Chapter 67

Aegor and Tyrion discussed the finer details of establishing their printing supply chain while returning to the inn. Upon entering, the innkeeper informed Aegor that a young man had come looking for him earlier, asking for money.

“It’s probably the miner’s son you introduced me to,” Aegor mused, quickly piecing it together. He hadn’t yet secured any loans, so the only one who might come asking for funds was someone connected to the dragonstone mining operation. “The obsidian mine must be ready to start, and they’re waiting on funds. I nearly forgot amidst everything else.”

“Have Jack deliver the money first thing tomorrow,” Tyrion said without hesitation, rubbing his temples. “For the first time, I feel like... there just isn’t enough gold.”

“The sign for the office will take two more days to arrive,” Aegor noted. “But we can pick up the seals tomorrow. We need to secure the first loan as soon as possible.”

“We don’t have much choice,” Tyrion muttered, already contemplating whom to approach. “Ah, the joy of persuading my friends to step into this pit... Let me think about where to start.”

As they spoke, the two climbed the stairs to their rooms. After a quick dinner together, they each retired for the night.
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Tyrion may have gone to sleep, but Aegor was far from resting easy. For the Lannister dwarf, all this was likely just an entertaining game—one that allowed him to test his intellect and amuse himself. With Tywin’s wealth backing him, Tyrion was among the most qualified in Westeros to take such risks.

But Aegor didn’t have that luxury. His parents weren’t even in this world, and this scheme wasn’t just a game—it was his lifeline. His survival in this harsh, cutthroat world depended on the success of his plans, and any threat to those plans was his enemy.

Pacing the room, Aegor wracked his brain for a way to stop Littlefinger from gaining Eddard Stark’s trust.
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Hour after hour passed as he weighed various ideas, only to dismiss them one by one. Manipulating relationships through simple schemes was easy enough, but Littlefinger was a master—one of the top players in the deadly game of thrones. Any move against him needed to be decisive, leaving no trace of Aegor’s involvement. Otherwise, even the smallest misstep could lead to his death.

The most straightforward approach would be to reveal Littlefinger’s involvement in Jon Arryn’s murder to Eddard. But unlike his earlier ploy of implicating Joffrey, this accusation lacked a plausible means of delivery. The crime had taken place while Aegor was stationed at the Wall, and only those directly involved in the plot knew the truth. How could a lowly ranger from the Night’s Watch have come by such information?

Moreover, Aegor couldn’t keep using the same tactic of "conveniently overhearing" sensitive intelligence. If he wasn’t careful, Eddard would start questioning why a supposed soldier of the Night’s Watch seemed to have the ears of a master spymaster.

Perhaps an anonymous letter? But how could he deliver it safely in a city crawling with spies? Littlefinger might not have loyal friends, but he had wealth, influence, and access to resources that Aegor lacked. A single slip-up could expose him, and then it would only take a glass of poisoned wine or a dagger in the dark to end his life.

Using Arya as a messenger was equally unreliable. The girl was just ten years old and completely guileless. Even if she didn’t intentionally betray him, a careless word to her father could unravel everything.

As the city outside his window grew quieter, Aegor lay in bed, hoping that sleep might bring him clarity. Perhaps, like before in Winterfell, he’d wake up with a fresh idea.
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Chaos is a ladder.

The words echoed in his mind as he drifted off, Littlefinger’s infamous maxim taking root in his thoughts.

Chaos is a ladder. The phrase was not without merit. In a world as rigidly hierarchical as Westeros, the best way for someone at the bottom to climb upward was to create chaos. Chaos disrupted the entrenched power structures, forcing the elite to suffer losses, which in turn created opportunities for others to gain.

But the problem with chaos, Aegor realized, was that its benefits were usually random. Littlefinger’s brilliance lay in his ability to manipulate the chaos, directing its fallout with precision. He thrived by positioning himself to capitalize on the damage, ensuring he reaped the rewards of others’ misfortunes. In this regard, Aegor couldn’t help but admire the man’s skill, even as he schemed against him.

Yet Littlefinger had a fatal flaw: he lacked any guiding ideology beyond self-interest. Unlike the visionaries who built followings with grand ideals, Littlefinger cared for nothing but his own rise. Even at the peak of his power, he had no loyal base of support. His downfall in the original timeline had been inevitable; once someone decided to eliminate him, there was no one to mourn his loss or seek vengeance.

If Aegor simply wanted to watch Littlefinger’s demise, he could sit back and let history run its course. But his current goal was to defeat Littlefinger on his own turf—on the battlefield of court intrigue and manipulation. And that was a daunting challenge.
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Chaos is a ladder.

Littlefinger sought to create chaos. So, Aegor wondered, what if he leaned into that chaos instead of trying to stabilize the situation? Rather than trying to counter Littlefinger’s schemes with order, what if he added fuel to the fire? What if the chaos became so overwhelming that even Littlefinger couldn’t control it?

Aegor jolted upright in bed. The idea seemed insane at first—perhaps even the kind of dangerous notion that the Old Gods or some other divine force might implant in a desperate man’s mind. But the more he thought about it, the more plausible it seemed. As long as the chaos didn’t devolve into full-scale war that disrupted trade and the economy, his financial schemes could proceed unaffected.

By escalating the chaos in King’s Landing to unmanageable levels, Aegor could level the playing field. Littlefinger’s strength lay in his ability to navigate complex, unstable situations. But if the instability became so extreme that even he couldn’t make calculated moves, his advantage would vanish.

And what was the cheapest, most effective way to spread chaos?

Rumors.
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Smiling faintly, Aegor rose from his bed. It was time to sow discord.