Chapter 48

"That's right. If my shop faces new issues, I'll come back for another loan. As long as the gold I earn eventually ends up back in the Iron Bank, this cycle can go on indefinitely," Aegor said with a sly grin. "With just ten thousand gold dragons, you can accomplish what would normally require twenty thousand, thirty thousand, or even forty thousand dragons. There's only one thing that can break this cycle—if too much money is lost in circulation or leaves Braavos and doesn't flow back. Now do you understand why the Iron Bank is so relentless about pressing Robert Baratheon to repay his loans?"

"Because the money Robert spends never makes its way back to the Iron Bank—it’s hoarded by the people of Westeros!" Tyrion nearly slapped his thigh in realization, finally grasping a concept that resonated with him. "This is what you call... what was it? A ‘broken supply chain’?"

"Precisely." Aegor nodded, impressed at Tyrion’s quick understanding. "The Iron Bank has loaned out more money than exists in all of Braavos, let alone its vaults. Repaying the principal isn’t even a consideration—it’s simply impossible. Now, would you call the Iron Bank a fraud?"

Tyrion’s eyes widened as he considered the implications. For once, the sharp-witted dwarf found himself at a loss, but he wasn't ready to concede entirely. "But you’re just a common man, Aegor. You’re not a noble, nor a wealthy merchant."

"I’m the Night’s Watch’s procurement officer, recruiter for the Crownlands, dragonglass mining overseer, and goodwill ambassador," Aegor listed with a smirk. "I even have a commission letter—one you helped secure for me. And now, with a letter of endorsement from the Hand of the King himself, Mormont won’t have any choice but to acknowledge what I do in the Watch’s name. So tell me, what exactly is a scam? If I borrowed money and fled to Essos with it, that’d be a scam. If I botched everything and failed to repay, that might also be called a scam. But if I take loans, use them for the Night’s Watch, and ensure everyone gets their money back with interest, how is that a scam?"

"It still sounds like one—a clever scam at best."

"Sigh… think about it. If a Westerosi merchant wanted to open a shop, they’d need twenty thousand gold dragons of their own to even start. But without the shop, they’ll never earn that much money, and without that money, they can’t open the shop. It’s a vicious cycle—one of the main reasons Westeros has stagnated for thousands of years," Aegor explained. "If that’s a scam, then the entire society of my homeland—the place I call Qina—is built on such scams. And yet, despite that, Qina has achieved political, economic, cultural, and technological advancements far beyond Westeros. What do you make of that?"

"This—"

"Not only that," Aegor interrupted, "Qina has taken the game of money to a level far beyond Braavos. The Iron Bank lends out real gold, which limits how much it can circulate—at best, it creates two or three times the value of what’s in its vaults. But in Qina, our banks don’t even use gold. They issue paper notes, called ‘banknotes.’ These notes state that the bearer has a claim to a sum of gold in the bank’s vault, but the genius is this: the notes themselves are treated as money. And so, with one real coin in their vault, Qina’s banks can circulate ten, even twenty times its value in banknotes, investing in infrastructure, building armies, and fueling the economy. The result? A level of efficiency Braavos can’t even dream of. If it weren’t for the vast Sunset Sea separating us, Qina could conquer Westeros, Essos, and even Sothoryos with ease."

"Paper as money?" Tyrion frowned in disbelief. "If everyone holding these notes went to the bank to exchange them for gold, wouldn’t the whole system collapse?"

"That’s the brilliance of it—no one does. In Qina, people treat paper money as equal to gold. That trust keeps the system stable," Aegor said, pausing to carefully choose his words. "It’s a strange phenomenon: the ‘chickens’ we invent may be fake, but the ‘eggs’ they lay are very real. By creating and circulating nonexistent money, we boost productivity, build homes and armies, grow food, and make goods. In the end, the total wealth of Qina far exceeds the value of all the gold and silver in its vaults. At that point, coins become irrelevant, and paper money becomes the true currency."

"The chickens are fake, but the eggs are real…" Tyrion murmured, the concept turning over in his mind. Over the past two months, Aegor had filled the dwarf’s head with tales of Qina—a land so advanced and prosperous it made even Braavos look small. Though skeptical at first, Tyrion had come to accept these stories as truth. Now, he found himself captivated by Aegor’s vision.
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"The fake chickens are a long way off for Westeros," Aegor said, breaking Tyrion’s trance. "Right now, I’m just talking about borrowing chickens to lay eggs. If even Braavos’ system, which you called a ‘scam,’ can be a force for progress, then why not this? If I borrow money for the Watch, spend it wisely, and repay it in full, where’s the harm?"

"Give me some time to think," Tyrion said, his tone cautious but intrigued.

"Take your time; there’s no rush." Aegor smiled as he stood. "I’ve got other matters to attend to today, but think on this, Tyrion: you’ve saved my life, and I swear by every god old and new, I won’t betray that trust. But tell me—have you ever thought about how you, a dwarf, can contribute to House Lannister? How you might finally earn Tywin’s respect?"

The words hit a nerve. If spoken by anyone else, they might have been dismissed as an insult. But Tyrion recognized the sincerity behind Aegor’s probing. The dwarf hesitated, then said, "And your suggestion?"

"Open Westeros’ first bank," Aegor said simply. "I can’t do it myself, but the wealth and reputation of House Lannister make you the ideal candidate. If you decide it’s worth pursuing, I’ll help you every step of the way. And if you decide against it, then lend me a hundred or so gold dragons as a gesture of goodwill, and I’ll handle everything else. What do you say?"

"Let me think it over," Tyrion replied, his voice heavy with thought.

"Fair enough. For now, I’m off to the Red Keep," Aegor said, heading toward the door. He stopped suddenly and turned back. "Oh, I almost forgot. This game of money we’ve been discussing—it has a name where I’m from. In Qina, we call it… finance."

With that, he left Tyrion to his thoughts.