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Chapter 46
🕑 Added 2025-01-28 21:04:55 +0000 UTCA mere Night’s Watchman, yet commanding the Hand of the King to draft a formal letter with the direwolf seal. Aegor undoubtedly benefited from the reduced vigilance his black cloak afforded him, but as he walked out of the Tower of the Hand with the signed and sealed letter in hand, he couldn’t help but marvel: once you mastered the right methods, even the most powerful lords and nobles could be deceived as easily as common folk.
No wonder Littlefinger thrived in King’s Landing, manipulating Baratheons, Starks, and Lannisters alike. Lies were truly a powerful weapon.
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When Aegor returned to the inn, it was already dark. He didn’t drag Yoren around on any more errands but chose to rest quietly in his room. Thus began his second day in King’s Landing.
“You went to Eddard Stark yesterday to ask for two men, a room, and a letter?” Tyrion’s curious eyes glimmered. After spending two months together, he knew Aegor always had hidden motives, and his explanations never failed to intrigue. “I can understand the first two, but what’s the letter for?”
“To swindle money.”
“Swindle money?” Tyrion raised an eyebrow. “If Eddard Stark finds out you used his signed letter for such a purpose… well, he may lack the authority to punish you directly, but a single letter to the Wall could have you recalled instantly.”
“Do you remember what you said yesterday when we passed the city gates about the ‘Hand’s Tourney’?” Aegor deflected, bringing up a related topic. “There was one point you made that I particularly agreed with: that hosting these events stimulates the economy. The Iron Throne incurs heavy debts to make the participants, spectators, and merchants happy. The King spends a lot, but that money doesn’t vanish—it circulates, boosting trade and enriching the common folk, merchants, and champions alike. Whether intentional or not, in this regard, King Robert’s spending isn’t entirely harmful.”
Tyrion didn’t interrupt. He was curious to hear what his peculiar adventurer friend from “Qina” had to say about Robert Baratheon’s legendary extravagance.
“However, much of that money stops circulating soon after. Westerosi love hoarding wealth. The rich stash gold, commoners hoard silver, and even the poor hide copper coins under their beds. Once people get their hands on money, at least half of it is stored away, not to re-enter circulation anytime soon. That’s harmful to the economy. So, my plan is to swindle that hoarded money back into circulation.”
“I’ve heard something similar from a maester in Oldtown,” Tyrion said, nodding. “The principle is that gold sitting in a vault is no different than a pile of rocks. Currency must flow to fuel economic growth. But given Westeros’ unpredictable seasons and constant wars, people fear the future. You won’t change their hoarding habits with mere rhetoric.”
“Convincing all Westerosi to spend freely is indeed a pipe dream. I don’t aspire to that,” Aegor replied with a smile. “I don’t need them to spend their money; I just need them to lend it to me. People hoard money because they’re afraid they won’t be able to earn it back once it’s gone. But what if I tell them their money will grow on its own if they lend it to me?”
Tyrion immediately caught the flaw. “You said, ‘tell them,’ which means you don’t actually have a way to make their money grow.”
“Not yet, but I will,” Aegor said confidently. “In the meantime, I can make them believe they’ll profit by simply returning a little more than I borrowed—paying interest.”
“Interest.”
“Yes, and higher than the usual rate. For example, if someone lends me one hundred gold dragons today, I’ll return one hundred and one after a month.”
“And where does the extra gold come from?”
“From those who haven’t asked for repayment yet.”
Tyrion’s eyes narrowed. He was quick to see where this was going. “That’s a dangerous game. If, one day, everyone demands repayment at once, what will you do?”
“You’ve hit the crux of the matter. If that happens, the system collapses—it’s called a ‘liquidity crisis.’ Even the mighty Iron Bank of Braavos would struggle under such circumstances. My goal is to prevent that from happening,” Aegor explained. “By creating rules or incentives—like no interest for withdrawals within the first month, higher rates for longer-term loans, or penalties for early withdrawals—I can minimize that risk.”
“But no matter what safeguards you put in place, if the money doesn’t actually grow, your scheme will eventually be exposed!”
“Eventually? Many things are inevitable—death, the fall of dynasties, the end of the world. But as long as I can delay that exposure far enough into the future, to a time beyond my own concerns, doesn’t it become effectively irrelevant?”
“That’s sophistry, Aegor.” For the first time, Tyrion frowned in disapproval. “Don’t do this. You’re clever and resourceful—there are better ways to achieve your goals. If you need funds, I could cover your expenses from my own allowance.”
Aegor felt a twinge of frustration. He had hoped Tyrion, a man of intelligence, would appreciate his plan. But it seemed even the sharpest minds of Westeros were too rooted in tradition to accept such a bold idea. He realized he needed to reframe the conversation.
His mistake, he realized, was calling it a “swindle” in jest. What he had intended as humor had been taken at face value, setting the wrong tone from the start. Internally cursing his slip, Aegor quickly devised a way to recover.
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