Chapter 27: Matters of State

291 AC. Essos. Valyrian Empire. The Ancestral Pyramid of House Targaryen.

“Thank you, Taya,” I nodded to the girl, taking a goblet of apple juice.

“My sister and I will be in the antechamber, young master,” the young woman bowed and disappeared behind the door.

Glancing at the closed oak door, every inch of which was covered in intricate carving, I leaned back in my chair and drained half the goblet in one gulp. Placing the glass vessel on the edge of the massive ironwood table, I picked up a new sheet of parchment from the stack and read the dry lines of the report.

Ten days had passed since the council on faith and religion, the results of which were announced in all the squares and markets of Astapor. Overall, the people received the news of the ban on some faiths and the encouragement of others calmly. Astapor, like the other Free Cities, stood on a huge trade route connecting the Empire of Yi Ti and Westeros, so there had always been many people believing in a countless number of gods here, and they had long since grown accustomed to them. Yes, there were small unrests among the worshippers of R’hllor, and the Ghiscari were not overjoyed by the start of construction of the temple to the Fourteen Gods of Valyria, but the sermons of the Harpy's priestesses smoothed over the sharp edges.

To ensure the people fully accepted the new government and became more loyal to me personally as ruler, I made a major political gambit. And what a gambit it was! I abolished virtually all taxes, introducing only a few new ones. Folly, considering the need for gold to fund the war? Not at all! When I finally understood the so-called economy of Astapor, I wanted to cry, laugh, tear my hair out, and go on a drinking binge all at the same time.

More than one hundred and thirty separate types of taxes! Tax on livestock, on carts in the city, on land, on property, on trade in general, and on certain goods in particular. Damn it, there was even a separate tax on the trade of sandals! It was as if the city’s previous rulers had set out to squeeze the maximum amount of money out of their subjects in the shortest possible time, which had a profoundly negative impact on the economy. Literally all segments of the population suffered, from the poor to the largest merchants. Only the Masters, who reaped all the benefits, received significant concessions. And I haven't even mentioned that these very taxes were collected by anyone who felt like it! One could simply go to the city administration, pay a generous sum of money, and become a tax collector! This provided immense scope for corruption and the abuse of official powers for personal gain.

All in all, I decided simply to cut this Gordian knot, rather than painstakingly change the system from within. Almost all taxes were abolished, and only a few new ones were introduced: an income tax of fifteen percent, an inheritance tax of only five percent, separate taxes on gambling, brothels, alcohol production, weapons, and ships. Plus, a few classical taxes like land, property, and others. A total of fifteen points covering all spheres. Given a separate set of taxes for feudal lords, people were paying less de jure, but de facto, no less, if not more, money would flow into the treasury, simply because of optimization, and because taxes would now be collected by state officials rather than outside parties who had no connection to the state but were willing to pay handsomely for the position.

No, corruption has not been abolished, and it is simply impossible to eradicate this disease from the state, but it will not be as monstrous as it was before. Inspectors receiving bonuses for exposing corruption schemes will help. And the most important thing, in my opinion, is that the economy will breathe more freely, given how many chains I’ve cast off it. People will simply find it more profitable to engage in business, both small and large, which is vital for a country situated on the world's main trade route.

Overall, though my reform was criticized by half of my close associates, it seemed extremely promising to me. The state's revenue was not excessively lowered, yet the people received an enormous incentive to earn money, which will lead to economic development and, consequently, an increase in state revenue. The Laffer curve in all its glory. A tax that is too low, just like one that is too high, is simply detrimental to the state. In the first case, there will be too little money, and in the second, people will simply hide their income, evade payments, and flee into the black market, which will also lead to a decrease in state revenue. A golden mean, in short.

“I must really focus on the magistracy after the conquest of Meereen and Yunkai,” I muttered, signing a document for the purchase of three hundred gladii for the Second Legion. “Too many papers, most of which don’t require my attention, are crossing my desk for a signature.”

I set aside the parchment and took the next one, quickly acquainting myself with the estimated costs for building an educational institution for mages and simultaneously thinking about upcoming affairs.

The gathering of the baggage train and the preparation of the army and fleet were being handled by Willem Darry, the Reraxes brothers, Zirarro, and Narvos, so I only need to supervise the process occasionally. But what my subordinates could not take on were the meetings with ambassadors.

Not much time has passed since Astapor was taken, especially by the standards of the medieval world, where all affairs are conducted leisurely and thoroughly, and news can take months to travel. But this did not prevent certain individuals from obtaining information about the change of power in Astapor and reacting. Braavos and the Iron Bank have already sent negotiators separately. The rulers of Lys, as my long-time partners whom I helped establish control over the Free Cities of Myr and Tyrosh, also sent envoys.

