As night falls, Flea Bottom lights up.
Different from the majestic and gorgeous decoration of the Red Castle, the light in Flea Bottom is bright, even, and orderly, as if someone has measured every inch of the ground with a ruler and calculated every shadow.
In the square in front of House of Order, fifty new glass oil lamps are hung on iron lamp stands. The lampshades are polished and translucent. The firelight burns stably behind the glass and is not disturbed by the night wind.
This is the result of half a month of testing by Corleone craftsmen. It is brighter and more economical than candles, and most importantly, it will not go out easily.
Jaime Lannister stood on the edge of the square, watching this scene, and said nothing for a long time.
He was supposed to return to the Red Keep with the king's motorcade.
Joffrey complained all the way in the carriage, saying that Corleone's banquet was "not worthy of the king's visit" and that Flea Bottom "will always be Flea Bottom."
Of course, James knew that Joffrey was completely psychologically shadowed by yesterday's riot.
By some strange coincidence, when the convoy turned towards Steel Street, James reined in his horse.
"I'll go take a look." He said to Baron Swen: "Make sure... it's safe."
Baron glanced at him and reminded bluntly, "You are Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, not Corleone's personal guard, James Ser."
But before he could finish speaking, the White Armor knight had already turned his horse's head and disappeared into the alley leading to Flea Bottom.
Now he was standing here, looking at everything in front of him, and felt a strange feeling in his heart.
James couldn't tell what it was, but he looked at people walking on the clean streets, and there was no fear on their faces that the civilians of King's Landing always had, always ready to run away or kneel down.
They were just walking and busy, as if they were walking in their own home.
"Ser?"
A voice sounded.
James turned his head and saw Rorge standing at the door of House of Order.
This guy with no nose actually wore a well-fitting dark coat today.
Although the buttons were crookedly buttoned and the collar was wrinkled, at least it was worn.
"Ser Corleone is waiting for you inside."
Rorge bowed slightly, trying hard to maintain the "politeness" that Corleone had told him.
James nodded and followed him into the door. He was stunned for a moment.
House of Order's lobby is not at all what James imagined.
He expected to see the kind of dirty taverns that were common in King's Landing, with greasy tables and chairs, and the smell of low-quality Ale and sweat in the air.
But the hall in front of me...
wide.
This is the first impression.
With the height of three floors, the space that might have been divided into a dozen small rooms was opened up to form a huge hall that can accommodate at least two hundred people.
The walls were newly painted with Lime, which was dazzlingly white, completely different from the dull stone walls of the Red Fort.
bright.
At the edge of the second floor, a row of glass lamps cast light downwards, concentrating the light on the central area, where long tables and food are placed.
The edges are slightly darker, suitable for conversation without being disturbed.
James had never seen such a use of light. Even in the banquet hall of the Red Keep, they just filled the candlesticks with candles.
Very... chic.
In the center of the hall, there is not a traditional long dining table, but a dozen round tables of different sizes, with six to eight chairs around each table.
The round table is almost never seen at aristocratic banquets because it cannot reflect the order of precedence.
But here, the round table seems to allow everyone to talk face to face.
The way the food is laid out is also different.
Instead of stacks of roasted suckling pigs and whole lambs, there are sections.
The cold plate area displays sliced ham, cheese and kippers.
The hot food area has waiters cutting grilled chicken and ribs on the spot.
The dessert area is filled with various small and exquisite snacks, many of which even Jaime, who was born in Lannister, cannot name.
The most amazing thing is the drinks station.
It was a long curved table, with three waiters in white aprons standing behind it.
On the table are not wine barrels and clay pots, but rows of crystal clear glass bottles filled with liquids of different colors.
The waiter uses a set of silver measuring cups, funnels, ladles, etc. to mix several liquids, shake them evenly, and then pour them into tall glasses.
The movements were so smooth that it seemed like they were performing some kind of ritual.
"This is..." James murmured.
"Ser Corleone said, this is called the bar counter."
Rorge explained from the side, "Those are "Cocktail"."
"He has ordered that the nobles are tired of drinking wine and Ale and need something... fresh."
Hearing this, James curiously walked to a round table and brushed his fingers across the table.
The wood was polished very smooth, and the tabletop was covered with a piece of dark green thick velvet, which had a good texture and simple geometric patterns embroidered with gold thread on the edge.
"These arrangements...
James looked around. "How much did it cost Gold Dragon?"
Rorge grinned, showing a mouth full of missing yellow teeth. "No money."
"What?"
"The wood was dismantled from the old house and polished by ourselves. The glass lamps were made by apprentices. Thirty lamps were scrapped to make these fifty lamps."
"Only the flannel is more expensive, but it is "donated" free of charge by House Stokeworth."
Rorge paused and lowered his voice. "Ser Corleone said that in Flea Bottom, creativity is worth more than gold."
James was silent.
He thought of the huge oak table in Tywin's study, the gilded candlesticks in the Red Keep banquet hall, and the long table in the Great Hall of Casterly Rock that took twenty men to lift.
Those things all declare the same thing: I have money, a lot of money.
But in House of Order, it adheres to a different set of principles.
I know how to do the most with the least amount of money.
This is smarter than showing off your wealth.
"Hey! James!"
The voice of Corleone came from deep in the hall.
James looked up and saw Corleone standing by the stairs leading to the second floor.
He had already changed out of his armor and was wearing a simple dark gray robe, with the cape still on his shoulders. Black Hand sigil looked particularly eye-catching under the light.
