King's Landing. The Red Keep. 299 AC.
The Red Keep, in its relatively short existence, had seen a great deal. The seat of kings had always overflowed with wealth, power, and history. In years past, wandering its winding corridors, one could take in the sort of trappings any lord's eye would recognize: stained glass windows, tapestries old and new, suits of knightly armor, dragon skulls, statues and busts of kings long dead. But with House Baratheon's rise to power, much of that had changed. The general style remained the same, true enough, but anything tied to the Targaryens had been carried off to the castle's dungeons, replaced with pieces bearing the bright stamp of House Baratheon. So the castle's new master had tried to erase his predecessors, so that anyone who walked its halls would think first of the new dynasty.
Now, with the capital of the Seven Kingdoms fallen into the hands of yet another family, the castle had transformed once again. It was no accident that the Lannisters were the wealthiest house in all Westeros; Queen Cersei had spent staggering sums to strip away every last trace of the late king. Every object he had loved, everything that had once pleased his eye, was ruthlessly destroyed, so that the colors of the lion's house might bloom across every corner of the Red Keep. Most considered it money thrown away, and a poor reflection on King Joffrey's reign besides, seeing as he was, after all, a Baratheon himself. Others praised the queen's initiative just the same. Opinions varied, but no one could deny the result. Style, wealth, pomp: the three defining traits of the Red Keep now.
Down the castle's long corridors walked two figures: a golden haired boy wearing a crown, and a short young man whose hair had already begun to gray.
"Your Grace, I am overjoyed that you've found the time for me," the young monarch's Master of Coin began, his tone faintly ingratiating.
"What did you wish to discuss, Lord Baelish?" King Joffrey had never been a patient boy and wanted to get straight to the point.
"I wished to express my admiration for your proposal. At the last council session, it was the only sound, decisive course, exactly what these troubled times call for. A shame Lord Tywin failed to appreciate your wisdom."
"Lord Hand is a wise man, and he has his reasons for not agreeing with such a proposal," the king said through gritted teeth. His mother had always told him others must never see discord within the family, but gods, he was so tired of all of it.
"Without question, Lord Tywin has his own thoughts on every matter, but in my humble view, his recent setbacks have made him rather... overly cautious." The word "cowardly" went unspoken, but the king caught the implication well enough and made no objection to it.
"Caution is part of strategy, and its use is an important piece of any war."
"I am no military strategist, but as Master of Coin, I can speak to plain facts: we are now in the twenty first month of this war, and only Stannis Baratheon has been brought down, and that at a very steep cost. The North, the Riverlands, the Iron Islands show no sign of coming to their senses, the Vale has its intentions unclear, and the rest of the realm has risen openly in revolt. As a result, our army grows smaller by the day, food runs short, and the Rock's great store of gold lies scattered somewhere across the Riverlands, and that's not even..."
"I know all this." The king seethed at hearing his own side's failures listed out. "What exactly are you trying to say?!"
"Every step we take carries risk, but without decisive action, we will lose this war. Lord Tywin was once a man of decisive action himself. Years, and failure, have changed him." The young king, it was plain to see, nodded along in approval at every word from his Master of Coin.
"And what exactly are you proposing, Lord Baelish?"
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