The money bag drew an arc in the air.
"Not enough?" Corleone stretched out his hand to catch it, frowning slightly.
Hearing this, Bronn's Adam's apple rolled up and down.
His eyes were staring straight at the money bag in Corleone's hand, his eyes full of greed and reluctance.
It was as if my deep-rooted instinct was screaming, "Take it back, that's yours, that's two hundred Gold Dragon, you idiot!"
But there was something deeper pulling at him.
"No."
Bronn's voice was hoarse and he swallowed. "This money is enough to buy ten Dothraki, but...
, he stopped.
The muscles in his jaw were tense and his teeth were clenching, as if he was engaged in a silent and fierce physical battle with his own instincts.
James crossed his arms and watched this scene with interest.
Finally, Bronn seemed to have made up his mind. He suddenly looked away from the money bag and turned to the morning light at the end of the alley, as if he would change his mind if he looked at it for a second longer.
That action was as painful as... preparing to carve out a piece of my own flesh with my own hands.
"I want to make a deal with you." Bronn took a deep breath and turned around. "Not with this bag of Gold Dragon, but with... something else."
"For example?"
Bronn's self-light swept across the unconscious Yego on the ground, and then returned to Corleone's face. "I helped you save your Dothraki Warrior. Now, I need you to do something for me, or in other words, do something for my former employer."
"Although Tyrion is ugly, has a vicious mouth, and has a bad temper... he pays readily and never asks for details."
This was said very softly, but Corleone could hear the weight in it.
In King's Landing, nobles view Mercenarys like Bronn as either tools, hyenas, or pawns that can be sacrificed if necessary.
But Tyrion Lannister, the one Tyrion who was looked down upon because of his own shortcomings, actually gave Bronn some equal respect.
"So you want me to save him." Corleone said.
"The trial will begin in three days." Bronn's tone became more urgent. "I know that Tyrion is not loved by his father, the prime minister, and I am very aware of the trial routines of those nobles."
"I saw it when I was in the Eyrie. The nobles didn't listen to any excuses at all. It was called a trial, but in fact it was just a so-called procedure for killing people reasonably. No one would listen to Tyrion's excuse then."
"He will definitely be found guilty."
Such a firm expectation made James's face immediately darken.
Of course he knows these tricks, after all, he is also a noble, and one of the most powerful nobles in Westeros.
Corleone looked at Bronn, with a trace of real confusion flashing in his eyes.
This confusion made Bronn feel a little uncomfortable, as if he was saying, "There are times when you don't like money."
You know, just now, he was still trying to ask Yego how much Gold Dragon could get in a month for being so loyal to Corleone, but now he did this again.
From Ser Bronn of the Blackwater, this doesn't fit your personality.
The air suddenly became quiet for a few seconds.
Bronn's expression froze, and his face that was accustomed to pretending rarely showed a trace of embarrassment and embarrassment at this moment.
"Fuck." He spat and wiped his face hard, as if he wanted to erase the momentary wavering. "Don't fucking look at me like that."
"Listen, I'm not that noble. I help Tyrion purely because Tyrion is the only fucking employer I've ever encountered in King's Landing who never defaults on payment and always pays more."
"There are not many such scapegoats in the entire seven the Seven Kingdoms!"
Bronn became more and more fluent as he spoke, as if he really believed this rhetoric. "If he dies, I will have to find another employer. Do you know what this means?"
"It means that I have to bargain with those noble lords all over again, endure their nostrils, and worry about whether they will default on the payment."
He spread his hands and made a "you know" gesture. "So, I am not saving Tyrion Lannister. I am protecting my long-term investment and maintaining a stable source of income."
"This is called... business intelligence."
These words are so high-sounding and logically consistent that they are almost believable.
Almost.
But Corleone and James are not easy to fool. They exchanged a look with the same understanding.
"Anyway." Seeing that the looks they were looking at him were getting weirder and weirder, Bronn became louder and tried to cover up his guilt with his volume. "Don't get me wrong, I just don't want an employer who pays me money to be hanged. This is reasonable, right?"
There was silence in the alley for a moment.
