Suleiman is sitting alone in the tent.
Harrenhal There was the noise of soldiers getting ready, metal clashing, officers scolding, and war horses neighing.
The army is about to break camp and march to Seaguard, preparing to cross Ironman's Bay and burn the war to Pyke.
He picked up the wine glass on the table, and the cold liquid slid down his throat.
Robert. Baratheon, this name was swirling in his mind.
If everything this man does is not to fill his desires.
He may get the evaluation of a British master.
Suleiman leaned on the back of the chair and tapped his fingers lightly on the table.
Harrenhal's Tourney, is this grand carnival really for his enjoyment?
He tends to be.
But maybe not.
Perhaps that fat stag is far more awake than the world thinks.
He summoned all the important nobles of Seven Kingdoms and asked them to gather together for a military parade that cost a lot of food and money.
Unlike practical warfare, the purpose of military parades is display.
This intuitive show of force is an effective necessity to maintain rule.
No, this is not showing off, but showing authority.
The authority of the king.
He showed everyone, especially those with ulterior motives, his power to make Seven Kingdoms vassals gather in response with just one order.
Today, Stark of the North, Lannister of the Westerlands, Arryn of Vale Tyrell of the Reach, Baratheon of Stormlands, Martell of Dorne.
Representatives sent by all the great nobles were in the army.
This army is the epitome of the power of the entire Westeros Continent.
It is just a matter of time to cross Narrow Sea and level Ironborn.
This move will completely stabilize the throne of Robert. Baratheon, making it impossible for his power to be shaken.
What a pity.
Suleiman put down the wine glass and made a soft sound.
It's a pity that he took everything into account, but he didn't take into account the person beside him.
He didn't count his children, not a drop of Baratheon's blood.
The foundation of the entire Baratheon Dynasty and Seven Kingdoms's wars in the coming decades all stem from Cersei. Lannister and her Li Sheng brothers cannot control their lower bodies.
As long as Cersei. Lannister gives birth to a black-haired boy for Robert. Baratheon, a child who inherits the appearance of House Baratheon, no one will question his lineage in the future.
His empire should be as stable as a mountain.
The curtain of the tent was opened by one hand.
Rosso Brune walked in, with no extraneous expression on his ordinary face.
"My lord, your order."
His voice was low and steady, like a stone that would not be moved by the wind.
"I have brought Rosso. Frey."
Following his words, a figure followed behind him, crossing the threshold with some difficulty.
Rosso. Frey walked in. His naturally disabled legs made his walking posture a bit funny.
His face was filled with a flattering smile, and his narrowly spaced eyes shone with shrewd light.
"Suleiman-sama."
He bowed slightly and kept his posture very low.
"It is my honor to be summoned by you."
Suleiman raised his hand to signal him to sit down.
His voice was very calm, with no hint of emotion or anger. "Your Excellency Rosso."
"You mentioned the engagement."
"I can agree."
Rosso. Frey's smile became even brighter, and his fat body settled down on the chair.
"Yes, Master Suleiman, House Frey has long had this wish."
"The family has many fathers and sons, and the blood of the Frey family is spread throughout the Twins, as abundant as the river Trident."
Suleiman looked at him directly and nodded. "Very good."
"I need a wife, and I am willing to marry a young lady from House Frey."
This decision is like a stone thrown into a pond.
Rosso. Frey The smile on his face was replaced by a look that was mixed with ecstasy and calculation.
He tried to hide it, but the light in those small eyes betrayed him.
"This... this is such a great honor!"
"Sir, you are Riverlands's rising star and the adopted son of Governor Lychester. It is my father's dream to marry you."
"It's just...
His words were impeccable and full of compliments.
Suleiman looked at him quietly, this behavior was not quite right.
Sure enough, Rosso. Frey changed the topic.
He worded his words carefully, as if he was testing the ice under his feet. "Of course, sir, you also know that my position of House Frey at Riverlands... is somewhat special."
"The Twins guards the ferry between the North and Riverlands, which is the throat connecting the north and the south."
"My father has four thousand soldiers and horses under his command, and they can be summoned at any time."
He paused for a moment, observing Suleiman's reaction.
"In today's Riverlands, House Lychester's enemies are powerful."
"But... if we can get the unreserved support of House Frey, it will be an overwhelming force that no one can shake."
At this point, his intention has become extremely obvious.
He is waiting for a price.
Walder. Frey believes that a marriage is not enough to exchange for his support for House Lychester in Riverlands.
Suleiman's expression did not change, but the air in the tent seemed to have become colder.
