A Call to Arms

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 all you leave behind, ryon | first smith
JON TARGARYEN
 direct link • May 10 2017, 06:52 am
Quote
his grace
the wolf of westeros
Sworn to the Seven Kingdoms
ESSOS
18 years
alma • she/her • 244 posts
Offline


Jon looked up at the opulent institution before him; a monumental building of marble and limestone, comparable to the Red Keep in elegance, yet maintaining a formal edge that inspired anxiety in some; perhaps insecurity in others. But to Jon, the sight of this establishment, of which he had heard of within the confines of his small council chamber, or whenever costly banquets or wars required funding, the Iron Bank was quick to provide liquid credit for the Targaryens, and Seven knew how many other families, to indulge in their feasts and warfare. "They are probably aware of what happened," Jon offhandedly commented with a shrug of his shoulders as he climbed the stairs towards the entrance of the Iron Bank's headquarters, his forehead gleaming with trickles of sweat that arose and grew heavier with each step, the unforgiving sun beating down on his choice of more regal attire. A ivory-colored frock's generous ruffled collar poked through a leather jerkin's opening, its onyx buttons securing the first button of a leather vest that hid beneath a longer, more extravagant suede coat, which had a dark tone that marvellously matched that of his polished boots.

"Gods, with how quickly word moves around, with how complex spy networks have become, I would not be surprised if they knew of the outcomes of the war before we arrived at shore,"
Jon went on, stopping at a length of limestone before looking up towards the edifice, his eyes disappointingly trailing over the remaining steps that he and Ryon would need to cover. He licked the sweat off his upper lip. His mouth then pulled into a tight line as he resisted the urge to curse his choice of clothes. Dressing in this manner had undoubtedly bestowed upon the prince some degree of unexpected confidence; the comfort of knowing he looked every single bit the worthy, title wielding, proud human being he was known to be. His dark locks were combed back and bound, and his once scruff covered neck delicately shaven by Aydrian's trusted goon. His clothes but an ode to local fashions, the sort that though luxurious, still proved inappropriate for the weather.

With a groan, Jon shrugged off the all-to-heavy coat, and once he threw this over her arm, a swift finger shot upwards to release the tight jerkin's hold. "You know, I wouldn't be surprised if they laughed. If they told us we were wasting our time..." But Jon was not intending to leave this place empty handed, or at least not without ensuring the security of someone near and dear both to him and the man beside him... a person whose security he hoped to ensure with the pawning of a number of rubies he safeguarded in his coat's pocket, wrapped in velvet.

RYON DAYNE
 direct link • May 11 2017, 07:42 pm
Quote
King of the Vale
Shield of the Vale
Sworn to the Seven Kingdoms
DORNE
38 years
Rikuva • She/Her • 172 posts
Offline


I WILL NOT
BOW
"Doesn't matter," Ryon grumbled in response to Jon's concern. That they knew. So what if they knew? That didn't change how things were, how things would go for them. It meant that these bloody bankers had some preconceived notions, but that was the thing about preconceived notions. They're only thought of as such if they are to be changed. And Ryon was not about to just let it not be changed.

These stairs were nothing. Ryon was built to pummel, built to work. He was not built to sit on a throne and do nothing all day. These bankers would see that, they would have to. Ryon was not as certain of this as he was of Ashara's life, but that was because he did not know these bankers. Without knowing a person, Ryon could not have absolute confidence in them. Not anymore. No longer would that hold true. Betrayed by fucking everyone and their mother. It was ridiculous.

Jon paused, fucking with his clothing. Ryon stopped too, to look at the High King. He was a different High King than he had been. He was a different man than he had been. Because Ryon had watched the man transform from careless heir to careful heir, from careful heir to ruined king, from ruined king to scarcely a king at all. "So?" Ryon asked Jon, prodding an answer from him with his eyes. "What they say doesn't matter until after we've said our piece. Until after we've said more than our piece. If they say no, we keep asking, if we're kicked out, we keep asking. We do not stop asking until they quite understand what they are dealing with. They are dealing with people who were dealt a bad hand, and with a good one can deal a blow to a breaking continent so bad they will beg to be on our leash again. That's what we do." Ryon's tone was not quite the enraged it had been as of late. But it still revealed a certain flame that was impossible to extinguish.
JON TARGARYEN
 direct link • May 15 2017, 03:13 am
Quote
his grace
the wolf of westeros
Sworn to the Seven Kingdoms
ESSOS
18 years
alma • she/her • 244 posts
Offline


