Chapter 191

The sales of obsidian products were unexpectedly explosive. Even in the pre-transmigration modern world, devoid of magic and driven by science, the idea of "warding off evil" had captured the hearts and wallets of countless people. How much more effective would such a selling point be in this superstitious and magic-filled world?

After a thorough market analysis by the sales department, the pricing for "dragonglass products" was finalized.

Ordinary shards of obsidian, with their sharp edges and corners smoothed, were crafted into irregularly shaped beads smaller than grapes. Dubbed "dragonglass granules," they sold for ten copper pennies, marketed with the slogan: “Even the poor fear ghosts, and even the impoverished deserve protection.” Meanwhile, more refined obsidian pieces were carved, polished, and crafted into various decorative shapes—some with holes to be strung as pendants. These "dragonglass ornaments" were priced between five and ten silver stags. Even without the protective claim, the polished, gleaming obsidian was a desirable accessory, quickly becoming a trend among the middle and upper classes.

These prices targeted commoners and the moderately wealthy. After witnessing the terrifying reality of wights, the pricing strategy aimed to find the sweet spot—where people thought the price steep but still affordable. This ensured maximum sales volume and optimal profit margins, allowing the Night’s Watch industry to flourish.

As for the most exclusive products—those labeled as "military-grade obsidian" and supposedly only accessible through special channels such as Night’s Watch staff, officers, or select underground dealers—those prices had no ceiling. Dragonglass arrows, daggers, and spearheads were sold at prices ranging from fifty to over a hundred silver stags, depending on the salesperson's eloquence and the buyer’s gullibility. The spear that had killed a wight, for example, had been auctioned for nearly twenty gold dragons.

The process was straightforward: dig out the virtually infinite natural glass deposits on Dragonstone, transport them to the industrial park, and process them before selling to the citizens of King’s Landing. The greatest expense in all this was labor, and the biggest headache was preventing workers from smuggling obsidian out of the park. This was a business with astronomical profit margins. Obsidian, a previously overlooked “useless resource,” was abundant only on Dragonstone, giving Aegor a monopoly. The profits surpassed even those from paper and printing.

Still, Aegor couldn’t afford to relax. The downfall of Janos Slynt, a man with wealth exceeding ten thousand gold dragons, was a stark reminder. The Night’s Watch industry had toppled him and sent him to the chopping block. As Aegor earned mountains of gold and shared dividends with shareholders and investors, he also made sure to keep the City Watch and local gangsters satisfied, letting them enjoy a share of the spoils. A powerful figurehead couldn’t rely on fear alone. To maintain a lasting empire, one had to inspire both fear and loyalty—a principle universal across time and space.

But as the money rolled in, Aegor couldn’t shake a growing sense of unease. Stannis Baratheon had allowed him to freely mine obsidian on Dragonstone at Eddard Stark’s request, intending to arm the Wall. Now, with Aegor amassing obscene profits, what if the cash-strapped and politically isolated Lord of Dragonstone grew envious? A simple embargo or restriction could ruin everything.

Though perhaps paranoid, Aegor sought peace of mind. He attempted to meet with Stannis, offering him a share of the obsidian business and its profits. But Stannis was busy leading Dragonstone’s fleet against an influx of pirates and mercenaries, making him frustratingly elusive.

As Aegor’s business thrived, the Seven Kingdoms descended into chaos.

Renly Baratheon and Margaery Tyrell had quietly left King’s Landing. The Stormlands’ army, which had been marching toward the Westerlands, suddenly turned back toward the capital. Without Arya Stark as a source of intelligence, Aegor didn’t learn of this shocking development immediately. But he wasn’t too late. With the City Watch recruiting new troops and Eddard Stark calling on loyal lords to muster their retainers, rumors inevitably reached Aegor, one of the most influential non-nobles in King’s Landing.

After weeks of enjoying the thrill of manipulating the market in King’s Landing, Aegor was once again overwhelmed by a sense of powerlessness. The Night’s Watch industry had grown resilient enough to withstand the aftershocks of war but was far from strong enough to prevent war outright. And this time, the war was headed straight for them.

The Night’s Watch industrial park was located northwest of King’s Landing along the Blackwater Rush. Renly’s forces were advancing from the west along the Goldroad. If the Reach joined his cause, they would likely advance along the Rose Road, cross the Blackwater River, and encircle the capital.

Anyone with eyes could see that the industrial park, with its sprawling buildings and warehouses stocked with supplies, would be an irresistible target for any army. It was a bacon-wrapped feast—enticing, defenseless, and easy to plunder.

Worse, there was no way to move the industrial park inside the city walls.

Faced with this looming crisis, Aegor decided to act. He left King’s Landing with his guards and a triple complement of horses, riding west along the Goldroad to meet Renly Baratheon. If Melisandre’s visions were correct, Renly’s defeat was inevitable. Aegor’s goal was to convince him not to drag the Night’s Watch industry down with him.

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