Then Corleone nodded with a calm expression. "That's very reasonable."
But the "It's weird if I believe you" look in his eyes made Bronn even more uncomfortable.
The morning light was brighter again, and now we could clearly see the small wounds on Yego's face and the dried blood on Bronn's armor.
Corleone put the money bag back into his arms, squatted down and checked Yego's pulse again. It was a little stronger than before, but still weak.
"If you want to save Tyrion."
Corleone said without raising his head, his voice clearly audible in the silence of the early morning. "The method is actually very simple."
As soon as these words came out, Bronn and James immediately pricked up their ears at the same time. "What method?"
"Let him apply for trial by combat." Corleone said, "According to the laws of the Seven Kingdoms, nobles accused of serious crimes have the right to request proof of innocence in front of the gods in the Warrior way."
"Tyrion is a Lannister and a former finance minister. He is fully qualified. His proposal for trial by combat will never be rejected."
James nodded thoughtfully. "This is indeed a way. If Tyrion can find a strong enough proxy knight and win the contest, the gods will acquit him."
"That's right." Corleone continued, "You are now a serious knight, Bronn."
"The Mountain is seriously injured and it will take at least several months to recover. There are not many people in King's Landing who can defeat you now. As for the other so-called knights"...
", Corleone's tone contained undisguised contempt: "Most of them are embroidered pillows wearing beautiful armor. Bronn, you have been fighting on the battlefield for twenty years and have killed more people than they have ever seen. If there is a trial by combat, your chance of winning is at least 70%."
These words were logically clear and analyzed so thoroughly that they almost made Bronn's heart beat.
But the expression on the Mercenary knight's face gradually turned serious from the initial excitement.
He was silent for a long time, his lips pursed into a thin line.
There was actually a little fear and flinching in those eyes that were accustomed to calculating.
"Magic Mountain...
Hearing this, James frowned and said in confusion, "Moshan's cheek was penetrated horizontally, his tongue was severed from the root, and there were dozens of sword wounds on his body. Within three months, he couldn't even get out of bed."
This is true.
Back in front of House of Order, the most terrifying giant in the Seven Kingdoms needed four people to move him back to the Red Keep.
Many maesters shook their heads and talked privately, saying that even if he could survive, Gregor Clegane Ser would be useless and could only spend the rest of his life drooling in bed.
But Bronn's expression told Jaime that things were not that simple.
Mercenary Knight took a deep breath, as if to muster up the courage to say something terrible.
His eyes swept over Corleone, James, and finally settled deep in the alley, as if to confirm that no fourth person was listening.
"When I sneaked into the Red Keep to rescue Yego, I passed by an abandoned storage room deep beneath Maegor's Tower."
"But there, I heard a conversation between Queen Mother and an old man."
"Cersei?" Jaime asked immediately.
Bronn nodded and continued to talk, his tone becoming more and more solemn. "I didn't want to meddle in other people's business, but the conversation between those two people... was too weird."
"I couldn't fucking understand what they were discussing, but I could understand a few words...
, as he spoke, he raised his head and looked directly into Corleone's eyes. "The Magic Mountain has recovered and is even stronger than before!
As soon as these words came out, James stood up straight and his eyes widened. "Impossible! Absolutely impossible!"
However, Bronn ignored him, but licked his chapped lips and continued, "I also heard that old guy... say that the operation has been completed." He also vowed that the Mountain can no longer feel pain, does not need sleep, and its muscle strength can reach twice its previous level.
The alley was deathly silent.
James's face became extremely ugly.
He opened his mouth and wanted to say something, but his throat seemed to be blocked by something.
Magic Mountain healed?
Twice stronger than before?
What a joke!
The power of the Magic Mountain is famous throughout the Seven Kingdoms. Apart from him, James has only seen one person in his life who can wield a two-handed giant sword with one hand.
That was Arthur Dayne, the Dawn Sword who was recognized by everyone as the strongest knight in the Seven Kingdoms!
Of course, although there is not much difference in strength between the two, and perhaps the Magic Mountain is stronger, they are definitely not comparable to Arthur Dayne in terms of skills.
