The Iron Bank of Braavos

[Horas]

Perhaps the largest and most successful bank in the known world, the Iron Bank has brought tremendous wealth and influence to its masters.

[Horas]

Ollo Tregario's boat slides effortlessly through the canals of Braavos, poled by thick-muscled slaves. As it slows to a stop in front of the Iron Bank, Ollo stands and lightly steps from the boat. He walks inside the Iron Bank, slaves hurrying to tie the boat up and bodyguards quickly moving to his side.

Once inside the lobby, Ollo finds a clerk and tells him, "I must speak to one of your superiors -- I have a few, hmmm, questions. Mayhaps in a private room. Tell them it is Ollo Tregario who asks."

Ollo waits cooly as the clerk scurries off to find someone in charge.

[The Smith]

The Eleventh Lord of the Bank walks out and bows to Ollo, "How may I help you kind sir?" He leads Tregario into a privite room.

[Horas]

"Ah yes, good master, very kind of you to speak with me," Ollo Tregario says. "I assume all dealings of the Iron Bank are strictly confidential, as per usual? Yes? Good."

Ollo lowers his bulk into a comfortable chair, sprawling out across it as if he were in his own home. "Now, my question. I have a friend, a friend whose family happens to own an account here at this fine establishment. But most of his family perished in a sad, sad accident. So very, hmmm, tragic," Ollo smiles sadly, the scars across his face twitching as he does so. "His father and his uncles opened this account, but all of them are dead. Would my sad young friend be able to access his family's account?"

[The Smith]

Staring at Ollo for several moments, "Does he have access to the letters we would have provided his family. It also depends on the account, certain accounts have more safeguards then others."

Clearing his throat the Eleventh Lord asks, "Would you like to tell me the family's name."

[Horas]

"He would likely have no letters. The letters are likely no more than burnt ash right now," Ollo says. He drums his fingers on the chair arm for a moment, then apparently decides to trust the bank's reputation for secrecy.

"The family's name, it is Targaryen. Perhaps you have heard of it?"

[The Smith]

"Yes they have several large accounts. And you say he has no proof of his ownership?" The Bankman fuddles with a quill pen as he looks at Ollo. A hungry light burns in the money manager's eye. "Let me consult with a peer about those accounts. It will be one moment"

[The Smith]

He returns thirty minutes later with a smile frown on his face, "It seems the Targaryen's had several Iron safeguards placed on their accounts. And with out certain passwords the largest are unavailable. There are two that can be accessed by your associate with the proper documentation."

[Horas]

Ollo drums his fingers on the arm of the chair again. "This does not please me, not at all. The boy is a Targaryen, no? Such accounts are hereditary, no? I do not see why he should not be able to access his accounts. If, some day, Ollo Tregario has a little son, would you prevent him too from accessing his father's money?"

Ollo stares at the banker hawkishly, intent on wiping the greedy smile off of his face. "Perhaps the bank of Lys will take greater care of my money, and that of my associates and friends. It is a bit further away, perhaps, but I do not think the Lyseni will be so, hmmm, fickle with my gold." Ollo Tregario has grown fat over the years, but the hard muscle remains beneath, and he is capable of being quite intimidating if he chooses. The dozens of scars across his body and face help too, of course. "I think you should find a way to open more of my young friends accounts for him," Ollo says.

[The Smith]

Quailing back a little from the dangerous man sitting directly in front of him, "Well if Ollo specifically puts safeguards on his account to keep his children from accessing the account then his sons will not have access. Aemon put certain conditions on the account should he be murdered. I am sorry, he was murdered."

[Horas]

Ollo Tregario growls in frustration. "This boy is not the son of the kinslayer, banker. He is the son of the other, the one who died protecting the dragonking's life."

His fingers drum on the chair again. "What conditions need to be met for the boy to access his accounts?"

[The Smith]

"Well on two of the accounts I can not even tell you that. The other three have both passwords, and items of identification." The banker has started to sweet.

[Horas]

Ollo waves over one of his men, then whispers for him to run back and ask the triplets whether they have heard of any passwords or items of identification. Then he looks at the banker again, his expression coldly furious.

"You cannot tell me." Ollo says flatly. "This cannot be because the Iron Bank will steal whatever gold the Targaryens cannot recover, can it?"

[The Smith]

"Steal? You are being foolish and bellicose. We will leave it in the account, and continue to apply the interest. And we will continue to safeguard the money entrusted to us." Wiping away the sweat he looks out into the main bank and smiles.

[Horas]

"Very well, banker," Ollo Tregario says, "What is the balance on the accounts my friend can currently access? Or must I first fetch him before you can answer." Ollo's voice is still condescending, but marginally more civil than it was before.