Between fiddling with cloth and fingers carefully glossing over the surface of his vest's buttons, he pondered the matter of the bank, shrugging his shoulders in premeditated defeat. However, his eyes were uncharacteristically bright, and the smirk that contorted his usually droopy features signaling, not a faint glimmer of radiant, youthful hope, nor the sly machinations of someone more rational than he. Jon, for a moment, seemed to have found solid ground, a place from which to build his palace of assumptions. He knew that they knew; he also knew they could care less. Men's whimpers were but a faint speckle of uncared-for noise in the Iron Bank's massive enterprise; what was more, whimpers could do nothing to stop their operations, to convince them that peace was favorable to any very profitable war. There would be winners; there would be losers, but these bankers would never lose. They'd laugh their way to their sanctuary, hide behind these thick walls and giggle over tea and pastries, or whatever it was that their deep pockets could afford them. The world? Women? The infinite spectacle of a war they never had to raise a sword in?

Jon turned to Ryon, smirking still, before going on. "Now, if they are deaf, it doesn't matter how many times you try to say your piece," Jon noted as he turned to resume what was left of their climb, his eyes turning to look over his shoulder as soon as he was convinced he had regained footing. "What they must consider though, is the fact that the Baratheons now have two kingdoms in lieu of one. Running one is a costly nightmare; imagine two. For the Iron Bank, that means opportunity to put their foot down and demand more, to pressure the bank. Interest rates go up as risk goes up, after all," Jon stated, a brow quirking upwards. "That means they will have less to spend on wars, on fights; they have their lot to pay. We need to make sure our debt will remain separate from theirs, and that the bank knows that we intend to pay... without collateral, however, without titles or guarantees... oh, I am certain they will have a ball with us!" This last sentence Jon stated between good-hearted laughs, his mind's machinations slowing down as he relieved the tension that had been building up over the last few days.... what else was there left to do? "We just ned to ensure that they pressure the Baratheons, that their newfound, Crownland-grade expenses are accounted for. That they cannot fund another war, maintain another army..."
RYON DAYNE
 direct link • May 25 2017, 08:28 pm
Quote
King of the Vale
Shield of the Vale
Sworn to the Seven Kingdoms
DORNE
38 years
Rikuva • She/Her • 172 posts
Offline


I WILL NOT
BOW
"That's when we write it down and pass a note," Ryon remarked, still being forceful, but noting the brightness in Jon's eyes. He was having mood swings it seemed, from desperate and broken down to hopeful and joking in but a manner of seconds. But that was reasonable. Nothing else seemed to be certain anymore for the boy king, why would his emotions be? Still, a happier, smirkier man was better than a man who appeared he'd just lost many fights and only recently healed his black eye. At least when it came to negotiations with a power that was much more powerful.

"Robert Baratheon is a far more liberal man with coin than your father ever was as well. Given half a moon's time, the Iron Bank must swiftly see that coin lent to the Baratheon throne is money wasted on drinks and a moment's fleeting fancy." Ryon brought up with a curt nod. Even if their cause was a weak one with few allies, the business in Westeros was messy. A weak one could be strengthened with money, a messy one was only spoiled further when coin was thrown at it. "A lack of collateral is disappointing..." Ryon grumbled as the thought was brought up, though Jon was still smiling in the face of it all. "But they will recognize the threat two dragons pose. So long as we have them, we are a more fearsome force than any other Westeros can drum up." Ryon looked up towards the bank, the massive building arguably imposing, but Ryon would not be intimidated by anything that stood between him and his wife, between him and Jasper's head on a pike. "We need to let them know that the usurpers are not their friends. Are not their old clients that have lent before. Just because they have the same chair you and your ancestors sat in does not make them familiar. If we stress that newness, that uncertainty, perhaps they will be more willing to look at us." Ryon proposed as he began scaling steps again.
JON TARGARYEN
 direct link • Jun 02 2017, 03:15 pm
Quote
his grace
the wolf of westeros
Sworn to the Seven Kingdoms
ESSOS
18 years
alma • she/her • 244 posts
Offline


