King's Landing – Rhaenys's Hill
Pierce's mind raced, but his face showed exactly the right mix of surprise and flattered disbelief.
"A Gem Lord?" he repeated, voice thick with believable excitement. "Your Grace… you're saying someone like me—a newcomer—actually has a shot at…"
Cersei loved the reaction. That warm glow of bestowing power on someone else, the sweet rush of total control, washed over her.
She lifted her chin slightly, emerald eyes flashing with pure Lannister arrogance and confidence.
"In the Rising Tide, I value ability and potential far more than seniority. What you've accomplished on Crackclaw Point already proves your worth. As long as you show me loyalty and results, I won't hesitate to give you the position you deserve."
Her tone made it sound like she was granting the highest possible favor. It never occurred to her that Pierce might refuse—after all, she was Cersei Baratheon, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.
She was also the respected Ruby Lord inside the Rising Tide, chair of the Gem Council, the one who truly ran things (or so she believed).
Pierce now had an even clearer picture of just how arrogant this queen really was. Perfect. Exactly what he wanted.
A Cersei who thought she was the chess master, stirring up trouble in King's Landing's complicated power game, was the ideal lightning rod. She'd draw every eye while the real puppet master—him—worked in the shadows with total freedom.
He made his decision on the spot. Gratitude and steely resolve flooded his expression as he bowed deeply.
"Thank you for your faith, Your Grace. If I, Pierce, can become a Gem Lord, I will serve you and the organization with everything I have. I will complete every task you assign and carry out your will perfectly!"
He made sure to stress "serve you," planting the subtle hint of personal loyalty.
Cersei looked even more pleased. A real smile curved her lips—she could already see another useful piece added to her board.
"Excellent, Pierce. I knew I hadn't misjudged you." She gave a small nod. "So tell me—what are your plans while you're in King's Landing? Just here for the tournament, or… do you have something bigger in mind?"
Pierce knew this was her way of asking him to prove his value. He pretended to think for a moment, then laid out the plan he'd been polishing for weeks—one that would make serious money and give him perfect cover for everything that came next.
"To be honest, Your Grace, I do have an idea." Pierce's gaze drifted toward the massive, ruined Dragonpit on the hill in the distance. "I've set my sights on the Dragonpit itself."
"The Dragonpit?" Cersei frowned—she clearly hadn't expected that answer. "It's nothing but rubble and old memories now. Worthless."
A flicker of disgust crossed her face. "I've heard it's become a den for bed-slave trading. If it weren't so old and huge, I would've had Manly Stokeworth clear the place out long ago!"
"Exactly because it's a ruin, it has real potential," Pierce said, eyes shining with a merchant's sharp hunger and a builder's passion. "I plan to petition the crown for the right to lease or buy the Dragonpit and the surrounding land. I want to turn it into… a comprehensive market."
"A comprehensive market?" Cersei sounded intrigued by the unfamiliar term.
"Yes." Pierce began painting the picture. "Picture the biggest covered marketplace you've ever seen—think a giant dome over the whole thing. But it's more than just shops. I want to build a full-scale arena in the center, modeled after the fighting pits in Meereen across the Narrow Sea. Year-round events: practice jousts, team competitions, even theatrical performances."
As he spoke, Cersei could almost see the transformed Dragonpit in her mind.
"Surrounding the arena will be multi-level buildings packed with every kind of store—top-tier silks, jewels, spices, exotic foods, handicrafts, you name it. On the top floor, a luxurious theater for the newest plays and concerts."
He grew more animated, the vision clearly alive in his head. "My goal is to make this the single busiest, most exciting place in all of King's Landing—maybe the entire Seven Kingdoms. Noble knights looking for thrills, highborn ladies who love to shop, common folk hunting fun, even old men and children who just want to see something new… anyone who steps inside will find exactly what they crave. And all it costs is the gold, silver, or copper in their pockets."
Cersei listened, her emerald eyes slowly lighting up with genuine interest. She was arrogant, not stupid—she instantly saw the massive profit and… influence this could bring.
Or maybe her time in the Rising Tide had taught her a thing or two about commerce and finance. After tasting real luxury through the organization, she'd built the Golden Tassel to fill her own coffers.
She understood perfectly. A giant entertainment and shopping hub that pulled every eye in the city—and beyond—would generate insane wealth and real power. Way more elegant and ambitious than simple brothels, loans, or smuggling.
"Turning the Dragonpit… into something like that?" Cersei murmured. She finally grasped the scale of Pierce's ambition and found herself respecting the young lord a notch higher. "It's certainly bold… and completely new. You'll need a lot of manpower, won't you?"
"Of course," Pierce nodded. "Construction, then day-to-day operations—both will take hundreds of hands. King's Landing has no shortage of idle workers: unemployed smallfolk, old soldiers back from the wars, even desperate refugees. I'll pay them fair wages so they can work for me… and for the organization."
He left out the deeper goal. What he really wanted was a steady pipeline to screen and quietly ship useful people back to Crackclaw Point.
The smallfolk of this world were tough, hardworking, and resilient—the perfect raw material for developing his lands. He refused to let Golden Port turn into another filthy, plague-ridden King's Landing. He was building a clean, orderly super-city and industrial powerhouse.
The two of them talked for a long time about the mega-market. Pierce laid out every zone and profit model in detail. Cersei asked sharp questions, proving she wasn't clueless about business.
