GOT: Chapter 225/226

Chapter 225: The Power of Money

The Wall was thousands of miles from King's Landing. With such a vast distance, Aegor dared not issue remote commands carelessly and risk repeating the same mistakes countless rulers had made before. He chose to trust his clever girl. He wrote back to commend Nina for her work and issued a series of clear directives: send wildfire to the North as soon as possible, transfer surplus funds to the Queenscrown along with the monthly supplies, and regularly dispatch new recruits who had completed training and were willing to report to the North. As for the remaining operations and micro-management of the Night's Watch within King's Landing, they would be entrusted to this apprentice brought by Tyrion.

Aegor had more pressing matters to attend to. He had envisioned a grand plan to manage the Free Folk who might be settled at the Wall, but plans could not keep up with change. The mountain clans had already moved into the Gifted Lands first… but that was fine. They were all human, and the same plan could be applied to the clansmen. In fact, due to their closer ties, they could be managed with even greater leniency. Aegor would have the opportunity to gradually learn and master the art of governance from scratch.

It seemed he would be very busy for quite some time.

The matter was of great importance, and with no one else to mobilize, he had to handle everything personally. He first consulted with the chief builder and arranged for the restoration of the abandoned fort. Then, he inquired with the quartermaster about the Night's Watch's reserves. Aegor did have some coin, but money could not instantly become grain and fodder. In the early stages of the clansmen settling near the Wall, all necessities would need to be cushioned by the supplies stored in the Watch's warehouses.

Housing was only the most basic requirement. To maintain the Wall's entire defensive system, there must be adequate provisions and fodder. In winter, the Gifted Lands yielded no crops and had little production capacity. This meant a complete and efficient supply chain was needed to provide constant support. For many reasons, Aegor hoped to take hold of this lifeline of the Night's Watch. The reason could be summed up in a single sentence: he did not intend to make wedding clothes for others.

Thus, Queenscrown became the key once more.


---

More than ten days later, he returned to what was now being called the Night's Watch logistics base. Compared to his last visit, the place had changed dramatically. The remnants of the ancient settlements scattered along the shore of the small lake had been completely cleared. In their place stood a nearly finished wall made from the salvaged stone. The presence of busy workers around the area was evident.

Perhaps it was because of the stone wall, or the deterrent posed by the soldiers left behind by Aegor, but although the Free Folk had appeared in the vicinity several times, they had never attempted to plunder. Instead, they had fled south at first sight.

"Well done, Yam," Aegor praised. "Next, focus on raising the wall. Soon, this place will become the only route for the North to send supplies to the Wall. It will also become a trade market, essential for the survival of countless new settlers in the Gifted Lands."

...

...

"New settlers in the Gifted Lands? A trade market? Ser, I don't quite understand."

"I brought the mountain clansmen from the west to help fight the Free Folk," Aegor explained. "I promised to feed every clansman who came down from the mountains. But to prevent them from hoarding their own food and relying solely on the Night's Watch for rations, I won't give out food directly. Instead, I'll give them coin and let them decide what to buy at the logistics department's distribution center."

"But what difference does that make?"

"A big one. If they're short on food, they'll spend all their money on rations. But if they have enough stored up, they might choose to buy clothes, daily necessities, weapons, and more," Aegor said. "This way, we avoid wasting food and reduce the strain on our supplies. And there's an added benefit: once the clansmen realize money can buy so many things, but I only give them just enough each month to keep them fed, they'll start wanting more."

"How can they get money in a desolate place like the Gifted Lands… besides robbing us?"

"There are two ways. One is to sell the resources from the mountains they control—timber, animals, minerals—to the Night's Watch logistics department. We can use those resources ourselves or transport them south to make a profit and subsidize our costs," Aegor said as he inspected the newly built Crown Town under Yam's management. "The other option, which is my primary goal, is to give them jobs. These clansmen are foreign aid I invited. I can't ask them to work for free, but I can use wages to lure them into working for the Night's Watch—patrolling, repairing the Wall, building roads, and construction. Where I come from, this is called 'work-for-relief.'"

"I understand," Yam said excitedly. "Compared to the Southerners, the clansmen will be incredibly cheap labor. What a great plan, Ser!"

"In addition, I might stir up some public opinion in the future—like saying that young people must have a house and a horse, and weapons forged from fine steel before they can marry. By creating an aspirational environment where more work means more pay and competition thrives, I'll push the new settlers in the Gifted Lands to strive and work hard of their own accord."

...

Can such a thing really work? This kind of governance strategy—something only rulers in the modern world might grasp—was undoubtedly a godlike plan to the people of this world. Yam imagined it and gaped in astonishment. "Can… this really work?"

