Arya left, leaving only Aegor and Tyrion in the room. Aegor glanced at Tyrion and asked, “How did you deal with the paper inventor?”

“Well, it’s a bit more complicated than you might think. The one experimenting with papermaking isn’t just a single person, but an entire family that makes a living weaving cloth. To be more specific, it’s a pair of the youngest siblings in the family,” Tyrion explained. “The sister noticed that the cloth washer would leave behind small, paper-like residues after heavy use. That gave her the idea to soak a piece of cloth in water, steam and mash it, then dry it to create a complete sheet of ‘paper.'”

“What a remarkable woman,” Aegor said, his interest piqued. “So, she and her brother started experimenting with other materials to make paper?”

“Yes, but while they technically made something resembling paper, it’s more like hardened cloth than actual paper. Honestly… the quality is so bad it wouldn’t even be fit to wipe your arse. Beyond that, the cloth they used to make this ‘paper’ is also needed to make clothes to support their family. They’re barely scraping by as it is. Their family doesn’t oppose their experiments, but they lack the resources to keep supporting them. In fact, when her brother tried to sell the concept to a paper merchant and asked for some investment to improve the process, he was flatly rejected. And in the end… well, that’s how we stumbled upon them.”

So that’s how it was. It wasn’t that the working people in the world of Ice and Fire lacked intelligence, but that short-sighted resource holders suffocated innovation and invention.

“Did you bring them here?”

“Yes. I told them to stop weaving and had the entire family move to the city. I rented them a large yard in a cheaper part of town. I’ll cover their living expenses and the cost of their experiments. All they need to do is figure out how to make usable paper as quickly as possible.”

“That’s a good plan. Let’s stick with it.”

“And what about this confidentiality agreement you mentioned?”

“It’s nothing magical. Just an agreement. We made it clear to them and to the entire family, that we’ll provide for them, reimburse their experimental costs, and give them a bonus once they produce usable paper. But once they succeed, the process must remain confidential. They’re not allowed to sell it or share it with anyone else. The invention is exclusively for our plan. If they leak it to another sponsor, the Lannisters, the Night’s Watch, and even the Hand of the King will hold them accountable.”

“That sounds extreme. How exactly are you or the Night’s Watch supposed to hold them accountable? As for the Hand of the King, I doubt he’d care about this.”

“They’re just commoners. Show them an official document signed and sealed by the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, the Hand of the King, and you—a prominent figure and that’ll be enough to scare them,” Aegor said with a shrug. This world really has no concept of patents, he thought. “Of course, the best way to keep them loyal is to provide well for them so they don’t get any second thoughts. First, supply them with the equipment and tools they need to make a batch of paper. Once we see the results, we can make more concrete plans.”

“Understood. I’ll leave it to you,” Tyrion nodded. “Aren’t you going back to the inn tonight? It doesn’t seem like there’s much left to do here.”

“There’s still a few minor things to handle. You go on ahead. I’ll be back later. Don’t go to bed too early, we still need to discuss recruitment tonight.”

“Got it.”

“And don’t forget, you’re in charge of managing the funds. Take the money with you.”

“Of course.”

—

After sending Arya, Tyrion, and their servants away, Aegor was alone in the Night’s Watch office. By now, it was almost dusk, and he had an important task to handle after dark. While he lacked manpower, this was something he wouldn’t entrust to anyone else, even if he had employees.

It was still summer, and the sun set slowly. Aegor waited patiently as the sky darkened, eating dinner at a small tavern near the garrison camp before returning to the office. He sat quietly for a while, and at last, the sky was pitch black.

It was time.

He left the office, locked the door like an ordinary merchant closing shop for the night, and led his horse out. Mounting up, he set off toward the Albatross Inn. This part of King’s Landing wasn’t like Silk Street, where business continued after dark. There were no streetlights, and the shops on both sides of the road were already shuttered. The streets were quiet, with barely a soul in sight.

Aegor sat upright on his horse, tilting his head slightly to scan his surroundings. Confirming there were no people within sight or earshot, he reached into his bag.

From it, he pulled a rolled-up piece of paper, holding it at his side. He took a deep breath and released his grip.

In the silence of the night, the rolled paper slipped from his hand, falling past the horse’s flank. It rubbed against the horse’s hair before landing on the cobblestone road, where it was kicked half a meter away by the horse’s hind hoof. The paper rolled to a corner of the street and came to a stop, merging with the shadows. Its origins were now lost.

