Should I Go to Asshai?

The afternoon wore on.

The spectators had left the Great Arena, making the atmosphere even more desolate.

Rhaegar sat upright in his chair, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"Your Grace, you absolutely won't regret your decision."

Boggins beamed as he carefully folded a signed and stamped piece of parchment and tucked it back into his clothes.

"Indeed. The Thirteen Magnates never deceive anyone."

A dark-skinned, corpulent man declared proudly, patting his ample chest.

The other eleven smiled broadly, raising their goblets to toast again and again.

Just moments ago, the Iron Throne had signed an agreement with Quells.

The former would borrow three and a half million Gold Dragons to develop the Golden Fields.

The latter would provide money and goods, and commit fifty great ships to year-round transport.

In return, the ports under the Iron Throne's control would be opened to Quells, allowing merchants to settle there and enjoy reduced taxes.

Quells would also offer loans to the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms: first, to break the Iron Bank's monopoly, and second, to help nobles in financial trouble.

The two sides had formed an alliance, pledging to stand together in war as well.

Though it seemed aimed at the Iron Bank, the agreement had actually ensnared the Iron Throne, too.

Rhaegar smiled as he put away another copy of the parchment agreement.

So what if he owed them money and opened his ports to them? Fine by him.

If the Golden Fields were successfully developed, his family and the Seven Kingdoms would have a measure of security against the White Walkers in the north.

He wouldn't repay the Iron Bank, and he certainly wouldn't repay Quells.

If the Thirteen Magnates dared stir up trouble in the ports and cities under his rule, they could wait