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Chapter 40 - Auctioneers
🕑 Added 2025-07-23 16:10:17 +0000 UTCAsgard
Robert had the gold to fund multiple projects at once, but not the qualified manpower. Hiring enough to work on all the projects at once would leave the workers without a job as construction efforts calmed down, and coupled with the lack of management personnel, they decided to finish the projects in order, starting with the Auction House.
“You know, my lord, I noticed something.” Tyrion said as he was going over the drawings made for the auction house.
Robert had just finished giving orders on what changes he wanted and turned to his short companion. “What would that be, Tyrion?”
“I may be your “Director of Finances,” but I am also overseeing the construction efforts and keeping track of your projects, as you name them.” He explained, quoting the title with his fingers, something he had seen Robert do before.
He wasn't even going to mention the word project and where the older man had heard it from.
“Huh.” Now that Robert thought about it, he did make Tyrion do too much. “You’re right. You know what, let’s triple your salary, and you continue to do all of that anyway?” Never let it be said Robert Baratheon didn’t pay a fair salary to his people.
“Generous of you, my lord, but I would also appreciate more hands.” Tyrion already earned good coin, enough to live comfortably, especially with the free mansion, but gold alone was not a salve to how tired some days would be. “Noble sons who don’t stand to inherit anything are making their way to Asgard in greater numbers now.”
Robert’s fame did not just draw nobles and envoys but also people seeking to enter his employ.
Lord of Asgard nodded. He, more than anyone else, knew how tiring the administrative work could be. “Tyrion, recruit whomever you think is qualified and trustworthy. Watch out for people without tongues, especially young ones.”
A dread settled in his stomach, because Robert wasn’t the type of person to be cruel to disabled people, like, say, Cersei would be. “Any specific reason?”
Robert leaned down to whisper. “Why do you think Varys is so successful in his craft? Not many would suspect people, especially children, without tongues of being spies.”
“So his birds are mutilated children? Wonderful.” Tyrion rubbed his head, feeling a headache forming.
Their next destination was the cliff where the demon’s corpse would be hanged as a warning. “Yeah, even by the Blackfyre standards he is lacking in morals.” Robert explained.
“He is a what?”
“A Blackfyre most likely, or another Targaryen bastard line, I don’t know.” Robert wasn't going to keep track of which Targaryen fucked whom and fathered a child.
“Shouldn’t you do something about it?” Blackfyres were dangerous; in fact, one of them, Maelys the Monstrous, had slain Lord Robert's grandfather, Ormund Baratheon.
“Why? I warned him what would happen if any of my family or friends were harmed by his schemes. As long as he focuses on Targaryens, I don’t care what he does.” With his unmatched wealth and evolved dragons, Robert could handle some Valyrian bastards.
“That seems like a terrible idea, but I’ll defer to you on that.” Tyrion shook his head to dismiss the “what ifs” running through his mind. “One more thing, tax collectors were here.”
Robert snorted. “If Rhaegar or any other Targaryen believes I’ll pay taxes, they are free to come here and demand it themselves.” Back on Earth, he knew better than to evade taxes from the IRS without the usual methods rich people used, but in Westeros, no one could tax him.
“I thought you might say something like that and sent them away. But you know they could make trade hard for us, not overtly but behind the curtains.” They had tried once before, and Robert’s stern warning had solved the issue, but if every time Robert did something against the Royal Family’s interests and they responded with backhanded methods, it would waste precious time.
Robert stopped, a smile growing on his face. “Tyrion, do you know why violence is not the answer?”
“Why?” Seeing as Robert was extremely good at solving his problems with violence if he chose, this should be good.
His smile turned to a grin from ear to ear. “Because it is the question, and the answer, more often than not, is yes.”
Tyrion snorted and started chuckling. “Let’s hope the rest of the realm understands the message too, my lord.”
—
Hanging a fifteen-foot-tall corpse on a clip was easier said than done. Chaining it would require constant maintenance, which meant additional costs, something Robert wanted to avoid.
So Robert began to experiment to see if his theories on the effects of dragon fire were correct or not.
Part of the legends said that the Iron Throne was created with the help of Balerion’s flames, and seeing as he guessed dragonfire was one part of forging Valyrian steel, he conducted a little test.
Two chains, one heated with Obelisk’s flames and the other an ordinary one, were tied to the shore and left in the seawater to see if it would make a difference. He was already using the dragons to make roads that were fused together, so what was wrong with using them to make sturdier steel?
Chains were removed after two weeks.
The ordinary chain was covered in rust, while the one treated with dragonfire was still the same shiny steel, with not a hint of rust on it.
He didn’t know if the evolution of the dragons had something to do with it, or if it was something they could always do, but Robert didn’t care.
So large and strong chains, cured with dragonfire, were nailed inside deep holes, which were then covered with stones that the dragons melted, securing them in place.
The ship carrying the corpse was brought under the cliff, and the chains, with the help of both men and dragons, were tied around the demon’s body and dragged up to hang above the water and in clear sight of any ship sailing to Asgard.
Other ends of the chains were nailed on top of the cliff much the same, securing the corpse in place.
It was a lot of work and costly, but seeing as he was filthy rich, Robert made an exception this time and splurged a bit.
All for a good cause.
—
288 AC
As weeks passed by and visitors from afar sailed to Asgard in the hopes of buying valuable Valyrian steel, they all stopped to watch.