Only when too many eyes started drifting their way—Cersei spending this much time in private conversation with a rising lord was already sparking rumors—did she finally end the discussion, clearly reluctant to stop.
"Your idea is fascinating, Pierce," she said at last, slipping back into queenly reserve. "I'll do what I can about the Dragonpit. I'll speak for you in the Small Council too. But the final decision rests with Robert and the Hand. Prepare a detailed proposal."
She paused, as if remembering something. "Gold dragons can be very persuasive when needed. You already hold shares inside the organization, but you should still focus on building your own strength!"
"Yes, thank you for your concern and support, Your Grace." Pierce bowed again, genuinely surprised that this arrogant woman had even bothered with that last piece of advice.
Cersei gave a regal nod, then swept away, once more surrounded by her ladies.
…
…
After the tea party ended, Pierce followed a still-glowing, red-faced Littlefinger back to Eden. The second they stepped into the private study, Petyr Baelish couldn't hold it in any longer.
"Magnificent! Lord Pierce, we did it!" He rubbed his hands together, pacing with excitement. "You should've seen the final count! Gold dragons! Silver stags! Piled like mountains! Even the commoners tossing in their coppers! After all expenses… pure profit is this much!"
He held up fingers showing an eye-popping number. Just tweaking the business model had made him richer than he'd ever dreamed.
Pierce smiled and the two of them divided the take exactly as agreed.
Littlefinger cheerfully wrote out a Braavos Iron Bank sight-draft and handed it over.
"Your share can be cashed anytime at their King's Landing branch."
Pierce took the paper without even glancing at it and tucked it away. After a moment he looked at Littlefinger. "Lord Petyr… how much do you actually know about banking?"
Littlefinger blinked, then a sharp glint flashed in his eyes before he quickly smothered it and shook his head.
"Banking? That's the Iron Bank's private hunting ground. The Iron Throne itself owes them a fortune. A small player like me touching that business would disappear without a trace."
He gave Pierce a curious look, wondering why the subject had even come up.
"Back in Aegon the Third's time, the Rogare Bank looked unstoppable… and ended up with the whole family wiped out and their wealth seized. Even the Oldtown bank that came later got infiltrated and swallowed by the Iron Bank. That trade is as deep and dangerous as the ocean itself!"
Pierce just smiled, completely unfazed. "The Rogares fell because they were too ambitious, too shaky at the roots, and tried to leap too far too fast. The Oldtown bank was basically just an extension of House Hightower's wealth and prestige—lacked real commercial aggression."
He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "What if… we didn't build the bank in King's Landing, but in my Golden Port?"
"Golden Port?" Littlefinger frowned. "That's too far away—limited influence. And you really think the Iron Bank would just sit back while a new bank rises and challenges them? They have a dozen quiet ways to make a rival vanish."
"The Iron Bank…" A meaningful smile curved Pierce's lips. "It might not be as untouchable as you think. As for influence, if our bank offers better interest rates, easier service, and… more flexible lending terms, clients will come running. Plus…"
His violet eyes sharpened on Littlefinger. "All I really need from you is your network here in King's Landing and the Free Cities. I want you to introduce me to clients who aren't exactly thrilled with the Iron Bank… or friends who need secret funding."
Littlefinger's heart slammed. He caught the real meaning behind the words—this wasn't just about starting a bank. It was about open financial warfare.
"Lord Pierce… what exactly are you planning? Going against the Iron Bank is insane!"
Pierce didn't answer directly. Instead he asked, "Lord Petyr… have you ever heard of the 'Triarchy'?"
Littlefinger's pupils shrank. For the first time, real shock crossed his face. "The Triarchy? The real power behind Braavos… you actually know about them?" Only now did he realize how much bigger Pierce's game truly was.
Pierce nodded calmly. Time to hook Littlefinger completely.
"I'll be straight with you, Petyr. I—and the power behind me—have close ties with the Rising Tide. One of the organization's major goals is to break the Triarchy's invisible stranglehold on Essos's economy."
He stared straight into Littlefinger's stunned eyes and dropped the final temptation. "I see your talent. I see your ambition. Being stuck here running brothels and acting as the crown's money collector is beneath you. If you're willing, I can introduce you to the Rising Tide…"
The second Littlefinger heard "Rising Tide," everything clicked. That was why Pierce had so much gold!
"With your brains and the organization's resources, becoming their agent in King's Landing—and eventually all of Westeros—isn't impossible. Then money, power, status… everything you've ever wanted will be yours. You could even settle every score with the people who once looked down on your birth."
Littlefinger stood frozen, heart hammering. Pierce's words felt like a demon's whisper, striking straight at the deepest hunger and resentment in his soul.
Join a secret organization capable of challenging the Iron Bank and the Triarchy? Become the agent for all of Westeros? It was far grander, far more dangerous… and far more tempting than anything he'd ever dreamed.
He stared into Pierce's deep violet eyes and, for the first time, realized he might have badly underestimated this young lord from Crackclaw Point.
He'd been amazed at how Pierce made so much money so fast. Now he understood—someone powerful had been backing him the whole time.
A storm bigger than anything he'd imagined was quietly gathering around the man in front of him. And Petyr Baelish had to decide: stay safe on the shore and watch… or step onto the ship that might sail to the peak of power—or plunge straight into the abyss?
The study fell into long silence. Only the flickering candlelight danced across Littlefinger's face, shifting between shadow and light.