The sun was higher now in the hazy King's Landing sky, but the commotion on the banks of the Blackwater Rush had not subsided. On the contrary. News of the "mechanical miracle" had spread like wildfire among the washerwomen's guilds. Women from other sections of the river had drawn closer, observing with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension "The Churner" as it continued its tireless work under the steady pedaling of a Gnat. Clean, nearly dry laundry accumulated on hastily strung ropes, tangible proof of the machine's efficiency.
Tony had left the machine operating under the supervision of Kael and Flick, creating a continuous demonstration. He had invited Maude and four other influential women from her group – those who set prices, distributed work, and negotiated with clients – to a more formal meeting. The chosen location was the back room of Milon's tavern, "The Laughing Minnow." The place reeked of spilled ale and fried fish, but it offered a semblance of privacy and, more importantly, Milon, now one of Tony's forced "investors," had made the room available with obsequious eagerness.
Around a round, sticky table, the atmosphere was tense. On one side, Tony, flanked by Lira, whose silent presence was enough to quell any aggressive inclinations, and Elara, now Tony's apprentice handling the economic side of their activities. On the other, Maude and her companions, their weathered faces marked by decades of labor, their eyes scrutinizing Tony with a mixture of hope and deep suspicion. They had seen the machine work, they had touched the clean laundry, but they remained women of Flea Bottom, accustomed to broken promises and exploiters.
"So, boy," Maude began, her rough voice breaking the silence. "Your machine... it works. We've seen it. Washes faster, that's for sure. But everything has a price. And we don't have much besides our arms and our time. What do you want?"
Tony got straight to the point. He knew he wasn't dealing with noble ladies who could be swayed by fine words, but with pragmatic, hardened businesswomen.
"I don't want to buy your time or your arms," he said calmly. "I want to help you use them more effectively. So you earn more, by working less hard. I'm not selling the machine. I'm leasing it."
He signaled to Elara. "My calculator here has made some estimates. Your group, with five women, washes on average, let's say, sixty sheets a day, weather permitting. Is that correct?"
Maude nodded warily.
"With one Churner, the same team of five – one pedaling, two loading/unloading, two on the wringer and hanging – can process at least three hundred sheets in the same amount of time. Maybe more. Five times the work done."
The women exchanged glances. Five times more... that potentially meant five times more income. Interest gleamed in their eyes, but suspicion remained.
"And how much does your magic lease cost?" asked another, younger woman named Lyra (not to be confused with Tony's Lira). "Because if it's going to take everything extra we earn..."
"Ten silver stags per month," Tony announced.
A gasp of shock went through the group of washerwomen. Ten silver stags! It was a huge sum for them, equivalent to what they might earn in two or three weeks of back-breaking work.
"Ten stags?!" Maude exclaimed. "Are you mocking us, boy? We've never seen that much money together! Do you want our skins?"
"No," Tony retorted patiently. "I want you to make a profit. Think about it. If you do five times the work, you'll earn five times the money. Let's say you currently earn fifteen stags a month. With the machine, you'll earn seventy-five. Even after paying me my ten stags, you'll still have sixty-five left. That's more than four times what you earn now. And you'll go home less exhausted, with your hands less damaged."
He let the argument sink in. The numbers were relentless. The women began whispering among themselves, calculating mentally, weighing the risk and the reward.
"Ten stags is still a lot to start," Maude resumed, adopting a more negotiating tone. "And what if the machine breaks down? Who pays for repairs? If it quits on us mid-day, we lose everything!"
"That's where the second part of my offer comes in," Tony said. "The lease price includes maintenance and repairs. My machine is designed to be sturdy. But if a part breaks, if a mechanism jams, my team will come and fix it. For free. You take no technical risk. I guarantee you a working machine."
It was a powerful argument. It removed the burden of maintenance, the fear of the technological unknown.
"And... and how do we use it?" asked Lyra, more timidly. "It looks complicated. Especially that wringer thing..."
"The lease also includes training," Tony assured them. "Kael, my best technician, will spend the first few days with you. He'll show you how to load the drum optimally, how to pedal without tiring yourselves out, how to use the wringer safely and without damaging the laundry. In two days, you'll be experts."
The objections were falling away one by one. Tony's plan was solid, well-thought-out. He had anticipated their fears.
Maude played her last card. "Alright, boy. Your offer is... interesting. But ten stags is still ten stags. We could try... say, eight stags for the first three months? Time enough for us to see if it really brings in as much as you say? And if it works, we'll pay the ten stags after."
Tony thought for a second. Eight stags... It was less than planned, but still profitable. And above all, he needed this first contract. He needed to prove his model worked.
"Agreed," he said. "Eight stags per month for the first three months. Payment at the end of each month. If, after three months, you're not satisfied, you give me back the machine, and we forget the whole thing. But if you continue, the price will go up to ten stags. Deal?"
He extended his hand across the table. Maude looked at him, then at her companions, who nodded. She took a deep breath and shook the boy's hand. His palm was small, but his grip was firm.
"Deal, boy. But don't disappoint us."
"I don't intend to," Tony replied. He turned to Elara. "Note the terms of the agreement. First delivery and installation: tomorrow morning. Training: the following two days. First payment: in one month."
Elara quickly scribbled on her slate with her charcoal.
The meeting was over. The washerwomen stood up, their faces expressing a mixture of nervous excitement and apprehension. They had just wagered their future on a strange machine and an even stranger boy.
As they were leaving, Maude stopped at the threshold and turned back to Tony.
"One last thing, boy. If this machine is as good as you say, everyone's going to want one. Will we get... some kind of priority? So the other groups don't give us too much competition right away?"
Tony smiled. She already had the mind of an entrepreneur looking to protect her competitive advantage.
"You are the pioneers, Maude. The first to believe in the future. You will always have a special place. I guarantee that for the first three months, no other Churner will be installed on *your* section of the river. After that... may the best crew win."
Maude nodded, satisfied. That was fair. She left the tavern, leaving Tony, Lira, and Elara alone in the back room.
"Eight stags..." Lira murmured, sitting down. "You gave in easily."
"It's an investment," Tony replied. "The most important thing isn't the price of the first contract, but the proof that it works. When the other groups see Maude and her women counting their silver at the end of the day without broken backs, they'll beg for a Churner. And they'll pay ten stags. Or maybe twelve."
He looked at Elara. "Calculate how many machines we can build with the money we have, factoring in materials and labor."
While Elara immersed herself in her calculations, Tony allowed himself a moment to savor his victory. It was only a small step. But it was the first concrete step toward transforming Flea Bottom. He hadn't just leased a machine. He had sold an idea.