Aegor felt as if he had been slapped in the face.
Just moments ago, he had been issuing commands with grand ambition, meticulously planning the future of the Night's Watch Industry and the Logistics and Security Department. He was preparing to build a comfortable life for himself in this world, rising through power and wealth by following the path of the Knights Templar—dreaming of promotions, riches, and the pinnacle of success.
And then, in the very next moment, this news landed in his lap.
Of course, it wasn't going to be that easy. This was the world of Game of Thrones, and he was standing in the heart of the storm in King's Landing. Did he really think everything would go smoothly? That the other players in this dangerous game would just step aside and allow him time to build his financial empire and raise an army in peace?
…
Aegor had personally witnessed the devastating power of rumors. Who would have thought that someone else would adopt the very same method so quickly?
Last time, he had spread only a handful of notes, yet they had been enough to force the Master of Coin into exile and ignite a war that engulfed seven kingdoms, leading to nearly a thousand deaths. Now, this new rumor was even more explosive and infinitely closer to the truth than the one he had fabricated. What kind of chaos would it unleash?
Aegor didn't dare to imagine.
Who was behind these notes?
Littlefinger was already across the Narrow Sea, which meant it wasn't him. Could it be Varys? But what would Varys gain by plunging the Seven Kingdoms into chaos so soon? If Westeros was already torn apart by the time the Targaryens rallied their forces for a return, wouldn't their conquest be even easier?
There aren't… other transmigrators causing trouble, are there?
But soon, Aegor realized there was an even more pressing issue than his long-term plans or his past role as a rumor-monger.
"Why are you still here?" He turned to Tyrion. "Why haven't you gone back to Casterly Rock?"
"I can't bear to leave. This is the first time I've found finance so interesting," the dwarf replied with a smirk. "Of course, the real reason is that Robert isn't in King's Landing. If he weren't busy dealing with the rebellion in the Vale, my most precious head would already be mounted on a spike atop the Red Keep."
"This is absurd. Robert is just waiting for Lysa Arryn to come down from the Eyrie. Their food supplies are running low, he could bring that madwoman back to King's Landing at any moment. And once he returns, given the previous rumors about Jon Arryn's poisoning… if he chooses to believe the content of this note—"
"He'll have every Lannister in King's Landing executed," Tyrion finished dryly. "You don't have to spell it out for me."
He flashed a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Fortunately, I tracked down the person responsible for spreading the notes."
Aegor exhaled in relief. But then, an odd thought surfaced in his mind: A brothel owned by the Night's Watch… Wouldn't that make it a "Night's Watch brothel"?!
Tyrion, you really are too playful.
Suppressing the urge to rub his temples, Aegor asked, "And?"
"This brothel was one of Littlefinger's tools for gathering intelligence. He had hidden holes in the walls for eavesdropping, and his whores doubled as spies," Tyrion explained. "After I acquired it—completely free of charge, mind you—I asked them to track down whoever was distributing the notes." He smirked. "And wouldn't you know it? Before fleeing to Braavos, Littlefinger himself returned to the brothel and instructed his men to spread them."
Littlefinger again?
Aegor gritted his teeth. Damn that scheming bastard.
Petyr Baelish had always been cautious, so why had he been so reckless this time?
Oh… right. He had left in a hurry and never planned to return. Of course, he wouldn't have time to cover his tracks.
A tiger left alive will always bring trouble. Aegor clenched his fists. I should have found a way to kill him.
Of course, that was just wishful thinking. A few months ago, when he had first arrived in King's Landing, he had nothing. And even now, despite the Night's Watch Industry's growing influence, how could he possibly eliminate a cunning, well-connected noble who had once lived within the walls of the Red Keep itself?
"Did you capture the men who spread the notes?"
"Of course." Tyrion shrugged. "Otherwise, do you really think I'd still be here instead of running for my life?"
He leaned against the railing, his expression contemplative. "It's obvious Littlefinger wasn't behind the last batch of notes—the ones about Jon Arryn. He must have used the same trick to strike back at someone he considered an enemy. But why Cersei and Jaime? Why target my brother and sister?"
Tyrion's frown deepened. "My dear siblings aren't exactly known for subtlety. If they want someone dead, they'll simply kill them, they'd never resort to this kind of scheme."
His logic was sound. Aegor knew it, but he had no answer. He could only offer a wry smile.
"In the end, people enjoy seeing the powerful brought low. Who cares how it happened?"
After a moment's thought, Aegor finally asked, "Who did you hand the captured man over to?"
"As the younger brother of the accused, I had to avoid suspicion. Once I uncovered the truth, I passed the information to an acquaintance in the City Watch and had him lead the arrest. After capturing the suspect, they handed him over to Ed—our good and honorable Hand of the King, who quickly made a public statement refuting the rumor. Unfortunately, most people refused to believe him."
As they walked, approaching the small watchtower, Tyrion continued lamenting his predicament.