Seeing this, James walked over and the two of them climbed the stairs to a small platform on the second floor.
A relatively private space is separated by a screen here, with two comfortable armchairs and a small round table.
From the platform, you can overlook the entire hall without being easily seen by people below.
Very carefully arranged.
James sat down on the chair. The chair was very comfortable and the filling was moderately soft and hard. He joked, "Is this your territory, Ser Corleone."
"No, this is my home." Corleone grinned, snapped his fingers, and the waiter immediately brought two glasses of wine.
The amber liquid has a lemon slice and a few small red fruits floating on it, and there are fine water droplets condensed on the wall of the cup.
"Try it." Corleone raised the cup: "This is called Old Times", I mixed it myself."
James took a sip. The taste was very complex.
First there is the mellowness of alcohol, then citric acid, and finally a hint of sweetness and some herbal fragrance.
"Good wine." James sighed sincerely, "Much better than the moldy wine in the cellar of the Red Keep."
Hearing this, Corleone didn't talk to him, he just tasted wine with him and watched the downstairs gradually become lively.
Invited guests arrived one after another, including several heads of small guilds, shop owners from Cured Meat Street, and some businessmen who looked like they were from the Free City.
There are no aristocrats, at least not yet.
"James." After a long silence, Corleone suddenly spoke in a very calm voice, "You have something to ask me."
His tone was not a question, but a statement.
As soon as these words came out, James immediately put down the cup and looked at Corleone seriously.
He does have something to ask, and he has wanted to ask it since Sept came out, and he has been holding it back until now.
"Yesterday... at Cured Meat Street, were you the one who arranged those mobs?"
He asked very directly.
Because when it comes to Corleone, he doesn't want to beat around the bush.
"Yes." Without any hesitation, Corleone admitted it directly!
It was so frank that James was stunned for a moment.
"From the old Jim who was kicked by a horse, to the sudden surge of people, to Marin Tran's death, to Cersei and the others being surrounded, to me arriving just in time, everything was designed by me."
His voice was very calm, and he didn't mean to hide it at all.
Hearing this answer, James tightened his hand on the cup. The glass was very cold, but he did not speak.
Seemingly seeing his inner struggle, Corleone continued to speak, with a calm tone. "James, you are born to be the heir to Casterly Rock."
"You have enjoyed a privileged life since you were a child. You became Sumner Craher Ser's attendant at the age of eleven, and you won your first team competition championship at the age of thirteen."
"He became a knight at the age of fifteen and was named the youngest Kingsguard in the Seven Kingdoms just a few months later."
Corleone counted the honors James had received in detail, and there was no envy or jealousy in his tone, just a hint of exhaustion that he had never heard before.
"You will never understand what a civilian has to pay if he wants to survive in this world."
As he spoke, he raised his head and looked directly at James with his dark eyes. "In this world, the passage for civilians to ascend has almost been completely welded shut."
"You can save people, you can perform meritorious service, you can make many contributions, but as long as you don't have a title, you will always be a commoner", that Farmer", that guy".
"They will use you when they need you and kick you away like a dog when they don't."
"So... I have to make them want me."
Listening to Corleone's explanation, James was silent for a long time.
He thought of the past thirty years of his life, when others called him "the eldest son of the Lannister family", "heir to Casterly Rock" and "future Warden of the West".
Those names are innate, as natural as breathing.
Although he was not interested in any of this, he knew very well that if he were born without these titles, life might become more difficult.
"My father said something."
Corleone took a sip of wine and spoke in a very soft voice, as if he was talking to himself. "Child, there are two kinds of people in this world. One kind of person is born to eat at the table, and the other kind of person is born to pick up bones under the table."
"If you want to get on the table, you can't wait for someone to give you a hand. You have to lift the table yourself and tell them, either let me sit down or... no one can eat."
James raised his head suddenly and murmured, "Your father...
"Dead."
"When I was ten years old, I was hanged from the apple tree in the manor because I owed the lord taxes. I watched him die, watched the crows peck his eyes, and watched the rain and wind blowing, and the body swayed for half a month."
His tone was so calm that it made James' heart tense.
"So." Corleone raised the wine glass to the light, with the amber liquid sloshing inside. "I don't believe in charity, I don't believe in grace, and I don't believe in the kindness of noble lords."
"I only believe in exchange. I save the king, the king gives me a title, I control Flea Bottom, Lord Tywin gets peace, I do the dirty work, and he keeps his hands clean."
"A very fair deal."
"If this is all a deal, what about me...
Suddenly James suddenly raised his head and looked directly at Corleone: "Is this also a transaction between us?"
As soon as he said this, he seemed to be aware of his gaffe, and quickly explained, "Of course... of course, I know that you rescued me from the Riverlands for Gold Dragon...
"No, James."
Corleone smiled, interrupted him, then put the wine glass on the table and said seriously, "You are my friend."
Listening to this answer, James stared blankly at the man in front of him who had designed the whole scam but admitted it frankly.
Then, to his surprise, James smiled.
From the heart.
"You know what."
"On the way here just now, I kept thinking about what I would do if you denied it, if you made up a reason to lie to me."
"But now that you tell me the truth, even if the truth is not so glorious, it shows that you regard me as a friend."
He paused and added, "True friends don't need lies."
After a moment of silence, the corners of Corleone's mouth raised slightly.
Not the usual calm and calculating smile, but a truly warm smile.
"Thank you, Jaime Lannister."
A