In Winterfell, there would always be a butler or servant busy making arrangements to ensure someone like Aegor had proper accommodations for the night. But this was Dragonstone, and the word “polite” likely didn’t exist in Stannis Baratheon’s vocabulary. Under the guidance of a guard, Aegor quickly found himself outside the castle gates. Facing the dark night, the kind-hearted guard handed him a torch. Of course, there were no wolves or White Walkers on the island, and for a Night’s Watch ranger, walking a few miles at night was hardly a daunting task. Bathed in the bleak moonlight, Aegor made his way down toward the fishing village along the shore.

The ship hadn’t left yet, and Aegor breathed a sigh of relief. The captain, along with the old miner and his son, nervously asked what had happened. Naturally, Aegor couldn’t reveal the truth to these ordinary folk. Instead, he fabricated a simple excuse about a misunderstanding to put their minds at ease. After retrieving his wallet, he headed straight for his cabin.

The return journey from Dragonstone to King’s Landing differed from the trip there. They were now sailing against the wind and current, which slowed their progress considerably. Even if they set out in the middle of the night, Dragonstone would still be visible on the horizon by dawn. With no other choice, the ship remained docked in Dragonstone’s small port for the rest of the night, only departing at first light.

Standing at the stern and watching the island slowly recede into the distance, Aegor couldn’t help but sigh. Arranging the mining of Dragonglass had originally been a side project, something to do amidst other, more pressing concerns. According to the original plan, the task of managing the mine would fall to the old miner and his son. Aegor had intended to simply provide funding and avoid further involvement. Who could have anticipated that such a short trip would embroil him in the conflict between the God of Fire and the God of Cold? Moreover, he had learned so much “inside information” from Melisandre—though whether any of it was true remained uncertain.

Since there was no way to discern truth from lies, Aegor resolved to stop dwelling on it. The only thing to do now was to focus on the present. It was time to get back to business.

—

The ship drifted against the Blackwater Rush for more than a day and night, its waters rushing eastward into the Narrow Sea, before finally reaching the port of King’s Landing. Four days after departing the capital of the Seven Kingdoms, Aegor set foot on Westerosi soil once again. After briefly discussing his address and next steps with the old miner, Aegor entered the city through the Mud Gate, eventually returning to the Albatross Inn where he had stayed previously.

Tyrion Lannister hadn’t gone out, and as soon as he heard that Aegor had returned, he knocked on his door.

“Finally, you’re back! During the two days you spent at Dragonstone, I didn’t even feel like going to the tavern or the brothel,” Tyrion said by way of greeting.

The dwarf’s comment left Aegor utterly baffled. Thankfully, Tyrion quickly clarified. “I’ve been mulling over the ‘finance’ idea you mentioned during our last conversation. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, day and night, over and over. I couldn’t eat or sleep because of it.”

“Have you figured anything out?” Aegor asked, slightly surprised by how invested Tyrion seemed. Compared to being randomly accused of heresy by Melisandre and dragged into a bloodletting ritual, this conversation was entirely within Aegor’s expectations. Men like Eddard Stark or Stannis Baratheon would likely dismiss the concept of financial schemes as outright fraud. But Tyrion was different. The hallmark of a clever man was his ability to examine new ideas objectively and rationally. That was precisely why Aegor preferred dealing with people like Tyrion—it saved effort.

“You must have realized by now that if the Game of Thrones is about fighting for power and dividing the spoils, then the ‘Game of Money’ is about growing the spoils, making the cake bigger, so to speak. Regardless of which is more important or complex, when it comes to contributing to the world, the latter is undoubtedly greater than the former,” Aegor explained.

“I’m not going to argue with that,” Tyrion replied, his expression sharp. “But don’t think you can get away with twisting concepts to confuse me—at least, not with me.”

Tyrion’s calm rebuttal was refreshing to Aegor, though it was hard to take him seriously when he tried to look stern, it almost came off as comical. “No matter how you dress it up, no matter how you justify it, you have to admit that this is a scam,” Tyrion added bluntly.

As expected, there was no fooling a smart man. Four days had been more than enough time for Tyrion to figure out the truth. Aegor felt a flicker of nervousness as he scrambled to think of a way to respond. “Tyrion—”

Tyrion cut him off, seeing the hesitation in his expression. “Don’t bother making excuses. Just admit it.”

