With her brother's protection and resources backing her, Arya unleashed her wild, unbridled imagination, determined to turn Tampa into a paradise on earth.
To ensure this wouldn't just be a child's crude sandbox, Jon used his official authority as the Hand's Secretary to invite master architects and stonemasons from the Free Cities.
Such a lavish undertaking naturally attracted builders from all across the Seven Kingdoms, eager to showcase their talents.
Soon, on this humid southern coast not far from the capital, a fishing village began to transform. Clusters of unique, eclectic buildings rose from the sand.
Under Jon's strict zoning laws, specific architectural styles were confined to designated districts. Turning a street corner in Tampa was like stepping into a different country. The construction sites swarmed with workers like ant colonies, driving a massive surge in local consumption.
But the one profiting most from this boom wasn't the usual lot of smugglers. It was Lady Anya, the woman managing Jon's assets—and his nominal fiancée.
Though she didn't know the Baron's true identity, she was sharp enough to guess that the power behind Tampa's transformation could only be the "Little Jon" everyone in King's Landing was whispering about.
Whether she was right or wrong didn't matter; the gold flowed regardless.
Unlike the short-sighted smugglers looking for a quick coin, Anya focused on cross-sea trade. Under the supervision of "The Bull" (Gendry)—or rather, under Jon's secret orders—she began to corner the market on bulk commodities.
While the profit margins on things like raw goods were lower than contraband luxury items, the scale made up for it. As Jon had predicted, goods like frost-sugar from the East were in high demand in Westeros.
This single trade route brought Anya steady, heavy coffers.
But the potential for profit didn't stop there. Leveraging the legitimacy of her trade fleet and her heritage as a descendant of Braavos, Anya began to build a reputation across the Narrow Sea.
She even opened a public tender, inviting the merchant princes of the Free Cities to invest in Tampa.
She wasn't asking them to buy land, which was risky. She was selling shares in the Tampa Merchant Fleet. Whether they paid in gold, ships, or exclusive trade rights, they could buy a stake in the venture.
In return, Tampa provided official protection, guaranteed shipping lanes, streamlined customs, and tax breaks—courtesy of the Iron Throne's shadow government.
---
### The Resort Scheme
Back in the Red Keep, Jon watched his territory grow from afar while plotting his next move.
He had analyzed Littlefinger's brothels and businesses and realized something: Tampa, with its proximity to King's Landing, was perfectly positioned to become a vacation paradise.
Drawing on the memories of two lives—and the many "tourist traps" he had seen in his previous world—Jon turned an idea into a certainty.
He would build the Golden Coast.
The current construction was just the foundation. The real plan was to create a resort destination designed specifically to drain the purses of the Westerosi nobility.
Half a month later, Arya sent word: We are ready.
Jon immediately convened the Small Council, presenting an order signed by the Hand of the King.
The proposal? To send the City Watch (Gold Cloaks) and sailors from the Royal Fleet of Dragonstone to Tampa for "Rest and Recuperation."
The ministers were unimpressed. To them, pampering soldiers was a waste of coin. It wouldn't generate revenue, and it sounded like soft-hearted folly.
However, if the Hand wanted to use his own budget to placate the troops and potentially reduce corruption in the city, they wouldn't stop him.
To Renly and Littlefinger, this was just Ned Stark being Ned Stark—trying to win loyalty with kindness, a clumsy political move. In their eyes, soldiers followed strong generals who promised plunder and glory, not nannies who gave them paid vacations.
Jon knew this logic well. But what he was planning was something they couldn't conceive of.
---
### The Grand Summer Excursion
Soon, the Gold Cloaks—who had been drilled into the ground during the tourney preparations—were ordered to take mandatory leave. They were shipped off to Tampa in waves.
The first wave, nearly five hundred men, was assigned a special duty: Escort Lady Sansa Stark and a party of several dozen highborn ladies to the coast.
naturally, where there are flowers, there are bees. A swarm of young lordlings, knights, and suitors followed the ladies.
By the time the caravan, dubbed the "Noble Youth Summer Excursion," departed King's Landing, it had ballooned from a few hundred people to over a thousand. Cooks, mummers, singers, and camp followers tagged along, making the procession look like an army marching to war.
Jon, the organizer of this circus, watched them leave with a headache. He felt like he was digging a hole for himself.
But then he looked at the train of supply wagons following the nobles, and his brow relaxed.
His plan for the soldiers was simple. Aside from the noble ladies who would be housed in luxury, the rank-and-file soldiers would be dumped onto a cleared plot of empty land.
Their "vacation" task? Build a wall around the campsite to ensure privacy.
Their accommodation? Tents on the beach, sun, sand, and cheap wine.
Jon had promised them a stipend of one Silver Stag per day for their leisure. He intended to pay it. But he also intended to ensure they didn't take a single copper of it back to King's Landing.
Compared to the sour ale and watered-down rum they were used to, Jon had stocked the camp with strong spirits from Essos, sweetened with frost-sugar. It was liquid velvet, addictive enough to make a teetotaler crave a drink.
Once they got a taste of that sweetness, going back to the bitter swill of their previous lives would be torture. Jon wasn't just buying their loyalty; he was buying their addiction.