At least before James lost his right hand, he was at least 70% sure of defeating the Magic Mountain, but until now he still doesn't think he can compare with Arthur Ser.
He is so strong, so strong that no one has the confidence to compete with him in swordsmanship.
Therefore, James is so sure that Ed Stark will never be able to defeat Arthur Dayne, even if he brings ten of the strongest the North Warrior with him!
At least that's the case from the front.
But now, Bronn actually said that the Mountain with such power was not only healed, but also doubled in strength?
Seven gods above!
This goes against all medical common sense, logic, and even common sense.
Unlike James' shock, the moment Corleone heard Bronn's description, a name suddenly flashed in his mind.
"Qyburn." Corleone whispered, and Jaime and Bronn turned their heads at the same time.
"Who?" James asked.
Corleone Close your eyes and take a deep breath.
"Qyburn." He repeated, opening his eyes, his gaze as sharp as a knife. "Former bachelor of the city, expelled for conducting unethical experiments on living subjects."
"Later, he joined Vargo Hurt and became a bachelor of the Warriors. He is good at... or obsessed with exploring the human body."
He paused and his tone became cold. "When I left Harrenhal, I heard that Roose Bolton executed all the remaining members of the Warriors. It seems that the news was wrong. Not only did Qyburn escape, he also ran to King's Landing and took refuge with Cersei."
Hearing this, James' face became even more ugly. "You mean, Cersei used a mad bachelor who was expelled from the city and conducted live experiments to treat the Mountain?"
"More than just treatment."
"She is transforming" him, maybe...
Corleone didn't finish speaking, but the meaning was already obvious.
Bronn on the side swallowed his saliva. "So, trial by combat is a dead end."
"If the Magic Mountain is really what they say... don't talk about me, even if ten Bronn of the Blackwaters come together, they still can't defeat that kind of monster."
Hearing Bronn say this, James clenched his fists and his knuckles turned white.
"It overlaps with the original plot again, is it a coincidence..." Corleone murmured to himself, his voice so soft that it was almost inaudible.
"What?" Bronn didn't hear clearly.
Corleone shook his head and had no explanation.
Thoughts were racing in his mind. Qybain, a character who should have appeared in the original plot, actually appeared in this way and at this time.
Is it a coincidence, or is there something controlling all of this?
Three-Eyed Crow?
Some... so-called gods?
He has been too busy recently, busy reorganizing Flea Bottom's forces, busy dealing with Tywin, and planning for the future.
He sent Rorge to collect intelligence, but it mainly focused on the levels of golden robes, businessmen, and low-level bureaucrats.
As for Queen Mother and others deep in the Red Fort, Corleone completely ignored them, or he simply had no time to take care of these things.
Corleone Unexpectedly, even though he severely damaged the Mountain earlier than in the original plot, the "Biological Mountain" was still created by Cersei and Qyburn.
No, maybe it's stronger than in the original plot.
It looks like you need to plan carefully.
Three days later, there were no empty seats in Baylor Great Sept.
All the nobles in King's Landing, as long as they can still move around, are here today.
Dressed in the richest silks and velvets and wearing family crests, they talked in hushed tones, exchanged glances, and occasionally muffled laughter.
After all, a public trial against the Lannister family is not something you see every day.
On the high platform under the statue of the Seven Gods, there are three high-backed chairs.
In the middle sits Tywin Lannister, who is wearing a crimson lion pattern and a badge symbolizing the hand of the king on his chest. His hair is meticulously combed and his beard is neatly trimmed.
From the outside, the actual ruler of the Seven Kingdoms is still majestic and unshakable.
But if you look closely, you will find that there is a faint green shadow under his eyes, which is the trace of several consecutive nights of insomnia.
His eyes swept over the densely packed heads in Great Sept. Tywin's eyes were deep and could not reflect any emotion.
But inside, he was far from as calm as on the surface.
In the past three days, the Prime Minister has used almost all the resources he can mobilize to investigate the "impenetrable" mysterious power in Vito·Corleone.
He summoned the most learned bachelors in the city and asked whether similar witchcraft or Magic was recorded in ancient books. He sent people to the other side of the Narrow Sea and hired occult scholars from Asshai and Qarth with huge sums of money.
