The Gold Cloaks, unwilling to dirty their polished boots, often skipped patrolling the filthiest parts of Flea Bottom.
In these neglected corners, unknown to the guards, the beggars—who usually survived on scraps—were being organized. Under the guidance of the Faith of the Seven, they gathered food and distributed it systematically, barely clinging to survival.
At first, with enough food to go around, there wasn't much conflict.
But as supplies in the Great Sept of Baelor dwindled, the High Septon discovered that some of his clergy were "stealing" the Seven's property to feed the "mud people" out of misguided compassion.
He decisively ordered his most trusted septons to guard the storehouses.
After that, life for the beggars and refugees became even harder. Even a bowl of "Bowl of Brown"—that questionable stew of unknown meats—became a luxury.
Desperation breeds violence. The once timid beggars turned into thieves, robbers, and eventually murderers, making the once-prosperous King's Landing a dangerous place.
Nowadays, unless you were a noble with armed guards, no one dared to walk the streets of the capital at night.
However, Jon knew nothing of this.
Since seeing off Littlefinger, the Master of Coin had indeed pulled back his tentacles. Although there was no official handover, the number of smugglers operating on the sea had visibly decreased.
Jon had heard rumors about the reason.
Aside from Littlefinger's orders, the economic depression in King's Landing was shrinking the consumer base.
The thugs and enforcers who used to make a living from smuggling didn't disappear; they just changed jobs. Some became private bodyguards for nervous nobles, while others infiltrated the ranks of the Gold Cloaks.
So, the market share Jon inherited was shrinking naturally.
Realizing this, Jon quickly adjusted his business strategy. He shifted his focus from the capital to the heart of Westeros, aiming to expand into the lower-tier noble market with lower margins but higher volume.
But this new plan faced an old problem: a severe shortage of manpower.
Jon had tried various ways to solve this, but he knew he couldn't break this bottleneck in the short term.
So, swallowing his pride, Jon decided to return to King's Landing and ask his "father" for help.
This shift in attitude wasn't just personal growth; it was inspired by the "Blood of the Dragon" trait from his System interface.
Realizing he was still in the dangerous world of Game of Thrones—where one wrong move meant "Game Over"—Jon had to take every opportunity seriously.
Last time, if not for the fire immunity granted by his Targaryen blood, he would have been dead, charred to a crisp in that forest. He wouldn't be standing here today.
So, after careful consideration, the Baron of Tampa chose compromise.
When he appeared before Lord Eddard Stark, Jon wore a rare, ingratiating smile and expressed deep concern for his foster father's health.
"Good day, Father. You're looking much better. I'm sure you'll be fully recovered in no time."
As he spoke, Jon presented a box of alchemical potions from Essos.
Rumor had it these were brewed by warlocks, far more potent than the concoctions of the Citadel maesters.
Jon had tested them (via the System) and found no stat increases for himself. Since he wasn't willing to injure himself just to test their healing properties, he decided to "regift" them to Ned as a thoughtful offering.
However, faced with Jon's sudden display of filial piety, Ned Stark surprisingly kept a stern face, devoid of his usual warmth.
"I'll accept the gift, but I assume you didn't come all this way just for this, did you?"
As he spoke, Ned pulled a scroll from his desk and handed it to Jon.
When the Baron of Tampa unrolled it and scanned the contents, a strange expression floated across his face.
The scroll was a letter from Lord Wyman Manderly of White Harbor.
In it, the Lord of White Harbor humbly inquired if his son, Ser Wendel, was getting along well with Arya, and asked Lord Stark if "more manpower and material support" were needed.
Receiving this confusing letter, Ned naturally didn't know how to respond at first. But after questioning Jory Cassel, the Hand had pieced together the truth: this misunderstanding stemmed from the authority he had delegated.
As for the person executing this scheme? It had to be Jon, that cunning little rascal.
Prompted by this realization, Ned had looked into Jon's recent activities and was shocked by what he found.
Whether it was the titles of "Shadow Hand" or "Little Duke," or the extravagant, decadent resort he had built in Tampa, everything pointed to one thing: the Targaryen side of Jon seemed to be awakening, step by step.
It all reminded Ned of Rhaegar.
The fruit of Rhaegar and Lyanna's union was standing right before him—quirky, extraordinarily intelligent, and ambitious.
Ned felt a mix of pride and deep anxiety as he watched Jon grow.
Fortunately, no one else in the world knew the buried truth. Ned swore again to take this secret to his grave in the crypts of Winterfell, ensuring no harm ever came to his nephew.
Luckily, he only seems to have inherited the Stark looks. The Targaryen part... let's hope it stays hidden.
Pushing aside these chaotic thoughts, Ned looked up. He already knew what Jon wanted.
He had experienced similar scenes countless times in his youth.
Whenever Lyanna wanted something, she would come to him—the gentle, humble, and honest brother—and use small favors or sweet words to trick him into giving her what she wanted.
Why didn't she go to Brandon? Because her wild, "Wolf-blooded" older brother wasn't nearly as easy to fool as Ned.
Years had passed, but facing this familiar dynamic again, Ned found himself willing to fall for it.
It was as if time were looping, dragging him back into his memories.
Ned attributed his soft-heartedness to his leg injury and the nostalgia it brought.
He looked at Jon with expectation in his eyes, waiting for the boy to give him a satisfactory answer.