Rosso. Frey didn't notice, or in other words, he thought Suleiman would accept the conditions.
"What my father means is that we are willing to be loyal, but loyalty also needs corresponding rewards to maintain it."
"What's more, House Frey's strength is greater than Riverlands...
What he meant was that the offer was not enough.
Suleiman picked up the wine glass and drank the remaining cold wine in one gulp.
The wine glass was placed heavily on the table, making a dull crashing sound.
He spoke slowly, his voice low and cold. "Go back and tell Walder. Frey."
Rosso. Frey's smile completely froze on his face, cold sweat broke out on his forehead, and he felt the chill coming towards his face.
"I am willing to marry one of his daughters, or his granddaughter, whichever one will do."
"This is my condition, and it is also my last condition."
"If he wants to keep them until they get a good price, then let him wait."
Suleiman stood up.
"Tell him that my offer will not be pending until it expires."
After saying that, he no longer looked at Rosso. Frey, turned around and said to Rosso Brune at the door, "See you off."
Rosso. Frey's face was ashen. He wanted to say something more, but found that he could not say a word under Suleiman's cold gaze.
Why doesn't this adult act according to common sense? Shouldn't you bid to win the support of House Frey?
He felt like a lame rabbit being stared at by a lion, unable to do anything but tremble.
Rosso Brune summoned two guards to come in, held his arms one on the left and one on the right, almost lifted him from the chair, and dragged him out of the tent.
The tent returned to silence for less than a moment.
Lymond. Lychester opened the curtain and walked in.
There was uncontrollable joy on his face, and his steps were a little brisk.
Inside the tent, Suleiman was sitting behind the desk, tapping his knuckles lightly on the table, looking at the dancing candlelight, lost in thought.
The arrival of the old man broke the silence.
"Suleiman, good news!"
Lymond. Lychester's voice was filled with a trembling excitement.
"His Majesty the King's order has come down, we don't have to go to Pyke."
He walked to the table, put his hands on the edge of the table, and leaned forward.
"Robert. Baratheon Let us stay in Riverlands, he said, this place has been ravaged by war, and besides, our contribution is enough."
Suleiman's eyes moved away from the candlelight and fell on Lymond. Lychester's face.
He did not share his adoptive father's joy, and his expression remained calm.
"What's wrong?"
The smile on Lymond. Lychester's face gradually faded, and he noticed Suleiman's strange silence.
"This is a great thing!"
Suleiman has no answer.
He turned to look at the knight standing in the shadow of the tent and said in a calm voice, "Rosso."
Rosso Brune responded and took a step forward.
"Go and call all the freedom knights in the Riverlands army."
"Tell them I have something to say."
Rosso Brune nodded, turned around and walked out of the camp, his burly figure disappearing into the night.
Lymond. Lychester is full of confusion.
"Freedom Riders? What did you do with those mercenaries?"
In his view, freedom knights are tools and consumables, no different from mercenaries.
"They are the best swords."
"The Source of Violence."
Suleiman finally spoke. He stood up, walked to the door of the tent, opened a corner of the curtain, and looked out at the entire Harrenhal camp, which was in commotion about the war.
"Now, I want to engrave our names on these swords."
The night wind brought the noise of the jazzmen.
The torches were lit one by one, dispersing the darkness of the camp and revealing faces that were either confused or expectant.
Not long after, a dark crowd gathered in front of Suleiman's tent.
More than three hundred freedom knights stood there, their cold armor reflecting the bright light in the firelight.
Everyone was well-dressed and had obviously gained a lot from the previous battles.
They are Westeros wanderers, knights without land and lord. They fight for this lord today and sacrifice their lives for another lord tomorrow.
Honor is a luxury for them, Gold Dragon and a full stomach are the reality.
Most people have followed Suleiman and fought more than once, from East Riverlands to West Riverlands.
Suleiman is simply synonymous with victory and miracles in their eyes.
They received from him a greater reward than they could have imagined.
Before following Su Lymond, many of them were so poor that they couldn't even afford a decent suit of armor.
Now, they witnessed with their own eyes how this young man used iron and blood to fight his way out of the quagmire of Riverlands.
There were whispers among the crowd. They didn't know why the newly promoted Riverlands master family summoned them late at night.
Lymond. Lychester stood behind Suleiman, frowning as he looked at the group of masterless hedge knights in front of him.
Suleiman took a few steps forward and stood in front of everyone.
The noise immediately died down.
More than three hundred eyes focused on him, with respect and awe.
"Many of you have fought for me."