It was when numbers were drawn up, when the need for a strategy came to the fore when Jon felt most at ease, most confident. There was an easiness to his boyish swagger, despite the sweat, the tiresome climb up these rugged steps; there was little hope that they could achieve anything today, but at least proving the point Ryon made would be that first crucial step, a building block towards the bright future he aspired towards. A future for his sisters, for his wife and child... for whoever came after them. This could not be the way the Targaryen dynasty ended, and he was more than ever certain that his name would not go down in the history books as that of a hopeless runaway king. Jon Targaryen, First of his Name.... Winter could chill his bones but the blood in his veins ran hot. For now, at least...

While he was confident that Robert Baratheon's excessive expenses would not be overlooked, he scoffed at the mention of the dragons. They were still small, no bigger than his direwolf; it would be years before they could genuinely pose a threat. At least that much was proven upon the disappearance and assumed the death of the one once belonging to his father. But still, he had to keep his head high; he couldn't tear himself down. Not today, especially. "If we have reason on our side, which we do..." Jon began, with a quirk of his brow betraying the slight apprehension with which he approached this sensitive situation. "There is really not much that we will need to worry about besides finding a way to fund a reconquest, and we may not entirely require the services of the bank for that." There were external interests to consider; though it had taken him time to see the light, Dany was right. Private investors might be more easily swayed by what they could frame as a profitable endeavour. And perhaps this encounter with the moneylenders may convince him to let beak-nosed Aydrian seduce him with talk of riches, or to seek his fortunes alongside Tormo... Regardless of the case, they were not going to sit still, that much was certain....

Jon resumed his climb alongside Ryon, his mind machinating, his head bowed until they reached the entryway, a granite lined hallway illuminated by wax candles poised high in silver chandeliers. At the end lay a slab of stone that, in a sept, could have easily passed for an altar. But no, it was a desk. A monumental building. A dark aura. A solemn starkness that spoke of thrift, the sort that made Jon's pride shrink as he set foot inside, making the long walk towards the bureau.



RYON DAYNE
 direct link • Jun 08 2017, 08:25 pm
Quote
King of the Vale
Shield of the Vale
Sworn to the Seven Kingdoms
DORNE
38 years
Rikuva • She/Her • 172 posts
Offline


I WILL NOT
BOW
The concept of dragons was what Ryon personally relied on. Current effectiveness was slim to none, he had to approach that at least practically. But they grew bigger by the day. And they could breathe fucking fire. They could not perhaps light up Harrenhal as Aegon's once had yet, but paired with men they were easily worth triple their weight in gold. They would deal damage and be hard to take down considering the threat of armies simultaneously. For now they had to be paired. But soon enough, well, soon enough all would bow before Targaryen banners again.

To Ryon such scarcely mattered. It mattered to the degree that he wanted Robert and Mace and Tywin all fucking dead for their upstart rebellion that had pulled his men away from where they were needed and sent Jasper fucking Arryn over the edge. And of course, for putting his blood at risk. His priority was of course the Vale. Destroying Jasper, finding Ashara, anything, everything he needed to do in order for that to happen. For Daeron to have a kingdom to inherit, for Allyria to have a home, for Jaclyn to have her family again. This was what he fought for. This was what he would fight for until the flesh was sundered from his bone. "Money and politics. Once we have won that, then we need to win the war, with sellswords." Ryon didn't like this preliminary. He was once Hand for his kingdom but he had still never truly played politics as neatly as he might have. And now... Well Ryon was a broken man. Grieving and angry. Hardly suitable for politicking. "This city is full of merchants flush with cash. But merchants are misers, all of them. They've more freedom than the bank, so I guess if we have to rely on them, then we must." Ryon ascended to the top, and rested now, in front of the doors. Iron. Hard. Hard to break, hard to push. But not impossible. Ryon was a man made of steel and would not be afraid of any iron. Ryon gestured towards the doors for Jon to lead the way.


