In addition to the lavish decor, the banquet tables were piled high with exotic delicacies and fine wines from the Free Cities—luxuries that would cost a fortune in King's Landing, but here, they were offered freely. Servants, dressed in colorful, foreign attire, wove through the crowd, ensuring no goblet went empty.
This was the vision: a Golden Coast for Westeros, a playground of excess.
As the wine flowed and the music swelled, the first to truly embrace the atmosphere were the "bees and butterflies"—the swarm of young lordlings and suitors.
With their enthusiasm leading the way, the noble ladies, who had initially been skeptical of this rustic getaway, found themselves swept up in the tide of compliments and flattery. Under such a concentrated bombardment of charm and luxury, they began to look at this small town next to the capital with fresh, appreciative eyes.
---
### Gold for the Gold Cloaks
While the nobility indulged in their masquerade, the City Watch soldiers sent here for "Rest and Recuperation" were split into two shifts.
The first group, unlucky enough to draw the short straw, was deployed to guard the masquerade. They stood at their posts, eyes wide and mouths watering as they watched the highborn revel in pleasures they could only dream of.
The second group, however, hit the jackpot.
After stowing their gear and being assigned their barracks, they lined up to receive their daily "Recuperation Stipend"—one Silver Stag per man, per day, paid in cold, hard cash.
The man handing out the coin was none other than Ser Wendel Manderly, the head of the Recuperation Center. The silver even bore the mint marks of White Harbor.
For a common Gold Cloak, this was a windfall.
Under King Robert's reign, the crown's coffers were famously empty. The City Watch's official wages were often delayed or "lost," forcing the men to survive on gate taxes and shaking down smugglers.
Before Ned Stark took office, most Gold Cloaks lived off scraps thrown to them by the Lannisters in exchange for dirty work. Even after the Hand allocated funds for them, the coin was filtered through layers of corrupt officers taking their cut for "food" and "equipment maintenance." A soldier was lucky if he didn't have to bribe his captain just to keep his job.
So, when these ordinary soldiers felt the weight of real silver in their palms, the feeling was indescribable.
When the announcement came that those off-duty from midnight until the next evening were free to leave camp and do as they pleased, "revenge spending" began immediately.
Within the hour, the few taverns in Tampa were packed to the rafters with boisterous men in unbuttoned mail, shouting in the distinct accent of King's Landing.
The town's brothels and pleasure houses were likewise flooded with new patrons, injecting a massive surge of coin into the local economy.
---
### The Baron's Gambit
Jon didn't need to see the debauchery with his own eyes to know it was happening. He had engineered it.
Whether it was the "Recuperation Center" or the half-built "Golden Coast Resort," every stone laid here was part of a strategy to shift the center of gravity away from King's Landing.
Compared to the capital—a city that smelled of shit and was packed like a tin of sardines—Tampa offered the allure of the unknown. It offered freedom.
It lacked the sheer scale of the capital, but it had open space, sea breezes, and the kind of horizon that let a man breathe.
Crucially, it was close.
Tampa was near enough to the center of power that anyone needing a break could ride here in half a day. Conversely, anyone bored by the quiet could return to the filth and fury of King's Landing by nightfall.
This unique geography gave Jon the confidence to build Tampa into a "Vice Capital."
As long as he kept inventing new distractions, the nobles would come. And once they were here, he would drain their purses.
But entertainment was just the hook.
Jon had a deeper game to play. Before he could harvest the fruits of his labor, he had some overdue business to handle—specifically regarding Lady Anya.
The moment he rode into Tampa, he had spotted the "Fiery Vixen" in the crowd. Seeing the beautiful, shrewd woman reminded him that he was running out of time.
Tensions between the Westerlands and the Riverlands were escalating. The Starks and Lannisters were locked in a cold war that was rapidly heating up. And in the Red Keep, Cersei's belly was growing rounder by the day, a ticking time bomb counting down to Jon's doom.
Before the apocalypse arrived, Jon needed to be a player at the table, not a pawn on the board.
Smuggling alone wasn't enough. If he wanted to survive the coming storm, he needed swords. He needed men who would obey him, not the City Watch Commander or the Queen.
The "Recuperation" scheme was his Trojan Horse.
It paralyzed the Small Council with the illusion of benevolence while allowing Jon to infiltrate the military.
He had carefully selected this first batch of Gold Cloaks. One-quarter of them were men with connections to the North or those known to be dissatisfied with their current lot.
With enough silver, enough wine, and the promise of a better life in Tampa, Jon was confident he could turn them.
Lady Anya's trade empire wasn't just for profit; it was the engine that powered this bribery.
The plan was simple: the soldiers would work one day, rest one day. On their off days, they would be exposed to the wealth and opportunity of Tampa. When the time was right, Jon would let them participate in the "security" of the smuggling operations, giving them a taste of the real money.
By the time they returned to King's Landing, these men would be addicted to Jon's coin and loyal to his interests. Under the "care" of the Hand's Secretary, they would be promoted, positioned, and prepared.
They would be his sleeper agents, ready to open the gates or turn their cloaks when the die was finally cast.