"So, you're saying that aside from wine, Westeros has almost nothing of value to trade? And that's not considered poor?"
"Well…" Baelor hesitated for a moment and said, "I wouldn't call that poor. It's just that different regions have different specialties. Arbor's golden wine is unique in the world and is always in high demand."
"Ser, are you familiar with trade deficits?" Dany asked curiously.
"What's that?" Baelor looked puzzled.
"Think of Westeros as a whole. If you subtract the amount of gold dragons leaving the continent from the amount coming in each year, a surplus means the Seven Kingdoms are profiting from maritime trade—a trade surplus. But if the number is negative, it means the king is losing money. I call this a 'trade deficit.'"
"Hmm…"
Aside from a few nobles who were utterly clueless, those who understood Dany's words—such as Garlan, Baelor, Garth, and Perestan—looked at her in amazement.
"I never expected Lady Leila to be not only a skilled warrior but also so knowledgeable," Earl Garlan sincerely praised.
Westeros does have customs duties. After all, Littlefinger Petyr Baelish first made a name for himself by increasing customs revenue, eventually rising to the position of Master of Coin.
However, in this world, customs only serve one purpose—tax collection. Their job is to crack down on smugglers and extract as much tax revenue as possible for the king.
Adjusting tariffs, managing trade deficits, and restructuring domestic industries? These responsibilities do not fall under the Master of Coin's duties—nor do the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms even have such an awareness.
"What impact does a trade deficit have on Westeros?" the old maester asked nervously.
"In the short term, almost none. Maritime trade mainly involves luxury goods that commoners don't use, and the vast wealth accumulated by nobles over centuries doesn't hold much real value. Whether gold and silver sit in a cellar collecting dust or are exchanged for high-end goods, it makes little difference to the kingdom."
"This woman is insane—she actually claims gold and silver have no value," someone sneered.
Surprisingly, many people agreed with him, even Baelor and the old maester looked bewildered.
"Winter is coming. I believe that with House Tyrell's immense wealth, two million gold dragons should be manageable, right?" Dany looked at Earl Garlan.
"Well…" Garlan hesitated. Forget two million—his family could probably gather four million gold dragons if needed. But everyone knew the Iron Throne was struggling financially. If the king found out about their wealth…
"…Yes," he suddenly realized. House Tyrell was the richest in the Seven Kingdoms. Even Tywin Lannister had lent the Iron Throne three million gold dragons. If he claimed the Tyrells couldn't afford two million, who would believe him?
Dany nodded and continued, "Based on the current price of wheat in Oldtown, two million gold dragons could nearly buy enough grain to feed two million people for ten years."
One gold dragon = 23,520 copper pennies. Two copper pennies buy a roasted sausage (pure meat) and a quarter-pint of ale—equivalent to about ten modern dollars, not too expensive, right?
(Original book setting)
In this world, the price gap between meat and grain isn't as drastic as in modern times, but normally, one gold dragon should buy about ten tons of wheat.
"The Lannisters could probably put together another one or two million gold dragons. If we assume winter lasts five years, wouldn't that money be enough to save all of Westeros?"
"No," Baelor shook his head. "If you buy that much grain, the price would likely skyrocket tenfold."
Dany nodded and swept her gaze across the room. "Now, do you all understand? The difference between the normal price and the inflated price is the degree to which your gold has depreciated."
"A single wheat transaction could devalue gold to one-tenth or even one-hundredth of its original worth. Do you still think gold and silver have real value?"
"Th-this…" The nobles looked completely bewildered. They desperately wanted to argue, but their minds couldn't come up with a single counterpoint.
Even the old maester looked confused, though he quickly recovered and changed the subject. "What exactly are you trying to say? Weren't you just claiming Westeros is poor?"
"Alright, let's continue."
"A trade deficit may not affect Westeros in the short term, but over centuries, the amount of gold drained from the Seven Kingdoms has become massive—so much so that the Iron Throne is now forced to borrow money from the Iron Bank of Braavos and take loans from merchants in Myr, Pentos, and other Free Cities."
"The Iron Throne's financial struggles are partly due to King Robert's extravagant spending. However, in just fourteen years, he burned through nearly ten million gold dragons—including six million in foreign debt, several million in inheritance from the Mad King, and the kingdom's regular tax revenue."
"So, my lords, let me ask you—of the ten million gold dragons that King Robert spent, did any of it end up in your treasuries?"
"No. My house has been losing money for the past decade—there's been no income at all," said the Lord of Green Apple.
"Same here. Constant wars, tourneys… Everything costs money!" agreed the Lord of Highgarden.
"The expenses in recent years have been enormous. My house hasn't suffered losses, but we haven't made a profit either," Dickon admitted.
"That's true… My house has been running at a deficit too. Three years ago, we even took out a loan from the Iron Bank. What's going on?" said the Lord of Nightsong, surprised.
"I took out a loan too."
"So did I…"
"You all took out loans? Well, that puts me at ease—ha ha ha!"
"This…" Baelor looked just as confused. "Everyone's been spending money, yet Lady Leila isn't wrong. King Robert definitely spent ten million gold dragons over the past fourteen years. That's a massive amount of money—where did it all go?"
"Could someone be secretly profiting? Maester, do you know what's happening?"
Unconsciously, all the nobles turned their gazes toward the only expert in the room.