The result was nothing.
The maesters quoted scriptures, from the blood magic of Valyria to the green vision of the Children of the Forest, from the Curse of the Drowned God to the miracles of the Lord of Light, but none of them could explain what happened in the Prime Minister's bedroom that night.
A sharp sword, with all its strength, cannot penetrate human skin.
This scares Tywin even more than the dragon.
Because in history, dragons had weaknesses. They would be shot through the eyes by scorpion crossbows, killed by other dragons, and die of old age or disease.
But what about a person who cannot be killed by conventional means?
What does this mean?
This means that all power structures based on "force deterrence" may fail in front of this person.
What's even more frightening is that Corleone obviously knows this very well.
That night, he deliberately displayed this power, not to deal with Tywin once and for all, but to establish a new balance.
On Tywin's left is Kevan Lannister, and on his right is Mace Tyrell.
The Duke of Highgarden was beautifully dressed today. His emerald green velvet coat was embroidered with gold Rose, and he had a fresh, dew-stained real Rose flower on his chest.
In a season like this, you can imagine how difficult it is to find a blooming Rose.
Mace actually doesn't want to sit here.
But as Marga Li's father, he knew that his daughter once shared the poisoned cup with Joffrey at the banquet.
That damn Tyrion must pay the price!
Time passed by minute by minute until everyone was seated. The Archbishop stood in front of the statue of the Seven Gods and finished the opening speech tremblingly.
Immediately afterwards, the sound of heavy iron chains dragging the floor came from behind.
All the nobles turned their heads in unison.
Tyrion Lannister was escorted by four golden robes and slowly walked from the passage of the underground cell to the trial seat.
He walked very slowly because the shackles restricted his pace, which made his already short body look even more ridiculous, like a tethered toy that could walk.
Four gold-robed men kept their hands on the hilt of their swords. A Tyrion, which was less than five feet tall, required four fully armed soldiers to be so alert. It seemed very ironic, as if they were escorting a dangerous beast that could rise up and injure people at any time.
Even some nobles couldn't help laughing.
With every step, Tyrion raised his head and scanned every face in the auditorium with his gray-green eyes.
He saw it.
He saw the contempt in the eyes of those nobles, and the undisguised expressions of gloating about misfortune.
These people who once feasted, drank, and fawned over him at the banquets he hosted now looked at him like they were trash.
Then, he saw Cersei.
His sister was sitting in the first row of the gallery, wearing a gorgeous bright red dress. Her green eyes were full of madness and resentment, as if she wanted to rush down and tear him into pieces with her lioness claws!
But James was not seen.
Tyrion sighed, lowered his head, walked past Sept with dull eyes, came to the open space in front of the trial seat, and stopped.
Then he straightened his back. Even with his height, it didn't reach the waist of a normal person.
"The accused, Tyrion Lannister."
The archbishop read in a trembling voice, "You are accused of murdering King Joffrey I Your Majesty with poison at his wedding banquet. Do you plead guilty?"
Tyrion raised his head and looked at his father on the high platform.
Tywin looked at him too.
"I plead guilty." Tyrion said, his voice clear. "I plead guilty to being born Tyrion, to having a sister who wanted me dead, to having a father who treated me as a shame, to living in a world where even breathing is a sin Tyrion!"
He paused, and a bitter curve formed at the corner of his mouth. "But I don't plead guilty to murdering Joffrey, because I didn't do it."
As soon as these words came out, there was a low commotion in Great Sept.
The nobles exchanged looks, some shook their heads, some curled their lips, but no one dared to speak loudly.
Tywin's expression did not change at all.
He had long expected that Tyrion would deny it. After all, this Tyrion son had nothing more than his stubbornness and eloquence, but he had inherited the Lannister tradition.
Then, he winked at his brother, the Minister of Justice.
"The witness." Kevan Lannister said solemnly.
Soon, a young prostitute walked into Sept barefoot, because the bishops considered prostitutes to be unclean people and did not allow them to wear shoes.
