"Don't forget, Ser Corleone."
After staring closely at the knight in pure white armor opposite him for a long time, Tywin continued to speak.
"Even if you infiltrate the golden robes, there are still two thousand Lannister soldiers stationed outside the Gods' Gate in King's Landing. As long as I give an order, they can destroy Flea Bottom within an hour!"
"Your hungry soldiers, corrupt officers, and bribed mid-level commanders are nothing but lambs to the slaughter in front of the real Lannister army."
His tone was very strong, trying to take the initiative of the topic back into his own hands.
As he spoke, Tywin took a step forward. He was tall and taller than Corleone, and looked very imposing.
"You're playing the game well, Corleone. Bribery, infiltration, and psychological warfare are all useful tools."
"But you have to understand one thing, that is, in the face of absolute force, all tricks are meaningless. The loyalty of the Lannister army cannot be bought with a few Gold Dragon."
"If I want...
"At sunrise tomorrow, every shack in Flea Bottom will be ablaze, and every street will be filled with blood. Your Black Hand Mafia, your House of Order, everything you have built with care, will be reduced to ashes in the flames."
"And you." His eyes pierced Corleone like a knife. "You will stand on the wall of the Red Fort, watch all this happen, and then be hanged on the highest gallows, as an example of a traitor."
After saying these words, the air in the room seemed a little heavier.
The firelight from the fireplace danced across their faces, casting long, tangled shadows.
Corleone looked at Tywin quietly.
He didn't flinch, wasn't afraid, or even angry. His expression remained calm, disturbingly calm.
Then, he laughed.
It was a real, hearty smile, as if I had heard the funniest joke in the world.
"Hahahaha...
Seeing this, Tywin frowned.
Because this reaction was completely different from what he expected.
Corleone took a step forward, and now the distance between the two was less than two feet.
He could clearly see the tiny bloodshot lines in Tywin's eyes, the loose skin on the sixty-year-old man's neck, and the two deep nasolabial folds around his pursed lips.
"Lord Tywin, you are right, absolutely right."
Corleone stopped laughing, his eyes were as deep as ancient wells under the candlelight, unable to reflect any emotion.
"There are two thousand elite soldiers who grew up in the West, eating Lannister food and wearing armor. Their fighting power is enough to destroy ten flea holes."
"After all, everyone knows that civilians holding Cleaver and Wooden Club are indeed just lambs to be slaughtered in front of fully armed soldiers."
"If... you want to be the first "Mad Hand" among the seven the Seven Kingdomss."
As soon as these words came out, Tywin's pupils shrank instantly.
After all, the insulting term "Mad Hand" is too difficult to accept for Tywin, who has always prided himself on being wise and has great pride and confidence in his rule.
That's almost comparing him to the Mad King, no, it's even worse.
But Tywin still said stubbornly, "Lion Why should you care about the opinions of sheep."
"Yes, Lion really don't care about what the sheep think."
Corleone nodded, and then, he took a step forward, closing the distance between the two to less than a foot, so close that he could see the reflection of the dancing candlelight in each other's pupils, and smell the scent of the other person.
"But... Lord Tywin, who is the sheep now?"
With that said, Corleone slowly raised Longsword. The sword reflected a faint light under the candlelight, and looked very strange against the dried scarlet blood on it.
Seeing that Tywin seemed stunned by his own words, Corleone continued to speak and gave him a strong dose of medicine, "If I kill you now, right now, in this bedroom."
"Can your order still be passed on?"
As soon as these words came out, Tywin's breathing seemed to have stopped for a moment. The firewood in the fireplace crackled, sparks splashed onto the carpet, and a small wisp of smoke ignited, which was particularly harsh in the silence.
Because he could hear that Corleone's tone didn't sound like he was joking.
However, after just one breath, Tywin came to his senses and said calmly, "You don't dare."
A short sentence that speaks volumes.
It represents Tywin Lannister's pride and is the foundation of his rule of the Seven Kingdoms for twenty years. Everyone is afraid of Lannister's wrath. Everyone has heard the famous song "The Rains of Castamere".
He had enough reasons to believe that no one would dare to do anything to him as Prime Minister, especially in his own bedroom.
But obviously, Tywin guessed wrong again this time.
Corleone was seen slightly tilting his head, with a very curious expression, as if he wanted to crack the opponent's head open to see why he still maintained such naive thoughts in front of a knight holding Longsword, wearing armor, and whose swordsmanship far surpassed that of the Magic Mountain.
