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BtM Chapter 21: Cosymo Rogare I
🕑 Added 2024-04-13 18:47:17 +0000 UTCThe aging head of the Rogare bank and Magister of the Kingdom of the Three Daughters stared at the bickering magisters with thinly veiled disdain.
For a Lyseni, the old man’s face was particularly plain, and was it not for his lilac eyes then one would mistake him for a Braavosi; he had a long face, a prominent nose, and thin lips. His demeanor was serious and he wore simple clothing for a man of his stature.
As a boy, he lacked the famed beauty of the Lyseni, causing him to turn to the mercantile side of their society in order to improve his station. It was after years that he was able to establish his bank as an almost equal to the Iron Bank, his alliances and intermarriages with Tyroshi and Myrish houses were also invaluable in the establishment of the Triarchy, and he used that influence to secure his family even more power and riches.
“Look at them, quarreling like children in a playground.” The Lyseni dialect was melodious and musical, but paired with his rough voice it seemed lackluster. “To think those are some of the most powerful men of Essos.”
“Can you blame them?” Interrupted a suave voice from his side. “They lost much gold to that Targaryen Prince, if I was in their position I’d do the same.”
His grandson was wise, if not too kind. Cosymo was blessed with many children, his oldest –Piero Rogare- was sickly from gout at a young age, and it is Cosymo’s greatest regret to watch his son and heir die before his departure. Now Piero’s son, Lysandro, is to be groomed as his successor, maybe it was the god’s mercy that he turned out to be as clever as his sire.
The Rogares, like any other house of the Triarchy, lost significant investments at the onset of Prince Baelon’s conquest, but unlike the others, their trade was in debts and currency, cunning as ever, Cosymo secured their influence over the three sisters by lending unfavorable loans to the houses who suffered the most.
Some of them already defaulted in their debts, ceding their assets to them. And by the time the Targaryens sent envoys to each of the sisters, the Rogares had already recouped their losses and more.
“We mustn’t allow those barbarians to keep their claws on the Stepstones! With the tolls, and the loss of our investments in Dorne, we won’t be able to conduct any trade with the western continent!” That was Jaqario Lohar, another Lyseni Magister for the Triarchy and the primary competitor to Rogare’s supremacy within the Lys, although his influence is waning as of late.
His influence stems from the navy; he was but a subordinate to his brother Sharako Lohar, the most powerful admiral of the Triarchy after Craghas Drahar’s death. As you can see, he is the loudest supporter of the war at the Stepstones.
Cosimo slammed his cane to the ground, gathering the attention of the Magisters. “How do you propose we do that, Jaqario? Did you forget that each of our august cities received envoys at the behest of King Viserys Targaryen, urging us to stop the conflict, and inviting us to the negotiating table?” His voice echoes. “This is not Daemon Targaryen or that damned Seasnake, but the King! What if you provoke them into an invasion?! Who will defend us if their soldiers march on our cities? Can we expect your sword when you’re faced with not one, but more than a dozen dragons?!”
His speech gained voices of agreement from the majority of the Magisters, the elongated war of the Stepstones and the loss of the Dornish market was a waking call to most of them, they all lost the arrogance gained from their previous victories.
There is always a bigger fish in the sea, and they have just realized that.
“You speak of our inability, implying that we just lay our blades and surrender to those curs!” Jaqario was undeterred, however. “If we negotiate with the sunset kingdoms we’ll admit our inferiority to those savages! And before you know it, the other cities would smell blood in the water! We need to make a stand! And if we are to negotiate, we need to do so from a position of strength!”
The council chamber devolved into a cacophony of shouts and insults, as people argued between adhering to the Targaryens demands for negotiation, or just to continue the naval war.
But the sisters spent too much and had gotten nothing for the last several years, for the cautious magisters the prospect of cutting their losses and ending the war seemed more favorable, and so at the end, they chose to send three envoys in order to negotiate with the Westerosi, one for each sister.
