Ten years ago, Jon Arryn had given him minor sinecure in customs, where Lord Petyr had soon distinguished himself by bringing in three times as much as any of the king’s other collectors. King Robert had been a prodigious spender. A man like Petyr Baelish who had a gift for rubbing two golden dragons together and breeding a third, was invaluable to his Hand. Littlefingers rise had been arrow swift. Within three years of coming to court he had been made master of coin and a member of the small council, and today the crown’s revenues were ten times what they had under his predecessor…through the crown’s debt had grown vast as we… A master juggler was Petyr Baelish.
Oh, he was clever. He did not simply collect the gold and lock in a treasure vault, no. He paid the king’s debts in promises, and put the king’s gold to work. He bought wagons, shops, ships, houses. He bought grain when it was plentiful and sold bread when it was scarce. He bought wool from the north and linen from the south and lace from Lys, stored it, moved it, dyed it, sold it. The golden dragons bred and multiplied, and Littlefinger lent them out and brought them home with hatchlings.
And in the process, he moved his own men into place. The Keepers of the Keys were his, all four. The King’s Counter and the King of Scales were men he named. The officers in charge of all three mints. Harbormasters, tax farmers, custom sergeants, wool factors, toll collectors, pursers, wine factors; nine of every ten belonged to Littlefinger. They were men of middling birth, by and large, merchant’s sons, lesser lordlings, sometimes even foreigners, but judging from the results, far more able than their highborn predecessors.
No one had ever thought to question the appointments, and why should they? Littlefinger was no threat to anyone. A clever, smiling, genial man, everyone’s friend, always able to find whatever gold the king or his hand required, and yet of such undistinguished birth, one step from a hedge knight, he was not a man to fear. He had no banners to call, no army of retainers, no great stronghold, no holdings to speak of, no prospects of a great marriage.
I don’t want him to succeed but I think Littlefinger is a really interesting character (via alittlelateforalot)
I simultaneously want to worship him from afar and jump into the books and stab him.