Leaving

Corridor of House of Order.

Maybe the newly laid floor is too smooth, or maybe the wood density of the walls is just right. In short, the sound of footsteps will be slightly amplified here.

Tyrion Lannister was walking out along this corridor. His steps were brisker than usual. Although his legs were short, his steps were fast, and the sound of his boots hitting the ground was very rapid.

He was even humming.

A Lysian ditty from across the narrow sea, with a frivolous melody and warm lyrics, it tells the story of Sailor who met a dancing girl at the port. Tyrion's voice was a little hoarse, and his imprisonment these days had made him physically and mentally exhausted, but he sang with great concentration, and his shoulders swayed slightly with the rhythm.

When I turned the corner of the corridor, I almost bumped into someone.

"Be careful...

The other person reached out to support him.

Tyrion raised his head and saw a pair of familiar green eyes.

The elder brother stood in front of him, wearing a complete White Armor white robe, with a surprised expression on his face.

James frowned and looked at him. "What are you doing here, and... what makes you so happy?"

Hearing this, Tyrion stood firm, patted his clothes, and then grinned.

"What's the matter? Doesn't the law stipulate that Tyrion can't be happy?

As soon as these words came out, James became even more confused.

He looked at his brother up and down. Although his face was still a little pale, his eyes were bright. He had just escaped from a trial that might have resulted in the death penalty, and he looked so comfortable.

So comfortable.

Something is wrong.

"You just came out from Corleone?" James asked.

"Of course." Tyrion kept nodding his huge head, and the mysterious detective went over and whispered, "And I have news to tell you, a very, very interesting news."

James spread his hands, showing a look of anticipation.

Tyrion took a step closer, stood on tiptoes to look a little sneaky, and then said in a shocking voice, "Sansa and I are divorced!"

The corridor was quiet for a moment.

James' expression froze, his eyes widened slightly, showing an expression of disbelief.

Then, looking at the extremely vulgar look on Tyrion's face, first the corners of his mouth twitched, and then his shoulders began to shake slightly.

Immediately afterwards, he burst out laughing, and his laughter echoed in the corridor.

"Haha... divorce!" James laughed even louder and asked in an exaggerated tone, "Seven gods, you really... you really did this!"

"I didn't do it." Tyrion corrected, but his smile did not fade at all, "Sansa proposed it. I just agreed."

"When?"

"Just now, in Corleone's office, Bishop Renard presided over the ceremony. Ser Corleone served as a witness. The entire process is guaranteed to be legal and effective."

Hearing this, James' laughter gradually subsided, but the smile in his eyes was still shining. He shook his head, showing a look of helplessness.

"Father will definitely be furious." He said, there was no worry in his tone, but there was a sense of schadenfreude. "He tried his best to tie you and Sansa Stark together, just to let the Lannister blood get involved the North."

"Well now, a divorce has ruined all the plans."

As soon as he said this, Tyrion shrugged. This action was a bit uncoordinated for him because his neck was too thin and his head was too big, causing him to shake constantly.

""You've ruined everything, Tyrion.""

He cleared his throat, and then imitated Tywin's tone of voice perfectly.

This unlucky look made Jaime couldn't help laughing again, but Tyrion continued to imitate his reaction, "No, father, you ruined everything. From the moment you forced us to get married, everything was destined to be destroyed."

When he said this, there was an almost rebellious joy in his voice.

The two just looked at each other and laughed, enjoying the moment of going against their father, as if they had seen the embarrassment of having seen the great Tywin Lannister's plan fail.

This is strange.

Everyone knows that Tywin Lannister is a wise ruler and a strong lord, but what they don't know is that his three children all enjoy going against him.

Cersei is crazy, Jaime is rebellious, and Tyrion...

He was originally eager to be recognized by his father, but after experiencing this trial and frame-up, Yu Jian decided not to be a human being anymore.

After a long time, Tyrion patted Jaime's thigh... because he couldn't reach his shoulder.

"At least now, we have a common joke to share."

He said, "Imagine my father's expression when he heard the news. It must be a wonderful scene, but it's a pity that we can't see it."

James laughed again, "It's a pity indeed."

Just then, the door at the other end of the corridor opened.

Sansa Stark walks out.

She stopped when she saw Jaime and Tyrion.

For a moment, the air between the three people solidified.

The complicated history, intertwined grievances, and recently dissolved marriage were all suppressed in this brief silence.

Then, Sansa slightly bent her knees and performed a standard court etiquette, but she seemed very cold.