She was wearing a cheap but revealing dress and heavy makeup, and was so nervous that she was shaking when she walked in.
"My lord... my lords."
"I work in Silk Street, and about a month ago, Lord Tyrion... no, that Tyrion he came to me, drank a lot, and then... then he said...
She paused, and out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of Queen Mother's cold gaze from the first row of the auditorium, and she couldn't help but shudder.
"He said the king was a little bastard" and said one day I would strangle that blond-haired little bastard with my own hands"!
The prostitute's voice became quieter and quieter, until finally it was almost inaudible.
Tyrion closed his eyes.
He didn't even remember saying that, but... did it matter?
The testimony of a whore, under the power of the Lannister, can become anything they want.
The second witness was even more outrageous.
She is a middle-aged prostitute, with a big body and a round waist. She is the type that Robert Baratheon likes, but it is definitely not Tyrion's preference.
"He likes to play special games."
The woman's voice is very strong and bold, like a man's, and everyone in Great Sept can hear it.
"That Tyrion always ties us up, whips us, and wants us to call him "Your Majesty"!"
"He said that one day, he would sit on the Iron Throne and let everyone who looked down upon him lick his feet!"
Hearing this, a burst of laughter came from the auditorium.
Many aristocratic women covered their mouths with their hands and shook their shoulders.
Tyrion clenched his fists.
He knew that these testimonies were false, made up by Cersei and Tywin.
But they don't care about the truth, they just need a "reasonable" reason, a story that makes the nobles believe that "this Tyrion is born evil, so he will poison the king."
The third, fourth, fifth...
Prostitutes, bartenders, even some minor nobles and jesters.
They all took the witness stand and used true and false details to paint a picture of a drunken, violent Tyrion Lannister who was full of resentment against the royal family.
"He often said that a Lannister debt must be paid, and everyone in King's Landing owes me their life!"
"He said he would put something in the king's wine"!"
"I saw him put a bottle of poison into the king's cup at the wedding feast!"
When a lie is repeated a thousand times, it begins to take on the weight of truth.
Great Sept The atmosphere inside gradually changed.
The eyes of the nobles looking at Tyrion changed from curiosity to contempt and even hatred, as if they hated this Tyrion with whom they had almost nothing to do.
"I didn't!"
Tyrion finally broke out.
He took a step forward, the chains clattering.
"I didn't poison! I didn't say those words! I don't know these women! It's all lies! It was Cersei's arrangement! She wanted me dead!"
He pointed at Cersei in the first row of the auditorium, and the angry voice echoed in Great Sept, sharp and desperate, like the roar of a trapped animal.
"She hates me, she has hated me since the day my mother died in childbirth!"
As he said that, he pointed to Tywin on the high platform. "And you! Father!"
"You have always only regarded me as a bargaining chip, as a commodity that can be traded. You asked me to marry Sansa Stark, not for me, but for the North!"
"Now that Sansa Stark is gone, I'm useless, so you can safely let me die, right!!!"
Great Sept Deathly silence.
This trial, originally thought to be a show for the Lannister family to clean up their family, suddenly turned into a public scandal of the family.
Some people leaned forward excitedly, and some lowered their heads in embarrassment, but they still secretly observed the Prime Minister on the throne.
Tywin remained expressionless.
He just looked at Tyrion like a flying insect struggling in a spider web.
After a moment of silence, the Prime Minister slowly stood up, his crimson robe hanging down, like flowing blood in the colorful light and shadow.
"Tyrion Lannister."
"You accuse Queen Mother and the Prime Minister of fabricating evidence to frame you, so please provide counter-evidence."
"Please provide evidence to prove that you were not present when Joffrey Your Majesty was poisoned, or that someone else had the motive and ability to commit the murder."
"Otherwise, according to the laws of the seven countries, the court has the right to presume that you are guilty when multiple witnesses testify unanimously."
Hearing this, Tyrion froze.
Evidence?
What evidence does he have?
There are hundreds of people at the wedding banquet, but who will testify for one Tyrion?
Who would risk offending the Prime Minister and Queen Mother to stand up and say "Tyrion is innocent"?
