Chapter 67: Chaos is a Ladder
Egger and Tyrion discussed the finer points of establishing their printing industrial chain as they walked back to the inn together. Upon entering, the proprietor informed Egger that a young man had come looking for money that afternoon.
"It's likely the son of that quarry foreman you introduced me to," Egger said after a moment's thought. Since he hadn't officially borrowed any funds yet, this was the only person who would be coming to collect. "The dragonstone mining must be ready to start, and they need the capital. I've had so much on my plate, I nearly forgot about that lot."
"Have Jakken deliver a sum tomorrow," Tyrion said without hesitation. Then he sighed. "Hah... it's the first time I've realized that money, it seems, is in short supply."
"The signage won't arrive for another two days, but we can pick up the seals tomorrow," Egger noted. "We need to secure that first loan as soon as possible."
"No choice then. Fleecing my own kin... hmm, let me think which one to start with."
The two conversed as they headed upstairs. After a long day of work and a shared dinner, they retreated to their respective rooms to rest.
Tyrion might have truly been resting, but Egger didn't have that luxury. To the Imp, all of this might just be an entertaining game; if the wealth of the previous generation is the capital for the next to trial and error, then as a Lannister, he was one of the people most entitled to take risks in this world.
But Egger could not. His parents weren't even in this world. This scam was his lifeline for survival... he had to give it his all. Anyone who could potentially jeopardize his interests was an enemy.
Pacing his room, he racked his brain for a way to stop Littlefinger from gaining Eddard Stark's trust.
Hour after hour passed. One plan after another was discarded. Simple provocation was easy enough, but his opponent this time was a top-tier player of the Game of Thrones. He either had to kill the man outright or ensure the man never realized Egger was working against him—otherwise, a single slip could result in his death.
The most direct and violent method would be to inform Eddard Stark of the fact that Littlefinger had murdered Jon Arryn. However, this was different from his previous move of framing Joffrey. Petyr inciting Lysa Tully to poison her husband, Lord Arryn, had happened while Egger was at the Wall, and the truth was known only to the conspirators. He couldn't have overheard it from anywhere... moreover, he couldn't play the informant card over and over. What would Ned think of a Night's Watchman who neglected his duties to keep his ears pressed against doors for top-secret intelligence?
He wanted to play the role of an upright, loyal soldier of the Watch, not a second Spider.
Perhaps he should use the plan he had ultimately abandoned back at Winterfell: an anonymous tip?
But how would an anonymous letter reach Ned's hands? In this city of eyes and ears, a single oversight could be fatal. Littlefinger might lack true friends, but he had gold and connections... while Egger, for now, had nothing. If exposed, a cup of poison, a dagger, or a stray arrow could erase his existence entirely.
Sending a message through Arya was also unsafe. A ten-year-old girl with no guile might not intentionally betray her Master, but a single slip of the tongue in front of her father could expose him.
Outside, the city had grown quiet. There was no curfew in King's Landing, but in this era, unless there was a major festival, there was no such thing as a night market. Egger let out a long sigh, blew out his candle, and lay in bed, hoping that—just like back in Winterfell—a solution would strike him the moment he woke.
Perhaps because he was so focused on Littlefinger, the man's motto drifted through his mind as he closed his eyes.
Chaos is a ladder.
...
Chaos is a ladder. There was actually some truth to that phrase. In a world like A Song of Ice and Fire, where social classes were frozen solid, the best way for those at the bottom to rise was to manufacture chaos. Chaos damages the interests of those at the top, and when someone loses, someone else must gain.
The problem was that in the midst of chaos, the beneficiaries are usually random or unexpected. Littlefinger's talent lay in his ability to use a small force to pivot a large weight, precisely positioning himself where the Great Lords were bleeding so he could catch the spill and become the primary beneficiary. In this regard, he was miles ahead of fellow players like Varys, who preferred long-term layouts. Using a stock market analogy: Varys and Littlefinger might buy the same upward-trending stock, but while the former profits by holding long-term, the latter uses micro-management to buy low and sell high, making his gains far exceed the stock's overall growth.
This talent was something Egger found breathtaking; he admired it from the bottom of his heart.
But Petyr was not without flaws. In the original plot, he demonstrated the absolute limit of what a pure realist could achieve, manipulating almost everyone through court politics. However, beyond pursuing his own power and ambition, he showed no political ideals. That might be fine in the early stages, but even as the game neared its end, he never invented a philosophy to attract followers or solidify his hold over the forces he controlled.
Littlefinger was formidable—a player with strategy and no moral compass is indeed more likely to rise as a victor in troubled times. But that was all. He was the ultimate destroyer, but he could never be the final winner. His best end would be helping one side rise to unify the realm and then sharing in the spoils, but he insisted on aiming for the throne himself. This impossible goal eventually cost him his life. Littlefinger's entire power base was himself alone. Anyone could kill him—even at the peak of his life—and no one would shed a tear for him, let alone seek revenge.
If Egger just wanted to see his downfall, he only had to wait quietly; Littlefinger would eventually play himself to death. Even without Arya, there would be another to take him out in the end. The trouble was: Egger wanted to defeat Littlefinger now, on the man's own favorite battlefield. That was difficult.
...
Chaos is a ladder.
Chaos is a ladder.
Littlefinger wants to manufacture chaos, so I must maintain stability. Egger repeated his imaginary opponent's motto in his head, preparing to drift off to sleep.
But a voice suddenly bubbled up from his subconscious: Why? Why must guarding the peace mean creating stability? What if I did the opposite? What if we manufacture chaos together—ramp up the chaos in King's Landing until it exceeds the limit of anyone's control? What would happen if we fought fire with fire? His greatest advantage was knowing the inside story; only a fool would abandon that to try and out-maneuver Littlefinger at his own game. Since the enemy wants to muddy the waters, why not step in and stir them until no one can see a thing? Let's see you profit then!
Egger was shocked by this bold thought. For a moment, he even wondered if a Greenseer or some god had planted it in his mind. But after careful scrutiny, he realized this move was viable! No matter how fierce the Game of Thrones became, no matter how strong the undercurrents, as long as the court intrigue didn't escalate into war—leaving the market and the people's livelihoods unaffected—his scam could continue!
Stir this pot of murky water until it boils. Make the situation so complex and chaotic that no player of the game can profit from it. By then, staying out of it and honestly, dutifully playing the game of money, he and Tyrion could become the biggest winners!
Many things can cause chaos, but what has the lowest cost?
Rumors.
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