The cold sword blade touched Tywin's neck, but Corleone's eyes fell on his own blood-stained Gauntlet. He slowly raised it and looked directly into Tywin's eyes. "What makes you underestimate my courage so much, Tywin Lannister."
"I dared to sow discord among All Villains's warriors, and ultimately succeeded in their destruction. I dared to go to Dragonstone alone and risk being burned to death by Stannis to persuade him to surrender."
"Now, I am wearing this White Armor that was ripped off a dead man, walking into the Prime Minister's Tower at the deepest part of the Red Fort, and walking in front of you."
"What makes you think I dare not kill you?"
"Hmm?
"You are the knight I personally made."
Tywin is Tywin, even if someone holds a sword to his neck, he still refuses to give in.
He stared directly into Corleone's eyes and said solemnly, "Your honor, your status, everything you have comes from me."
"If you kill me, then the Seven the Seven Kingdoms will no longer have a place for you. No one will trust a person who personally killed the lord who conferred the title of knight."
His voice was very steady, and his eyes showed no fear at all.
Sure enough, after hearing Tywin's words, Corleone fell silent for so long that Tywin could hear the sound of his own blood rushing in his ears.
"Wrong answer."
Despite this, Corleone still removed the sword blade from Tywin's neck.
"Please remember, Lord Tywin Lannister, the reason why I did not kill you is because we are both profit-oriented people, you and I are the same."
"It would be easy to kill you, but that wouldn't do me any good."
"I am not a madman, nor an idealist. Honor has no binding force on me at all. I am a businessman, Lord Tywin."
He sheathed his sword, looked at Tywin calmly, and said in a very calm tone, "I believe in transactions, pursue a win-win situation, and am keen on obtaining maximum benefits within the existing framework."
"Killing you is a losing proposition, because the Lannister army may go crazy and slaughter King's Landing, the Westerlands will raise the banner of revenge, and the Seven Kingdoms will fall into war again.
"And everything I built in Flea Bottom may be lost in the chaos."
Corleone said it very directly and realistically.
But Tywin's face was extremely gloomy, because this was the first time that he felt like he was being used as a bargaining chip in someone else's tone of voice.
To be honest, this feeling... is pretty bad.
In his nearly sixty years of life, he served as prime minister for twenty years and ruled Casterly Rock for forty years.
He has always been a poker player, not a chip.
But then, Corleone Corleone took half a step back and leaned back on the window sill.
His posture was relaxed, as if the remarks about killing just now were just a casual mention.
"Instead of killing each other, we might as well talk about more practical things."
"For example... what did you do today."
As soon as these words came out, Tywin frowned because he caught something wrong in Corleone's words.
But before he could react, Corleone had already started counting with his fingers.
"You woke up very early this morning and went to the study in the Hand's Tower first to review the dispatches sent last night, including a briefing on the siege of Storm's End and an intelligence report on the whereabouts of Redwyne's fleet."
"After reading this, you start to enjoy breakfast, toast, honey, bacon, two hard-boiled eggs, and a cup of mint tea with three spoons of sugar. I bet your maester must have advised you to eat less sugar, but you never listened."
As Corleone narrated, Tywin's hands quietly clenched in the sleeves of his nightgown.
However, this was not over yet. Corleone seemed not to notice his increasingly gloomy expression at all, and continued to speak in a brisk tone, "In the morning, you held a royal meeting. Oberyn Martell made you very unhappy."
"After the meeting, you returned to the study and met with three people, first Adam Malbrand Ser, who reported the casualties of the golden robe. You were very angry at the time, but you restrained yourself."
"Then Grand Maester Pycelle, who brought the draft files for Tyrion's trial, and finally... Varys."
Having said this, Corleone paused and smiled slightly.
"You and Varys talked for about twenty minutes. Most of the time he talked and you listened."
"He mentioned some information from Flea Bottom and a ghost on Dragonstone wearing Antlered Helm."
"Later, you asked him a question: What does Corleone want?" Wallis's answer was, Sir, some people want power, some people want gold, but what Vito·Corleone wants is respect."
Tywin stood there, motionless, as if his whole body was numb, and cold sweat gradually wet his forehead.
But Corleone still seemed not to notice and continued, "You ate very little at noon."
"A bowl of vegetable soup, half a piece of White Bread, and then you took a nap for twenty minutes. At 1:30 in the afternoon, you summoned Kevan Lannister again. This time it was in the small reception room on the third floor of the Hand's Tower instead of the study."