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The High Council session was held in Tyrosh. Afterwards, Cosymo and his family and advisors retreated to an opulent manor on the outskirts of the city. The luxurious estate was situated on the shores of the island, providing him with a serene view of the blue sea on the horizon and the delightful scent of the ocean in the air, allowing him to unwind.
Lysandro did the same at his right, pleasantly munching on some fruits. "What are we to do about Westeros? Our plan to ingratiate ourselves with both the Targaryens and the Martells is unfeasible, and their trade is more likely to flow through Braavosi channels, causing us to lose a significant portion of our revenue." He says. “Should we try to secure a royal marriage? We share the same Valyrian ancestry as the Targaryens, I’m sure they would be amenable to such a union.”
Cosymo scoffs. “Don’t be daft, the Targaryens are too secure in their position to entertain a marriage with us, we are slavers, which would leave a stain to their reputation in the eyes of the Westerosi lords.” He says. “No. We cease most of our major investments in Westeros, any deals or contracts concerning the sunset kingdoms are from now on secondary.”
“So what are we to do then, give up on our most profitable market?” Lysandro asks.
A beautiful woman, with platinum hair and ocean eyes gingerly approaches the duo. “Masters, Magister Nakar Adarys is here to see you.”
While Cosymo keeps staring at the horizon, Lysandro looks at him in question.
Cosymo nods in assent, upon which Lysandro turns to the bed slave. “Let him in.”
He turns back to his grandsire. “If Nakar is here, that means the Aeraquo wants something.” He says. “The Tyrosh eleven are but mouthpieces to their Archon, after all.”
The Triarchy, or its official name, the Kingdom of the Three Daughters, was an “eternal alliance” governed by a high council of three and thirty magisters, eleven from each city. Theoretically, the council is to be collectively responsible for all three cities and their subordinate territories, superseding the local authorities of the each cities government.
However, unlike the Lys and Myr representatives, all the Tyrosh thirteen are puppets to their Archon, Aeraquo Modaerys.
“Tyrosh took the blunt of the losses in the war for the Stepstones; Aeraquo is starting to lose the support of their major houses, some of it mitigated by blaming Craghas Drahar’s leadership.” Lysandro commented. “It puts him in a precarious position; he did rise in his position through his military exploits, after all.”
Aeraquo Modaerys was the man credited with the strategy that birthed the Triarchy, the Battle of the Borderland that pit the three sisters against the armies of Volantis was his brainchild, as he sent envoys, using concessions to lessen the tensions between them and taking advantage of their greed and fear in order to unite them against a common enemy, he bribed enemy sellswords to betray Volantis, and used their combined fleet to cut off their supplies.
Using the fame from its success he rose as the sole authority of Tyrosh, refusing a magister position in the newly formed High Council, favoring control over his home city.
Even the appointment of Craghas Drahar was done under his advisement, but the Crabfeeder and his Myrish backers betrayed him, raising the tolls on the Stepstones to an unrealistic degree despite his complaints and causing the war against Corlys and Daemon.
Nakar Adarys is his right hand man, and the one responsible for relaying his wishes to the Magisters of the High Council.
He was a chubby fella, dressed in colorful silk robes and gold accessories, every one of his steps jingled like a pouch of gold, his hair was dyed in bright blue whilst his long beard in vermillion. The man had thin eyes and a permanent smile on his face.
“Magister Rogare! It is always such a pleasure!” His voice was gentle and jovial, but somewhat boisterous, giving it a disarming feel. “I come with gifts!” He mentioned to the gaggle of slaves following behind him, dragging with them chests filled with silver, silk, and jewelries, alongside the material wealth were beautiful beauties, wearing skimpy outfits and demurely bowing to the bankers.
Lysandro stared again at Cosymo, noting his disinterest, he mentioned for the servants to take the gifts away. “We thank you for your generosity, Magister Nakar. It is truly kind.”
“Nothing but the best for such an august guest, and an apology for our belated welcome to our humble city.” Nakar turns to the elder Rogare. “I heard your speech at the council session, Magister Cosymo, you are a fine orator. Let it be known that we completely agree with your views.”
