A Book of Ice and Fire / Game of Thrones : Magic Network

"Once this round of investigation concludes, the number will exceed 30,000."

Of these unfortunates, more than 20,000 were destitute with no stable means of sustenance, several thousand lived by petty crime and thievery, and several thousand more were simply unlucky souls of suspicious origins. A considerable resource of flesh and blood, to be sure.

Joffrey had already laid his plans for them all.

"Ser Jaime, the Department of the Army may select 5,000 of these people to bolster the ranks of your new recruits."

By choosing the 5,000 most suited to martial pursuits and immersing them among the 20,000 recruits already in training, the outcome would inevitably be their complete assimilation. After all, these men had no other choice before them.

"Alyn, you shall select another 5,000 to serve as eyes and ears throughout the city. They will receive the same training as other recruits before being divided between the Security Bureau and the Statistics Bureau as needed."

Had not the little birds once taken wing from the same wretched nests?

"Hanna, you shall oversee the formation of the Logistics Bureau, which will ensure the proper supply of materials to our various departments and the army. Select 10,000 souls for this purpose. The dull-witted shall provide labor, while the clever may advance gradually—taught to read, reckon figures, and expand their knowledge until they become worthy logistics officers."

For these 10,000, becoming a logistics officer represented the most fortunate path available. If they retained any measure of reason or hope for better days, they would surely abandon whatever resentment they might harbor.

"Tyrion, to you I grant 10,000 to form the Engineering Bureau. Beginning in August, not merely the sewers but all of King's Landing shall undergo transformation—especially the eastern district." Joffrey's mind was already filled with plans for factories and other facilities yet to come.

"The remainder shall be delivered to the dungeons and the Research Department, which have their own need for willing or unwilling subjects."

"How does this arrangement strike you all?"

Joffrey's smile was soft as summer rain, his satisfaction with these thoughtful dispositions evident in every line of his youthful face.

Tyrion offered the expected compliments to his colleagues, matching their enthusiastic responses word for word. Yet inwardly, his thoughts dwelled upon the Logistics Bureau and Engineering Bureau that the king had mentioned with such casual ease.

New departments conjured from thin air, each comprised of thousands of men and women, each granted substantial authority, each burdened with momentous responsibilities—all by royal decree.

What a capricious child ruled them now, though he had seen but twelve namedays.

Tyrion found himself carefully reviewing the events of the past month. Joffrey had first demanded taxes from the Seven Kingdoms, then proclaimed miracles for all to witness, then enacted sweeping reforms—the Department of the Army, the Research Department, the Security Bureau, the Gospel Department...

Divine grace bestowed upon the chosen, a thorough investigation of the entire city, 30,000 souls seized at once, and now, it seemed, places found for each of them in the king's grand design.

Tyrion watched these developments from the sidelines, increasingly convinced that Joffrey viewed King's Landing—perhaps the Seven Kingdoms themselves—as nothing more than an elaborate game. The king was enthusiastically constructing his favorite sandcastle upon the shore, smiling all the while with childlike delight.

Yet was this not to be expected? The king was, in truth, still a child. And who among them did not harbor a child within, one that never truly grew to manhood?

More troubling was that none could check the king's impulses. Cersei's legendary strong will and tyrannical bent vanished utterly in Joffrey's presence. Even Eddard Stark had managed only the gentlest words of caution while in the Red Keep, and now he had returned to his frozen North.

Even more astonishing, the proud and noble Lord Tywin Lannister silently observed the king's capricious actions without a word of reproach.

Though perhaps this was not so surprising after all. The king might be a willful child, but he was also an emissary of the gods, wielding power beyond mortal imagining. Blessed with abilities that could only be described as divine grace, who would dare deny his holy mandate?

Any who opposed the gods' chosen champion to his face would need to consider carefully whether they could withstand divine wrath.

Moreover, Lord Tywin remained Regent and Lord of Laws, his brother commanded the royal fleet as Master of Ships, his firstborn son had risen to Minister of War with authority over all the Iron Throne's land forces, and his daughter continued as Queen Regent.

Even his unloved youngest son sat upon the Small Council as Master of Coin.

Viewed thus, the high and mighty Lord Tywin stood as perhaps the most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms. Why, then, should he oppose the young king's whims?

