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Chapter 102
🕑 Added 2025-01-28 21:22:20 +0000 UTC“Our books?” Aegor’s eyelid twitched, and a thought immediately crossed his mind—something so popular with the soldiers could only be a certain type of illustrated, unsavory material. He approached the tent, and as he got closer, he could hear the conversation between the vendor and the soldiers.
“You’re robbing me blind! Ten silver stags for this trash?”
“Robbing you? Open your eyes! This is a book! Do you have any idea how much paper this contains, how much ink it took to make all these illustrations?” The vendor, unfazed by the soldier’s complaints, flipped through the pages for emphasis, shouting back at him. “A few months ago, your whole year’s pay wouldn’t have been enough to buy something this thick! Do you understand that? This one book cost me five silver stags just to get made, and hauling it from King’s Landing to here wasn’t free either. Take it or leave it, but this is all the stock I have!”
“Fine, here, take it! I don’t want to see your face anymore!”
“You should’ve done that earlier and saved me the trouble!”
...
Several soldiers handed over their money, clutching their purchases as they returned to their camps, chatting animatedly with their friends. The crowd around the stall thinned, allowing Aegor to step forward and examine the wares.
It was extraordinary—a novelty never before seen in Westeros: a bookstall. Laid out on the table were five or six books of varying thickness and design. Titles like The Tales of Noble Ladies and The Adventures of Young Aegon the Bold were lined up, their names hinting at risqué contents. Among them, Aegor immediately spotted a title he knew well: The Night’s Watch: A Fantastical Journey, the very book he had outlined himself.
Though far from King’s Landing, his business ventures were thriving, even reaching the battlefield. The feeling was surreal—his products were chasing him to the front lines.
But something didn’t add up. Judging by the output of the paper mill and printing press, the church’s order for the Seven-Pointed Star should still be in production. How had these books made it to market so soon? Either Tyrion had miraculously built additional production lines overnight and ramped up operations, or… that cunning man had spotted a lucrative opportunity. Tyrion must have postponed the church’s order and printed these easily marketable books instead, cashing in on the boredom of soldiers stationed here.
“Tyrion, you genius,” Aegor muttered, shaking his head in admiration. Even he hadn’t seen this opportunity coming.
However, Aegor’s amusement turned sour as he noticed something. His pride and joy, The Fantastical Journey, was selling the worst. A thick stack of unsold copies still sat on the table. Meanwhile, the small, vulgar books had almost sold out. The bestseller, priced at a staggering ten silver stags, was a tome titled The Hundred Beauties of King’s Landing. Intrigued, Aegor picked it up and flipped through.
He almost dropped it in shock.
Each page featured an illustration of a woman striking a provocative pose. On the back of each image were her name, age, background, and the address of the establishment where she could be found. The hefty book was essentially a directory of every brothel in King’s Landing, complete with details of their most popular workers. It wasn’t The Hundred Beauties—it was the King’s Landing Guide to Brothels!
No wonder it was so popular. It was low on text, easy to read, and packed with practical information. With this in hand, anyone could pass themselves off as a seasoned connoisseur. It was a perfect product. His Fantastical Journey couldn’t hope to compete.
Wait. Aegor frowned. Wasn’t this just free advertising for those brothels? If it were him, he’d be charging the brothel owners for listing fees. Then again… if he’d thought of it, Tyrion surely had too. Who knew how many new ventures the Night’s Watch business had expanded into in just the past month? And how much money had been made in his absence?
...
“Don’t touch it if you’re not buying!” the vendor snapped, snatching the guide out of Aegor’s hands. But as he glanced at Aegor’s black cloak, something clicked, and his expression hesitated. “Wait… are you the Quartermaster, Lord Aegor?”
Aegor was about to answer when a familiar voice called his name from behind. Turning, he saw none other than Earl Buckwell, one of the lords he had grown quite familiar with during the campaign.
Though Buckwell had always been courteous, Aegor knew better than to take his kindness for granted. As an earl, his rank far surpassed Aegor’s as a member of the Night’s Watch. Aegor quickly excused himself from the stall and stepped forward to greet him.
“My lord, good morning. Does the king plan to continue the assault on the Bloody Gate today?”
As a member of Robert’s war council, the old earl would know the answer.
“I doubt it,” Buckwell replied. “His Grace has realized the Bloody Gate is harder to crack than expected. He plans to redirect half the army to attack the rebel castles outside the Vale tomorrow. Easier targets.”
The earl then leaned slightly to the side, gesturing to the young woman standing behind him. “This is Lady Margaery Tyrell. She’s read your story and wanted to meet you. She looked for you at your tent but couldn’t find you. Luckily, your cloak is quite distinctive.”
Aegor blinked in surprise. Only now did he notice the girl—Lady Margaery Tyrell.
“Lady Margaery, you’re even more beautiful than the stories say. Please forgive me for wandering around aimlessly.”
“You flatter me, my lord,” Margaery replied graciously. “Meeting an adventurer like you has been a long-held dream of mine. If you’re not too busy, could you tell me your story? Reading it in a book isn’t quite the same as hearing it from the person himself.”
(She read the Fantastical Journey, Aegor thought immediately.)
“It would be my honor,” he said smoothly.
...
Aegor knew he had encountered a formidable opponent. When it came to saying the right thing to the right person, no one could outmatch this girl, the daughter of Mace Tyrell, sister of the Knight of Flowers, and the so-called "Rose of Highgarden.”
With soft brown curls and bright, doe-like eyes, she looked as innocent as Arya or Nina. But Aegor was no fool. This girl, taught by Lady Olenna herself, was no starstruck admirer. Her marriage was her weapon, and her goal was to pull her family back into the center of power.
In terms of scheming, Aegor was an amateur. Margaery, on the other hand, was a professional. His only advantage was that he knew far more about her than she could possibly guess.
Why was such a high-born girl on the battlefield? The answer came quickly—this campaign, with lords from six kingdoms gathered together, was a prime opportunity to forge connections. And if Margaery Tyrell had sought him out specifically, there must be a reason. He would have to tread carefully and glean what he could from her words.