"The same kind of note appearing twice has created an illusion in the minds of the people, that both incidents were orchestrated by the same person. And who is this mysterious figure? A knight of justice, a righteous hero exposing the debauchery and corruption of the powerful elite in the Red Keep, ensuring they face the punishment they deserve." Tyrion sighed. "Ed refuted the rumor and declared that Littlefinger was responsible, but most people think he's just covering for the king and queen… What a mess."
Justice? Righteousness? Who the hell has time for that?
Aegor frowned. Catching the man who distributed the notes hadn't solved the problem. This was a fire that would not easily be extinguished.
The Baratheon family had always been known for their black hair, yet Robert's three children—Joffrey, Tommen, and Myrcella—all had golden locks. That fact alone was like a dangerous truth hidden in plain sight, easy to overlook until someone pointed it out. But once spoken, it would spread like wildfire. Soon, the people of King's Landing and beyond would whisper about it with growing fascination.
Black-haired father, blonde-haired children—incest between the mother and her brother.
The logic was, of course, deeply flawed—unscientific, even.
But the real problem was that this flawed reasoning led to the correct conclusion.
Cersei, in her hatred of Robert for loving Lyanna Stark, had ensured he would never father a child with her. She timed her pregnancies carefully, calculating whether any child she carried could possibly be Robert's. The drunken king, too fond of ale and brothels, rarely shared her bed, and Cersei knew how to keep him satisfied in other ways. Over more than a decade of marriage, Robert had only managed to get her pregnant once—and she had ended that pregnancy with moon tea.
Cersei had used timing to determine that Joffrey, Tommen, and Myrcella were all Jaime's children—and if she believed it, then it was almost certainly true.
Even with the identity of the rumor-monger revealed, neither Cersei nor Jaime could prove their innocence. If Robert or Eddard started digging deeper, they would soon find evidence—comparing the hair color of past Lannister-Baratheon marriages, for example.
And that wasn't even the worst of it.
The real danger lay in the fact that the people involved in this mess were all volatile. If they acted rashly, the consequences would be catastrophic. Aegor's personal ambitions were one thing—but full-blown civil war in the Seven Kingdoms? If he got caught in the crossfire, there would be no escape.
---
Though Tyrion's short legs slowed him down, the watchtower wasn't far, and soon they arrived.
The structure was newly built, the contrast between fresh footprints and unstained wood still stark. Judging by the wear on the stairs, no more than a dozen people had passed through.
"Come upstairs," Tyrion said, stepping onto the staircase. "Just listen to what I'm about to say, and don't repeat it to anyone."
Aegor followed as the dwarf climbed.
"Even though it's been proven that this rumor was Littlefinger's doing, there's still a problem… How should I put it?" Tyrion paused, gripping the railing. "My brother and sister have always been close. Now that I really think about it, even I find it a little… unnatural."
He shook his head. "The truth of the note isn't the issue. The issue is whether Eddard and Robert will believe it."
Aegor was silent for a moment.
"It's hard to say," he admitted.
He had personally removed Littlefinger to prevent him from whispering this exact suspicion into Eddard's ear. But now, the idea had already taken root. If the Hand of the King decided to investigate on his own…
Aegor exhaled slowly. He had expected trouble from Varys, not from Littlefinger, even after he was gone.
"My advice?" Aegor said at last. "You should return to Casterly Rock. Stay out of sight for a while."
"I agree," Tyrion replied. "But too much has happened in the past two months. The Night's Watch Industry can't function without me—yet. That's why I need to spend this time transferring my connections and resources to you, arranging everything properly… so that if the situation turns ugly, I can leave for Casterly Rock at a moment's notice."
Preparing for a storm before it arrives.
Aegor could appreciate the foresight. He enjoyed having a teammate who actually knew what he was doing. But ultimately, Tyrion's life was at stake, and Aegor couldn't justify keeping him in harm's way.
"It's a good plan," he conceded. "You're laying the groundwork for me—if I can't protect what we've built, I might as well go back to the Wall."
"Hah! My thoughts exactly," Tyrion chuckled. "But you're overthinking things. As long as you use the right people, running this operation isn't as difficult as it seems. Let's not waste words—come on, let's reach the top and take a look at our little empire before we talk further. Huff—why does this tower look so short, yet feel so exhausting to climb?"
The watchtower wasn't tall—only four or five stories, at most twenty meters high. Aegor could have ascended with ease on his own.
But for a dwarf, the climb was no small feat.
Several minutes passed, with Tyrion panting heavily, before they finally reached the top.
To the east, the blood-red comet still hung high in the sky, its fiery glow vivid against the darkening heavens. To the west, the setting sun dipped toward the horizon, casting golden light over the land.
Aegor gripped the railing and gazed down.
Below them, the entire Night's Watch Industrial Park lay spread out in full view.
(To be continued.)
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