Chapter 464

Those familiar with cryptocurrency have surely heard this story: a programmer once used 10,000 bitcoins to buy two pizzas—an amount he devoured in one sitting. At the time, those "worthless" digital tokens could barely buy food, yet each would later peak at $20,000.

You’re probably thinking: if only he hadn’t eaten those pizzas, wouldn’t he have become a billionaire just by holding on?

From a simple math perspective (10,000 x 20,000 = 200 million), this reasoning makes sense. But if you follow this "what if" logic to its extreme conclusion...

If Bitcoin’s creator, Satoshi Nakamoto, had never released the protocol and instead mined quietly until amassing a significant stash, could he have vaulted himself into the ranks of the world’s wealthiest with his billions?

The answer, of course, is no.

Bitcoin held solely by Satoshi would have been utterly worthless—not even worth a single pizza. Only by sharing the concept, the technology, and the rules with enough "smart people"—and by further enticing the general public to join in the game—could this new invention gain traction. As people played the roles of both investors and speculators, the perceived value of Bitcoin began to rise. Some profited, others hoped to profit, and together they promoted and popularized the technology. The more people involved, the higher its value climbed.

In this sense, the "Lightbringer" arrows were strikingly similar to Bitcoin. With the Night’s Watch’s great victory against the White Walkers, the mythology Aegor had painstakingly crafted for the seventy-seven legendary arrows would spread alongside the news of their triumph, reaching every corner of Westeros and beyond.

But no story, no matter how compelling, can sustain itself without participants to carry it forward. Left unattended, the narrative would cool, fading into obscurity. The epic battle between the living and the dead could very well become just another "alleged war in the distant North, of questionable authenticity," while the Lightbringer arrows might be dismissed as "magical weapons supposedly used by the Black Brothers to kill White Walkers in some dubious tale."

Could Aegor tolerate such an outcome?

Absolutely not.

He had melted down Dark Sister, the ancestral Valyrian steel sword of Queen Visenya Targaryen—a priceless artifact worth tens of thousands of gold dragons—just to forge a few dozen arrowheads. There was no way he would allow such a treasure trove of symbolic value to gather dust after serving its morale-boosting and battle-winning purposes. He had already invested substantial resources into establishing their reputation and mystique. Now, it was time to cash in on their final burst of influence.
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If someone thought Aegor’s plan to "monetize" meant simply selling counterfeit Lightbringer arrows for cash, they were underestimating him.

What he sought to "cash in" wasn’t currency, but real-world influence.

Sure, each of the seventy-seven Lightbringers was individually numbered and steeped in its own unique story. Limited-edition items of legendary status, forged from precious Valyrian steel and imbued with the aura of killing White Walkers, could easily spark a collector’s frenzy among the wealthy. A single arrow, costing mere dozens of dragons to produce, could sell for hundreds or even thousands. With seventy-seven arrows, the total revenue could amount to tens of thousands of gold dragons—a significant sum that would undoubtedly replenish the Night’s Watch’s finances.

But for a military organization already armed and poised to vie for the throne, finances were not the primary concern.

Food? The Watch had already secured enough provisions from Braavosi loans to last the Gift an entire year, even before accounting for the losses of war. Weapons and equipment? Hearthguard’s metallurgy system ensured self-sufficiency; while not the best-armed in the Seven Kingdoms, the Watch’s forces were hardly lacking. Miscellaneous expenses? Aegor could simply ask Daenerys. After all, the cost of conquering Westeros should rightfully fall to the one destined to rule it.

No, what Aegor needed now was soft power. He needed justification to declare war on the Seven Kingdoms, tools to silence dissent within the Gift, and ways to improve the South’s acceptance of both his leadership and Daenerys’s claim to the throne. Most importantly, he needed a favorable post-war narrative to prevent rebellions from erupting across the land.

The Night’s Watch’s victory over the White Walkers had already captured the North’s imagination, facilitating the collection of saltpeter and other resources. But to the rest of Westeros—the six southern kingdoms—the heroism of the Watch held far less sway. To bridge this gap, Aegor devised a plan: the seventy-seven Lightbringer arrows would serve as "silent emissaries," spreading the glory of the Night’s Watch and their triumph over the undead. Like seeds scattered across Westeros, these arrows would root themselves in the hearts of men, amplifying the Watch’s reputation and transforming it into political leverage—leverage that could secure Daenerys’s claim to the Iron Throne.

How significant was this soft power? How much could goodwill and influence truly help in conquering the Seven Kingdoms? No one could say for certain. But considering the Iron Throne’s inherent ability to turn influence into power, and power into wealth, Aegor was confident that this investment would yield returns beyond measure.

The simplest and most effective way to spread the seventy-seven Lightbringers across Westeros?

Give them away.

To people from all corners of the world.
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After finalizing the plan with Tobho Mott to forge forty additional Lightbringers, Aegor dismissed the master smith and called for his trusted lieutenant, Humphrey Hill. “Here’s a list,” Aegor said, handing over a parchment. “Distribute and package the Lightbringers according to these names and quantities.”

Humphrey scanned the list, noting the variety of recipients:Tobho Mott, rewarded with fifteen arrows (though one extra puzzled Humphrey—Aegor’s generosity, perhaps?).Heroes and martyrs from the battle against the White Walkers, each receiving an arrow to honor their bravery.Northern houses like the Starks, who had arrived in time to block the undead at Long Lake, easing tensions between the Gift and the North.Followers of Melisandre who had come to the Wall, including Beric Dondarrion.The Iron Bank, the Night’s Watch’s largest creditor.And, unexpectedly, the Royces of the Vale—former adversaries of Aegor.

When Humphrey saw the final entry, however, he froze.

“Tywin Lannister?” he muttered aloud. “You’re sending an arrow to him?”

Aegor’s expression remained calm as he explained. “The arrow is not a mere gift, Humphrey. It’s a message. Officially, the Night’s Watch will declare that I used Lightbringer No. 77 to kill the Night King during the Battle of Hearthguard. This will be the story we spread, and this arrow will serve as proof.”

Humphrey’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You’re giving away that arrow? To a man who didn’t even fight in the war?”

Aegor chuckled. “Humphrey, Tywin Lannister isn’t just any man. He’s a pragmatist who values legacy above all else. This arrow, with its legend, its prestige—it’s more than a gift. It’s a bridge. And bridges are worth far more than arrows.”

Despite lingering doubts, Humphrey bowed and left to carry out his orders, leaving Aegor alone in the hall. For a moment, the Lord Commander’s smile faded, replaced by cold calculation.

“Tywin won’t resist forever,” Aegor murmured to himself. “And if he does... well, even legends can break.”