Chapter 537

“As a matter of principle, that’s how it should be. But the world... doesn’t operate on principles.” The ambassador gave a cryptic smile, as if offering some profound wisdom, before continuing.

“The Iron Bank’s risk management division has conducted a personality analysis and determined that the Queen will likely reject this proposal. However, they also noted that she has yet to appoint a full-time Master of Coin and is a ruler who values the counsel of those around her. She listens to her closest advisors—people like yourself, Lord Petyr, and Lord Varys. If we can reach an understanding with you first, then this matter may not be as hopeless as it seems.”

At least the Iron Bank’s risk analysts weren’t entirely useless. They had correctly identified two key truths: first, that expecting Daenerys Targaryen to repay the debts of her enemies was pure fantasy; second, that if her three most trusted councilors all recommended she do it, she just might—furious and reluctant, but ultimately yielding.

But that raised a different question—what was in it for him?

Why would Aegor go out of his way to persuade Daenerys to repay a debt she never took?

“The matter of this debt concerns the financial credibility of the Kingdom of Westeros,” Taichu continued smoothly, not waiting for Aegor’s response. “If the Queen demonstrates goodwill and sincerity, her new realm will be swiftly recognized and welcomed by the Free Cities. Trade will resume, and commerce may even flourish beyond its previous heights.”

He leaned in slightly.

“Furthermore, the Iron Bank is prepared to offer material and financial support for Her Majesty’s war to reclaim the Seven Kingdoms. Naturally, we recognize that this debt was not accrued by the Queen herself, nor is she personally responsible for its delinquency. In light of that, our superiors have generously decided that interest will be erased, and no further interest will accumulate. The Queen would only need to gradually repay the principal as part of her own future loans—spreading the two million dragons across decades. With the tax revenue of the Seven Kingdoms as collateral, this is hardly an unbearable burden.”

As a professional negotiator, Taichu Nestors phrased things as delicately as possible. But Aegor had played this game for long enough to extract the true meaning behind his words.

First: “This debt concerns the financial credibility of Westeros.”
Translation—if Daenerys refuses, the Free Cities will consider her new kingdom untrustworthy. No loans. No financial assistance.

Second: “Trade will resume.”
Translation—if Daenerys doesn’t acknowledge the debt, trade between Westeros and Essos will not resume—or worse, might be outright cut off.

Third: “The Iron Bank is prepared to offer support.”
Translation—if Daenerys refuses, the Iron Bank may choose to back her enemies instead.

And finally, the Iron Bank softened the threat with an incentive: a discount. If she agreed to pay, they would wipe the interest clean.

No wonder Taichu hadn’t dared to approach the Queen directly. If Daenerys caught the full implications of his words, he might find himself being fed to a dragon before the conversation even finished.
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Aegor felt a surge of irritation but quickly suppressed it.

This was no simple financial dispute—it was not just about whether Daenerys should repay Robert Baratheon’s debts.

The real question was: “When a new regime replaces an old one, should it inherit the previous regime’s financial obligations?”

Stripping away personal biases and looking at the issue objectively, this was a matter of statecraft, not emotion.
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Aegor wasn’t well-versed in the history of Westeros, but he could reference the history of his world. And the answer, unsurprisingly, was counterintuitive: in most cases, new governments did, in fact, inherit the debts of their predecessors.

Why would they do that?

There were multiple reasons—primarily economic and political.

From an economic standpoint:
Unlike war reparations or unequal treaties, this was a cash loan—not a predatory, exploitative debt. By the time Robert Baratheon began borrowing from the Iron Bank, the Targaryen dynasty had already been overthrown. These two million gold dragons—aside from the initial sum used to quell Balon Greyjoy’s rebellion—had been spent on feasts, tournaments, noble rewards, royal expenses, and infrastructure.

The money itself was long gone.

But it had not vanished—it had circulated within Westeros. It had been spent, and in doing so, had helped sustain the economy.

In other words, while the royal treasury might be empty when Daenerys reclaimed King’s Landing, that wealth had already been distributed—flowing into the hands of merchants, craftsmen, noble estates, and the general populace. It had stimulated the economy, not disappeared into the void.

To put it simply: the money was still in Westeros—just not in the royal coffers.

Furthermore, unlike a national treasury printing its own money, the Iron Bank’s loans were backed by actual gold and silver, not fiat currency. And while their interest rates were undoubtedly high—Aegor suspected above 5% per annum—the loan itself was real.

This was why the logic of “I didn’t borrow this money, so I won’t pay it back” worked on a personal level but was not widely accepted on a national level.

From a political standpoint:
A new government’s first priority is gaining recognition. Unless it is self-sufficient and strong enough to defy the world, it must seek legitimacy.

And the best way to secure international recognition?
Protect the financial and economic interests of foreign nations within its borders.

Which included honoring inherited debts.
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For a moment, Aegor’s thoughts grew too complicated. But then he reminded himself—this was still Westeros.

There was no international court that could force Daenerys to pay.

This wasn’t a question of obligation—it was a question of power.

So the true debate wasn’t “Should she inherit the debt?”

It was: “Does she need to?”

Or, more bluntly: “Does she need the Free Cities, and does she fear their retaliation?”
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Aegor wanted the answer to be no.

But after careful thought, it seemed… unfortunate.

Westeros was not China, with a deep history of unification and strong national identity. The Seven Kingdoms had only recently been bound together, and even then, the ties were weak. His proposed Royal Domain Plan was a radical shift in governance, and its implementation would undoubtedly provoke resistance from the old nobility.

Westeros would face years of internal unrest.

In such a volatile situation, antagonizing foreign powers was dangerous. The Iron Bank and the Free Cities were some of the only external forces that could provide critical financial and logistical support. Pushing them away would only add another front to their struggles.
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Taichu had been watching Aegor’s expression closely. The Braavosi smiled slightly.

“I see you’re considering the matter carefully, Lord Commander. That’s good. But rest assured, I am not here to demand an immediate answer. I simply came to start the discussion.”

He leaned in slightly.

“One more thing, Lord Commander—this was a private instruction given to me before my departure. I was told to relay it only to you.”

Aegor raised an eyebrow but did not interrupt.

“If the Queen agrees to inherit Robert Baratheon’s debt—whether or not it was due to your persuasion—the Iron Bank will forgive the Night’s Watch’s debt of one hundred thousand gold dragons.”
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Aegor scoffed.

A bribe, was it?

The wording was clever—“whether or not it was your persuasion.”

But in reality, if Aegor firmly opposed the debt, Daenerys wouldn’t accept it. The Iron Bank wasn’t just offering to erase the Night’s Watch’s debt—they were buying his silence.

And most likely, they had made similar offers to Petyr and Varys.

Taichu’s next words confirmed it.

“If this is unsatisfactory, there’s another arrangement,” he said smoothly. “We will continue collecting payments—but instead of sending them to the Iron Bank, the gold will go… wherever you decide.”