Careful to avoid gold-cloaked patrols, Aegor deliberately took a long, winding route. Every few dozen meters, he dropped another small note, scattering them like a bomber dropping bombs. He repeated the process dozens of times until all the notes he had prepared the previous night were gone.

The content of the notes was simple but explosive. Written in the tone of a young knight from the Vale, they told a story meant to shock anyone who read them.

—

[My name is Hugh, and I served as a squire to the late Hand of the King, Jon Arryn, for many years. By the time anyone reads this note, I will be dead.

A few months ago, I accidentally discovered an affair between Lady Lysa Tully and Petyr Baelish, the Master of Coin. Lady Lysa threatened to have me executed if I told anyone, while Lord Baelish promised me endless wealth and glory if I stayed silent.

Driven by a mix of fear and greed, I didn’t report my findings to my lord… until he suddenly ‘fell ill’ and died.

Lord Jon was old, so his illness seemed plausible. But as I observed more closely, I noticed Lady Lysa meeting with Baelish more frequently around the time of his death. I began to suspect that Littlefinger may have instructed Lady Lysa to poison her husband.

I have no evidence. Though Baelish kept his promise and had me knighted, I cannot shake my unease. If my suspicions are correct, then someone like me, despite being raised to nobility, remains nothing more than an expendable pawn in the eyes of a man as powerful and cunning as Littlefinger.

And so, I have written this account and entrusted it to a reliable friend. If I die unexpectedly, know that I was murdered by Petyr Baelish. My death will prove that Lord Jon’s death was no accident.

I am but a small man, and my hesitation cost the life of a great lord. My life may be worthless, but the truth must be known, and the guilty must be punished.]

The work was done. Now, all that remained was to hope it wouldn’t rain over the next two days and that at least a few of the notes would find their way into the hands of literate and well-meaning individuals.

…

Due to his low status, the death of Ser Hugh caused no stir, nor did it prompt any investigation. However, the circumstances of his death were as mysterious as the attempt on Bran Stark’s life. Through casual conversation with Jack, Aegor learned that his arrival in this world had not altered the fate of the young knight from the Vale. Ser Hugh had died days before Aegor reached King’s Landing, killed in a tourney duel by Ser Gregor Clegane, the Mountain, whose spear pierced his throat.

Several questions arose: Was the draw for the tournament rigged to ensure certain matchups? If so, was Gregor ordered to kill Hugh? And if so, who gave the order, and why? Did Ser Hugh truly know a dangerous secret, or had he simply been trying to confuse Lord Eddard Stark?

Even Aegor had no answers to these questions, but that didn’t matter. He wasn’t seeking the truth; he only needed the note to stir up trouble for his enemies.

The story in the note was almost entirely fabricated, except for the circumstances surrounding Jon Arryn’s death. But rumors had a peculiar nature: as long as part of them was true, people would subconsciously believe the rest. It didn’t matter if Lysa Tully and Petyr Baelish had an affair in King’s Landing, whether Hugh truly uncovered secrets he shouldn’t have known, or if his death was merely a coincidence. As long as it was true that Lysa and Littlefinger had known each other since childhood, that Jon Arryn had died suddenly of illness, and that Hugh had died in a tourney, the note would be enough to set tongues wagging and trouble brewing.

What made it even more convincing was the fact that Littlefinger himself had once boasted of taking the virginity of both Tully sisters, a claim that lent credibility to the salacious parts of the note. Aegor couldn’t help but wonder if Petyr Baelish, who had once taken pride in spreading such rumors, might come to regret his youthful arrogance.

Littlefinger’s ability to manipulate the game in King’s Landing stemmed from more than just his cleverness. The key factor was that most people underestimated him. Born into a poor noble family from the Fingers, he had no military power, ran brothels that the nobility dismissed as beneath them, and displayed no overt ambitions. Though many influential figures dealt with him as equals and even relied on his financial expertise, they held him in disdain, both openly and in their hearts. This disdain, this tendency to overlook him, was precisely what allowed Littlefinger to cause chaos and bloodshed in the Seven Kingdoms.

But now, someone who understood him and intended to oppose him had come to King’s Landing.

Littlefinger’s golden days were coming to an end.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep