Building a kingdom is simple.
Ruling one is the true challenge.
There is an old saying: The people are hard to govern because they are clever.
To rule with cunning makes you a thief of the state.
To rule without cunning brings fortune to the realm.
Humanity is the soul of creation.
Born with wisdom and a gift for words, people grow cunning when you place yourself above them with schemes.
But if you govern with what appears to be simple honesty, the people will follow.
Rhaenyra had been busy for weeks.
She woke early and returned late, growing more adept at governance each day.
Within the Red Keep and beyond, the princess commanded growing respect.
The dozen merchants and citizens who had received gold dragon rewards praised her without reservation.
She was a woman of her word.
Rhaenyra had distributed roughly two thousand gold dragons to the residents whose districts were cleaned most thoroughly.
It was money well spent.
King’s Landing was a crowded city, yet filthier than most.
After this round of sanitation, at least the smell no longer made one want to retch.
King’s Landing was a port city.
Its appearance should come first.
Better appearance meant higher commercial revenue.
The city saw no shortage of rain.
When it poured, the streets turned to mud, and even nobles tracked muck and straw through the halls.
Rhaenyra personally handed out the prizes and proclamations.
She announced to the gathered citizens that such contests would continue, urging them to keep up their efforts.
Her guards gave her the confidence to walk through every corner of King’s Landing, even the infamous Street of Silk, where brothels clustered.
She pinched her nose as she encouraged the cleanest establishment, the Sweet Kiss, then hurried away.
The Street of Silk was popular among sellswords, sailors, merchants, and locals.
It was also among the most dangerous districts.
Drunks, vagrants, and pickpockets gathered there each night.
Stories of guests waking to find their belongings stolen were common.
Yet the crowds never thinned.
Daemon had captured many there, sending them to the chopping block or the dungeons.
On her way back, Rhaenyra gave instructions to Elly and Yelena.
“Remind the financial officers that King’s Landing’s tax policy needs adjusting.
Reduce taxes on crafts and trade.
Increase them on gambling dens, brothels, and taverns.” Elly was her most reliable handmaiden.
After months of observation, Rhaenyra had reassigned her staff.
Vivienne and several other noble-born handmaidens had been sent to menial labor.
The remaining maids were commoners or from friendly Crownlands houses.
Lord Strong’s two daughters were among them, but they had stayed behind to handle affairs at the Household.
Heavier taxes on gambling and brothels would anger many.
Only nobles could operate such establishments in the capital.
Her uncle Daemon held shares in several.
Rhaenyra herself still received a share from one each year, despite never having accepted it willingly.
But she had no choice.
King’s Landing was wealthy.
Gold dragons flowed into the city.
Yet where did they go?
They poured straight into the Street of Silk and down into noble vaults.
The common people had no money to spend.
Tax reform was essential.
The crown should encourage crafts, farming, and honest trade.
Rhaenyra had been run ragged these past days.
Gold Cloaks sent to knock on doors ended up brawling.
Prisoners who refused labor had to be dealt with.
Flea Bottom workers collapsed at construction sites from exhaustion and hunger.
Maester Ramos had also hit a snag when he went to the dungeons to fetch laborers.
The wardens were missing.
The dungeons were in chaos.
He could not find a single guard.
Rhaenyra’s face burned with fury.
Must everything in King’s Landing be a disaster?
She sent for Lord Lyonel Strong, the Master of Laws.
“Lord Strong.
Explain this to me.” Rhaenyra’s patience had frayed.
Elly whispered that this was the princess’s “dragon’s fury.” “Please, Princess, hear me out.” Lyonel was a broad-shouldered man with a bald head.
He was quiet at council meetings.
Strangers took him for a simple warrior.
Those who knew him understood he was sharp and learned.
He explained the structure of the law enforcement system in King’s Landing.
Lord Strong had only taken office this year.
He had not yet had time to clean house.
His subordinates were divided into four tiers: The King’s JusticiarThe Chief GaolerThe Captain of the DungeonThe Jailers Each tier had only one officer appointed by the Red Keep.
But the real problem was below them: the wardens.
Officially they answered to the jailers, but in practice, there were never enough wardens.
The extra pay was pocketed by others.
Before Lord Strong’s appointment, the position of Master of Laws had been held by the Hand of the King, Otto Hightower.
When Strong took over, he tried to establish his authority.
Most of the jailers and wardens did not even show up to his swearing-in ceremony.
He was quietly furious.
He had also discovered that some jailers and wardens colluded with outsiders.
The Braavosi, for instance, often bribed them for information or to plant agents.
The prison system ran deep.
The Hightowers had shown their claws.
Rhaenyra suspected the chaos across the city had been stirred up by Hightower and his allies, all hoping to humiliate the young princess.
“Lord Strong, reform the prison system.
Eliminate redundant positions.
Root out corrupt elements.
Anyone guilty of a crime is to be arrested immediately.
I will ask my father to assign royal guards to assist you.” “Princess, I will do my utmost.” Lord Strong was a cautious man.
Rhaenyra appreciated that.
He would be a useful ally against the Hightowers.
“As for His Grace, I will speak with him myself.
It is my duty.
The king entrusted me with this office.
I should act accordingly.” Since Lord Strong volunteered, Rhaenyra did not stop him.
Tomorrow’s small council meeting would be the moment to confront Otto Hightower.
If a dragon does not show its claws, you mistake it for a kitten.