The golden dough wraps the meat filling, which is steaming hot, and the fat drips down the old man's fingers.
From Adam's perspective, the damn old guy was standing at the entrance of the alley, leaning against the wall, eating bite after bite.
Every time I took a bite, my face showed an extremely satisfied expression.
Coincidentally, the old man seemed to know that he was being spied on. He even looked up at the golden robes in the distance and happened to look at Adam. Then... he grinned and took another big bite!
Adam's hand holding Myr Lens shook first, and then he felt a spasm in his stomach.
It's not nausea, but a violent reaction caused by hunger.
He, Adam Malbrand, the dignified Commander of the City Watch, the heir to Brand City Earl, the famous knight is hungry here, while the poor old man from Flea Bottom is eating hot meat pie!
And he provoked me in front of me!
You turtle is a bit too disrespectful!
"My lord!"
At this moment, another soldier shouted from below, "Look over there!"
Adam looked in the direction of the other person's finger.
On the roof of another alley, I saw a woman holding a steaming soup bowl and drinking slowly with a wooden spoon.
Next to her was half a piece of White Bread. The bread was soft and looked particularly white in the morning light. It looked much more delicious than the piece of black bread Adam ate last night.
Not far away, several children squatted at the door, each holding a grilled sausage in their hands, and their mouths were full of oil.
What the hell is going on?
The poor people in Flea Bottom are having breakfast while the Gold Robes are starving?
Is this still King's Landing?
"Send someone to check!"
Resisting the urge to smash Myr Lens to pieces, Adam shouted loudly below, "Check which families are cooking and confiscate all the food!"
However, the order was conveyed, but its execution was delayed.
Because the soldiers did not dare to enter the alleys, the assassination last night convinced them that the invisible god of death was hidden in those winding and dark alleys.
Now go and confiscate the food of civilians?
What a joke!
"Sir," a veteran said boldly to the officer who came to deliver the order, "Brothers are tired and hungry, go in now...
.. something might happen."
"This is an order!" the officer yelled.
"But the order can't let us die in vain." The veteran muttered, "Look over there."
He pointed deep into the alley.
The herald looked over and saw a few men standing in the shadows, holding sharpened Wooden Club and hammers, shovels and other things in their hands, looking coldly at this side.
They didn't speak, but the meaning expressed in their eyes couldn't be clearer...
Come in and try it.
The officer flinched and looked back at Adam high up. Commander was standing there with a pale face.
In the end, only two teams were sent in without hesitation.
They walked into the alley cautiously and knocked on the door from door to door.
"Open the door! Open the door for me! We want to search for illegal food!"
The door opened. It was an old man with gray hair who opened the door. The soldiers rushed in. The room was empty, with nothing in it.
"Where's the food?" the soldier asked.
"What kind of food?" The old man looked confused. "We haven't eaten in two days."
"Then what happened to the smell just now? I saw you eating meatloaf and bread!"
"Oh, that's Stefan's house next door, but they've already finished eating."
"Hiccup~~~" Before he could finish his words, a big belch mixed with the smell of meat came out.
Hearing this, the soldiers looked at each other in shock, wanting only to stab this lying old man to death, but considering the assassination last night, they did not dare to act rashly, so they could only walk angrily to the next door.
The door was locked and could not be opened. Looking through the crack in the door, there were indeed leftover dishes on the table, but there was no one in the room.
Go to the next one.
Same answer, same empty house.
After searching for an hour, the two teams returned without success. Not only did they not receive a grain of food, but they brought back a lot of resentment.
"They are playing tricks on us." A soldier complained to his companions, "The food must be hidden in the basement or House of Order. If we search like this, we won't be able to find it next year."
"Then what should I do? Continue to be hungry?"
"How the hell do I know what to do? Do you have the guts to fight with Black Hand Mafia?"
"I'm so hungry right now that I could eat a cow..."
As time went by, the soldiers' complaints became louder and louder.
Fortunately, when the time was approaching noon, when the logistics officer finally showed up with the late supply convoy, he was greeted by dozens of pairs of hungry green eyes.
"That's all?" Adam looked at the unloaded supplies, a few bags of moldy black flour, a few barrels of suspicious bacon, and dozens of bundles of hay for horses, with a displeased expression.
"Sir, the people at the granary said..." the logistics officer wiped his sweat. "They said that food is in short supply recently. We must first ensure the supply of the Red Fort and the noble district. These are all that can be allocated."
"Fuck you!"
Resisting the urge to burn the supplies, Adam stared at him and asked word by word, "How much did you collect?"
As soon as these words came out, the logistics officer turned pale. "Sir! I... I don't...
