ASOIAF: King of Winter

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Chapter 37

[A.N: This is a small chapter meant to explain the actions of Wyman Manderly and his role on the coming plot, I may or may not explore his story further.]

Wyman Manderly

Wyman Manderly had always been a man of imposing stature, his girth as much a hallmark of his presence as his hearty laugh or quick wit. His rotund frame, wrapped in fine velvets and furs, was crowned with a face flushed with good cheer and framed by a neatly trimmed beard streaked with white. Yet his bright, shrewd eyes betrayed the sharp mind behind the jovial exterior.

The crowd at Gulltown buzzed with excitement as Wyman observed the small tourney organized by Lord Gerold Grafton. The event, meant to celebrate his arrival, was a spirited display of martial skill and local pride.

Knights from nearby lands clashed in the melee while the stands roared approval. Wyman clapped heartily as a young knight unseated another with a well-timed lance thrust.

He was fond of such spectacles; it is a wonder why his peers in the north find them distasteful.

Beside him, Ser Osgood Shett leaned in, his voice eager and unctuous. "A fine display, don't you agree, Lord Manderly? Our knights are of the old blood, descendants of the First Men who once ruled these lands. My House Shett, in particular, held dominion here as kings in days of old."

"Indeed, most impressive," Wyman replied, his tone rich with joviality. He raised his goblet in toast to the knight's victory. "Your heritage is a source of great pride, Ser Shett."

But inwardly, Wyman scoffed at Osgood's boasts. Kings of old? he thought. You are barely a shadow of those rulers, not even third in Gulltown's hierarchy. Laying in your hovel of a tower, clinging to "the good old days" as if they weren't hundreds of years ago.

As the tournament continued, Wyman turned his thoughts to the true purpose of his visit.

Officially, he had come to negotiate trade partnerships with Gulltown—to secure foodstuffs, weapons, and armor for gold plundered from the Lannisters. But his lord, Robb Stark, had given him another task. Robb suspected Petyr Baelish, Master of Coin, of treachery and embezzlement, using his connections in Gulltown to hide his misdeeds.

It wasn't an issue, Robb Stark had no relation with the Baratheon crown or their holdings, and any crimes and/or misdeeds the man may have committed to those two has no relevance when it comes to the current conflict. But Baelish is an enemy, someone who betrayed Ned Stark and holds motive to act against the Starks. Not only that, but his relationship with Lysa Arryn might suggest that he has a part in her reticence when it comes to joining the war.

Wyman's role was to uncover the truth and sever Baelish's support within the city, and from there, cut any leverage has over anyone that isn't a former Tully within the Vale.

*-*-*

The meeting with Gerold Grafton began in a lavishly adorned hall, its walls lined with tapestries depicting Gulltown's naval history.

Gerold lounged at the head of the table, a goblet in hand, his ruddy complexion betraying an evening of indulgence. Wyman adopted an air of joviality, clapping his hands together as he approached.

"Lord Grafton," Wyman boomed. "I must say, your hospitality rivals the feasts of White Harbor! This wine is as fine as any I've tasted."

Gerold chuckled, gesturing for Wyman to sit. "It's imported from the Arbor, no less. Only the best for my esteemed guests."

As they exchanged pleasantries, Gerold's tone shifted. "So, Lord Manderly, tell me—what brings the Lord of White Harbor to my city? Surely not just to sample my wine?"

Wyman took a generous bite of venison, its fat spilling onto his garments. "Trade, my lord. As you well know, my lord has secured significant riches during his jaunt in the Westerlands and wishes to put them to good use. The Riverlands are too ravaged, the North too depleted, and others ruled by enemies, and so Gulltown is our recourse for that matter."

Gerold's eyes gleamed. "You've come to the right place. Gulltown has resources aplenty. Though, of course, quality comes at a cost."

*-*-*

Conversely, his meeting with Robar Arryn took place in a modest chamber, sparsely decorated save for a few heirlooms of House Arryn. Robar, a man in his fifties with streaks of gray in his hair, greeted Wyman with a respectful nod.

"Lord Manderly," Robar said. "Your reputation precedes you. The North's loyalty to its allies is well-known."

"And House Arryn's wisdom is equally renowned," Wyman replied, his tone respectful. He took the offered seat and immediately steered the conversation to trade. "I understand that Gulltown has endured some challenges of late. Yet your name still carries great weight in these parts."

Robar sighed, his expression weary. "Weight, perhaps, but not power. The docks have become a mire of corruption. Merchants favored by certain…interests have driven up tolls, leaving my associates disadvantaged. It's difficult to compete when the rules are bent against you."