Look around and look at those eyes that are either amusement, disgust or hatred.
Tyrion felt extremely bitter in his heart. In this King's Landing, he was still alone and helpless.
Just like most of his life.
Except...
"I know you are rich, Tyrion Lannister."
A voice suddenly sounded in my mind, coming from the conversation deep in the dungeon two days ago.
"The second son of Casterly Rock, you live a good and prosperous life. You have guards and Bronn to protect you. You don't need friends like me."
Tyrion closed his eyes.
The cold, damp, musty smell of the dungeon seemed to surround him again.
There is also that person, Farmer Knight who is simply dressed, has a gentle smile, but has bottomless eyes.
"But now you come to me and say "Lord Corleone, please help me get justice"!"
"But you have no respect for me at all. You don't regard me as a friend."
"You don't even want to call me Ser"."
The memory is terrifyingly clear.
Every word is imprinted in Tyrion's mind.
At that time, he knelt down.
In order to survive, he knelt down on one knee to a knight born in the mud in a dirty dungeon and kissed the back of his hand.
"Dear Ser Corleone, please forgive me for my initial ignorance."
"My brother said that looking across the Seven Kingdoms, only you can give me justice now."
"I can add money."
He remembered Corleone's expression at that time.
The man smiled and took out a gold coin from his pocket, an ordinary Gold Dragon, which reflected the weak light of the oil lamp in the dark dungeon.
"You have shown your respect for Corleone, my friend."
"Don't worry, even Stranger can't take away your soul under my hands."
"Because I will make an offer that no one can refuse."
This sentence is like the last straw, suddenly surfaced when Tyrion is about to be overwhelmed by despair.
He opened his eyes and looked at Tywin, Cersei, and all the people in Great Sept who were waiting to see him die.
Corleone promised.
The man promised.
But where is he?
The trial has reached this stage, the witnesses have finished testifying, and Tywin has asked him to provide counter-evidence. If Corleone really has a plan, why hasn't he shown up yet?
Could it be... that it was just a show?
How could a Farmer Knight rescue a convicted Tyrion from the snare carefully woven by Tywin and Cersei?
His lips began to tremble.
Not fear, but anger, anger at myself for actually believing that illusory promise, anger at Corleone, and anger at the whole world.
"I have no evidence."
"But I demand... a joust...
Tyrion took a deep breath and prepared to say the words that would end his fate.
Trial by combat can at least buy you some time.
Even if no one is willing to fight for him, at least he will not struggle on the gallows and let everyone see his short legs kicking in the air.
It's so ugly.
But just then...
Great Sept's door was pushed open violently.
Two heavy oak door panels hit the walls on both sides, making a deafening sound that reverberated throughout Sept.
Everyone was startled and turned their heads.
The sunlight pours in from the open doorway, making people squint their eyes so dazzlingly.
In the backlight, a slender figure stood at the door, its outline blurred by the light.
The golden robe guarding the door reacted and immediately stepped forward to stop him. "Who is it? This is a sacred place.
"Get out of the way."
A woman's voice responded to him.
Young, clear, with the unique cold accent of the North.
Jinpaozi was stunned.
The figure at the door took a step forward and stepped inside Great Sept.
The morning light poured in from the open doorway, casting a golden spot on the floor at the door, and in the center of the light, stood a figure.
She wore an exquisite dark blue velvet dress with the direwolf's coat of arms embroidered with silver thread on the hem. Her long red hair was not braided into a complicated bun like a married woman's, but was hung loosely on her shoulders, with only a simple silver hair crown tied around her forehead.
The woman's skin is fair and smooth, her lips are red, and her sapphire-like eyes inherited from her mother are clear and calm.
She stood there with her back straight and her chin slightly raised, as elegant as a hostess who was about to enter the hall of her castle!
The nobles opened their mouths, but no sound came out.
The hands of the men in golden robes were frozen on the hilts of their swords, wondering whether they should step forward to stop him.
Even Tyrion's eyes widened and he looked in disbelief at the figure that everyone thought was dead, or at least disappeared forever, as he walked gracefully from the door.
His nominal wife.
Sansa Stark!