“Fine, I admit it,” Aegor said. His mind quickly shifted gears, and he realized something: if Tyrion truly intended to reject the idea, he wouldn’t have bothered saying so much. His tone didn’t suggest outright refusal, and that gave Aegor a glimmer of hope. “Yes, I tried to pull off a financial scam. In Tsena, there was a man named Charles Ponzi who used a similar trick to deceive tens of thousands of people. Because of that, this kind of scam is now called a Ponzi scheme.”

“How was his scam exposed?” Tyrion asked curiously.

“In order to compete with legitimate financial ventures, he promised ridiculously high rates of return. But he didn’t make any real investments or generate any actual profits. Worse still, he squandered much of the money he raised. His scheme collapsed quickly because the flow of capital dried up. Once he couldn’t even pay the promised returns—excluding the principal—his scam fell apart. Even if the investors hadn’t suspected him, it wouldn’t have lasted.”

“It’s just as I deduced,” Tyrion said, raising his eyebrows and solemnly announcing, “Aegor, I’ll join your plan, as long as you agree to my three conditions.”

Just like that? Standing at the door of an ordinary single room in the Albatross Inn, Aegor felt a sudden, inexplicable throbbing in his chest. It struck him that this simple and straightforward conversation between friends could very well shape the future of Westeros. After a full second of silence, he nodded. “Go on.”

“First, every step of this whole ‘fundraising’ endeavor must be discussed with me in detail, and you must explain your reasoning clearly. I must be allowed to participate fully. Second, the account funds will be managed by me. The money will be kept in an independent house I rent, and I’ll personally handle all incoming and outgoing transactions.” Tyrion straightened his expression, trying to emphasize that he wasn’t joking. “Third, if the plan fails, I will cover the shortfall. But you are not allowed to attempt this scheme elsewhere without my approval. I’ll find something else for you to do. With your brains, you can live comfortably without resorting to scams. That’s all—decide.”

…

The first two conditions were easy enough to understand. Aegor’s calculated approach and the mutual trust between the two had helped them grow close in just a few months, despite being from vastly different worlds. However, they had only known each other for a short time, and Tyrion likely feared that Aegor might squander money recklessly, as the original perpetrators of Ponzi schemes had done, or worse, abscond with a massive sum. Aegor had no such intentions, so he readily accepted the restrictions. With King’s Landing being the population and economic center of Westeros, and with both a northern Hand of the King and a Lannister to cooperate with, it should be feasible to raise funds. If it couldn’t work here, why try elsewhere?

Aegor didn’t hesitate. “Your requests are reasonable. I agree to all of them.”

“Very good.” The dwarf appreciated Aegor’s straightforwardness. He nodded, then gave his friend a once-over, his expression shifting into a frown. “Did you really go to Dragonstone? You look like you’ve been in a brothel for three days and three nights. You’re utterly exhausted.”

“Is it that obvious?” Aegor muttered. He couldn’t help but replay Melisandre’s words in his mind, still struggling to separate truth from lies. Tyrion didn’t even believe in the existence of White Walkers. When it came to skepticism, this native of Westeros might surpass even Aegor himself. “I’m seasick and didn’t sleep well.”

“Do you want to rest?”

“I’ll write up a list first. You can have Morales and Jack do the shopping. I’ll take a nap, and once everything’s in place, we can begin.”

…

“Excellent. I can’t wait.” Tyrion’s excitement was palpable. He was like a child about to unbox a long-awaited toy. “The game of money… Just thinking about it feels more thrilling than drinking or spending time with women.”

“Tyrion, you might be the most adventurous man in Westeros I’ve ever met.”

“Hmph,” Tyrion grunted, unimpressed by the flattery. “As you said, I’m only the most adventurous ‘Westerosi.’ This venture doesn’t interfere with my drinking or carousing, nor does it put my life at risk. That’s why I find it more interesting than the other two—and why I’m willing to try it. Compared to someone like you, who’s crossed the Sunset Sea to get here, I’m nothing more than a country bumpkin.”

“Let’s not waste time complimenting each other,” Aegor replied with a smirk. “I’ll write up the list of supplies we need immediately. This afternoon, we’ll start preparing to issue the Night’s Watch bonds.”

***

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