"I don't know if it will or not. You can't force a cultural shift too blatantly. Wait until the conditions are in place, then let it unfold naturally. Let me warn you—keep this to yourself. Don't speak of it lightly. I don't want my friends in the Night's Watch thinking I'm taking advantage of them." Aegor nodded. "In fact, the Free Folk were my original target. They could've been even cheaper labor than the clansmen, nearly free. Unfortunately… let's not speak of it. Is there anything else to report here?"

"Oh… yes. Ser Rodrik of Winterfell has taken over Hornwood and executed the Bolton bastard who murdered the Lady of Hornwood. He's also released the soldiers you lent him. They arrived in Crown Town yesterday, per orders. I was just about to send someone to Castle Black to ask how to proceed when you arrived."

"The Bolton bastard was executed?" Aegor asked, frowning. He had a feeling things weren't that simple. "Are you sure? Any prisoners?"

"There's a fellow called Reek... The Lord of Winterfell thought the Wall was short on men, so he sent him along with other prisoners from the dungeon. I'm not sure about the details. Should I bring the soldiers to question them?"

Aegor narrowed his eyes, a distant memory stirring. "Yes. And bring that one called Reek as well."

A short while later, the dozens of soldiers Robb had originally assigned to Aegor and later borrowed by Ser Rodrik assembled in the small square newly built in Crown Town. At the same time, a slightly fat young man with greasy lips, long hair, and a stench like dung was brought forward.

"This is the prisoner you captured after killing the Bolton bastard?" Aegor asked grimly, staring at the foul-smelling man before him.

In the original timeline, when Ramsay Snow was captured by the Winterfell troops, he had swapped clothes with Reek and smeared himself with feces to hide from Ser Rodrik, successfully escaping notice. Later, when Theon Greyjoy took Winterfell, Ramsay was freed—and went on to commit countless atrocities, including mass killings and the burning of Winterfell.

But the people of this world were not actors in a play. Aegor now wondered: was this man before him the Little Flayed Man?

(To be continued.)

Chapter 226: Old Tricks Again

You can't draw conclusions based solely on appearances, but Aegor had a mouth to speak and a brain to think. He could ask questions and make his own judgments.

"Why did Ser Rodrik execute the Bolton bastard but let this stinking creature live?"

The leader of the Northern soldiers answered, "Ser Rodrik hoped this man could confess the bastard's crimes to Lord Bolton in person upon returning to the North, so that House Bolton would abandon its claim to House Hornwood's lands."

Aegor nodded. "Then why did you release him and hand him over to the Night's Watch?"

"Uh... two days ago, Lord Bolton sent a letter from the south to Winterfell, declaring that he would sever all ties with his illegitimate son. Ramsay Snow's actions do not represent House Bolton, and he has renounced all claims to the castle of Hornwood and its lands."

Another soldier chimed in, "I heard someone read the letter aloud. I still remember the words—'Bastard blood is always a source of trouble. Ramsay is cunning, greedy, and cruel by nature. I declare myself estranged from him. If he lives, my lovely wife and the legitimate child she will soon bear will never know peace.'"

"How decisive. Roose Bolton truly is a ruthless man," Yam exclaimed. "We're all Northerners, yet different people treat their bastards so differently."

This was clearly a comparison to Jon Snow, the illegitimate son of Eddard Stark. Everyone present heard the implication and nodded in agreement.

Aegor's suspicion deepened as he looked at Reek. "This man stinks so badly. If he joins the Night's Watch, I might not want to set foot in Castle Black again."

"My lord, if you find the smell offensive, I can wash at once," Reek said meekly.

...

...

The stench couldn't be washed away, so Aegor continued testing him. "But the Night's Watch is already in such disarray. What use do we have for scum like you?"

"My lord, I only did those evil deeds under orders from Lord Bolton's bastard! I can read and write. I can do anything. The Night's Watch will find me useful!"

How could a real Reek know how to read and write? After just a few words, Aegor was almost certain the man before him was Ramsay Snow.

Another villain, even more repulsive than Janos Slynt. He had once ordered the capture of wights alive, providing proof to the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms of humanity's natural enemies. And how did they repay him? By continuing their petty wars and dumping their scum on the Night's Watch?

That familiar rage rose again. Aegor reined in the sudden swell of emotion. His grand plan had only just begun. He was responsible for the safety of the North's residents, the Seven Kingdoms, his followers, and everyone in the Night's Watch. He couldn't afford to play a dangerous game of wits with villains or risk exposing himself.

"If I refuse to let this man join the Night's Watch, what will the Lord of Winterfell or Ser Rodrik do with him?"

The gray-cloaked soldier shrugged. "I'm not from Winterfell, so I can't say for certain. As for Lord Bran and Ser Rodrik… I'd guess he'd be hanged or beheaded."

"Ser?" Reek said nervously. "I'll do anything for you. I swear loyalty to the Night's Watch!"

