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BtM Chapter 27: Cosymo Rogare II
🕑 Added 2024-05-05 01:04:17 +0000 UTCAuthor's Note: I am incredibly sorry for the recent lack of the chapters, and the small size of this one, not only is it exam season, but I'm getting bogged down with extracurricular projects that I barely have the time to breathe, the moment I get free I will basically drown you with chapters, but until then I hope you wait patiently. Sorry for all for you patrons, from the bottom of my heart.
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As the morning sun cast its golden rays over the sprawling landscape of the Disputed Lands, an old man sat atop a weathered hilltop, his gaze fixed upon the bustling activity below. Cosymo, the head of the Rogare Bank and a survivor of the tumultuous conflicts that had ravaged these lands for generations. Now, in the twilight of his life, he bore witness to a new chapter in the region's history—the birth of a city that would stand as a beacon of hope amidst the chaos of war.
Below him, workers toiled tirelessly, their hands wielding hammers and shovels as they laid the foundations of what would soon become known as Dāez. Named for its strategic position at the heart of the Triarchy—the three rival factions vying for dominance in the region—the city was intended to serve as a neutral ground, a sanctuary where merchants, travelers, and refugees alike could find respite from the ceaseless bloodshed that plagued the land.
Cosymo watched with a mixture of pride and apprehension as the city began to take shape before his eyes. The walls raised ever higher, a testament to the determination of those who dared to defy the chaos that had long held sway over the Disputed Lands.
“It truly is something to behold.” Interjected a voice from his right.
Cosymo turned to the man, sat next to him was a short yet muscular figure, he wore luxurious silks of flamboyant dyes, yet his hair was bald and his beard a boring black, quite uncharacteristic for a Tyroshi rich man.
“It is, Archon Modaerys, or should I say Magister, now?”
The warlord didn’t quite match his reputation, he neither seemed charming nor intimidating, he was quite muscular, yet his short stature made for a significant hurdle in his martial prowess, he wore a permanent scowl on his face, always angry and belligerent, yet somehow he managed to wrangle the whole city of Tyrosh into his hands, organize an alliance between the cities of Myr, Lys and his own that preceded the Triarchy, and in a single fell swoop, destroyed Lohar’s backing, forcing him to join forces with the weakened Myr.
Aeraquo’s slight smile quickly soured at the mention of his new title. “That fool Jaqeo couldn’t help himself, now I have to be surrounded by foolish sycophants and greedy merchants vying for my favor.” He complained. “I wished for it to come much later.”
Indeed, the former Magister Jaqeo’s betrayal stung deep, his shift to Lohar’s side was the final nail in the Archon’s metaphorical coffin, forcing the latter to use many trump cards much too early, dark secrets were uncovered, resources sabotaged, and allies subverted, yet it came too soon, allowing Lohar to escape with his hide intact and forcing the former Archon to take up the Magister’s place in order to secure his position.
Cosymo let out a sardonic laugh. “Sometimes caution can be naught but cowardice, you cannot always expect everything to wrap up in a neat little bow. Sometimes… you have to dirty your hands in order to get what you wish.”
The scowl on the short man’s face deepened, yet he hummed thoughtfully. “I know, which doesn’t stop me from complaining.” He turned his gaze to the working masses, the severity of his expression lightening up ever so slightly. “At least this endeavor proved to be fruitful.”
Cosymo nodded.
The alliance between Modaerys and the Rogare Bank proved to be a frightening thing indeed. After the return of the envoys from Westeros –with good news, of course- the political situation in the Triarchy shifted significantly.
The assurance of the abolishment of tolls and tariffs within the island chain proved to be a balm to many a merchant’s aching purse, a peaceful, open Stepstones backed by the strength of dragons would certainly allow for easier trade, and many slave traders –Tyrosh being one of them- may have professed their complaints, yet the presence of the Rogue Prince burning all slaver ships that attempt to cross the Narrow Sea proved to be a significant deterrent to their woes.
In their first action as allies, Aeraquo and Cosymo decided to centralize the Triarchy and increase its influence on Essos by building its first project, a capital right in the center of the Disputed Lands, a testament to their unity and a significant investment into the surrounding lands.
In truth, it may be the only way to increase their combined influence over the larger alliance, with the recent events, Lys was firmly in Cosymo’s hands, and Tyrosh was always in Modaerys’. Yet, if things continued as they were, then the Triarchy would bloat without their supervision, giving birth to competitors outside of their influence.
So, taking advantage of their momentary dominance, they decided to build Dāez, using Rogare gold and Tyroshi men, and with the chaotic situation at Myr, the two would be free to decide on all the matters of the new capital, and furthermore, the Triarchy.
“How goes Lohar, still frothing at the mouth?” Cosymo asked.
The former Archon’s influence in the militant side of the free cities proved to be underestimated, he proved to have many eyes and ears both within the common sailors and the naval officers, let alone the common merchants that took his gold. His insight into Lohar’s operations should be much deeper than his own; he was all about gold and marriages, after all.
Aeraquo frowned. “The bastard has made a comeback; he managed to ally with a mysterious figure, only called by some stupid title.” He huffed. “The abominable man, they title him, a deformed figure incapable to walk, with bark growing over his skin and flesh covering his eyes, rumors are abound that he has a thousand and one eyes, with none escaping his gaze.”
Cosymo lightly stroke’s his grey beard in thought. “So he managed to wrangle a competent spymaster to his side…” He said. “Now that you speak of it, I heard news from the Red Temple, their criers are shouting in the streets of Myr about a man employing dark sorceries to seek into men’s secrets, made a pretty penny from it too.”
Cosymo turns to the shorter man. “This so called alliance, or whatever it is, is a recent development. Is it possible to bring this deformed man to our side? New players all strive to play larger games, after all.”
Modaerys idly mentions with his hand. “I shall make some overtures; however, I am more concerned about this prince, the Governor of the Stepstones. Racallio spoke well of the boy, yet who knows about these Targaryens, every new one proves to be crazier than the last.”
The Rogare head leans further into his cane. “He’s at Dragonstone for the moment, probably in order to familiarize himself with his new role. Prudent, yet unfortunate for us, we cannot get significant information from that island.”
The Magister’s temper seemed to blaze aflame yet again. “Tell me about.” He groans. “’It is not the fact that we cannot employ spies there, it is that they proved to be ineffectual. One says he’s drinking and whoring his way into the city, others say he spends his time buried amongst books, the same about the older one too…”
Cosymo nods. “The smallfolk love him, and his men are staunchingly loyal, not only that, but they receive more than enough compensation for their work. The best defense against spies is to keep your subordinates happy and satisfied, and the Crown Prince seems to have taken that lesson well.” He shrugs. “Yes I digress; I believe we already know enough about the boy, my son says he’s good at negotiation, yet greedy for spoils, much like any other merchant.”
“Whether that is good or not is left to be said, however.”
