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Chapter 538
🕑 Added 2025-01-29 17:25:48 +0000 UTCAegor had maintained his composure throughout the Iron Bank emissary’s visit. Even though the timing was inconvenient, the conversation unpleasant, and no agreements were reached, he had shown restraint. The Bank had supported the Night’s Watch in the past, and he respected that.
But Taichu’s last sentence set the whole powder keg ablaze.
A heavy silence filled the room for three or four seconds before Aegor finally spoke.
“Lord Taichu, I will pretend you never said that.” His voice was steady, but his eyes were ablaze with fury. “But I ask you to remember this—and to deliver the message to your ‘superiors’ back in Braavos: I may be a mere soldier, but my loyalty to the Queen is not something that can be bought with gold.”
For once, he allowed his anger to rise instead of suppressing it.
“I may try to convince the Queen to inherit the usurper’s debts. I may not.” He lifted his chin, eyes locking onto Taichu’s. “But if I do speak in favor of it—and if I do succeed in persuading her—it will be because I have weighed the risks and determined it to be in her best interests. Not because anyone has offered me a bribe.”
His voice was sharp, slicing through the air like a blade. “I am a reasonable man. If the Iron Bank chooses to forgive the Night’s Watch’s debt, I will applaud and respect the generosity. If it does not, that is your right, and I will neither protest nor bear any ill will.
“Now, do you understand me?”
----
Perhaps it was the heat from the fireplace.
Perhaps it was the sudden shift in Aegor’s demeanor.
Either way, Taichu Nestors—ever the composed, ever the confident diplomat—sweat.
His smile had vanished. His previously relaxed posture had stiffened.
He had spoken with kings and high lords before. He had seen Robert Baratheon rage like a storm, and it had never shaken him.
But this?
This wasn’t mere anger.
This was pressure.
A heavy, suffocating weight pressed down upon him, making it difficult to breathe.
Was this what it meant to stand in the presence of a true warlord? A man who had clawed his way to power, who had led armies, who had walked through fire and death to reach this point?
Taichu swallowed, forcing his voice to remain steady.
“I… understand.”
“Good.” Aegor’s expression remained cold. “I have other matters to attend to. See yourself out.”
The oppressive presence that had filled the room vanished as suddenly as it had come.
But a thing like that did not truly disappear.
Once crushed, it was difficult to recover one’s footing.
And so, despite his diplomatic status—despite the prestige of the Iron Bank—Taichu Nestors nodded like an obedient student, stood carefully, straightened his chair as though trying to erase all signs of his presence, and backed out of the room without another word.
----
Aegor had not lost his temper because he was some noble fool who saw money as filth.
It was not because he felt “insulted” at being bribed.
It was because he realized—too late—that the Iron Bank had set a trap.
----
Robert Baratheon’s two-million-gold-dragon debt was a complex matter. There were valid reasons to support or oppose repaying it. Either stance could be justified.
But the ten-thousand-gold-dragon personal bribe?
That was poison.
The moment he accepted that money, it would be over.
He would no longer be a loyal general. No longer a clean statesman.
He would be a pawn—a middleman—a paid servant of the Iron Bank.
And from that moment on, every decision he made would be questioned.
If he supported repaying the debt? He would no longer be seen as an advisor acting in Daenerys’ best interest.
People would whisper: "Of course Aegor supports it. He’s on Braavos’ payroll.”
And if he opposed it? He would still be in their grasp.
Because once a man accepts money, the demands never stop.
At first, they would ask for small things—tiny, harmless things.
"Share a little information. Nothing important, of course."
"Put in a good word with the Queen. Nothing major, just a small favor."
Then the requests would grow.
And grow.
Until one day, they would ask him to commit true treason.
And by then, it would be too late to say no.
No—Aegor had seen how these things played out. He had read too many histories, too many real-world cases. He knew how it started, and he knew how it ended.
And he refused to be their fool.
----
But he had also been careful.
He had not outright rejected the idea of repaying the debt.
He had left himself an out.
If, after discussions with his allies, he decided that repaying Robert’s debt was truly the best course of action—then fine.
And in that case, the Iron Bank’s “reward” for Daenerys’ cooperation?
He would take it.
But on his terms.
The Night’s Watch’s debt belonged to the institution, not him personally. But as its Lord Commander—and the actual controller of its resources—Aegor could benefit from its cancellation.
Even if he only personally gained a fraction of that ten thousand gold dragons, it would still be a fortune.
And most importantly?
Money that went through official channels—his channels—was infinitely safer than direct bribes.
----
After dismissing his guest, Aegor tried to focus on other matters.
But he quickly realized—there was little he could do until his emissaries returned with news from the Northern lords.
Since he had nothing better to do, he pushed aside his documents, grabbed his coat, and stepped outside.
He needed to talk to someone.
Preferably, his ally.
By chance, he ran into Littlefinger on the way.
Petyr was already looking for him.
And judging by his expression, he knew exactly what had happened.
----
“I take it those loan sharks came to you as well?” Littlefinger smirked. It was a question, but the certainty in his tone made it sound more like a statement.
Aegor nodded. “They wanted me to persuade the Queen to inherit the debt. And they tried to buy me.” He did not bother to hide it. “They offered to erase the Night’s Watch’s debt—redirect the repayments into my personal accounts. Hmph. What about you? Surely, as the Queen’s Hand, they must have made you an even better offer.”
“Oh, it was a tempting one,” Petyr admitted, smiling faintly. “No clear gold amount, but high enough to make me think about it.”
“And?” Aegor raised an eyebrow. “Did you accept?”
“Of course not.” Petyr’s smirk widened slightly. “I simply reminded myself of two key lessons: one, the Iron Bank always takes back more than it gives. And two—aside from money, it’s best not to owe them anything else.”
Aegor nodded in agreement. But inwardly, a shadow of doubt crept into his thoughts.
Then why didn’t you tell me what they actually offered?
Aegor concealed his displeasure and asked, “So you rejected them outright?”
“Not quite.” Littlefinger shrugged. “This is too important to decide hastily. My plan is simple: delay. Once we take King’s Landing, we’ll assess our finances. If we need the money, we acknowledge the debt. If we don’t…” He smirked.
Then, as if remembering something, he added, “By the way, did the Braavosi mention their other offers?”
“What other offers?” Aegor frowned.
Littlefinger’s smirk faded slightly. “Interesting. So they didn’t tell you.”
He paused—then said, “They proposed alternatives. If the Queen refuses to pay the debt, she can instead… marry Aegon Targaryen.”
Aegor’s face darkened.
“Or,” Littlefinger continued, “she can open Westeros to Braavosi banks.”
His expression sharpened. “So, Lord Commander… what do you make of that?”