I am certain it won’t be long before others arrive, if not now, then after the Empire establishes its authority over the entire Slaver's Bay. And I will have to receive all these messengers. I will have to listen to the veiled wishes of their rulers, express mine, reach a consensus, or send them to the Pit... considering the tons of bureaucracy, dozens of matters demanding my attention, and simultaneously practicing magic and fencing—it's exhausting. I just want to dump everything on my subordinates, lock myself in my room with a couple of concubines gifted by House Lorkhaz, pour wine and grab books, and give myself over to rest. But I cannot. I took on the responsibility of ruler myself, so now I must clear out this Augean Stable. I simply cannot fathom how the kings and princes of my past world found time for intrigues, feasts, hunts, and other amusements.

“Heh,” I tiredly massaged the bridge of my nose, reading a report on the costs of building a dozen warships.

******

291 AC. Essos. Valyrian Empire. The Ancestral Pyramid of House Targaryen.

“And why is this necessary?” Darry inquired with confusion, scratching his shining bald spot. Does he rub it with oil and polish it with a cloth, or what?

“A flexible social system and an incentive for people to be more useful to the state,” I answered.

“You call the opportunity for a family of slaves to become lords in a few generations a flexible social system? Or the chance for a knight to become a commoner?” Willem muttered wearily, covering his eyes with his palm. “They will put you to the dagger for such laws.”

“They won't, for I have the legions, the Praetorians, and magic, in the end. Killing me is quite problematic, and most poisons either don’t work at all or act on my body extremely weakly,” I waved dismissively.

“But why?!” the old knight cried out from the depths of his soul.

“Because I simply cannot take and abolish slavery! That’s why laws like ‘a slave's offspring is not a slave’ and ‘on free and redeemed persons’ are necessary. As for the aristocracy... all closed groups need new blood, otherwise the elite will degenerate into something like the Masters of Astapor,” I scoffed.

“The Seven Kingdoms didn't have these ‘social mobility lifts’ of yours, and yet they managed to live for whole millennia,” Willem persisted.

Unable to take it, I rose from my seat and began pacing my study, circling the cabinets and chairs, my gaze constantly catching the beautiful seascapes in the paintings.

“They did! A warrior who distinguished himself in battle could become a knight, a knight had a chance to become a lord, and former stewards like the Tyrells rose to the post of Wardens of the Reach! It's just that there were no clear requirements and norms written down on paper.” Waving my hand, I interrupted Darry, who had opened his mouth to speak, and continued, “Now, everything is clear and transparent. Have you committed serious crimes? Have you been captured by us in certain cases? Welcome to slavery.”

Turning on the heels of my cavalry boots, I walked across the soft carpet to the low table and, picking up a cup, moistened my throat with diluted wine.

“If you are an ordinary person living in the Empire's territory, or a slave's offspring, then you are a subject. You cannot engage in business except for small trade, and you lack certain rights and freedoms. Have you served in the legion, made a significant contribution to the Empire, or distinguished yourself in a number of other prescribed ways? Welcome to citizenship. Now you can engage in medium and large businesses, be elected to important state administration posts, and have a host of other small and large rights and concessions.”

Pausing for a moment, I caught my breath and continued my expressive monologue.

“A citizen can become an aristocrat, enter the elite, and become a competitor to other lords, which will force them to stir. To run just to stay in place! I do not need a bunch of fat drones sitting on mountains of gold and owning giant tracts of land thanks to glorious ancestors. They will not bring the Empire any benefit except taxes. I need an elite that occupies the main leadership positions in the administration, the Small Council, the army, the navy. Everywhere! And for them to be competent, they themselves must toil and thirst for self-improvement. And what could serve as a better motivation than a wholesome kick from a competitor and the chance to lose status and wealth?”

“Perhaps the smallfolk and the middle class,” at the latter phrase, Willem sniffed dismissively, believing that ‘traders’ should be called just that, “—will support such changes, but the aristocrats will not.”

“Willem, tell me please, who overthrew the Targaryens from the Iron Throne?” I asked insinuatingly.

“The Baratheons, Arryns, Starks, Tullys, and other traitors,” the bearded man answered clearly, in a military tone.

“Aristocrats. The highest aristocrats, Willem. They grew tired of the dynasty, they united, and they kicked the dragons off the throne,” I emphasized, making the knight flinch, but he remained silent.

Sitting on the edge of the table, I looked directly into Darry’s eyes.

“The absolute power of my ancestors rested solely on the wings of enormous fire-breathing lizards and on profit. It was profitable for all the Wardens of the kingdoms, forged together by Aegon the Conqueror's fire and sword, to have the formal umbrella of a single state. Fewer wars, more trade, and consequently, more gold flowing into the pockets of the lords and High Lords.” Gripping the hilt of the dagger hanging from my belt, I continued, “The dragons died out after the internecine war among the members of my House, and only profit remained. My father went too far, became a madman, and the heir was not much different in the eyes of the elite after kidnapping the Stark girl.”

Pressing the knight into his chair with a heavy gaze, I didn't allow him to utter a single word.

“Don't argue, Willem. My father truly was a madman, and my older brother made a foolish mistake by abducting the Warden of the North's daughter, especially as a married man. Lyanna Stark was promised to Robert Baratheon; he insulted him, as well as the rulers of the North. And my father drove the final nail into the coffin of our reign by burning Lord Stark and his heir.”

