GOT/ASOIAF: Ruler Beyond The Ice

"The books we printed?" Aegor's eyelid twitched as a thought immediately struck him, if the soldiers were this eager over something, it could only be something risqué, something with both pictures and text that wasn't exactly presentable.

He strode toward the tent, and as he got closer, the argument between the stall owner and the soldiers became clear.

"Are you trying to rob me? Ten silver stags for this piece of trash?"

"Robbery? Open your eyes, fool. This is a book!" The stall owner, unfazed by the soldiers' indignation, flipped through the pages in his hand, displaying the contents as he shouted back. Most of the merchants operating near the military camp were no ordinary peddlers, they had connections, and with the kings and lords of six kingdoms gathered here, few common soldiers would dare act recklessly. "Do you have any idea how many sheets of paper are in this? How much ink was used for these illustrations? A few months ago, your entire year's wages couldn't have bought a book this thick! Do you understand? The purchase price alone was five silver stags. And do you know what it costs to transport it all the way from King's Landing? Buy it or don't, but don't waste my time, I've got plenty of customers!"

"Fine, take the damn thing, and stay out of my sight!"

"You should've done that from the start. Wasting my time like this..."

---

Many soldiers paid up and left, clutching their purchases as they returned to their barracks with their comrades. As the crowd thinned, Aegor finally stepped forward and glanced at the stall's wares.

Fascinating. A bookstall, something Westeros had never seen before.

Laid out before him were five or six books of varying thickness and design. Titles like A Lady's Tale and The Romance of Young Aegon left little to the imagination. And among them, The Fantasy Adventures of the Night's Watch the very story Aegor himself had outlined. It was a strange feeling, seeing the industry he had set in motion thriving even in his absence. The books had followed him to the battlefield.

He did a quick calculation and frowned.

Given the production capacity of the paper mill and printing press, the church's order for the Seven-Pointed Star shouldn't have been completed yet. So how had these books hit the market so quickly? Either Tyrion had miraculously expanded production at an astonishing speed… or the cunning Lannister had spotted a lucrative opportunity and deliberately postponed existing orders in favor of printing these popular titles, entertaining the idle soldiers of the Vale rebellion while making a fortune off them.

Tyrion, you genius. I didn't even see this coming.

What irked him, though, was that the book he had been most proud of, his own Adventure Journey had sold the worst, with more than a dozen unsold copies still stacked at the stall. Meanwhile, the salacious books he personally found distasteful had nearly sold out.

The best-selling title, and the most expensive, was something called The King's Hundred Beauties.

Curious, Aegor picked it up and flipped through it, only to have his eyes nearly pop out of his skull.

Each page featured a portrait of a woman, posed seductively. That much wasn't surprising. What was astonishing was the detailed information printed on the back of each page—name, age, background, and location. It was a comprehensive directory of nearly every brothel in King's Landing, listing not only the establishments but also their most renowned courtesans.

This wasn't The King's Hundred Beauties. It was a damn guidebook.

Aegor nearly laughed aloud. Gods knew where Tyrion had gotten the inspiration for this, but the concept was genius.

With barely any words and nothing but "useful" information, it was the perfect book for its target audience. Soldiers with this in hand could pretend to be seasoned regulars, effortlessly navigating King's Landing's pleasure houses. No wonder it was flying off the shelves, his own Adventure Journey couldn't possibly compete.

Wait a minute. Isn't this basically a paid advertisement for these places? If it were me, I'd be charging the brothels for placement fees.

Then the realization hit him, if he could think of that, surely Tyrion had too. Gods only knew how much business the Night's Watch had expanded and how much coin they had raked in during his absence.

---

"If you're not buying, stop wasting my time!" The stall owner yanked the book from Aegor's hands. But as he glanced up and noticed the black of Aegor's attire, something clicked in his mind. Hesitantly, he asked, "Uh… are you the chief logistics officer? Lord Aegor?"

Before Aegor could answer, a familiar voice called his name from behind.

Turning, he found himself facing Buckwell, a man he had become quite familiar with in recent days.

Though Buckwell had never been arrogant or dismissive, he was still a landed noble, a lord and by the laws of Westeros, his rank was far above that of a Night's Watch officer. Courtesy was one thing, but politeness should never be mistaken for true equality.

Aegor didn't dare show disrespect. He stepped away from the stall, walked a few paces forward, and greeted him properly. "My lord, good morning. Will His Grace be continuing the assault on the Bloody Gate today?"

The old knight had the privilege of attending Robert's war councils, making him a reliable source of information.

"Not likely," Buckwell answered. "His Grace has realized the Bloody Gate is not easily taken. He's shifting focus to the rebel castles outside the Vale. Half the army will be redirected tomorrow to deal with those easier targets."

Then, the old knight stepped aside, introducing the figure standing behind him.

"This is Lady Margaery Tyrell. She read your story and wished to meet you. She visited your tent but couldn't find you… Luckily, your black cloak makes you easy to spot."

Aegor started in surprise, only now noticing the young woman standing just behind the old earl.

"Lady Margaery," he greeted smoothly, regaining his composure. "You are even more beautiful than the songs say. Please accept my apologies for being so difficult to find."

"You are too kind, my lord," Margaery replied with effortless grace. "Meeting an adventurer such as yourself has long been a dream of mine. Reading a tale in a book is one thing but hearing it told by the man who lived it is quite another. If you are not too busy, would you share your story with me?"

(She read The Adventures of the Night's Watch, Aegor realized immediately.)

"It would be my pleasure," he said with a smile.

---

I've met my match.

When it comes to saying one thing to one person and another to someone else, who in Westeros could possibly rival the daughter of Mace Tyrell, the sister of the Knight of Flowers the most cunning girl in the realm, known as the Rose of Highgarden?

The young woman before him had soft curls of chestnut hair and bright, doe-like eyes. She was about the same age as Nina. Like Arya and Nina, her gaze shimmered with admiration and fascination. But Aegor knew better. This Little Rose had been personally trained by the Queen of Thorns, Lady Olenna Redwyne. A girl raised in such an environment, one who sought to restore her family's influence through marriage, could never be anyone's mere admirer least of all a sworn brother of the Night's Watch.

Aegor was well aware that he, bound by oath and removed from the political games of the nobility, could never be a true player in the grand schemes of Westeros.

If I consider myself merely a latecomer to the art of deception, then this seemingly innocent girl before me must have been steeped in it from birth, a graduate of the highest school of political intrigue. Our strengths aren't even on the same level. My only advantage is that I know more about her than she expects.

Why would a noble lady of her stature come to the battlefield?

Aegor found it puzzling at first, but the answer came quickly enough. If he, an outsider to court politics, could see that this war was a prime opportunity to build alliances and connections, how could the true power players not recognize the same? The Little Rose was here for a reason.

As for why she sought him out specifically, that remained to be seen. It would take careful listening and a measured response to uncover the truth hidden in her words.

***

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