"You talked for an hour about how to purge the corrupt elements from within the golden robe."
"That's enough..." Tywin murmured, breathing heavily.
"The cup of Summer Red you drank in the afternoon came from the border of Dorne. It was fifteen years old. There was plenty of rain that year and the grapes were very sweet. It was one of your favorite flavors."
"Dinner was grilled trout with lemon juice, cream of mushroom soup, and a small plate of fruit. You didn't eat much because you were worried about the flea nest and how to deal with the potentially more chaotic situation tomorrow."
"That's enough..." Tywin clenched his fists tightly, his nails digging into his palms.
"Oh, by the way, you have some stomach discomfort now. It's not a serious illness, it's just a common digestive problem among the elderly. I suggest you don't eat before going to bed."
"Enough!!!"
Listening to Corleone chattering about life from morning to night, Tywin finally couldn't help but break his guard and roared.
Then there was a long silence.
The only sounds in the room were the crackle of burning wood in the fireplace and the heavy breathing of the Prime Minister.
Tywin stood there, looking at Corleone, his green eyes showing extremely angry emotions for the first time, and even he could no longer suppress it.
Because he knew very well that every word Corleone just said was true.
The time and content are extremely accurate, and he knows even the trivial things that Tywin himself might overlook!
So terrible..
After a long time, Taiwen spoke slowly, his voice extremely dry. "You did a great job, Corleone."
"I didn't even know when you planted an spy around me."
Hearing this, Corleone smiled. There was no apology in that smile, but it was very bright.
"Please don't use such purposeful words as "placement", Lord Tywin, because I didn't specially send anyone to monitor you. It would be too laborious and too easy to be discovered."
He paused, seeming to consider his words.
"You see, the Red Fort is a very big place, with chefs, maids, attendants, guards... nearly a thousand people working, living and talking here every day."
"It's just that some of them happen to owe me a favor, and some of them just like to chat with someone."
As he said that, Corleone made a "it's that simple" gesture.
"And I'm a good listener."
"I remember the little things that everyone tells me, what the Prime Minister ate today, who he met, how he was feeling, what he said, and when the pieces come together... it all makes sense, doesn't it?"
"So, you see."
Corleone leaned forward, the candlelight casting dancing shadows on his face.
"Even if I don't kill you here, even if I walk out of this room and let you live until tomorrow, are you so sure that your decree can really be delivered to Military Camp outside the city in time?"
"Or do you make sure that there won't be any extra ingredients in tomorrow morning's breakfast, or that the next person you want to meet won't pull out a dagger from your sleeve at some point?"
"Haha."
He smiled softly and said in a soft voice, "Ruling is never just about sitting on a high throne and giving orders, my lord."
"Government is the details, the daily routine, the little things that you think are insignificant and are left to your subordinates to handle."
"And a large part of these little things are now under my control. Even if you know these, you can only watch from the sidelines and there is nothing you can do."
"That's the difference between you and me."
When Corleone finished speaking, Tywin took a deep breath.
This was the first time in his life that he felt so powerless against a person, and that omnipresent sense of restraint was like an insect trapped in a spider's web. The more he struggled, the tighter he became.
The man in front of me was neither a noble nor an enemy.
He is a plague.
From the moment he stepped into King's Landing, it began to spread quietly, infecting everyone.
From the poor people of Flea Bottom, to the officers in gold robes, to the lowest-level servants of the Red Castle, by the time you discover it, the entire system is already covered with his tentacles.
"You..." Tywin gritted his teeth. "You are threatening me."
This is not a question, but a confirmation.
However, Corleone shook his head, his expression even a little disappointed, as if Tywin failed to understand what he meant.
"As I said, Lord Tywin, we are all profit-minded people."
"What good does it do me to threaten you, make you live in fear, be on guard day and night, and then one day in desperation order us to die together?"
"No, that's stupid."
His tone became calm and rational again, as if he were a businessman analyzing a business. "It will do me no good to kill you, and it will do me no good to continue to threaten you and keep our relationship in a state of tension."
"Because this will prevent you from focusing on governing the Seven Kingdoms, and will keep King's Landing on the edge of turmoil, and a turbulent King's Landing is not in my interest."
"The same is true for you."
Corleone paused for a moment to allow the meaning of this sentence to fully settle, and then spoke again, "Use Lannister Household Guards to flatten the flea nest. You can do it, but at what cost?"
"Accidents may occur inside the Red Fort, and the delivery of your government orders will be delayed, and even your daily safety may not be guaranteed."
