The morning mist is like a thin veil, wrapping around the towering towers of the Red Fort.
Corleone stepped out from a hidden side door. He stood in the shadow of the city wall, leaning against the cold stone wall, and took a deep breath.
Behind him, the Red Fort gradually became noisy.
The sound of hurried footsteps echoed on the stone road, the sound of metal armor clashing became more and more intensive, and the lights lit up one after another, like frightened fireflies, suddenly lighting up the entire castle.
"First assassination!"
"The assassin may still be inside the fort, block all exits!"
"Quick! Quick!!"
Fragmented shouts floated in the wind, which seemed particularly harsh in the silence of the early morning.
Corleone listened for a moment, and a faint arc appeared at the corner of his mouth.
He looked down at himself and saw that the blood-stained White Armor had been replaced in the secret passage. He was now wearing ordinary dark coarse cloth and an inconspicuous gray cloak.
Thirty steps ahead, deep in the shadow of the corner of the city wall, a figure stood quietly.
The man was also wearing white armor, but he was standing in a relaxed posture, with his back leaning against the wall, and one foot casually bent up and kicked on the stone wall.
The morning light came from the side and outlined the outline of the armor, but the face was immersed in shadows and could not be seen clearly, but the lowered right hand reflected a golden light.
He stepped forward, his boots making a slight squeaking sound on the wet mud.
James heard the footsteps and turned his head.
When Corleone walked ten steps away, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard raised his eyebrows, and a teasing look appeared on his handsome face.
"It seems that you are making quite a fuss." James' voice was a little hoarse, and it was obvious that he had not slept all night.
Corleone stopped three steps in front of him, spread out his hands, and made a helpless gesture. "The Prime Minister has four bodyguards dead. Even if you help lead the way, it won't be so easy next time."
This was said in an understatement, but both of them understood the weight of it.
For the success of last night's operation, James' role was crucial.
It was he, as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, who temporarily adjusted the patrol routes and sentry arrangements in the early morning hours, allowing the soldiers who were supposed to be standing guard at key positions to temporarily leave because they "received emergency transfer orders," thus opening up an invisible passage for Corleone.
Without these help, even if White Armor, wearing the Kingsguard, wanted to sneak into the core of the Red Keep and reach the Prime Minister's bedroom quietly, it would be an almost impossible task.
James didn't answer, but looked at Corleone with his green eyes.
After a moment, he suddenly smiled. There was a bit of self-deprecation in that smile, a bit of relief, and something that even he couldn't explain clearly.
"I have to say."
James shook his head. "As Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, the purpose of helping an outsider sneak into the Red Keep was to threaten his father, the Prime Minister...
"If word of this gets out, I may become the first Kingsguard in history to be executed for helping someone else assassinate his own father."
He said it easily, but Corleone heard the underlying meaning.
"Regret it?"
"No." James answered quickly, almost without thinking, "I just think fate is really interesting."
"You saved my life in the Riverlands half a year ago, and now in King's Landing, I help you threaten my father's life. Is this some kind of twisted repayment?"
Corleone also laughed, "Lannister must pay its debts, right?"
Another gust of morning wind blew by, bringing with it the fishy and salty smell of the Blackwater River.
In the distance, the market began to wake up, and King's Landing gradually became bustling and lively again. The news about the Prime Minister's assassination last night had not spread.
But even if word spreads, people will not show too much emotion. After all, in just two years, King's Landing has already lost two lives at the hands of kings.
Listening to the commotion in the distance, after a moment of silence, James finally asked the question that had been on his lips since Corleone appeared, "How was the talk?"
"Pretty good." Corleone replied with a smile, "Tywin Lannister is a person who can always put interests first."
"Calm, rational, and good at calculating costs and benefits. Even if the tip of the sword is at his throat, he can make the judgment that best suits his own interests in the shortest time."
"I made a calculation for him. There will be a price to pay for suppressing Flea Bottom. The Golden Robes and Lannister troops will suffer casualties, and a chain reaction may erupt in other cities in King's Landing."
"The most important thing is that his image as prime minister will definitely be affected."
"If he wins, he might be called Mad Hand", if he loses... hehe."
Hearing this, James let out a hum of unknown meaning, whether it was approval or ridicule.
He knew his father too well. Tywin could withstand military defeats, financial losses, and even temporary political setbacks.
But what he will never tolerate is the collapse of his authority image.
Because half of the Lannister rule is based on gold mines and armies, and the other half is based on the myth that "Tywin Lannister is invincible".
"So he accepted your terms?" James asked.
"He embraced the more rational option."
Corleone corrected: "The golden robes will be evacuated from Flea Bottom before sunset today. The king, or rather... the prime minister, will issue an edict declaring Flea Bottom a special autonomous zone" and try out a new community governance model. There will be a three-month tax holiday, and then taxes will be paid at 30%."