Suleiman opened his mouth, his voice was not loud, but it reached everyone's ears clearly.
"You won everything for me with your sword, and I gave you Gold Dragon."
He looked around at everyone, his eyes scanning the weather-beaten faces.
"The war is over."
"The king asked me to stay at Riverlands. Your mission is over."
"You can leave with the bounty and continue looking for the next employer, the next war."
He paused, and there was no emotion in his voice.
"Pyke needs Warrior, you can go there and make a fortune."
In the crowd, many jazz faces showed unconcealable sadness.
They want to follow Master Suleiman. Unfortunately, Master Suleiman's war is over.
If he goes to Pyke, they will follow him without hesitation.
The eyes of many knights dimmed.
This is their fate, endless wandering, rushing from one war to another until they die in an unknown corner.
Suleiman paused for a moment, letting these words ferment in everyone's hearts.
But soon, he spoke again, his voice rising suddenly, like a sword being unsheathed.
"Today, I give you another choice."
"A choice you've never had!"
Everyone held their breath, and their dim eyes were filled with fire again.
"You can stay."
Suleiman dropped a real bomb before he finished speaking.
"I give you land."
The crowd instantly exploded.
"Land?"
"Sir, are you telling the truth?"
"Really?"
The exclamations and unbelievable comments were mixed together, like a pot of boiling water.
land.
For these people who have been wandering all their lives, this word is more magical than piles of Gold Dragon.
It was their home, their foundation, something they never dared to dream of.
But no one questioned it. In their eyes, Suleiman did what he said.
Suleiman raised his hand to indicate silence.
His sharp gaze swept over everyone, and the commotion subsided again.
"This is not a gift.
His voice was as cold as iron.
"This is what you paid for with your lives."
He pointed to a scar-faced knight in the crowd. The scars on the man's face were twitching because of excitement.
"You, under the Raventree Hall, you killed fifteen Ironborn, I remember it very clearly."
He pointed to another tall knight.
"And you, on Seaguard, you held a section of the city wall by yourself until reinforcements boarded the wall."
He named seven or eight people in succession and their military exploits. Each person named suddenly puffed up his chest and his eyes flashed with fanaticism.
"I promised that meritorious deeds will be rewarded."
"Now, I keep my promise."
In the crowd, a voice spoke with a trembling voice, "Sir, you have already paid our bounty."
The speaker was a middle-aged knight who had served under Suleiman for the longest time.
"There are more than one hundred Gold Dragon per person. Your generosity is rare in the entire Westeros."
"How can we take any more rewards?"
Suleiman stretched out his hand to interrupt him.
"That's just part of it."
His voice was decisive.
"On my land, one enemy's head is exchanged for ten acres of land."
This sentence is like a huge stone smashed into a calm lake, causing huge waves.
Ten acres of land.
For these people who have nothing, this is a number that is enough to drive them crazy.
Many people began to quickly count in their minds how many heads they had chopped off on the previous battlefields.
Their breathing becomes heavy and their eyes become red with bloodshot eyes.
"This land will be yours entirely, privately owned, and can be inherited by your sons."
"You will pay me a tenth tax on every acre of land."
"You have no subjects, and you are not allowed to have subjects, but you can hire free farmers to farm for you."
Suleiman looked at their enthusiastic eyes and said word by word.
"You will no longer be wandering hedge knights, you will have a new title."
"I call you Junkers."
Junker? This is an unfamiliar word, and the knights present looked at each other.
"The meaning of this word is Riverlands country noble."
Suleiman explained, his voice full of power.
"It's not because you have a knighthood that I canonize your land."
"It's because you made sacrifices for me and achieved military exploits."
"Your land comes from the sword in your hands!"
He took a step forward with an imposing manner.
"Now, I'll give you a choice."
"One, I plan to give each of you another severance package, and take the money to go to Pyke, or wherever you want to go."
"Two, stay and become a Riverlands country noble. Use your sword to fight for a future with land and dignity for yourself and your children!"
This time, there was no discussion or hesitation.
There is a crazy fire burning in people's eyes.
A knight suddenly knelt down on one knee and stuck the long sword in his hand into the soil in front of him.
"Ready to serve you!"
His roar was hoarse and fervent.
"My master!"
As if as a signal, more than three hundred freedom knights knelt down on one knee, and the sound of the collision of armor leaves merged into a symphony of steel.
"Junker! I want to be a Junker!"
"My sword belongs to you, my lord!"
"Riverlands country nobles are at your service!"
Fanatic shouts soared into the sky, causing the tent to tremble slightly.