Maester Perestan was quietly tugging at the long chain around his neck, trying to hide the golden link—the one symbolizing expertise in economics—inside his collar.
Unfortunately, his attempt did not go unnoticed.
An awkward silence fell over the hall, thick and suffocating.
"Uh…" The old man's face turned red with embarrassment, and he nearly burst into tears of shame.
Dr. Perestan primarily studies history," Baylor said, touching his nose as he came to the doctor's defense. "Perhaps, as Miss Layla mentioned, it's a trade deficit, lost to foreign markets?"
"Over fourteen years, more than ten million lost? And if we add in all of us, just how much have we lost in total?"
"Heh, now do you understand why I say Westeros is poor?" Dany smiled nonchalantly, as if the matter had nothing to do with her.
To be honest, when she was rebuilding the trade system of Slaver's Bay, she had suspected that Westeros had long been in a trade deficit. She also foresaw that the extravagant lifestyle introduced by Robert would accelerate the outflow of gold. But she had never imagined that most of the nobility of the Seven Kingdoms were nearly bled dry.
Unconsciously, Dany thought of the era when Jewish financiers, led by the Rothschilds, controlled the economic lifeline of Europe.
Perhaps the moneylenders of Braavos were the equivalent of the powerful Jewish financiers of another world?
"So, what should we do? Closing the ports would only benefit smugglers and wouldn't stop the trade deficit you're talking about," Garlan said grimly.
"I have a solution that could resolve this problem once and for all. Do you want to hear it?" Dany said mysteriously.
"What solution?" Everyone turned to look at her.
"Everyone should take out loans from the Iron Bank of Braavos—borrow as much as possible. All the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms should borrow together."
"What do you mean?"
"Default, of course!" Dany grinned mischievously. "Westeros has its own unique resource—knights! One could say that the Seven Kingdoms have the strongest warriors in the world. Twenty thousand Dothraki screamers couldn't take Qohor, but ten thousand Golden Company mercenaries occupied it in a single strike. You get the idea, right?"
Indeed, Qohor had fallen before.
The tale of three thousand Unsullied defending Qohor had been passed down for centuries, which seemed to have given Qohor's nobles the illusion that as long as they had Unsullied to protect them, no one could touch them.
Decades ago, exiled Westerosi knights formed the Golden Company. Qohor hired them to seize territory in the Rhoyne Riverlands. The Golden Company charged high fees but had real skills, accomplishing the mission with ease.
However, the Qohor nobility tried to renege on payment, refusing to pay the final installment—pulling the same trick that some unscrupulous merchants use to cheat laborers.
Unfortunately for them, the Golden Company were not mere laborers. They swiftly crushed the Qohor cavalry and thousands of Unsullied, capturing the city in just one night.
That said, the Golden Company's founder, "Bittersteel" Aegor Rivers (one of the Targaryen bastards who initiated the Blackfyre Rebellion), had principles. Seeking to establish their reputation, they refrained from looting or burning the city. Once they received their rightful payment and compensation, they voluntarily withdrew from Qohor.
The Golden Company's motto was "Our word is as good as gold." They never broke contracts and were renowned for both their credibility and combat prowess.
Excluding regular cavalry, the Golden Company had only 500 true knights, each equipped with three horses and a squire.
Forget all of Westeros—even just the Reach alone could muster a thousand true knights. If thousands of true knights led tens of thousands of cavalry into battle, who would dare come to collect the debt?
"This... this is utterly dishonorable!" Garlan's mouth hung open in shock.
Judging by appearances, this woman was beautiful and refined. But beneath the surface, she was tougher than most men, with unmatched martial prowess. And deeper still, her intelligence was extraordinary—yet she was also utterly shameless and devious.
She was truly terrifying!
"Indeed, if we did this, Westeros' credibility would be shattered. Even local bankers would refuse to lend money to the nobility," said High Septon Peter, sweating nervously.
The Faith's banks had loaned out several million gold dragons (with the Iron Throne alone borrowing a million). If others followed suit, wouldn't they go bankrupt?
"I'm just suggesting an idea. It's your own business—do as you please," Dany waved her hand indifferently.
"But," she continued, returning to her earlier point, "you should understand by now. The Dragon Queen has taken control of the wealthy Slaver's Bay. That region almost never sees winter. The land is fertile, summer lasts year-round, and it's located near major maritime trade routes. It has both agriculture and commerce.
Most importantly, in terms of public sentiment, the newly freed people revere her as 'Mhysa.'
Do you know what 'Mhysa' means?
It's the old Ghiscari word for 'mother.' That should tell you how beloved she is in Slaver's Bay.
If you were in her position, would you leave such a prosperous and welcoming land to return to this poor, cold, and unwelcoming kingdom where the people don't even support her?"
"This… makes sense!" Even the dimwitted knight, whose shoulders seemed to sprout turnips, understood and agreed.
"Could it be that she truly isn't coming back?" Perestan murmured.
"That's not necessarily the case," Dany shook her head uncertainly. "Once she defeats the coalition army, even if she doesn't unify the entire continent of Essos, she'll at least take over Lys, Tyrosh, and the other Free Cities that declared war on her.
By then, with her mighty forces and only the Narrow Sea standing between her and Westeros, it would be natural for her to return leading an army of a million, flaunting her strength, making you all envious and resentful."
"An army of a million, flaunting her strength?" The gathered nobles twitched their lips, their expressions incredibly complex.
(End of Chapter)
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