In Rushmarsh, the room of Hubbard, the chief financial officer, was brightly lit, mirroring the turmoil in his heart.
His corpulent body sank into a soft armchair, while his hands rubbed over a freshly signed parchment contract.
The edges of the paper had curled slightly from sweat.
His eldest son, Rorl Buck, a frail young man with a trace of melancholy between his brows, stood respectfully at his side.
Rorl Buck spoke in a low voice. "Father, he signed it."
Hubbard did not look up. He merely tapped the contract with his stubby fingers, producing a dull thud. "Yes, he signed it."
There was barely contained triumph in his voice.
"Fairmarket's largest saltworks now belongs to the Warden of the Trident."
Rorl Buck looked at his father. His lips moved, but in the end, he could not hold himself back. "Father, the price we offered... fifty Gold Dragons."
"I remember that in your previous report to the Warden, you said that saltworks was worth ninety Gold Dragons."
"Isn't this going too far?"
Hubbard finally raised his head. Mockery glittered in the eyes squeezed nearly shut by fat. "Too far?"
"Rorl, what do you think is too far?"
"At least he got the money, didn't he?"
"He can take those fifty Gold Dragons to King's Landing, Oldtown, or Pentos and start over."
"The remaining forty Gold Dragons are my reward!"
Rorl Buck's brow furrowed even more deeply. "No, Father, what I mean is..."
"By doing this, we betray Lord Suleiman's trust."
"We rose from a merchant family to become the Warden's chief financial officer. What an honor that is."
"How can we use such means to swindle the Warden out of his Gold Dragons..."
Hubbard abruptly slammed the contract onto the table. His massive body heaved violently with rage. "Idiot!"
"Why