widened. "Where are they choosing to settle?"
"Almost all who picked Oros proper have taken plots inside the city walls. We followed your instructions and assigned locations based on the type of business they plan to open. Some have already begun building shops or warehouses."
"Excellent. But keep an eye on the spacing between buildings. Most of these will be timber-and-brick construction. If they're packed too tightly, a single fire could turn half the city into an inferno. Leave proper firebreaks from the very beginning. It'll save us grief later."
"Understood, Your Grace. I'll make sure the surveyors enforce wider gaps."
Gaemon nodded, pleased. "What kinds of businesses are they opening?"
"Right now the majority are from King's Landing, and they're focusing on quick-profit ventures—taverns, alehouses, and brothels. As the population here grows, demand for those services is exploding."
"Keep the taverns under regular patrol. I want order maintained—no unnecessary bloodshed. As for the brothels, set up a registration system and grant them operating charters. Their profits will be a major tax source, but they attract every kind of filth. Keep them on a short leash. Pay special attention to the women working there. If any were kidnapped or sold against their will, see if we can buy them out and give them a better path."
"Yes, Your Grace. Your mercy is like the Mother's own. I'll have the men watch both taverns and brothels closely."
"Good. And keep spreading the word. Send more agents to Oldtown, White Harbor, and the other major ports. Every extra merchant who comes to invest speeds up construction that much more."
Jon smiled. "Actually, Your Grace, instead of doing all the work ourselves, why not let the merchants who've already arrived do some of the advertising for us? We could also pay a few traveling singers to compose flattering songs about the domain. Word of mouth from trusted friends carries far more weight than royal proclamations."
Gaemon laughed. "I like it. Make it happen."
"Yes, Your Grace."
The two men spent the rest of the afternoon going over every detail of the domain's growth. Only when the sun began to dip below the western hills did their meeting finally wind down.
Gaemon rose and walked to the window, watching the orange glow settle over the Wendwater.
"I'll be spending most of the next few months back in King's Landing. The day-to-day running of the domain is in your hands, Jon. If anything urgent comes up, send a raven. I'll fly back immediately."
Jon simply bowed. "As you command, Your Grace."
He had grown used to shouldering the weight of administration. Gaemon set the vision; Jon made it real. It was a partnership that was working better than either of them had dared hope.
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