"Not to mention, what will the other lords think when they see that you need to use Lannister soldiers to suppress the riots in the capital?"
"They will think that Tywin Lannister is old, weak, and can no longer control the situation. His methods are not as strong as when he was young, and his wisdom has begun to fade."
"And once this idea takes root, all of your allies, Tyrell, Frey, Bolton... and even your own lords, will begin to reconsider their positions."
"And the most important thing is that Casterly Rock still doesn't have a clear heir until now!"
At the end of the sentence, Corleone walked back to the chair and sat down slowly, looking directly into Tywin's eyes. "Seriously, Lord Tywin Lannister."
"Do you really want to pay such a price in exchange for absolute control of a slum area?"
Tywin didn't answer.
But his tight lips and slightly twitching muscles at the corners of his eyes already gave the answer.
Corleone knows, the heat has arrived.
He specially adjusted the blood-stained wristband, his movements were as graceful as preparing to attend a banquet, and said with a smile, "So, let's change our thinking."
"Since the cost of forcible suppression is too high, maintaining the status quo will not be beneficial to you or me.
","Why not try... collaboration?"
"Speak clearly.
The silence lasted in the room for a long time, until the last piece of wood in the fireplace crackled and collapsed into ashes, leaving only a dark red residual warmth.
Tywin finally spoke.
His voice sounded even more tired than before. It was not physical fatigue, but a deeper weariness that belonged to the ruler.
"Outsourcing."
Corleone slowly spit out this unfamiliar word.
"You outsource the flea nest to me, along with the tens of thousands of mouths that need to be fed."
"I will build Flea Bottom's own security force, trained by my people, commanded by my people, and paid by my people."
"They are responsible for maintaining order on the streets, but they are not part of the Golden Robe staff. We can call them Community Wardens", or to be more straightforward...
Corleone raised his head, the candlelight dancing on his face.
"Labor dispatch."
"You send the job to me and I provide the labor to complete it."
Hearing this, Tywin's eyes narrowed.
He was thinking, calculating, and weighing this absurd-sounding but extremely clear proposal.
"What's in it for me?"
The Prime Minister's voice was still tough, but Corleone could hear a slight looseness beneath the toughness.
"There are many benefits."
"First, the Flea Bottom will be restored to order within three days, the market will be reopened, and the tax revenue will flow back into the treasury. I will hand it over in a reasonable proportion, more than you can receive now, because I can make more merchants willing to do business there."
"Second, the golden robe can be withdrawn with dignity. You can let Adam·Malbrand Ser declare to the outside world that this is to explore a more efficient urban management model."
"Third and most important...
Corleone leaned forward slightly, lowered his voice, and became more sincere. That kind of heart-to-heart tone is often more lethal than any threat.
"Lord Tywin, you are almost sixty years old."
This sentence was said so calmly and naturally, as if it were saying "It's almost dawn."
But it seemed to hit Tywin Lannister's heart accurately, and Old Lion's fingers twitched slightly.
"Let me do the math for you."
There was no offense in Corleone's tone, but a kind of objectivity and concern that the Doctor had when facing patients.
"You lived through the War of the Nine Copper Penny Kings when you were still the heir to Casterly Rock and saw firsthand how war destroyed the economy."
"You served Mad King Aerys, you knew where an unstable ruler could lead a country, you fought in the Usurper's War, and made last-minute choices that won the future for House Lannister."
"Now, you have returned as Prime Minister, rectified the mess left by Robert Baratheon, and won the War of the Five Kings...
"To be honest, with your achievements, you have surpassed most kings of the Targaryen Dynasty."
As he said that, he shook his head, his expression seemed to indicate that Tywin was not worth it.
"And now you're bending over to deal with the mud of Flea Bottom and dispatching gold robes for some gangsters to fight in the streets?"
There was an almost painful confusion in his voice. "Is it worth it, Lord Tywin?"
"Should your time and energy, your little remaining political capital and your life, be wasted on these things?"
The room fell silent again.
Tywin was still standing, his back straight.
But Corleone noticed that there was an almost imperceptible relaxation in Tywin's shoulders.
"Give these to me."
Corleone's voice became soft, as if he was comforting or making a promise.
"What you're paying for is nominal jurisdiction over a small piece of land you never really control."
"But in fact, you have lost nothing, because you have never really owned it. For more than two hundred years, Flea Bottom has been just a scar that oozes pus, a stubborn disease that requires continuous investment of manpower and material resources, but can never be cured."
