Chapter 61: Business Opportunities Born from Small Talk
There was no rest to be had that evening. Egger and Tyrion huddled in the room, illuminated by over a dozen candles, as they began crafting the world's very first Night's Watch Bonds.
A stack of the highest-quality parchment available in King's Landing sat at the edge of the table. After a final discussion on the bond's content, the two set to work. Tyrion's physical appearance left much to be desired, but his handwriting was quite elegant. Egger, having grown accustomed to computers before his crossing, found his handwriting a mess. Consequently, the task of transcribing the first bond fell to the dwarf. Following the draft, Tyrion copied word for word, not daring to be careless—heaven help him, he hadn't been this earnest even when writing to his father, Lord Tywin.
"Phew..." Having finished the first one, Tyrion gingerly lifted the paper by two corners, blew on it, and set it aside to dry before pulling a second sheet toward him. He had been back in King's Landing for a week and hadn't visited a brothel even once; he could hardly believe it himself. This feeling of having something to do, of no longer feeling hollow inside, was truly wonderful.
Egger sat opposite him, hacking away at a draft filled with notes, unable to find satisfaction. A bond was only a single sheet of paper; it was impossible to cram every agreement and rule onto it. He planned to organize the details into a large, poster-like announcement to be pasted on the wall of the Night's Watch office, making it easier to explain things to visitors as they read.
"Just write a couple for now to get the idea across, then get some rest. The identical content on the bonds isn't the point; the signatures and seals at the time of signing, along with the subsequent anti-counterfeiting measures, are what matter."
"True. I'll hire someone to handle this tomorrow."
"Hire someone to copy bonds? Why go to all that trouble? Just find a shop to print them..." Egger's words suddenly trailed off as he realized he didn't know the Westerosi Common Tongue word for "printing."
"What were you trying to say?"
Egger struggled for a while but couldn't make Tyrion understand the concept of printing. Finally, he resorted to a desperate explanation: "Let's put it this way—it's taking the content of the bond, making it into one oversized seal, and stamping it onto the paper sheet by sheet."
"Brilliant! Why didn't I think of that?" Tyrion's eyes lit up. "Is this another technique of yours? You are truly clever. Sometimes I'm glad the Sunset Sea lies between us."
"Does Westeros not have this technology? Then how are your books made?"
"Copied by hand. There are people who do nothing else, earning a meager living through hard labor..." Tyrion replied without thinking, then immediately froze as a cold sweat broke out down his back. "Seven hells... wait, something seems wrong here!"
Egger realized then why he didn't know the word for printing; the technology simply didn't exist in this world yet.
The two stared at each other in shock: this was a massive business opportunity!
Egger immediately engaged Tyrion in a deeper discussion about books to gather more information. In this era of Westeros, books relied entirely on hand-copying. Depending on the neatness of the scribe's hand, the volume and accuracy of the content, and the quality of the binding, a single book could cost anywhere from a few silver deers to several gold dragons. For certain volumes, it was no exaggeration to call them luxury goods!
Tyrion was a smart man; he instantly recognized the advantage printing offered in popularizing knowledge and culture. This was a technology with the potential to revolutionize social development! "We could build a printing house and make a fortune selling books, using the money you raise... No, there's no time for that. I'll front the money myself; we must start as soon as possible!"
...
However, Egger shook his head. Matters were not so simple. With low technology, printing wasn't necessarily cheaper. Carving a mold was arduous work; if you only printed a few dozen or a hundred books, it was more cost-effective to just hire a scribe. If you printed in bulk, a practical problem arose—who would buy them?
Tyrion was an educated, clever man; his desire for everyone to be literate and cultured was understandable. But Egger had to consider how to make the funds in his hand generate value so the game could continue without turning into a true Ponzi scheme. He needed projects that were guaranteed to be profitable, not a stockpile of high-brow literature or science books for the long-term cultural benefit of Westeros.
Simply put—one must consider problems based on one's position. He hadn't broken into the ruling class yet; worrying about such grand ideals was a waste of energy.
After some thought, he quickly identified several items that were societal necessities with a huge market and a printing cost significantly lower than hand-copying—calendars, for example, or the Seven-Pointed Star, and even easy-to-understand ghost stories for all ages! He could collaborate with the Faith, wandering bards, and other institutions to put his capital to work!
The idea came so suddenly it caught him off guard. Enthused, he brandished his quill and struck a line through one of his original plans.
"What did you cross out?"
"I originally intended to limit the number of bonds issued. Without a way to truly make money beget money, the faster the capital scale grows, the more unsustainable the scheme becomes. But now that we have a profitable project, that rule is pointless!" Egger said with irrepressible excitement. "It's clear what our first bit of capital will go toward. We must immediately start recruiting people with seal-carving skills—not the master carvers in the King's Landing shops; they're too expensive and we can't afford them. Apprentices or those with some experience will do. Then, contact the paper merchants. We're going to need a steady, massive supply of cheap paper. We have work to do."
"Hah, so you actually planned to limit the bond issuance? You really had that much confidence people would beg to lend you money?"
"If things go well, I'll dare to raise the interest. By then, people wanting to lend me money will be lining up from the Red Fort to the Gate of the Gods!" Egger bragged with total confidence. "That's enough for today. Get some sleep. Tomorrow we split up; we both have real work to do!"
In countless tech-uplift stories, transmigrators always managed to dig up their first pot of gold using knowledge from their original world. But when it was Egger's turn, he found that turning knowledge into money was incredibly difficult. He knew the principles of internal combustion engines, he knew generators used magnets to create electricity, and he even knew how planes and spaceships got into the sky—but what use was that high-tech rubbish in this era? Plenty of people know the principles; who can actually build one? Forget a finished product—with the materials and industrial level of Westeros, they couldn't even manufacture a single screw for an airplane.
Who would have thought that in the midst of this impasse, a bit of idle chatter would reveal a business opportunity? The backwardness of this world was far beyond his expectations. To make money here, he didn't need the level of knowledge he had previously imagined; technologies and objects that were commonplace or even obsolete in his daily life were revolutionary novelties here!
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