"An unacceptable state of affairs," Wyman said, his voice heavy with feigned outrage. "Perhaps a partnership could ease your burdens. White Harbor would be honored to strengthen its ties with the Arryns of Gulltown."

*-*-*

Back in Gerold's hall, the conversation turned to specifics.

"Lord Stark has bidden me to purchase large quantities of silver and steel, he predicts that the gold at his hand may prove to be useless soon should the Lannisters wish to dilute its value." Even that sentence seemed to tire Wyman, his breaths came labored and heavy, and he quenched his thirst by gulping down another cup of Arbor gold. "I'd consider 13 pounds of silver or 41 pounds of steel for every pound of gold a reasonable exchange rate."

Gerold's eyes lit up with greed, as he poorly hid his disdain for the Manderly Lord. "I'm afraid that may be too steep for me, I have another buyer who offers me a better exchange rates, they are a loyal customer, you must understand." His smile is entirely too slimy. "It would be a betrayal to offer another person better prices, no matter their station."

Wyman's jovial mask slipped for a moment. "That is disappointing." He says. "I am afraid that I cannot decide on a lower exchange rate without Lord Robb's permission." He says regretfully, before allowing his expression to shift into one of realization. "Perhaps you'd be willing to arrange a meeting with your buyer? Perhaps we can come to an understanding, I believe I might convince my lord to purchase his share."

Gerold hesitated, swirling his wine. "Their identity is…not something I'm at liberty to disclose. But I can assure you, Lord Manderly, that their business is entirely legitimate."

Wyman leaned back; his expression unreadable. Legitimate, indeed, he thought.

*-*-*

In Robar's chamber, the conversation flowed more freely. Robar explained how Baelish's departure had disrupted Gulltown's balance of power. "Without him, Lord Grafton has taken liberties. He's imposed tolls that favor his allies and cripple others."

Wyman's eyes narrowed. "And yet, Lord Arryn, Gulltown's wealth seems unaffected. How does Lord Grafton justify such policies?"

"He doesn't," Robar replied bitterly. "He flaunts it as proof of his governance. But the truth is clear to anyone who looks closely. The gold flows to his coffers, while the city's foundations crumble."

*-*-*

In Gerold's hall, Wyman's patience began to wear thin. As Gerold boasted about his city's prosperity, Wyman interjected with a question meant to unsettle him. "Tell me, Lord Grafton, I hear Gulltown's incomes increase tenfold in three years? It's a remarkable achievement."

Gerold's smile faltered for a moment before he regained his composure. "I owe that achievement to my friend Petyr's acumen." He says. "That man can practically conjure money from nothing."

"Was it now?" Wyman's tone was light, but his eyes were sharp. "I guess one must truly be ingenious to climb to such a position as Master of Coin. And in such a short time, to boot!"

Gerold let out a shaky laugh. "It is fortunate that I am blessed with good friends."

Wyman raises his glass. "To new friendships!"

"To new friendships!"

*-*-*

Back in Robar's chamber, the conversation took another turn.

Robar's expression darkened. "I must thank you, my lord." He says. "Were it not for your deal, I would no longer be able to find any profitable deals, the increased tolls and tariffs have made my endeavors too costly, whoever is targeting us not only seems to hold power everywhere, but they seem to have enough capital to undercut prices even in markets they don't control. I was at my last straw."

"And who, then, would control Gulltown's trade?" Wyman pressed.

"Gerold, of course," Robar admitted. "Or whoever he serves."

*-*-*

As the tournament's final tilt concluded, Wyman's thoughts were heavy with revelation. Gerold's evasiveness and Robar's candor painted a clear picture. Gulltown's prosperity was a facade, propped up by Baelish's manipulations and Gerold's greed.

A roar from the crowd drew Wyman's attention. Ser Erynd Grafton had unhorsed Ser Rolfe, and Wyman's grin widened as Osgood Shett reluctantly handed him a pouch of coins.

"Ten gold dragons, as agreed," Osgood muttered.

Wyman weighed the pouch and frowned. It felt too light. Opening it, he confirmed there were indeed ten gold dragons inside. But as he examined the coins, a realization struck him. They were thinner than they should be, their weight subtly diminished.

"Tell me, Ser Shett," Wyman asked casually, "does Gulltown have a mint?"

Osgood looked puzzled but answered, "Why, yes, we do."

Wyman's mind raced.

Baelish has been melting gold dragons, diluting them to pocket the difference. That's how he's inflated Gulltown's incomes and maintained his wealth.

The same could be done with the crown's treasury. Thinking of Robert's Baratheon's steep debt, Wyman couldn't help but gasp.

'He could be hiding millions in gold dragons.' He thinks. 'The question is, where?'