The two drank for a while, and the noise downstairs gradually became louder.
James suddenly remembered something and said doubtfully, "I heard that it was Petyr Baelish who reported you in front of Uncle Kevan."
"Why is he targeting you? Do you have a grudge against him?"
Hearing this, Corleone just shook his head bluntly. "There is no personal grudge between us."
"But sometimes conflicts of interest are more deadly than personal grudges."
"Interests?" James was puzzled. "What conflict of interests can exist between you and Petyr?"
Corleone did not answer, but asked, "What did Flea Bottom look like before?"
"Shit pit." James said without thinking, "The dirtiest, messiest, and most dangerous place in King's Landing, and even the golden robes are not willing to patrol it."
"So... what now?"
As soon as he said this, James frowned and looked around the hall, looking at the neatly dressed guests downstairs, the exquisite food, and the bright lights.
He seemed to understand something.
"When a piece of shit that everyone despises and avoid, turns into fat, then everyone wants to take it away."
Corleone smiled and pointed to the bustling crowd below, "With the profits from the casino, the income from the brothel branch, and the upcoming Fighting Arena, Flea Bottom will become the most profitable place in the entire King's Landing, and even among the seven the Seven Kingdomss."
"This money used to flow into the sewer, but now it flows into my pocket. Of course some people feel uncomfortable watching it."
"Littlefinger wants House of Order!"
James reacted immediately and pounded the table angrily. "He wants to steal your business, but you run it all by yourself!"
"It's not about robbing." Corleone corrected. "It's about taking it back."
"In Petyr's eyes, the dirty money in Flea Bottom should have gone to people like him, who are of noble birth, have brains, and know how to operate."
"And I am just a lucky civilian who temporarily keeps his property."
"Damn bastard!" Hearing this, James first scolded, then frowned and said to himself, "But Tyrion said that Littlefinger is the person he least understands in King's Landing, but why did he do it so obviously this time?"
"It's not like Kevan's style to complain directly to him."
As soon as these words came out, Corleone laughed, a little sarcastically. "Because, he does not regard me as an opponent."
"In his view, I was just a lucky commoner who happened to save Jaime Lannister and happened to please Lord Tywin. A series of good luck made me who I am today, and good luck always comes to an end."
As he said that, Corleone looked at James with deep eyes. "In other words, he didn't think I was qualified to fight against him, so he used the most direct and effective way - reporting to the authority."
"Just like when a master discovers that a servant has stolen something, they will not play tricks with the servant, but directly call the guards to arrest the person, because... the servant is not qualified to let the master worry about plotting."
This truth made James open his mouth and wanted to say that this was ridiculous.
But I have to admit that it is very real.
"But this is normal."
Corleone continued, his tone as calm as if he was talking about someone else's business, as if he didn't care about being plotted at all, and continued to patiently explain to James: "After all, even if Littlefinger comes from a small place like the Five Fingers Peninsula, he is born a noble."
"That natural contempt for civilians is rooted in blood, just like Lion looks at sheep and will never regard sheep as equal opponents."
As Corleone finished speaking, James fell silent.
He recalled how his father taught him when he was a child that "nobles must behave like nobles." In Casterly Rock and King's Landing, the commoners automatically made way for him, bowed their heads, and did not dare to look directly into his eyes.
Yes, isn't this natural?
"Corleone," James suddenly spoke, with a seriousness and determination in his voice. "No matter you are a commoner or a noble, you are my best friend."
"I swear on my honor... if I have any of that left."
Hearing this, Corleone looked at him for a long time, then raised his glass.
"Jaime Lannister." Corleone spoke every word slowly and clearly, "Whether you are the Kingslayer or the Kingsguard, you are my Corleone friend, and I guarantee this in the name of... Corleone family."
After saying that, the two looked at each other and smiled, and the wine glasses touched each other gently in the air.
The sound of the glass colliding was clear and sweet, almost inaudible amidst the noisy background sound.
But they all heard it.
They drank up the wine in their glasses. The cold liquid slid down their throats, carrying the acidity of lemon and the intensity of alcohol, leaving a trace of sweetness in the end.
"Right."
James put down the cup and suddenly thought of something, "Since father knows about your bureau, why does he want to canonize you personally?"
"According to his character, he should...
"Should I be thrown into a dungeon, or at least stripped of everything?"
James nodded.
Corleone stood up, walked to the edge of the platform, put his hands on the railing, looked down at the increasingly lively crowd downstairs, and was about to explain.
At this moment, there was a slight commotion at the door of the hall.
James turned his head to look, and then his expression darkened.
I saw a short and thin figure stepping into the door of House of Order.
Petyr Baelish.
Harrenhal Earl was dressed very low-key today, wearing a dark blue jacket with no embroidery, no accessories, not even the iconic mockingbird brooch.
He was alone, without even any guards or entourage, as if he had just casually walked here.
But his appearance made the hall instantly quiet.
All the guests turned their heads and paid attention, after all, most of them recognized this face.
Former Chancellor of the Exchequer of King's Landing, Harrenhal Earl, the boss behind at least half of the brothels on Silk Street.
