Chapter 75

Tyrion’s sharp intake of breath mirrored the collective astonishment in the room as Aegor’s bold declaration hung in the air. Even the typically unflappable dwarf gave him a look of disbelief, silently shouting, Are you mad?

It wasn’t until they left the workshop that Tyrion finally vented his frustration. “Ten percent?!” he exclaimed, practically hissing. “We agreed that incentives were necessary to keep people loyal, but handing over ten percent of future profits without consulting me first? Do you even comprehend how much we’ll need to invest in this factory to scale it up? That ten percent is going to balloon into a fortune! What in the Seven Hells were you thinking?!” He paused, then added slyly, “Wait... was it that girl? Nina? Did she charm you with those big, starry eyes of hers? Because if that’s the case, say the word, and I’ll get you someone tonight. Or hell, take her if you’re so inclined—she seems smitten enough.”

At the mention of Nina, Arya, who had been skipping alongside them, tilted her head quizzically. “Master’s going to marry Nina?” she asked innocently. “But the Night’s Watch swears off marriage, right?”

Aegor sighed, raising a hand to stop the conversation from spiraling further out of control. “Don’t start with that nonsense,” he muttered. “Look, maybe I got carried away back there. But it’s not set in stone—we haven’t signed anything yet. We’ll revise it. Here’s the plan: the ten percent will apply only to this specific workshop—the one we just visited—not to future expansions or the overall industry we’re trying to build. And we’ll also stipulate that the paper they produce will be used exclusively by us, at a price we set.”

Tyrion considered this for a moment, rubbing his chin. “Fair enough... if it’s just that workshop, even giving them half the profits wouldn’t be catastrophic. Let’s go with your revised version.”

Aegor smirked. “See? Problem solved. And really, what’s the harm in being generous? This is a money game, and the secret to winning it is keeping your key players happy. Once the factory grows, we can issue bonds tied to their share. They’ll think they’re getting rich, but the money will stay within our system.”

Tyrion frowned. “And if they sell their bonds for cash?”

“We pay them outright,” Aegor replied confidently. “Credit and trust are the backbone of finance. Don’t obsess over who cashes out. As long as we keep our reserves strong, the system remains intact. And once we’ve built enough trust, the money they take will eventually flow back to us.”

Tyrion nodded thoughtfully. “You’ve got a point. And speaking of trust... you’re right about pulling in the local heavyweights. To keep competition at bay, we’ll need the wealthy merchants and families in King’s Landing on our side. Turn potential rivals into partners.”

“Exactly,” Aegor said, grinning. “It’s all about building a ‘shared interest.’ Once we’ve got their backing, no one will dare cross us.”

Tyrion chuckled. “You’ve mentioned ‘shared interests’ so many times now, I’d think you’ve mistaken me for an idiot. And you know... I’m starting to think we should open a new investment-focused bond alongside the Night’s Watch one.”
----


For Tyrion, the burgeoning “shared interest” network was a way to make more money and solidify his own influence. But for Aegor, it represented a golden ticket to access Westeros’s upper echelons of power—a seat at the table where decisions that shaped the realm were made.

Naturally, with Arya and her Stark guard in tow, their discussions remained vague. Whenever sensitive topics arose, the two men shifted the conversation seamlessly.

When Tyrion suggested, “Want to check out the printing workshop next?” Aegor readily agreed.
----


The “printing workshop” was less a factory and more a dingy space housing two woodcarvers. The facility was modest, with scattered tools and unfinished carvings cluttering the workspace. On one table lay the freshly completed wooden printing plate for the Night’s Watch bonds, alongside a half-finished engraving of the Seven-Pointed Star, the holy text of the Faith of the Seven.

“Have you contacted the church yet?” Aegor asked.

Tyrion shook his head. “Not yet. And frankly, if they don’t want to cooperate, I’ll just sell the books myself. There’s no way cheap Seven-Pointed Star copies won’t fly off the shelves.”

“Unless,” Aegor countered, “the church declares them heretical and accuses you of blasphemy.”

“Bah,” Tyrion scoffed. “If that happens, I’ll send the High Septon a golden statue of the Seven. That should loosen his tongue—and his pockets. And if that doesn’t work? Well, let’s just say nobody blocks Tyrion Lannister’s money-making schemes without consequences.”

“Yeah!” Arya chimed in enthusiastically. “If he won’t play nice, we can all just go worship the old gods!”

“Cheeky little wolf,” Tyrion muttered, smirking. “She’s got some fire in her.”

“Don’t encourage her,” Aegor said, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, you just focus on the printing. I’ll back you all the way.”
----


Though Aegor’s concerns about the church’s reaction were valid, he kept his deeper thoughts to himself. Cheap, mass-printed Seven-Pointed Star copies might initially bolster the Faith’s influence, but over time, they could undermine it. By giving the common folk direct access to scripture, the church risked losing its monopoly on religious interpretation—a pillar of its control. But these were long-term implications. For now, Aegor’s priority was simple: make money.

Later, Aegor introduced the concept of movable type printing to Tyrion and the craftsmen. Though fascinated, they ultimately dismissed the idea. In theory, movable type offered greater flexibility and efficiency. But in practice, with Westeros’s lack of standardized materials, skilled labor, and industrial infrastructure, it would likely be more trouble than it was worth. For now, engraved plates were the simpler, more reliable choice.

“Movable type will have its day,” Aegor assured Tyrion. “Once we’ve got the funds, you can start printing all those scientific treatises and novels you’re dreaming of.”

Tyrion shrugged. “For now, let’s stick to making money.”
----


As dusk settled over King’s Landing, Arya reluctantly returned to the Red Keep under the watchful eye of her guard. Aegor and Tyrion, meanwhile, made their way back to their inn, tired but satisfied with the day’s progress.

However, as soon as they entered, they were greeted by a somber-looking Jack holding a sealed scroll.

“Message for you, Aegor. From Castle Black,” Jack announced, handing over the parchment.

Aegor frowned as he broke the black wax seal. A letter from Castle Black could only mean one thing: bad news.