"Forget it," Aegor said, shaking his head. Sending the man back to Winterfell and letting the Starks handle it would be the safest route. But once out of his hands, too many variables could arise: Lord Commander Mormont might overrule the order and allow him back into Castle Black, or the man might escape along the way. Aegor wasn't willing to take that risk. "It's several days to Winterfell. A round trip is a waste of time. Just find a spot and hang him."

"Ser? Why, ser? I didn't do anything!" Reek was stunned by how fast the situation had changed. He shouted, panicked.

"Execute him. Now."

"Spare me, ser! I didn't do those terrible things!" The prisoner broke free from the two guards and rushed toward Aegor. Whether to attack or to beg, it was unclear. But a Northern soldier struck him down with a spear after just two steps. As he tried to rise and cry out again, the spear smashed into his face, breaking most of his teeth. Blood streamed from below his nose. His words were now incomprehensible.

Though they didn't understand why Aegor suddenly demanded his execution, the soldiers weren't eager to keep escorting such a filthy man.

"But where do we hang him?"

"If there's no proper gallows, find a tree outside the wall or set up a post. Do it yourselves. No need to ask again."

In truth, Aegor wasn't entirely certain this man was the Flayed Bastard, and there was no direct evidence that he would harm anyone after joining the Night's Watch. But Aegor had come to a conclusion: for the sake of his cause, his followers, and his friends—so what if he executed the wrong villain?

"My lord, even if you dislike this man, there was no need to kill him directly." Watching Reek being dragged away by several Northern soldiers while incoherently crying out, Yam couldn't hide his unease. He had never known Aegor to be so ruthless. "What if Castle Black or Winterfell comes asking questions…"

Mormont would surely be displeased. He might come and speak to Aegor, telling him not to reject any recruits in the future. Winterfell might be offended as well. But in the end, they could only ask Aegor not to act on his own next time. They wouldn't be able to save Janos or Ramsay.

He would not face any real consequences. The Old Bear wouldn't cut off his own arm in the midst of this crisis, and as for Winterfell... Ser Rodrik might complain, but after Aegor had saved Bran and Arya, House Stark would never make things difficult for him.

As for Roose Bolton's revenge... he had only ordered the execution of "Reek," the man who had led his bastard astray. Why would he seek vengeance?

"If no one asks, pretend he never existed. If someone does, just say I made the call." Aegor said calmly, "Maybe I should ask Mormont to issue a decree: the Night's Watch will no longer accept vicious criminals. If people keep sending the worst of the worst to the Wall, who's going to feed them all?"

After spending a while inspecting the newly built but still empty warehouse, Aegor completed his tour of Queenscrown. By the time he returned to the gate, "Reek" had been hung from a sturdy oak tree outside town. Watching the body sway in the wind, Aegor was struck by a sudden thought: this world was truly harsh, cold, and real. There were no so-called main characters or supporting cast. They were all just mortals.

The Mountain was powerful and had played many roles in the original story, yet in this world, Tywin had chopped off his head and sent it to Dorne without so much as meeting him, hoping to prevent war. Tyrion, as cunning and twisted as he was, had fallen into the hands of someone who knew him well. In Aegor's own stronghold, surrounded by his men, a man could be killed with just a word.

What I've just done—isn't that what they call ruthless and decisive? Have all the great leaders in history who earned that description also experienced the same struggles and thoughts as me, nearly stumbling into disaster themselves?

He was no stronger than the Mountain, nor more cunning than the Flayed Bastard. If he wasn't constantly vigilant and ruthless to his enemies, if he ever fell into their hands or into the hands of someone who hated him, he would fare no better than the corpse now swinging before him.


---

"Don't leave the body hanging too long. Cut it down tomorrow and find a place to bury it… no, burn it." Aegor pulled his thoughts back to the present and looked to Yam again. "Also, I have other tasks for you. Queenscrown must be able to communicate with the outside world. Build a ravenry on top of the tower on the island. I'll have Mormont send people to raise ravens. Also, I don't have time to head south and talk to each Northern lord about grain. Once you finish up here, head south and visit each house. Make our position clear—we're buying, not begging. I know it's autumn, and the North traditionally begins storing food now, but ask them not to raise prices too much. Remind them that it's the Night's Watch that keeps the North safe."

"Understood. Any other instructions?"

"Oh, right. Take a hundred gold dragons with you and break them into change wherever you go—silver stags, copper stars, pennies, anything. The smaller the better. If you want every clansman to learn how to use coin, gold dragons alone won't be enough." Aegor paused in thought. Finding nothing else to say, he added, "I really don't have enough hands here. Thank you for your hard work. I'll take fifty of the soldiers Robb gave me. You can use the rest. Be careful."

(To be continued.)