What is he here for?
James stood up excitedly, his hand unconsciously pressed to the hilt of the sword at his waist, and his face instantly turned cold.
"That guy still dares to come?"
There was suppressed anger in his voice. "He just caused trouble with Uncle Kevan, and now he dares to walk into your banquet with such arrogance?"
"I'll drive him away right now!"
With that said, he took steps to walk towards the stairs.
But Corleone held his shoulders. "Don't be impulsive, James."
"But that guy...
","Sit down."
"Remember, if you want to get to the table, you can't lift the table in a hurry. At least you have to see what's on the table first."
James was stunned. He turned back and looked into Corleone's eyes. There was no anger or tension in the dark eyes, only a calmness that was so deep that it was difficult to interpret.
Like the sea before a storm.
Finally, James slowly sat back on the chair unwillingly.
But he straightened his back and stared at the figure downstairs, like a Lion ready to pounce at any time.
Downstairs, Petyr Baelish had already gracefully walked through the crowd and headed towards the bar.
He smiled and nodded to everyone around him. His smile was perfect, as if he was attending a gathering of old friends.
Corleone stood on the edge of the platform, folding his arms and watching everything quietly.
A new round of the game has begun.
But this time, the opponent walked into his chessboard in person.
Petyr Baelish stood in front of the bar, looking at the crystal clear glass bottles, his eyes swept over the exquisite set of silver tools in the waiter's hands, and finally landed on the wine list hanging on the wall.
The wooden board was engraved with neat handwriting, painted with gold paint, and sparkled under the light.
"Interesting."
Petyr spoke softly out of curiosity, "Lionheart's Blaze", Direwolf Howl", Rose of Highgarden Dew"... even the names of the wines are so thoughtful."
In front of such a nobleman, a waiter wore a neat white apron, his fingers trembled slightly due to nervousness, and he tried to keep his voice steady. "What would you like to drink, sir?"
Petyr glanced at him contemptuously, and traced his finger across the wine list, finally stopping on a name.
""King's Landing Summit"."
He pronounced the name with a meaningful arc at the corner of his mouth, "Just this, let me taste what the scenery at the top tastes like."
The waiter nodded quickly, and just as he was about to make drinks, a voice came from behind.
"That drink is not for you, Lord Baelish."
Looking back, I saw Corleone walking down the stairs, walking slowly and leisurely.
The white cloak swayed gently behind him, and the Black Hand palm crest loomed with his steps.
He walked to the bar and stood next to Petyr. The distance between them was just enough to draw his sword.
If they had swords.
Petyr turned around gracefully, the smile on his face unchanged, "Oh? Why?"
"Does Ser Corleone think that I am not worthy of the name King's Landing Summit?"
"It's not that it's not worthy." Corleone took the wine list from the waiter and pointed to another name. "It's not suitable."
After saying that, he smiled at the waiter and said, "Here is Lord Petyr, a glass of Bitter Informer."
As soon as these words came out, the area around the bar suddenly became quiet.
Several guests who were close to him secretly looked over, then quickly looked away, pretending to concentrate on tasting the wine in their hands.
Petyr stared at Corleone for three full seconds.
Then he laughed.
It's not a fake smile, it's the kind of smile that comes from the heart. It makes your shoulders shake and your eyes narrow into slits.
"Haha, that's so funny!"
Petyr patted the bar. "Ser Corleone, you are not only good at treating diseases and managing, but you are also so good at naming, hahaha."
He turned to the waiter with a smile as bright as a blooming flower, "That's it.
"Give me a glass of "Bitter Informer", I want to taste it!"
Hearing this, the waiter looked at Corleone in surprise. After getting a slight nod from him, he swallowed and started working.
The process of bartending is very slow.
The silver cocktail shaker shook in the air, and the ice cubes collided with each other, making a crisp sound.
Once, twice, three times.
Finally, the green liquid was poured into a slender glass.
Petyr took the wine glass, held it up to the light and looked at it.
The liquid has a dull luster in the glass. It is not as bright and eye-catching as other Cocktail. Instead, it has a... grayish feeling.
"Like muddy water," Petyr commented, then raised his head and drank the whole drink.
The whole process was smooth and smooth, without hesitation or frown, just like drinking a glass of water.
Petyr licked his lips, as if thinking about it, "Not bad."
This was said so calmly that the people eavesdropping around him were stunned.
According to common sense, if someone uses the term "whistleblower" to ridicule someone in public, even if you don't fall out, you should at least be embarrassed and angry, or defend yourself loudly.
But Petyr didn't.
He admitted it, accepted it, and even talked about it in a joking tone.
If you don't hit the smiling person with your hand, this guy really has some tricks up his sleeve.
Corleone squinted his eyes and looked at the little man in front of him again.
This guy is harder to deal with than expected, not because of the depth of his conspiracy, but because he has no self-respect.
In other words, his self-esteem was hidden too well and too deeply.
You insult him, and he accepts it with a smile. If you sarcastically mock him, he helps you make your words even worse.
In the end, you become that careless little person.
"Lord Baelish is so generous." Corleone said lightly.