Hanging down the now named Demon’s Cliff was the corpse of the Archdemon that Robert Baratheon had slain, chained up above the water as a warning.
Be aware, for Robert Baratheon did this to the destroyer of Valyria, the greatest civilization this world had seen.
—
With the beginning of the new year, also came the time for the auction. The richest Westerosi houses made their way to Asgard, whether by land or by sea, while Essosi nobles arrived with small fleets escorting them as guards.
The auction was going to be one of the greatest events in the last several years on both sides of the continent, as none had gathered this much interest and high-profile visitors.
“Jon, there you are.” Robert gathered his aging foster father in a hug, mindful not to hurt the old man with his strength, though Elbert did not enjoy the same care.
“Off, you damn oaf. You’re going to break something.” Elbert complained, and Robert lowered him to the ground. “Is that how you say hello, Elbert? Jon must have been slacking on your training.” Robert teased his foster brother, who rolled his eyes in return.
“Ha ha. Good to see you too, Robert, though try not to squeeze me to death next time. I can’t die at a young age because a bear mauled me.” Elbert put his hand on Robert’s shoulder, teasing his foster brother back.
“Oh please, that was nothing.”
Jon watched the scene, amused and happy to see his boys together, before intervening. “Perhaps you two would like to banter inside?” More than one pair of eyes was on them now, watching the scene with interest.
“Eh, you guys go ahead; I have some more people to greet. We’ll talk later. By the way, why didn’t you bring your wife, and where is Denys?” He turned to Elbert, having seen no sign of the woman.
Elbert smiled, though it was a strained one. “She is pregnant and gets nauseous on ships, so she opted to stay home. As for Denys, his wife is ill.”
Robert frowned, his joy about Elbert having a son darkened by the news of Denys’ wife, as he remembered what had happened to them in the books. “Good news and bad news? “You certainly know how to rain on a man’s parade.”
“It is what it is.” Elbert shrugged; he was in the same boat with Robert.
“Oh, Tyrion, there you are. Take Jon and Elbert to their quarters.”
“Yes, my lord.”
He would see about sending Korryn or at least one of his apprentices to see how Denys and his family were doing.
—
The next guests he intended to greet were Baelor and Elia, who brought two of his sisters in addition to his son and daughter.
“Baelor, Elia, welcome to Asgard.” He shook Baelor’s arm and gave Elia a kiss on the knuckles, doing the same to Alysanne and Lynesse, who looked too pleased at the act.
“Thank you, Robert. We also have two more guests for you.” An old man, followed by a very conservatively dressed woman, came down, eyes glued on the cliff where the demon’s corpse hung.
There were two Hightowers who would be that interested in the corpse of a demon, and they would be Leyton “Old Man of Oldtown” Hightower and Malora “The Mad Maid” Hightower.
The father and daughter duo were known for their interest in magic, so hearing that he would be displaying the corpse of a demon no doubt had their attention.
Robert, ever the perfect host, greeted his new guests without missing a beat. “Lord Leyton, Lady Malora, welcome to Asgard.”
“It is a pleasure to be here, Lord Robert.” Leyton held out his hand, and Robert took it, while Malora curtsied, sneaking glances towards the corpse.
“Why don’t you all head inside? We can always talk later, and I am just about done here. Also, if you are interested, Lord Leyton, I can have some of my men take you there.” The man was here for one purpose, obviously; there's no need to drag him around for deals.
That was what Baelor was for.
“You have my thanks.”
Teron, his majordomo, since the term butler was prone to immature jokes, a seasoned and well-spoken man he had hired weeks ago, guided the Hightower contingent inside Asgard to their quarters.
Now, he only needed to wait for his family while greeting several nobles from Essos, and Robert could go inside to prepare for the banquet.
—
Ormund appeared on the horizon first, a black dot growing closer, and Robert returned to Valhalla, and his grandmother, with Renly strapped to the back of the saddle, landed in the courtyard, built to be especially large to accommodate dragons.
Helping his grandmother and little brother off, Robert caught Renly as the little boy jumped at him from the saddle.
“Brother!” Renly hugged his neck, already taller than most boys his age.
“Renly, I told you to be careful.” His grandmother chided her youngest grandson.
His little brother looked sheepish. “Sorry, Grandmother.” Renly apologized, though Robert wagered he wasn’t sorry at all.
—
Helping his grandmother and youngest brother inside while making small talk, Robert left for the docks to bring his parents in.
His mother’s baby bump was noticeable now, and she looked a bit nauseous as his father gently helped her off the ship.
Rushing to make sure she was okay, Robert held her other hand. “Are you well, Mother?” He asked, concern evident on his face.
She just nodded. “Yes, the baby didn’t agree with the ship, that's all. It’ll pass.”
He missed Stannis and his soon-to-be wife, Delena, escorted by knights in House Florent’s livery, making their way off the ship.
—
True to her words, Doctor Korryn said she would be fine with a bit of rest, so Robert went to see how Stannis was doing, only to see something the canon Stannis would never do.
If nothing else mattered, this was the proof that the canon timeline was gone to hell.
Leaving the two to keep sucking each other’s faces, Robert left to see how the preparations for tomorrow’s banquet were holding up.
Comments
orcun demir
Glad you enjoyed it :)
Aeden Emrys
Good 😊 for Stannis! Thanks for the chapter! I'm looking forward to reading much more!