Cosymo lets his scoff be heard. Of course Tyrosh will adamantly support the cessation of war in the Stepstones, considering the fact that their proximity to the archipelago caused them to receive the most damage.
“Archon Modaerys should have forced his issue when King Viserys’ first envoy came to demand lower tolls along the islands. Now even if he was proven right, rumors of his weakness and inability to inforce his authority are abundant within higher circles.” He said. “Now the militants are gathering around Sharako Lohar, causing me naught but headaches.”
All things considered, Cosymo is somewhat grateful for the recent happenings. The aftermath of the Stepstones was causing instability to ferment within the Triarchy; Sharako had begun fanning the flames, pushing for an increase of hostility, while banking houses like the Rogares argued for more peaceful resolutions.
Their stranglehold on the Dornish markets was still strong at the time, so while the Stepstones caused many to lose out, most people thought that gold would keep flowing and that with their position they would be able to get another try at securing the barren islands.
The other free cities actions at the time were clear, they drove a wedge between the sisters using bribes and alliances with specific forces, the Myrish lost most of their political capital since the whole war was blamed on their greed, making Lys and Tyrosh the deciders in their strategy for the coming days.
Tyrosh held the moral high ground, they can claim that they had predicted the results of this debacle before it happened, but they suffered too much financially, making Lys the one who pulled ahead. Yet Lys also had their own problems, even though out of the Three Sisters they came out largely unscathed, the political landscape within the city was tense as the noble houses were separated between two camps, the pragmatist Rogares and the warmongering Lohars.
The Conquest of Dorne put an end to the tensions, as all factions realized the need for unity in face of such a large loss, evading the splintering of the Kingdom of Three Daughters for a later date.
Adarys’ smile turns brittle. “That may be so, but you must realize the need for cohesion in these trying times, you may be at your strongest now, but as time goes on the Iron Bank is bound to push you out of business, using their friendship with the Westerosi Crown Prince to gobble up a significant share of the market.” His smirk turns haughty at the prospect of their downfall. “You’re going to need allies if to survive the days to come.”
Lysandro clicks his tongue in annoyance. “Your Archon is in no better shape, the bear’s getting too old to hunt, and the hounds are circling, waiting for the slightest weakness.” He stares down the Magister. “In fact, didn’t Magister Jaqeo spend the previous fortnight at Lohar’s estate?”
Jaqeo was another of the Tyroshi eleven, an old subordinate of the Archon of Tyrosh, news of his betrayal and his shift of allegiance toward the House of Lohar were abound.
“That, I’d argue, is a boon for my case.” Adarys says. “The Archon believes that both he and your honorable House may have common cause. Lohar’s encroaching hands are extended way too far, and it is only a matter of time before he makes a mistake.” He notes.
“He says -that in the meanwhile- the Triarchy has to remake its strategy, we are to learn from our mistakes, and endeavor to emulate our betters.”
“Oh?” The old man’s eyes light up in interest. “What a coincidence, both I and the Archon seem to share the same mindset. Tell me, Magister, what does Aeraquo have in mind?”
For the first time, Adarys shows his teeth alongside a predatory smirk. “To quote our venerable leader: We are to replicate the Targaryen whelp, he proved to us that a foe thought to be unassailable can be defeated using new methods.
Instead of looking west, we should head east, the disputed land’s resources can finally be exploited, now that they are pacified, the golden fields terrorized by the Dagger Lake pirates gatekeep riches of gold and amber flowing from the Axe and pine cones from the Forest of Qohor, ruined cities of the ancient Rhoynar are disallowed to flourish due to the constant threat of the Dothraki hordes.” A menacing smile grows in Cosymo’s face to match; he obviously likes what he hears.
“If we three daughters of Valyria were to pacify all the lands west of the Rhoyne, we would know riches untold.”
It didn’t take a second for the aged man to reply. “Tell your Archon, that we Rogares do not lack currency to fund this war, and that if he dares to match his ambitions with actions, we would stand fully behind his back.” He says. “Tell him, that the Rogare Bank is willing to gamble it all in order to usher in a new age of prosperity, the question is, does he have the balls to match our bid?”