He paused, and there was something close to emotion in his tone. "I still remember that when we were at Harrenhal, Luce Bolton said something very right. A harmonious land and peaceful people are the way to rule."
"Your father is a very good ruler. He will not fail to understand this truth. Rather than letting Flea Bottom continue to be a bleeding and festering wound, it is better to let it scab and heal."
Hearing this answer, James nodded.
His expression was very calm, without much emotion.
In fact, Corleone knew that James was not deeply concerned about Flea Bottom itself or the situation of the poor.
As the eldest son of the Duke of Casterly Rock, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard grew up surrounded by gold and silk. Although he suffered some hardships in the Riverlands, he could not understand what it felt like to be so hungry that he could chew tree bark, nor could he understand the despair of selling his dignity for a Copper Penny.
He helped Corleone not out of any lofty ideals, or even out of rebellion against his father, although there were indeed factors in this regard.
He helped Corleone just because Corleone was his friend.
James will help protect the property that his friends care about, his territory, and the things that his friends want to protect.
It's that simple.
Corleone looked at James' side face.
The morning light is brighter again, and now we can clearly see the new stubble on Lord Commander of the Kingsguard's chin, as well as something heavy that is settling in his eyes that are always a bit playful.
Tyrion is awaiting trial, Cersei is going crazy over the death of Joffrey, and her father has just been threatened.
And James stands here, helping the person who threatens his father escape.
The burden on this man's shoulders is much heavier than it looks.
Suddenly, a thought full of bad taste came out of Corleone's mind, and he said jokingly, "Seriously, James, aren't you afraid that I will really kill your father?"
"If I had not stopped and actually slit his throat with that dagger... then there would no longer be anyone in King's Landing who could threaten my development."
"Once the Prime Minister dies, the Lannister family will fall into chaos, Cersei will go even crazier, Kevan will be unable to control the situation, Tyrell will be ready to move, and I can take advantage of the chaos and turn Flea Bottom into a true state within a state."
He spoke very slowly and every word was clearly audible.
At the same time, his eyes were fixed on James' face, observing the smallest changes in expression.
James' reaction was unexpected.
He was stunned for a moment, then laughed.
That laughter echoed in the alley in the early morning, startling a napping crow on the wall.
"If you do that, both Cersei and Tyrion will thank you."
"Really, I promise, Cersei will knight you and Tyrion will treat you to drink all the wine in his cellar.
This is half a joke and half a bitter truth.
After all, the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms know very well that although Tywin Lannister is tough and wise in his rule, he has poor education for his children...
All I can say is that no one is perfect.
A father who is too tough will often raise a lot of rebellious children.
Hearing James' answer, Corleone also smiled.
He knew very well that the joke itself was the sharpest satire on the relationship between father and son, and the most straightforward expression of James' complex mood at the moment.
The two of them looked at each other and smiled, like two accomplices who shared some secret amidst the sirens of the Red Fort and the gradually noisy sound of the city waking up.
Then, James' smile gradually faded.
He took a step forward, closing the distance with Corleone.
Now the two of them were standing face to face, so close that they could clearly see their own reflections in each other's pupils.
Lord Commander of the Kingsguard's expression became extremely serious, and the usual frivolity and joking completely disappeared, replaced by Corleone's rarely seen seriousness.
"I know you won't," James said.
Corleone raised his eyebrows. "Are you so sure?"
"Don't forget, I am a person who will do anything to achieve his goals. You saw it when I was in the Riverlands."
"I've seen a lot." James nodded. "I've seen how you exchanged Medicine for a chance to survive, I've seen you use words to persuade Vargo Hurt, I've seen how you use strategies to make the warrior group kill each other, and I've seen how you use tricks to control Flea Bottom."
As he spoke, James paused and his voice became deeper.
"But when we were in the Riverlands, you chose to save me."
"When you could exchange my identity for more benefits, and when everyone was against me, you saved a regicide who had lost his right hand, lost his honor, and was about to lose himself."
, the alley suddenly became quiet.
Even the noise in the Red Castle in the distance seemed to have receded temporarily, leaving only the breathing of two men.
At this moment, heavy and rapid footsteps came from the shadows at the other end of the alley.
The two turned around and saw a figure staggering out of the darkness. It was Bronn, Tyrion's former guard.
But at this moment, Mercenary, who is known for his cleverness and greed, looks quite embarrassed.
He was carrying a person on his shoulders. The person was obviously very heavy. Sweat rolled down his forehead and soaked the dirty leather collar.
Bronn took a few more difficult steps forward, and finally couldn't hold on any longer when he was a few feet away from Corleone and James. His knees weakened and he knelt down on one knee.
The person on his shoulders slipped off and fell into the muddy water with a "thud", and the splashed mud stained Bronn's face.
