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Chapter 74
🕑 Added 2025-01-28 21:12:47 +0000 UTCAt the workshop, Aegor met the papermaking siblings—well, "papermaking" might be a stretch at this stage. Their names were Neil and Nina, siblings from Rosby, without a last name, as was the case for most common folk in Westeros. As Tyrion had explained to Aegor, the vast majority of people didn’t have surnames. Instead, they were identified by their parentage or place of origin. Surnames among commoners were often meaningless, whereas someone like Aegor, who now carried the weight of an official position, could establish a name for himself that people would recognize—at least those who bought into the Night’s Watch bonds.
Neil, the older brother, was unremarkable in appearance but appeared healthy, suggesting the family hadn’t starved. Nina, on the other hand, immediately caught Aegor’s attention—not because of her beauty but because of her eyes. They were clear, bright, and alive with curiosity and intelligence. They reminded him of something familiar—eyes he hadn’t seen in this world often. It dawned on him: it was the look of someone educated, someone unburdened by the grinding hardships of survival, someone who still had dreams and hope for the future.
In his previous life, that spark was everywhere, especially among his peers and colleagues. But here, in Westeros, it was rare—something he’d only seen in the likes of Tyrion or Arya, privileged individuals unencumbered by the harsh realities of life. Most people, by contrast, bore expressions dulled by poverty, desperation, and resignation. Nina’s gaze set her apart.
For a fleeting moment, Aegor wondered if she might be a fellow transmigrator. He quickly dismissed the notion. Still, her youthful appearance surprised him—small stature, soft, fair skin, and a face still carrying hints of baby fat. She couldn’t be much older than Arya.
“Sir?” Nina’s soft, clear voice pulled Aegor from his thoughts. “We’ve prepared the first batch of prototype paper as per Lord Tyrion’s instructions. It’s still quite rough, but we were waiting for your guidance.”
Aegor nodded. “Lead the way.”
With her brother Neil silent at her side, Nina led the group on a tour of the workshop. She explained each step of the papermaking process with clarity and precision, showing them the tools and methods used. When they reached the table where the finished products were displayed, her confidence wavered. She hesitated, fidgeting slightly as she gestured to a stack of thin, uneven sheets.
“These are the sheets we’ve made so far. We’re working on ways to make them thinner and more durable.”
Aegor examined the so-called “paper.” The sheets were coarse and uneven, varying in thickness and riddled with imperfections. They resembled dried tofu skin or the outer layer of a pancake, with a brittle, yellowish surface. He picked up a piece, holding it to the light. The texture was rough, the fibers poorly compacted, and when he gave it a slight tug, it tore with a sharp, dry sound.
This was, in every sense, the beginning of a long road.
Nina’s face turned bright red. She fidgeted nervously, clearly dreading a harsh critique. Her eyes darted between the stack of paper and Aegor’s expression, as if bracing for his displeasure.
But Aegor wasn’t angry. He had no reason to be. This was precisely why he had come—to see the initial results. Expecting modern-quality paper on the first try would have been absurd.
“It’s... a start,” he muttered, suppressing a laugh at the sight of Arya poking at one of the sheets like it was a new toy.
He cleared his throat. “Alright, first things first. The thickness is inconsistent—that’s likely an issue with the final steps. You need to soak, cook, and mash the raw materials more thoroughly. If manpower isn’t enough, look into improving the equipment or using animal-powered mechanisms. Don’t worry about the cost for now; money isn’t a problem.”
Nina’s eyes sparkled with determination, nodding rapidly.
“Next,” Aegor continued, “find artisans to weave finer, smoother mats for pulp collection. The pulp needs to be spread evenly in water before it’s scooped up. Use a sieve to filter out the larger bits, then lift the sheet carefully and quickly without wasting time.”
Nina was practically glowing, jotting down notes in her mind.
“As for the color, you have two options: one, use bleaching agents during the processing phase to lighten the material; two, add dye during the final stage to create a uniform look. It doesn’t have to be snow-white, but it needs to contrast sharply with ink. The roughness is trickier to address—try polishing the sheets during the drying stage with smooth surfaces, but don’t overdo it or make the sheets too thin. Compressing them while they’re semi-dry might also help. How many people are in your family?”
“Six,” Nina replied quickly.
“Good. For now, try to avoid hiring outsiders. If you absolutely need help, come to me or Tyrion. Again, money isn’t an issue.”
Nina felt a surge of admiration. This “boss” wasn’t just knowledgeable—he exuded confidence and authority. Her doubts about their success began to fade.
“You know so much, Master,” Arya chimed in, her playful grin betraying her amusement.
“Quiet, you,” Aegor said, ruffling her hair. “Finally, the most critical problem—strength. The paper tears too easily. Experiment with other raw materials or try adding adhesives or glue during the final steps. It might help improve durability. Again, cost isn’t a concern. Focus on producing functional paper first; we’ll worry about efficiency later.”
“Glue!” Nina’s eyes lit up. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
Aegor smirked. “Good. Let’s see how far you can take this.”
Tyrion coughed lightly. “That’s it?”
“That’s it,” Aegor confirmed, basking in the satisfaction of playing the wise overseer.
“Got it?” Tyrion asked the siblings.
“Got it!” they answered in unison.
“Excellent. You heard the boss—money isn’t an issue,” Tyrion said firmly. “Do your best, and there will be rewards.”
“Ah, one more thing,” Aegor added. “Once you start producing usable paper in bulk, ten percent of the factory’s profits will be yours.”
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The siblings froze for a moment, wide-eyed with disbelief. Then, almost simultaneously, they dropped to their knees, expressing their gratitude with fervent bows.
“You’re too kind, my lord!”
For Aegor, this was just the beginning. If this experiment succeeded, the humble beginnings of Westeros’ papermaking industry would soon become a cornerstone of his growing empire of influence.