(maybe one more? unless we want to get some npcing in for an iron banker?)
JON TARGARYEN
 direct link • Jul 09 2017, 01:54 pm
Quote
his grace
the wolf of westeros
Sworn to the Seven Kingdoms
ESSOS
18 years
alma • she/her • 244 posts
Offline


Scrunching his nose at the mention of sellswords, Jon chose to keep quiet, reluctantly nodding, offering Ryon a smidge of recognition. Jon liked the idea of his own army better; he liked to know how they were trained, what they were capable of, and know that their actions would align with his word... sellswords were a less honorable sort. A pillaging, raping and relentless sacking-happy sort of crowd that put his integrity on the line. Not to say that such did not happen within the context of a war between official armies, but it would be far more prominent, far more common, and far more despicable a maneuver than the calculating brat prince, now king, would have preferred. He was oddly inclined to clean, honorable approaches for a man known for his mischief. "Misers indeed, but we have ignorance on our side. We are being used, that much is clear; how? Hmm. I don't think I would like to know the extent of their perversity, but any help they're willing to give, as long as there are no strings attached, I am willing to consider. We lack the luxury of choice and they have little to lose. It's a perfect marriage, is it not? "

Optimism. It was what the dethroned king sought to exude as he entered the hall. His chest tightened as it did the moment he had stood in the Sept, looking nervously at his wife. Despite the fact that he had despised the arrangement, there was something about these structures that humbled Jon. His pride became crushed as darkness surrounded him, even as he ambled towards the candlelight at the end of the hall, as if he were marching down a quiet tunnel. The fact that he could hear his footsteps also drained the young, curl-haired man of all pretense, cleared his mind of all illusion he might have displayed upon climbing those steps.

But he had a way of subverting his mind, of evading another drive towards oblivion. He imagined his beloved Ghost howling at the end of the passage, its red eyes shining bright, beckoning its owner to not stall this matter any further. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Ryon and nodded, before turning his attention to the man behind the desk, or rather, the large, sprawled-open volume, a register of sorts accompanied by a pot of ink and a simple quill. Jon plucked it and signed his name, leaving it in the pot for Ryon to take.

He then turned his attention to the official behind the desk, clearing his throat before speaking. "We are here to meet with the bankers. We have an appointment. Targaryen and Dayne. Jon and Ryon."
RYON DAYNE
 direct link • Aug 05 2017, 08:34 pm
Quote
King of the Vale
Shield of the Vale
Sworn to the Seven Kingdoms
DORNE
38 years
Rikuva • She/Her • 172 posts
Offline


I WILL NOT
BOW
Jon spoke that he didn't even want to know the extent to which they were being manipulated, being used. Blissful blissful ignorance. Ryon had to nod in assent to this. He was here in this city for very few reasons, and one of them was not to get involved with whatever messy bullshit politics they had here. He wanted his swords and his ships and he wanted to get out of here. The sooner, the better. And as Jon said, they lacked the luxury of choice. Though, to be honest, it did not matter to Ryon the choice. Given a choice, he would choose the fastest, most efficient measure. Anything to get him home quickly and effectively. He was sure that as long as he had an army, he could use it. The Arryn boy didn't have a complete hold on his home, he couldn't. Knowing that, and knowing his own capabilities, especially now that he had motivation more than anyone else, Ryon was sure he could topple that regime and reclaim his throne with fewer men than Jon would need.

The bank was a building of stone, cold, unfeeling. This was a room that could not feel anything, no matter the rage that boiled in Ryon's heart, the Iron Bank could feel nothing. He suddenly felt like arguments leading up to this point had been silly. These men would not be impressed by him. These men were impressed by nothing. But Ryon steeled himself. Persistence. Competence. That was what he brought to this table, and he would not drop it. Not now, not ever. They moved up to where an employee worked on a register, and Jon got his attention. The man looked to them almost absent-mindedly, then nodded and pointed to chairs nearby. For patrons waiting. Ryon almost choked the man. Fucking waiting. He'd waited on a goddamn ship for weeks to get here and now more waiting. He was tired of it, he was tired of everything... Ryon breathed and nodded, and moved. To wait. The Iron Bank would hear them. The Iron Bank would listen to them. This was the case, no matter what Ryon had to do. He'd wait if he had to.
RIKUVA
 direct link • Aug 05 2017, 08:35 pm
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Rikuva • She/Her • 189 posts
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