Before his journey to this world, Aegor had followed a simple principle at work: do your job well, but nothing beyond what's required. He avoided taking on tasks outside his responsibilities or allowing anything to cut into his personal time, including overtime. The reason was straightforward—his financial security, broad horizons, and wide social circle gave him access to opportunities far beyond the office.
For him, work was simply a way to avoid idleness and a sedentary life. His earnings from gaming and stock trading dwarfed his salary, so why bother with office politics or pretending to be a diligent worker just to win a boss's favor?
But now, things were different. The Night's Watch didn't pay him, but they held power over his life and death. If he displeased them, they could easily recall him to the Wall, assign him to patrols beyond the Wall, or even brand him a deserter. Survival would be the least of his concerns in such scenarios, he'd be lucky to escape with his skin intact.
Under the weight of this invisible but ever-present threat, Aegor decided to begin working immediately, despite his physical and mental exhaustion.
Tyrion had announced his intent to rest, and Aegor resolved to take advantage of the time. Tyrion might be a noble and a benefactor, but there was something Aegor needed something Tyrion couldn't provide. That meant visiting the only northerner in the royal court: Eddard Stark.
---
"Knock, knock." Aegor rapped on the door to the next room.
Yoren opened it, wearing only shorts after taking advantage of the inn's bathhouse to wash off the sweat and grime of their journey. The heat of King's Landing had left him flushed. "What is it?"
"I'm heading to see the Hand of the King. Do you want to come with me?"
"Now? You don't want to rest first?"
Yoren had traveled south with funds meant for the Night's Watch, but all their food and lodging expenses had been covered by Tyrion Lannister along the way. His purse was still untouched, and he wasn't in any rush to leave King's Landing.
"A Stark is the Hand of the King. There won't be a better opportunity for the Night's Watch to get things done," Aegor said firmly. "I have too much work ahead of me to waste time. If you don't want to join me, I'll wait a few days before going alone. Lord Eddard values the Watch, but it's best not to trouble him unnecessarily."
Yoren sighed and scratched his beard. "Fine, fine. Give me a moment to get dressed."
---
The temperature difference between King's Landing and the Wall was staggering, nearly sixty degrees. The Wall was a place of frostbite and biting winds; here, the heat was oppressive, clinging to their skin like a second layer. For Yoren, "getting dressed" meant little more than throwing on a coarse black coat and pulling on a pair of outer pants, yet even this was enough to make both men sweat as they left the inn.
They retrieved their still-saddled horses from the stable and set off toward the Red Keep.
The route was simple enough to follow without needing directions. Aegon's High Hill, where the royal fortress stood, dominated the southeastern corner of King's Landing. The hill's height dwarfed the surrounding terrain, including Visenya's Hill and Rhaenys' Hill. From almost anywhere in the city, the Red Keep's towering walls and spires could be seen rising above the landscape, like the seat of a god surveying its domain.
Aegor couldn't help but admire Aegon the Conqueror's choice of location. The Red Keep truly looked like the residence of a ruler.
After riding for a while, Aegor slowed his pace.
"What's wrong?" Yoren asked.
"We should tidy up before meeting the Hand," Aegor said, glancing at Yoren's appearance.
Yoren shook his head, his tone that of a veteran schooling a junior. "Believe me, lad, the Hand of the King won't give us more men or supplies just because we've cleaned ourselves up."
Eddard Stark might not care about the appearance of the Night's Watchmen requesting his help, but the people and nobles of King's Landing certainly would. Aegor wasn't particularly concerned with his task of "improving the image of the Night's Watch," but even so, the idea of appearing in public with a scruffy and disheveled companion was something he couldn't stomach.
Aegor understood how critical first impressions could be, and the lasting impact they might have on improving the overall image of the Night's Watch. But trying to explain such concepts to someone as rough and pragmatic as Yoren would be an exercise in futility. Instead, he chose a more direct and effective approach.
"You've got that huge beard and are wearing a greasy coat. Don't you feel hot?"
"Well… I've been living like this for years. I'm used to it," Yoren replied gruffly.
"Don't worry about it—I'll cover the costs."
---
The bag Robb had given Aegor contained a gold dragon and ninety silver stags. In practical terms, the value of a silver stag was roughly equivalent to the red 100-yuan note from his previous world, and one gold dragon could be exchanged for 210 silver stags.
This meant Aegor now had the equivalent of over 3000 dollars, a significant fortune in a world of low productivity. Of course, he couldn't spend recklessly, but if used wisely, it would be enough to sustain him for well over ten months.
Still, as a Night's Watchman with no steady income, Aegor wasn't about to waste money in the wealthy district of King's Landing. Instead, he deliberately ventured into a more modest part of the city to find the shops he needed.
Their first stop was a barbershop. Aegor instructed the barber to cut both his and Yoren's hair short, shave their beards, and wash their hair, leaving them looking refreshed and presentable.
The transformation cost him a silver stag, with a few copper pennies given as change. Afterward, Aegor led Yoren to a nearby clothing shop.
"Two light and breathable black robes," Aegor said to the shopkeeper. "Pure black is preferred, but if you don't have that, make sure there are no bright patterns or decorations."
"Pure black?" The shopkeeper's face took on a solemn expression. "I'm sorry, has someone in your family passed away?"
"No one's died. We're Night's Watchmen," Aegor replied curtly.
"Night's Watch?" The shopkeeper's eyes widened slightly. "Ah, no offense meant, it's just my first time serving a customer from the Wall. It's a bit unusual." Realizing that his reaction might lose him business, the man quickly plastered on a polite smile. "Please wait a moment. I'll see what I can find."
Aegor remained patient.
In Westerosi custom, pure black clothing was typically reserved for mourning. It was rare for a general clothing store to carry black garments, and Aegor couldn't fault the shopkeeper for the delay. He also couldn't help but feel the weight of his uniform. One of his long-term goals was to leave the Night's Watch, and no one in this world hated wearing black as much as he did. But for now, he had no choice.
He was about to meet Eddard Stark, a man known for his stern northern values. The best way to handle someone like him was to project the image of a loyal and dedicated Night's Watchman.
After an extended search, the shopkeeper finally produced two nearly pure black robes from a dusty corner of his inventory. At Aegor's request, the man sewed over some visible white stripes to make the robes completely black. Each robe cost two silver stags. Additionally, Aegor ordered several more plain black garments for future use.
At Castle Black, he had been forced to wear the same clothes for months on end due to the limited conditions. But now that he was in King's Landing, he refused to endure such discomfort again.
With their new clothes on, Aegor and Yoren mounted their horses once more. As they rode through the streets, Aegor couldn't help but glance at Yoren, who now looked clean and almost unrecognizable.
"Improving the image of the Night's Watch," Aegor muttered to himself with a wry smile. The task he had mentally dismissed as meaningless had somehow become the first thing he had acted on.
---
When they reached the entrance of the Red Keep, Aegor and Yoren explained their purpose to the gold-cloaked guards at the gate. After a brief wait for confirmation, they were permitted to enter and were guided toward the Tower of the Hand.
Closer to the tower, they encountered guards from Winterfell, familiar faces who recognized the black cloaks of the Night's Watch. Respectful of their purpose, the northern guards offered no resistance and quickly granted them entry.
Moments later, Aegor and Yoren stood before Eddard Stark, the new Hand of the King. It had been two months since they had last met at Winterfell.
***
Check the Reading List on my profile for other books i'm working on.
For every 100 PS = 1 extra chapter. Support me on patreon to read 20+ advanced chapters: patreon.com/Blownleaves.