Joffrey gently pushed open the door to Cersei's chambers.
The queen was reclining lazily on a Dornish-style chaise, letting a maid comb through her long golden hair that flowed down her back like liquid sunlight.
"Mother." Joffrey gave a simple bow. "I have something I wish to ask your permission for."
Cersei lifted a hand slightly, and the maid immediately stepped back toward the wall.
"Speak."
"During the tournament, I would like to take charge of supplying snacks for the spectators."
Cersei's eyebrow twitched.
"Joffrey, what trick are you planning this time?"
"If you need money, just say so. Our House Lannister has mountains of gold. We will never run out."
Joffrey met her gaze calmly.
"It's not about money."
He took a rolled piece of parchment from his sleeve and spread it across the small table in front of her.
The parchment showed a neat draft he had drawn himself. It listed several different meal plans, divided by price level, with carefully written notes estimating the cost of each.
"There will be three tiers," Joffrey explained while pointing at the parchment.
"The commoner tier will be meat pies made from flour and cheap minced meat, along with a large mug of ale.
The price will be low. A few copper coins will be enough for a good meal."
"The knight tier will include some vegetables and spices. That will be sold to merchants with spare coin and hedge knights."
"As for the royal tier…"
He paused.
"It won't be sold. It will be given away."
Cersei idly scratched the pale skin of her neck and waited for him to continue.
"After each day's matches, Father will certainly host feasts," Joffrey said.
"So I want to prepare a place specifically to receive knights who performed well during the tournament."
Cersei's finger slowly traced along the parchment.
"And what exactly is your intention with all this?"
Her tone carried no real question. It sounded more like she was waiting for him to confirm the answer she already suspected.
Joffrey smiled confidently.
"Father is holding the tournament so people will remember his generosity. Littlefinger is eager to help because he wants to fill his own pockets."
He leaned forward slightly.
"So why can't I take a share as well?"
"When the people of King's Landing talk about this tournament in the future, besides remembering the king's generosity…"
"They will also remember that a prince thoughtfully prepared food for them."
Cersei leaned back in her chair and remained silent for a long moment.
"Just say it," she finally said. "How many people do you need?"
"Not many. A dozen kitchen apprentices will be enough," Joffrey replied after a brief pause.
"And I will need to borrow a courtyard for preparation."
"I may also need you to inform the royal chef so I can use some stored spices at cost price."
Cersei waved her hand dismissively, signaling that the conversation was over.
"Fine. Go play with it if you like. If you run out of money, ask the steward."
Her voice drifted coldly through the room.
"But remember this. Lions do not concern themselves with the opinions of sheep."
Joffrey smiled as he stepped back toward the door.
"Do not worry, Mother. I know my limits."
The next day, Joffrey's carefully planned stall was already running.
He had chosen an unused courtyard inside the Red Keep and converted it into his workshop under the excuse of preparing food for the tournament.
The sacks of grain and broken wine barrels that had been stored there were cleared away. Two experienced cooks now directed more than a dozen kitchen apprentices working busily inside.
At least on the surface, it looked like nothing more than a temporary kitchen for tournament supplies.
When Joffrey walked in with Sansa, a round-faced apprentice was hurriedly scraping burnt meat pies out of the oven.
"Your Highness!" the boy exclaimed, nearly dropping his spatula.
Joffrey patted his shoulder calmly, signaling him to relax.
Then he picked up a slice of lemon cake and handed it to Sansa. "Try it. Tell me if anything needs improving."
Sansa wore a simple linen dress today. Her auburn hair was braided neatly over one shoulder.
She looked slightly uncomfortable in the messy kitchen but carefully accepted the cake.
She lifted a silver fork and took a bite.
After chewing twice, her blue eyes narrowed slightly.
"It's too sweet," she said, dabbing her mouth with a handkerchief. "The fruit flavor is completely covered by the syrup. It tastes like… like flour mixed with honey."
Joffrey turned to a freckled pastry cook.
"Write that down. Reduce the syrup."
"And sprinkle some grated lemon peel on top to improve the flavor."
The assistant cook quickly grabbed a charcoal stick and wrote the note on a wooden board while muttering quietly.
"That's how we usually make it. The queen prefers sweet desserts…"
They moved into the next room.
A large pot of oil was frying golden pieces of fish.
Joffrey took one that had cooled slightly, sprinkled pepper on it, and broke it in half before handing part to Sansa.
"Sea fish from Blackwater Bay. Fewer bones and thicker meat than river trout."
"But the crust isn't very crisp anymore."
They also tasted nut cakes pressed with almonds and walnuts, along with fruit tarts filled with crushed nuts and cheese.
Most of the food was designed to be easy to carry and still taste good even after cooling.
Talking was one thing.
Selling was another.
There would certainly be tricks when it came to the final presentation.
After walking around for a while, Joffrey felt full. He led Sansa to the back courtyard for another inspection.
The sizzling sounds coming from there clearly had nothing to do with cooking food.
Several carpenters were cutting small round wooden tokens. Wood shavings piled up like small hills at their feet.
Nearby, a charcoal furnace burned brightly.
Several workers used iron tongs to hold red-hot stamping irons and carefully press designs onto the wooden discs.
Their technique was far from perfect. Sometimes a single mistake burned a hole straight through the thin wood.
Sansa walked closer curiously and leaned down to examine the successful designs.
"Is this Lord Renly?" she asked, pointing at a simple drawing of a man holding a stag-antler helmet.
Joffrey nodded.
Sansa continued looking.
There was the massive figure of the Mountain, the red-robed priest holding a flaming sword, and the Hound wearing his fearsome dog-shaped helmet.
They were simple brown line drawings, rough but easily recognizable.
Seeing Sansa's confusion, Joffrey explained.
"Buy a portion of food and receive a thin biscuit with a wooden token hidden inside."
"Collect five different tokens and you can exchange them for five silver stags."
Sansa's eyes widened.
"Then many people will buy food again and again."
Joffrey walked over to a pile of finished tokens and grabbed a handful.
Out of ten pieces, six were blank circles.
"Most of them are actually 'thank you for your purchase.' Only a few are knight tokens like these."
The idea came from a distant memory about collecting cards from instant noodles. Joffrey decided to recreate the concept in Westeros as a small experiment.
He wanted to see whether such marketing tricks would still work in a medieval world where information spread slowly.
Westeros did not yet have printing technology, and he had no intention of introducing it for now.
So he simply made do with the tools available.
The total number of tokens was not large. Even with the blank pieces, a few thousand would be enough for the entire tournament.
Besides, he was not expecting to make money from this.
It was just a bit of fun for the common people and something for them to talk about.
And all the visible preparations served one purpose.
They hid his real objective.
By evening, Joffrey was waiting in a small reception room for the man he intended to meet.
A large man wearing the golden cloak of the City Watch was led inside. His frog-like face showed obvious nervousness.
"Lord Janos," Joffrey said as he turned toward him.
"Let us discuss how we will cooperate in organizing the prize betting."
__________
Upto 20 chapters ahead on patreon :-
patreon.com/ShadySmuggler