"It's not magnanimity, it's self-awareness." Petyr took out a silk handkerchief from his arms and wiped the corners of his mouth, elegantly like a real old noble. "I know what kind of person I am and what others think of me, so why should I be angry when someone tells the truth?"
"Being angry can't change the facts."
He folded the handkerchief, put it back in his pocket, and then with very smooth movements took out a roll of parchment from another pocket.
The paper is very thick, the edges are gilded, and it is tied with a dark green ribbon.
"Speaking of facts."
Petyr placed the parchment on the bar and gently pushed it in front of Corleone: "I'm here to apologize today for the Corleone situation."
"While I don't think there is anything wrong in providing correct information to the Minister of Justice, I admit that my way...
Not considered."
As he spoke, he opened the ribbon and unfolded the parchment.
"This is evidence of the seven brothels, three casinos, and two warehouses on Silk Street.
"The total accounts for 30% of my property in Junlin. Based on last year's income, it is worth approximately... fifteen thousand Gold Dragon."
"Of course, if Ser Corleone's business ability is as good as rumored, it may be worth 20,000 or even 30,000 in the future."
Hearing this, Corleone stared at the roll of parchment and calculated rapidly in his mind.
He knew about Petyr's property on Silk Street.
The seven brothels are all mid- to high-end, the three casinos are small but highly profitable, and the two warehouses are in an excellent location, right next to the Blackwater River Pier.
According to the market price of 30% of the shares, it is indeed about this number.
But with Petyr's character, he would never give away this large sum of Gold Dragon for free, even if it was to ease the relationship between the two.
"Are you planning to become a shareholder?" Looking at the other party's half-smiling expression, Corleone immediately understood.
Hearing this, Petyr nodded and said calmly, "I have carefully studied what Ser Corleone has done in Flea Bottom in the past two months, cleaning up the streets, establishing order, introducing new management, and even... designing such an interesting wine."
"I discovered that you and I are actually the same kind of person."
"We both believe in rules, profit-based rules, where you make the rules, make people follow them, and then profit from them, and I do too."
As he said this, he looked at Corleone with candid eyes, and did not even put forward any conditions such as how much percent of House of Order he wanted to own, which seemed to be full of sincerity.
But Corleone understands very well that this guy is about to leave King's Landing, and there is no point in clinging to those properties. On the contrary, he may be swallowed up by others.
Taking it out now will not only turn Corleone from an opponent to a partner, but also change the relationship between the two from "life or death"
It becomes a "bundle of interests".
Gao Ming.
So clever.
Corleone raised his head and looked at Petyr.
Their eyes met in the air, like two invisible swords touching each other.
But... you want to leave after offending me?
"Fair."
"I accepted it." Corleone accepted the parchment. "Thank you for your gift, Lord Baelish. I hope our future cooperation... will be pleasant."
"It must be pleasant." Petyr held out his hand.
Hold the two hands together.
The handshake lasted neither long nor short, just three seconds, and then they were released at the same time.
The deal is done.
At least that's the case on the surface.
The atmosphere calmed down, and Petyr looked around, as if he suddenly remembered something. "By the way, Ser Corleone is holding a banquet today, why are so many... um, these friends?"
His eyes swept across the guests in the hall. They were all civilians, no nobles, no one.
"Of course, I'm not saying these friends are bad."
After saying that, he seemed to realize that he was losing his temper, and quickly explained, "You have just arrived in King's Landing not long ago, so it is understandable that you don't have many noble friends, but we are now partners."
"And... you are now a knight, Chief Intelligence Officer of the Small Council, and you should be supported by some decent people."
"Well, I have been in King's Landing for so many years, and I am quite familiar with many nobles. If you need it, I can help contact them and ask them to come over and get familiar with them."
"It will be easier for you to manage our business after I leave."
This is a very thoughtful thing to say.
Like a true friend, thinking about another friend.
But Corleone heard the underlying meaning.
Look, without me, you can't even invite decent guests.
You Corleone are a commoner after all, and you cannot squeeze into the circle of nobles. If you want to do business in the future, you will have to be bound to Petyr.
Of course, maybe Petyr didn't mean to humiliate Corleone, he might just want to show his importance.
But under his gaze, Corleone actually grinned.
"Lord Baelish must have taken the trouble."
He nodded slightly and said in just the right volume, "However, today is the ceremony to celebrate my canonization. You are singing and dancing here... It is really unjustifiable for you to be overworked."
Hearing this, Petyr frowned slightly, does this guy really not care about face?
Impossible!
If you want to expand your business in King's Landing, face is the first priority. If no nobles come to congratulate him at his knight canonization ceremony today, then everyone will underestimate Black Hand Mafia's strength!
Just when Petyr was puzzled, there was a sudden commotion at the door of the hall.
Rorge's stocky figure appeared at the door. Due to his hurried steps and his large size, the originally well-fitting coat was so tight that it looked like it might fall apart at any time.
But he had no time to manage his image and shouted at the top of his lungs, "Ser Corleone!"
"Duskendale Town Earl, Sir Ray Foley Lake has arrived!"