"How much?" Adam raised his voice. "How much did Corleone give you to exchange military rations for this garbage?
"I didn't! My lord, I swear...
", Adam pulled out his sword and put the tip of the sword against the throat of the logistics officer: "Tell the truth, otherwise I will kill you now and charge you with treason."
The logistics officer collapsed on the ground, tears and nose running out together. "One hundred----one hundred Gold Dragon. He said he would give another hundred after the matter is completed. Sir, my daughter is sick and needs money to see a bachelor. I----I can't help----"
Adam Close your eyes.
He felt a deep, bone-deep sense of powerlessness.
Corleone's network of connections is literally everywhere.
From the lowest level soldiers, to middle-level officers, to the logistics system.
That guy is so cunning. He never fights head-on with him. He just pushes every joint and the entire command system will be paralyzed on its own.
"Lock him up." Adam sheathed his sword and said in a tired voice, "The trial will take place after the war is over."
The logistics officer was dragged away, but the problem was not solved.
The soldiers were still hungry, but the smoke from Flea Bottom was still rising, and the smell of meat was still wafting in the air.
Adam walked to the entrance of the headquarters and looked at the soldiers sitting and lying outside.
Their faces were tired and their eyes were empty. Some of them looked in the direction of the flea nest and swallowed unconsciously.
But Adam did not rebuke.
What could he say?
Not allowed to be hungry?
He couldn't say anything.
Because he was hungry himself, so hungry that his stomach ached, and he was so hungry that he felt dizzy. He even suddenly had this idea in his mind: If I take off this armor and walk into that alley, will Corleone give me a meat pie?
As soon as this thought appeared, Adam shook his head hard and suppressed it.
Don't think so.
He is Commander of the City Watch, he was personally appointed by Lord Tywin, and he shoulders the responsibility of maintaining order in the King's Landing.
But the weight on my shoulders is as heavy as a mountain at this moment.
At the same time, in House of Order, Corleone is listening to the latest report.
The air was filled with the smell of musty, dust, and a faint aroma of food. Go to the small kitchen in the depths, where Marga is preparing hot soup for several injured Black Hand Mafia members.
"Eleven confirmed dead." Rorge reported, his noseless face looking even more ferocious in the candlelight. "Including three centurions and eight Squad Leader, all of them were killed according to your instructions. Only the middle-level officers who betrayed us were killed, and ordinary soldiers were not touched."
Hearing this, Corleone nodded.
On the map of Flea Bottom spread out in front of him, eleven locations were now marked with red dots, each of which was an assassination scene.
The red dots are evenly distributed, covering all the key nodes of the golden robe on the periphery of the flea nest.
"How was the reaction?" Corleone asked.
"It's a mess." Rorge grinned. "Adam Malbrand is going crazy."
"He sent people to search the interior, but nothing was found. Now the golden robes look at each other like traitors. Even the officers dare not act alone. They have to be accompanied by four people when they go to the toilet."
"Where's the food?" Corleone turned to Marga.
Marga just came out of the kitchen, with flour on his apron. "It was distributed as planned, and the three hundred and twenty most needy families received bread and broth."
"The children all drank hot soup this morning." She paused, her voice choked, "An old lady cried when she got the bread. She said that her grandson had not eaten anything serious for four or five days."
Corleone was silent for a moment, and then said calmly, "Tell her that as long as we are here, her grandson will never be hungry again."
This is not empty talk.
Before leaving Dragonstone, Corleone secretly purchased a large amount of food through the Lake family and stored it in more than a dozen hidden locations in Flea Bottom.
This amount of food is enough to feed tens of thousands of people for a month.
"We intercepted the supply of Jinpao." Rorge chuckled and continued to add, "The logistics officer took the money and replaced the good food with moldy flour and rotten meat. Now the soldiers outside are so hungry that their eyes are green, and they are drooling from the aroma of our food."
Perfect contrast.
The man in the golden robe was hungry and gnawing stone bread, while the common people in Flea Bottom were eating hot breakfast.
This contrast between sight and smell is more powerful than any propaganda.
"It's time." Corleone stood up and walked to the wall.
The set of Kingsguard armor hung there, the silver-white steel plates shining coldly in the sunlight.
"Do you really want to go in person?" Rorge asked worriedly, "This is too dangerous. The Red Fort is heavily guarded. If you are discovered...
"I have to go." Corleone interrupted him and said decisively, "Tywin needs to see that I am not a mouse hiding in the shadows and afraid to show up."
"I can walk into his castle and walk out of his castle, so that he will seriously consider my proposal."
"And."
"The Prime Minister needs to know something."