Standing, I walked to the table, poured the diluted wine from the cup into a tub with a lemon tree, and poured myself strong Dornish wine.

“In the end, having neither a proper army nor dragons nor serious support, we simply lost; our dynasty was overthrown. But the Seven Kingdoms did not fall apart. It's just that now a Baratheon sits on the throne instead of a Targaryen.” I swallowed the tart ruby fluid and wiped my lips with a white linen napkin. “Even the Dornish didn't break away in the end, although the sister of the current Prince of Dorne was murdered by Tywin Lannister's soldiers, whose daughter is now Queen. Why? Because they would all have perished! Dorne's population can no longer feed itself; they need supplies from the Reach, the Riverlands, and other regions of the Kingdom. It has grown too large due to profitable trade.” Returning to my chair, I leaned back comfortably against the soft backrest.

“All regions, one way or another, have become bound hand and foot by numerous economic ties, and it is simply profitable for them to be a unified state. But at the same time, the lords can easily replace an undesirable ruler or an entire dynasty. I do not want to repeat the mistakes of my ancestors, yet I intend to capitalize on their successes. I need to create a state that will not unravel into patches like a beggar's roughly sewn quilt, and at the same time, the rule of my House must not rest solely on dragons. As history has shown, that is not too reliable,” Willem grunted thoughtfully at the last remark. “So I am striving for several things at once: a strong army, a mighty fleet, a powerful economy, and aristocrats squabbling amongst themselves rather than uniting against the ruler... all of this will provide the foundation upon which my descendants will stand for a thousand years.”

Tapping his knuckles on the table, I shook my head. “The main thing is that they don't screw everything up themselves, like in the Dance of the Dragons. I still need to think through a clear system of succession, filtering out obvious fools, ensuring help, not harm, from close advisors... hah, so much work. I should write a Codex of House Targaryen or something similar.” I immersed myself in my thoughts, from which I was pulled by a delicate cough from Darry.

“Ahem. I actually came to discuss siege engines for the army…” the knight looked pointedly out the window. Glancing at the setting sun, I shook myself and, finding the necessary leather folder with a thick stack of yellowish sheets, pushed it toward my teacher.

“Review this. I consider these projects promising.”

******

291 AC. Essos. Valyrian Empire. The Ancestral Pyramid of House Targaryen.

The Throne Room gleamed and shone. Monstrous chandeliers cast hundreds of reflections from crystal pendants hanging in clusters from gilded bodies. A red carpet stretched between the columns leading from the gates to the throne, which stood on a marble platform. Twenty large banners bearing the three-headed dragon swayed gently due to the wind entering the hall through the wide windows. Praetorians in polished armor stood along the walls, their left hands resting on the scutum at their feet, and their right hands steadying the shaft of a spear bearing a flag with the Targaryen sigil.

To the right of my throne, Willem Darry stood relaxed, stroking the hilt of his sword and occasionally glancing at his new breastplate. On the steel, coated with a layer of silver, was emblazoned a black ploughman with a horse, the sigil of House Darry. This breastplate, like the rest of the plate armor, had been sent to him by Raymun Darry, the current head of the family. Along with the armor came a letter assuring me of eternal fealty and loyalty, and notifying me that as soon as my foot touched the soil of the Seven Kingdoms, the Darrys would support me in overthrowing the Usurper, Robert Baratheon.

To my left, Daemon Reraxes, whom I had decided to involve in diplomacy, stood with his chin proudly lifted.

The pink cedar gates swung open, their gold ornamentation flashing, and a short Ghiscari dressed in silks loudly announced:

“Beggo Ayrum, Ambassador with the power of word and deed from the Sealord of Braavos! And Alorus Uleris, Representative of the Iron Bank and Keeper of the Keys!” After his words, men began to enter the Throne Room.

First, two middle-aged men walked in, side by side. Their clothing was rich; the blue and green silk of their robes harmoniously blended with silver embroidery and gold ornaments. One of them was fat and short, constantly dabbing his bald, sweaty pate with a white handkerchief, and barely keeping up with the wide strides of his companion. The second was quite tall, with a lean build, pale blue eyes, and a ship’s anchor tattoo blackening the back of his left hand. Following the ambassadors were twelve warriors, clad in light armor. Six of them wore the short cloaks of Braavos Naval Officers, while the others were all uniformly dressed in quilted doublets with the Iron Bank sigil. Both groups carried three chests each, adorned with gold and precious stones.

“I welcome you to the lands of the Valyrian Empire,” I nodded graciously, causing a strand of my silver hair to escape from beneath the iron circlet with its fourteen points.

“I wish you long life, wisdom, and strength, Viserys Targaryen,” the short, stout man with the Braavos sigil on his chest proclaimed in an unexpectedly deep bass.

“I wish you wealth, power, and prudence in your dealings, Dragon Emperor,” the mustached and tattooed representative of the largest bank in Essos and Westeros pronounced resonantly.