"And what you get...
", he took a step forward, and now the distance between the two of them was close enough, so close that they could see the slightest emotional fluctuations in each other's eyes.
"It is a stable rear. The Golden Robes can withdraw from the quagmire of Flea Bottom and guard the really important places, the Red Fort, the city gates, and the noble areas. Your army no longer needs to be distracted by the riots of the poor."
"I will keep Flea Bottom in good order and turn it from a disgrace to King's Landing into... at least no longer a trouble."
Corleone's voice became lighter but more penetrating. "The most important thing is...
"You will have more time and more energy to accomplish the great things you really care about."
"King Tommen, he is only eight years old and needs the guidance of a wise ruler to learn how to become a qualified princess."
"With the consolidation of the Lannister-Tyrell alliance, Marga Rei will become Queen, but this alliance needs to be carefully maintained, and it needs to deal with the Queen of Thorns' calculations and balance the interests of all parties."
"The war is over, but peace is more fragile. The the North remnant party has not been cleared up, the hatred of Dorne remains, the attitude of the Vale is ambiguous, and the Iron Islands are ready to move... These are the things that the Prime Minister should pay attention to."
"As for the mud and filth of Flea Bottom...
As he said that, an almost humble smile appeared on Corleone's face.
"Let me, a person who crawled out of the mud, handle it. I know the rules there, I know the people there, and I know how to establish order in the filth."
After saying that, Corleone stopped talking.
He just stood there, waiting.
Like a businessman who has made a final offer and quietly waits for the customer's decision.
Tywin Lannister stood there.
He did not look at Corleone, but looked out the window, at the city he had ruled for twenty years but never really understood.
Maybe..
The Prime Minister slowly closed his eyes.
When he opened it again, all the hesitation in his green eyes seemed to have disappeared.
"I promise."
Tywin finally spoke, his voice calm and strong. "The golden robes will evacuate Flea Bottom before sunset today."
"Within three days, the king will sign an edict declaring Flea Bottom to be Special Autonomous Experimental Zone. The tax will be paid at a rate of one-third of other areas in King's Landing, but the first three months will be tax-free as reconstruction funds."
"However, the size of the security force in the autonomous region shall not exceed 300 people, and shall not be equipped with heavy armor or military crossbows. Cases involving nobles must be transferred to the Red Fort, and...
Tywin's eyes became sharp. "The Community Wardens you mentioned cannot wear any uniform similar to military uniforms. They are just... civilian volunteers."
This is the biggest concession he can make and the last bottom line he can keep.
However, just when Tywin thought the negotiations were over.
Corleone shook his head.
It's not a rejection, but a... regretful denial.
"Lord Tywin, you and I know both."
His voice was very soft, but it made Tywin's newly relaxed nerves tense again.
"Guarantees like this are the least convincing among Game of Thrones."
Hearing this, Tywin frowned, with a hint of displeasure in his voice. "I am the Prime Minister and the actual ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. What I say will definitely count."
"Really?"
Corleone smiled, a bit mockingly.
He slowly took out a document from his arms and unfolded it, letting the candlelight illuminate the familiar handwriting.
"This letter of appointment "Chief Intelligence Officer of the Small Council" signed by you personally is now in my possession."
"In black and white, your signature, and the Prime Minister's seal."
He raised his eyes and looked at Tywin.
"But what's the result?"
As soon as this question came out of his mouth, Tywin was speechless.
Because he couldn't answer. After all, when Corleone went to Dragonstone Island to perform his mission, he couldn't wait to order the golden robe to take over Flea Bottom, trying to take everything he had worked hard for as his own.
"So you see." Upon seeing this, Corleone slowly rolled up the letter of appointment and took it back into his arms. "No matter how beautiful the promise, no matter how authoritative the signature, may become useless paper in the face of interests."
"This is not an accusation, Lord Tywin. This is reality. I understand it, and you understand it. We are all realists."
He paused, and then said the most shocking sentence of the night, "So, let's try another way."
Hearing this, Tywin frowned even more tightly. "In what way?"
I saw Corleone reaching into his arms again, and this time he took out not a document, but... Gold Dragon.
An ordinary Gold Dragon reflects a warm luster in the candlelight.
The fingers were slightly bent, and the gold coin was flicked into the air, flipped in the air, and was firmly caught by Corleone, held in the palm of his hand.
Then, he grinned at Tywin: "Let's make a bet, Prime Minister."