"King's Landing is not just Lannister's Landing, and the King's Council is not just Tywin Lannister's King's Council."
Noon, Red Fort.
The blazing sunlight casts its light on the long table, the air is stagnant, and floating dust slowly rolls in the beam of light, as if time itself has become sticky in this hall.
At the head of the long table, Lord Tywin Lannister sat as tall as a mountain, with the decision-makers of the Royal Council sitting on both sides.
Only the king is missing.
"About the trial proceedings of Tyrion Lannister." A calm voice broke the silence.
The speaker was Kevan Lannister, the Lord Advocate sitting on Tywin's right.
"Currently, we have completed preparations according to the law. The trial panel is composed of the Prime Minister, Duke Mace Tyrell, and myself."
"The Archbishop has agreed to conduct the trial process in Baylor Great Sept. In terms of evidence collection, Queen Mother Your Majesty insists...
"Evidence?"
At this moment, a slightly exaggerated voice interrupted him.
It is Mace Tyrell, Lord of the Sea, who has just arrived in King's Landing.
The Duke of Highgarden was currently wearing the Tyrell family's symbolic emerald green brocade coat, with gold Rose embroidered on the chest. He tried to maintain the demeanor of the Duke of Highgarden, but the lingering irritability between his brows and the faint greenish black under his eyes exposed his heart.
As soon as he arrived in King's Landing, he heard the news about the rebellion of the Redwin fleet, which made Mace feel like a sharp sword was hanging over his head.
He tried to straighten his back and couldn't wait to express his loyalty to the Prime Minister: "Tyrion Lannister's crime of regicide has been conclusively proven, and there is no need for another trial!"
"But we must insist on procedural justice." As the Minister of Justice, Kevan answered in a calm tone, "If the trial is found guilty, we will deal with it in accordance with the law. The Lannister family will not and has never protected criminals.
But just before Kevan Lannister finished speaking, a voice with a strong Dorne accent interrupted him arrogantly, "If Lannister had never protected criminals, then that guy with blood on his hands should have died more than ten years ago!"
Everyone turned their heads in shock and looked at the door.
I saw Oberyn Martell, Prince of Dorne, standing at the door with an extremely sarcastic expression on his face, and the malice in his smile was undisguised.
His own light swept over everyone, then broke into the imperial meeting, walked straight to the long table, and dragged an unused chair with one hand.
The high-backed chair was roughly dragged, and the chair legs rubbed against the smooth stone floor, making a tooth-breaking sharp sound that echoed throughout the solemn hall, making it appear extremely arrogant.
Finally, directly opposite Tywin, across the wide tabletop, he slammed the chair and sat down firmly.
He leaned back, crossed his legs, and even put his boots on the edge of the table. He just raised his chin and stared provocatively at Tywin.
"I was right, Tywin Lannister."
Seeing that he was so arrogant, the Prime Minister just looked at Oberyn calmly, paused for a moment and then said, "Prince Oberyn Martell."
"It seems that you were not invited to attend the imperial meeting."
"Invitation?" Oberyn raised his eyebrows exaggeratedly, as if he heard a big joke, "I think you are really old, and you don't even know your brain anymore!"
As he spoke, he looked around with great interest, then shook his head and said disappointedly, "Isn't there even one young man in this damn Imperial Council?"
Hearing this, everyone present looked at each other.
After all, everyone is quite old. Tywin is nearly sixty, Kevan is about the same, and that old guy Pycelle is in his eighties.
Varys... no one knows how old that guy is, although he doesn't look that old.
The only person who is about the same age as Oberyn is Mace Tyrell, but the Duke of Highgarden looks even older than Tywin.
It can be said that Oberyn's taunt almost brought everyone in.
"Watch your words, Prince."
Kevan, who values seriousness and fairness the most, was the first to give a deep warning and put his hand on the edge of the table.
However, Oberyn didn't even look at him. He still stared at Tywin and spoke slowly, but the tone of every word showed ridicule and hatred. "This is the truth."
"If I remember correctly, I was invited by the former acting Prime Minister Tyrion Lannister to come to King's Landing in place of my brother, Prince Doran Martell, to attend the King's Council as a special advisor."
"Why, the war hasn't ended yet. Are you no longer counting the things that you Lannister personally promised? Or have you really forgotten all about it?"
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, closing the distance to Tywin, and the smile on his face became extremely "sincere": "If you really forget, I can understand you. After all, it is normal for people to be old and unable to do what they want."
"If you feel that sitting in the Prime Minister's position is too tiring and burdensome, I would be happy to sit for you for a while."
"After all, in Sunspear, I often help with my brother's government affairs. I guarantee that it will be much more organized than the current mess in King's Landing!"