Mercenary Knight gasped for breath, his chest heaving violently. After a few seconds, he reluctantly raised his head, looked at James with his cunning and tired eyes, and squeezed out a sentence through his teeth. "This Dothraki... is so damn heavy."
Yes, the person he was carrying was Yego, who was secretly imprisoned by Tywin.
The strong Dothraki Warrior, at this moment, his black hair is stuck to his forehead with blood, and his naked upper body is covered with crisscrossing fresh scars.
Blood flowed down his body, spreading dark red stains in the mud.
James did not look at Yego immediately, but instead raised his eyebrows, with a joking smile on his face.
"Is it as heavy as the title of Stoke Fort Worth Earl?"
As soon as these words came out, Bronn was stunned for a moment, then grinned.
"Stoke Fort Worth Earl...
2
"The premise is that my sister and brother-in-law died before me. Although the woman Falyse is as stupid as a pig, she is very tough. As for her dear husband Ser Balman?"
Bronn spat. "Although that guy was stripped of his position in Flea Bottom Squad Leader, he is still in good health."
"Want to wait for them to die naturally? I might have to live to be eighty first."
James crossed his arms and leaned against the wall.
"No need to bother."
"Falyse Stokeworth is forty-six this year, and Ser Balman is forty-eight. As far as I know, they have been married for twenty years and have not given birth to a single child. The bachelor's diagnosis is that both of them have problems."
He paused and looked into Bronn's eyes. "And you, Bronn Ser, married Lollys Stokeworth. Although that girl is not very bright in mind, her body is healthy."
"As long as you can get her to conceive a child, a boy, then after the death of Mr. and Mrs. Falyse, the heir to Stoke Worth will only be your son."
Hearing this, Bronn touched his chin and rubbed his rough fingers back and forth on the stubble.
"That would take a long time."
When he spoke, the previous joking in his voice was gone, leaving only a calculating tone. "Falyse and Balman may still live for twenty or thirty years, but I still have to wait, take care of that silly girl, make sure that she gives birth to a son, and make sure that the son grows up healthy...
"This deal sounds good, but the cycle is too long and there are too many variables."
"I am Mercenary, James Ser, Mercenary believes in the gold that can be obtained immediately, the woman that can be slept with tonight, and the right hand that can still hold the sword tomorrow."
"So you're not going to ask for that title?" James asked.
"Hehe..." Hearing this, Bronn smiled, with a hint of cunning. "I didn't say that."
"I just thought... there might be a faster way."
While Jaime and Bronn were arguing about the inheritance of Stokeworth, Corleone was already squatting next to Yego.
He first probed the Dothraki's carotid artery with his fingers, then checked the pupils, and then he began to examine the wound.
The stab wound on the abdomen was only half an inch away from the spleen. The broken rib may have stabbed the lung lobe. The wound on the left arm showed deep bone and tendon damage...
Corleone's brows furrowed tighter and tighter. He took out a small leather bag from his arms, which was a simple medical bag he carried with him. He then tore open the pieces of clothing next to Yego's wound and poured liquor to clean it.
The moment strong alcohol was poured on the wound, the unconscious Yego's body twitched violently, and he let out a vague growl from his throat.
"This guy has a tough mouth."
Bronn's voice came from the side.
Mercenary knight has walked to Corleone, crossing his arms and looking at the Dothraki on the ground, with some admiration in his tone.
"I have been a Mercenary for twenty years, and I have seen captured knights, assassins, and some heroes who claim they would rather die than surrender."
"But they will eventually speak. It may take a day, it may take three days, it may take all the bones to be broken and all the nails to be peeled off, but eventually they will speak."
"Because pain will destroy the will, this is human nature, no one is exception."
As he said that, the Mercenary knight looked at Corleone: "And you guy, I don't know how long you lasted."
"But when I found him, the guy named Logan was preparing to pour honey into the wound to attract ants to eat it."
"At that stage, no one could hold on, but he still didn't speak."
Having said this, Bronn asked in confusion, "How much Gold Dragon salary did you give him?"
Corleone did not answer, but silently performed preliminary hemostasis and debridement on Yego.
The scars were criss-crossed, and some had festered and pus-filled. It was obvious that they were not caused in one day.
After a few more minutes, all major wounds were treated.
He took off his cloak and covered Yego, then stood up and took out a money bag from his arms.
It was a heavy bag of Gold Dragon, with about two hundred coins, enough for a Mercenary to live comfortably for half a year, or to buy a small piece of good land.
The money bag drew an arc in the air, and the Mercenary knight caught it steadily.
Bronn weighed it subconsciously, judging the quantity and quality of the gold coins through the weight and sound.
Then, to everyone's surprise.
He looked at the money bag in his hand, then at Yego on the ground, and finally his eyes fell on Corleone's face, looking very struggling.
Then, this Mercenary knight, who was known for his money-loving attitude, did something that even James' eyes widened.
With a flick of his wrist, he threw the money bag back again!