Chapter 84

Happy as Aegor was, there were more pressing matters than naming a new type of paper—like figuring out how to monetize it quickly. In other words, how to start making money off this invention.

“First things first,” Aegor motioned for silence. “We need to attract customers. Let’s start with this: after trimming the rough, uneven edges of this raw sheet, how many equally-sized rectangular sheets can we produce?”

It wasn’t a hard question to answer. Aegor folded the paper a couple of times and quickly calculated: one raw sheet could be cut into six pieces slightly larger than A4 size, minimizing waste. However, considering print dimensions and ergonomic factors for books, the sheets should ideally be halved again. That meant one raw sheet could ultimately produce 12 practical, evenly-sized sheets—perfect for printing books or pamphlets.

“How many raw sheets can the workshop produce in a day?” Aegor asked.

Nina licked her lips, pondering. “Hard to say. There’s a waiting period for some steps, like treating the raw material and drying it with lime and heat. If we hire more people… buy additional equipment… we could speed it up significantly.”

“Then expand quickly,” Aegor advised, thinking aloud. “Hire locals if possible—people we know. Break down the papermaking process into separate, specialized steps, with specific workers handling each stage. Turn it into an assembly line. Not only will production speed up, but if someone tries to steal our techniques, they’ll need to poach an entire workforce. Pulling off something like that isn’t exactly easy or subtle.”

“An assembly line?” Nina bit her lip, then nodded as she grasped the concept.

“Even if someone openly poaches your workers, what can you do?” Tyrion sighed, shrugging. “This isn’t a particularly complex craft. Once production scales up, you won’t stop others from figuring it out.”

“True,” Aegor agreed. “Which is why we must move fast. Before competitors arise, we need to forge partnerships with as many major patrons as possible. Lock them in, neutralize potential threats, and seize as much market share as we can. To start, gather the paper we have and print a copy of The Seven-Pointed Star. Take it to the church, bookstores, and stationers. Show it off and secure orders. Tyrion, you’re handling this.”

“How do you know I’m good at this?”

“Well, you’re bound to be better at it than I am,” Aegor quipped, smirking. He didn’t need to know how good Tyrion was; just being a Lannister made him an asset. Maximizing everyone’s potential and influence was crucial during these early stages. “Also, start hiring more workers. Don’t waste time—keep refining the process while producing as much paper as possible. Print the paper into calendars. Sell them wholesale if there’s demand; if not, give them away. Distribute monthly calendars at the Night’s Watch office as gifts for visitors. Anyone who buys bonds gets an annual calendar. If someone invests, we’ll make sure their household never runs out of calendars.”

“Not a bad idea,” Tyrion remarked, nodding. Calendars weren’t new; in this world of unpredictable seasons, key dates were recorded in the Royal Calendar, issued by the Citadel and approved by the Iron Throne. Paper had long been a luxury, making items crafted from it rare. While officials and noble families kept calendars, common folk often shared one among several households—or even entire villages. As non-essential goods, paper calendars were novel and prestigious, making them perfect promotional items—low-cost yet impactful.

In the workshop, Aegor naturally took on the role of leader, assigning tasks as though it were his birthright. No one seemed to mind. After delegating responsibilities, he added, “I’m not slacking off either. I’ll look for storytellers—people who can write popular adventure novels. Once our papermaking and printing capacity improves, we’ll start publishing fiction.”

“Master, you’ve told me so many stories about your adventures before coming to Westeros,” Nina chimed in. “Those alone could fill a book.”

Aegor paused, hand halfway to her head for a habitual pat, then froze. Wait… why hadn’t he thought of that? This girl was sharper than he gave her credit for. To keep his tall tales consistent, he’d jotted them down nightly in a notebook. Those stories, inspired by classics like Twenty Thousand Leagues, Treasure Island, and Around the World in Eighty Days, could be reworked into a cohesive, market-tested adventure memoir. Hand the outlines to a novelist or bard for embellishment, and he’d have a best-selling autobiography. Would it sell? Of course. These were timeless tales, universally loved and easy to understand.

Improving the Night’s Watch’s image required a long-term strategy. Perhaps he should step into the spotlight as an icon.

“Good idea,” Aegor admitted for once, earning Nina’s rare approval.

Tyrion’s eyes glinted mischievously. Leaning closer, he whispered, “Don’t forget one more thing. It’s not highbrow, but the masses love it.”

“What is it?” Nina’s sharp ears caught the question.

Something tied to their current topic, appealing to the masses yet lacking refinement? Only one thing came to mind—smut. Aegor stifled a laugh. Westeros probably didn’t have censorship. Quietly, he assured Nina, “Don’t worry, I’ll get you a copy to check out.”

Would it corrupt the youth? Who cared? Eddard Stark wasn’t exactly supervising his daughter, and Aegor wasn’t charging babysitting fees.

With everything sorted, the game was set. All they needed now was for everyone to execute their roles. The gold rush was about to begin.

“Oh, and one last thing,” Aegor added. “You two siblings—I promised you a reward, didn’t I?” He grinned slyly, having worked out the details with Tyrion earlier. “I mentioned giving you ten percent of the paper mill’s profits, but that was too vague. Let’s make it official: you’ll own half the workshop—not just the profits, but everything. Once funds allow, I’ll buy this whole courtyard as your fixed workspace and living quarters. Consider it a return on your contributions. I’ll draft the paperwork guaranteeing your ownership. The catch is that neither of you can leave or start a rival business without my approval. Any new ideas or inventions must be offered to the Night’s Watch first. If you agree, one of you can follow me to the office, and we’ll sign the deal today.”

“Thank you, my lord!” Neil, the brother, reacted quickly for once. “Um… let Nina sign it.”