If even Lord Tywin accepted these changes, would the people of King's Landing not do likewise? Even as the king seized half their city and disposed of tens of thousands of souls according to his pleasure?

Could it truly be so simple?

Tyrion's thoughts twisted in upon themselves, and he began to doubt his own judgment. Perhaps his view was overly pessimistic?

"Ahem." Joffrey cleared his throat, setting aside his satisfied expression. "Now that we have dispensed with the more pleasant matters, we must address the difficulties before us. Tyrion, let us begin with you."

Tyrion raised his head in confusion, meeting the king's gaze.

Joffrey's face had grown serious as stone. "How many gold dragons currently rest within our treasury? How many weapons do we possess? What stores of grain? How long might they sustain us?"

Tyrion's mind snapped back to the present moment. "Including yesterday's acquisitions, the treasury holds more than 1.76 million gold dragons. The armory can equip an additional 10,000 infantrymen. We possess some 4,000 warhorses and 10,000 pack animals. Our granaries contain enough to feed the entire city for a year."

He left unspoken that Littlefinger and Varys had contributed substantially to these figures through their various schemes, now laid bare.

Joffrey summarized the situation with brutal clarity. "Once war begins in earnest, our resources will sustain us for a single year. Is that correct?"

Tyrion could only nod gravely.

The expressions of the ministers grew somber as one. None could fail to grasp the gravity of their position.

A year was not insignificant, yet neither was it abundant. Who could say when the flames of war might be extinguished? Even after Renly was dealt with, the Seven Kingdoms would not instantly know peace.

One year? Two? Perhaps three, or five? All possibilities must be considered.

Should the gold dragons and materials replenished during this period prove insufficient to meet their needs, when their reserves dwindled to nothing, coupled with mounting debt and inevitable rebellion—that would constitute a crisis capable of bringing down the realm itself.

Joffrey turned to Alyn. "What of the goods entering the city of late? Share your findings with the council."

Alyn manipulated his light screen with practiced ease, summoning detailed figures. "The fish brought into the city by fishermen from the riverbank and harbor remains relatively stable. The supply of vegetables, barley, wheat, and other foodstuffs from farms just beyond our walls has not diminished. Together, these are sufficient to feed perhaps 100,000 souls."

"Grain shipments from the houses of the Crownlands have gradually decreased. The day before yesterday, they had fallen to 80% of what we received at the end of June—enough to meet the needs of approximately 300,000 people."

"Materials from the Stormlands and the Reach to the south have all but ceased. Only the occasional small merchant ventures into the city, an amount so negligible it scarcely warrants mention. The Golden Road from the Westerlands faces constant threat from rebel forces in the south, making caravans pitifully few."

"Fortunately, grain transported from the Riverlands and the Vale barely—but only barely—meets the needs of our remaining population."

"But," Alyn added, his voice dropping to little more than a whisper, "should this continue, within a month, thousands upon thousands in King's Landing will face starvation. The price of bread will rise beyond the reach of common folk, unless we begin to distribute the grain stored within the Red Keep."

The grain in the royal storehouses was not to be touched lightly. It represented their greatest confidence, their very foundation for sustaining a prolonged conflict.

Tyrion offered a suggestion. "What of grain ships from Essos? At the very least, the sea routes and Blackwater Bay remain open to us."

It had always been Westeros that sold grain to the East. How strange that they now contemplated the reverse.

Joffrey preferred to seek solutions closer to hand. "Essos lies too distant, the sea conditions too unpredictable for stable supply. Such imports would inevitably prove costly. Our most reliable source remains the grain from the Crownlands and Riverlands."

He turned to the Kingslayer. "Why have the houses of the Crownlands reduced their shipments? Ser Jaime, I would ask you to pen several letters of inquiry."

Jaime understood the king's unspoken meaning. Should these inquiries yield unsatisfactory results, perhaps the new recruits might pay a visit to these reluctant suppliers.

"Everyone," Joffrey said, his voice light yet somehow all the heavier for it, "Renly's rebels will march against us in September. We have but a single month to prepare."

"Let us set King's Landing and the Crownlands in order. Let us take the first steps in building our Holy City. Renly is not to be feared!"

The king's eyes remained fixed upon the model of King's Landing that dominated the table before them.

"Yes, Your Grace!" The ministers responded with a single voice, united at least in this moment of purpose.

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