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Chapter 536
🕑 Added 2025-01-29 17:25:06 +0000 UTC"I once loved your mother."
On any other day, such a "connection" would hardly be a good foundation for mutual understanding. But in this wretched age of war and treachery, with a notorious "traitor" like Aegor standing beside him, even Petyr Baelish's long-faded infatuation with Catelyn Stark seemed like a precious bond.
After a few days of recovery, Robb Stark, now in slightly better shape, received the Queen’s two chief advisors in the Great Hall of Winterfell. It only took a few carefully chosen words from Littlefinger to persuade him to accept the request—travel to Sevenstreams and try to rally the Northern lords.
But Robb's agreement was only the first step. Releasing a recently conquered Northern ruler—one whose loyalty had yet to be tested—was a gamble that required the approval of the one bearing the greatest risk: the Queen.
Petyr formally presented the plan to Daenerys over breakfast the next morning. This time, forewarned and prepared, Aegor and Petyr managed to push through their proposal, outvoting Varys two to one. More importantly, the decision to release Robb rested with the man who had captured him in the first place. And as much as Daenerys might have her doubts, she lacked any solid grounds to oppose Aegor’s decision—at least, not without clear proof that Robb would betray them.
For once, the plan proceeded smoothly. But Aegor had little time to celebrate before an avalanche of work buried him.
Rearming Winterfell’s guards was the easy part. But selecting the right emissaries to negotiate with the Northern lords? That required more than just choosing a few competent men and sending them off. Before Robb and his entourage could depart, Aegor and Petyr had to painstakingly strategize each diplomatic approach.
Following the principle of "trick the honorable with righteousness, tempt the cunning with profit," they spent hours setting precise negotiation terms for each house—how much to offer, when to compromise, when to exert pressure. Their goal was to secure as much loyalty as possible while ensuring the costs remained reasonable. The last thing they needed was to stir up future conflicts over unequal rewards when victory was at hand.
The planning session stretched from midday until deep into the night. By the time the eastern sky began to brighten, Aegor finally produced a strategy he deemed acceptable.
Could it be improved with more time? Undoubtedly. But politics wasn’t poetry—perfection was not required, only results. In an ideal world, Aegor would have personally visited each Northern lord to negotiate in person.
But since that was impossible, he would have to trust his emissaries and let fate decide the rest.
----
On the third morning after Myrcella's bold suggestion, the plan was set into motion.
Robb Stark and a dozen diplomatic envoys—totaling over a thousand men—rode out from Winterfell, banners of peace and negotiation fluttering in the cold Northern wind.
The net had been cast.
How many fish they would catch remained to be seen.
More interestingly, before a single response arrived, two unexpected visitors appeared—one from the west, the other from the east—both requesting meetings with the Queen and her council.
Aegor chose to meet one of them personally. When the visitor—a tall, rail-thin man with a familiar smirk—took his seat across the table, Aegor was struck by a sudden sense of déjà vu.
A familiar face.
“Lord Taichu!” Aegor's tired eyes widened in surprise. “What wind has blown you across the Narrow Sea?”
“The news of your victory over the White Walkers.” Taichu Nestors, ever poised, lifted his chin slightly, his smile as polished as ever. “Frankly, Lord Commander, your speed is frightening. When I set sail, I heard you were still preparing in Crown’s End. Yet by the time I landed, I had to come all the way to Winterfell to find you. Allow me to express my personal admiration.”
The Braavosi emissary gave a courteous nod before continuing.
“I bring congratulations from Braavos. The new Sealord is pleased that humanity has survived such an unprecedented crisis. And the Iron Bank is relieved to know that a certain large loan will not turn into a bad investment…” He chuckled. “A jest, of course. But nonetheless, we extend the highest regards from the Free Cities, Lord Commander.”
“You flatter me.” Aegor smiled politely. In truth, he had neither the time nor the patience for empty courtesies. But his respect for the Iron Bank was genuine—their loan of a hundred thousand gold dragons in grain had kept the Night’s Watch from starving, allowing him to focus on greater goals instead of worrying about feeding thousands of hungry mouths.
For that alone, he owed them courtesy.
“But as I recall,” Aegor said, “the repayment deadline for the Night’s Watch loan is still eighteen years away. What service, then, do you require of me?”
“You misunderstand, Lord Commander.” Taichu chuckled. “I’m not here to collect. Rather, our superiors have become… concerned since hearing that you’ve sworn allegiance to Daenerys Targaryen. They wish to confirm one simple matter: does our previous lending agreement with the Night’s Watch still hold?”
…What?
Aegor blinked.
Of all the possible concerns the Iron Bank might have, this was what they sent an envoy to clarify?
Was he ruthless? Certainly. Unconventional? Absolutely.
But a fraud?
If he failed in his rebellion, he’d be dead—what would it matter if the Night’s Watch defaulted in eighteen years? And if he succeeded, with the entire Seven Kingdoms at his feet, did they really think a Night’s Watch loan would be too costly to repay?
He was trying to rebuild a nation—not run off with a bag of stolen coins.
Aegor’s smile faded, irritation creeping into his expression. “Of course it still holds. Even if my name weren’t on the contract, as Jeor Mormont’s successor, I would never deny a loan that was legitimately received by the Night’s Watch.
“The Watch hasn’t disbanded. Its pledged assets still stand. If nothing has changed, then why question the contract’s validity?”
“Ah, naturally.” Taichu raised his hands in a placating gesture, his smooth diplomacy kicking in the moment he sensed Aegor’s displeasure. “Merely a procedural confirmation—no offense was intended. The Iron Bank has never doubted the integrity of the Night’s Watch or its Lord Commander.”
Satisfied that the tension had passed, Taichu moved on swiftly. “That being said, I have two additional matters to discuss.
“The first: we in Braavos have heard whispers of a new weapon—something called ‘firebombs’—used by the Night’s Watch in the war against the Others. The Sealord is very interested. He would like to purchase either the weapon itself or its production method. Naturally—at a price of your choosing.”
Braavos wanted to buy firebombs?
Heh.
They didn’t even know about cannons yet.
Still, Aegor immediately refused. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Lord Taichu. Firebombs are a crucial military asset for the Queen’s campaign to reclaim the Seven Kingdoms. We cannot risk this weapon being leaked through outside channels before she takes the Iron Throne.”
“A shame,” Taichu sighed, though his expression showed little actual disappointment. “But understandable. In that case, let us set that matter aside.
“My second request, however, may interest your Queen more directly.”
He leaned in slightly.
“The Iron Throne has borrowed over two million gold dragons from the Iron Bank over the past decade. Due to the war, it has defaulted on several payments.
“To put it simply, we are willing to back Daenerys Targaryen’s claim—if she formally acknowledges and assumes these debts.”
“…Wait.” Aegor cut him off, caught between amusement and incredulity. “You want the Queen to inherit the debt of the usurpers?”
He snorted.
“And what does this have to do with me? I’m not the Queen’s Master of Coin. You should ask her, not me.”