"Jaime Ser." Her voice was calm, without any emotion, and she didn't pay attention to Tyrion.

Seeing this, James nodded in return, but also said nothing.

After all what could he say?

Happy divorce?

But Sansa was not embarrassed at all. She straightened up and walked past them, the sound of her boots on the stone slabs clear and firm.

She didn't look back, walked straight to the stairs and disappeared around the corner.

The sound of footsteps gradually faded away.

Tyrion looked in that direction for a long time.

"She is a strong girl." He said softly, "I can feel that the girl trembling in the Red Keep is dead. The one who is alive now... is Warrior. Maybe she will live longer than us all."

James was silent for a moment, and then said, "You are right."

There was another moment of silence.

This time it was Tyrion who broke it first.

"Okay, I have to go." He waved his hand and his tone became brisk again. "I have to report to the Capital Guard. You know, I have to go there every day to prove that I didn't escape."

"At this time, we can't let our wise and powerful father catch anything."

He deliberately said the words "brilliant and wise" slowly and heavily.

James nodded.

"Be careful," he said, with a hint of genuine concern in his tone.

Tyrion smiled, did not answer, just waved his hand and continued walking out along the corridor.

He began humming the Rhys ditty again, but this time softer and almost inaudible.

James stood there, watching his brother's short back disappear at the end of the corridor.

Then, he turned around and walked towards the door that was still open.

Corleone's office is filled with a simple and bookish atmosphere.

But when James walked in, he happened to see Corleone throwing a heavy little cloth bag to Bishop Renard who was standing in front of the table.

The bag drew an arc in the air and made a crisp metal collision sound when it landed in the hands of the bishop.

Jaime, who grew up in Casterly Rock, is all too familiar with the sound of Gold Dragon rubbing against each other, which is unique and sweet.

The bishop took the bag and weighed it, with a satisfied but restrained expression on his face.

He did not open it for inspection, but carefully put the bag into his wide sleeves, and then bowed deeply.

"Thank you for your generosity, Ser Corleone." The bishop's voice was solemn and sincere, as if he was preaching to Great Sept: "The Seven Gods will remember your good deeds, Sept's repair work will begin immediately, and the food and accommodation for poor monks will also be improved. This is all thanks to you."

Corleone is sitting behind the table, with his hands folded on the table, and his posture is as relaxed as if he is chatting.

"There is no need to thank me, Lord Bishop." His voice was calm. "This is a deal. You provide me with what I need, and I pay the agreed remuneration. It's very fair."

The bishop bowed again.

"Then, please allow me to take my leave. Sept still has many matters to deal with."

"Please, oh by the way, please say hello to Archsepton for me. I will personally go to do physical therapy for his rheumatism in two days.

"Of course, Ser." The bishop turned around, saw James at the door, bowed again, and then left quickly.

His footsteps were very light, and when the sleeves of his robe were swinging, the jingle of Gold Dragon could be vaguely heard inside.

The door closed gently.

There are only two people left in the office.

James walked to the table and did not sit down. He just stood there and looked at Corleone.

"Your human network." James said slowly, "It's so pervasive that even the Bishop of Baylor Great Sept can bribe it."

Corleone leaned back on the chair with a faint smile on his face.

"It's not bribery, James." He corrected. "It's a transaction. Bishop Renard needs money. Sept is in disrepair and the monks don't have enough to eat... Although these are all excuses, the Archbishop is indeed old and sick and can't take care of these trivial matters."

"And I need some people... to provide some convenience within the church."

He paused and tapped his fingers lightly on the table.

"In the final analysis, there are only two types of relationships in this world: favors and interests."

"Human relationships require time to cultivate and emotional investment, while benefits... benefits are direct, clear, and quantifiable."

"You pay me and I'll do the work. It's simple and clean, and there won't be any unnecessary involvement."

James listened, with a flash of recognition in his eyes.

These words were cold and realistic, but... very reasonable. He thought of his experiences in King's Landing over the years.

Alliances between nobles, oaths between knights, and marriages between families may appear to be about honor, loyalty, and family affection on the surface, but peeling off that gorgeous surface reveals the naked Exchange of Interests underneath.

This is true even within the Lannister family.

But there is a difference between me and Corleone.

He thought this stubbornly, and the corner of his mouth curled up again.

Corleone picked up an exquisite crystal cup from the table, poured some Ale, and pushed it to James.

James took it and took a big sip without any hesitation.

"For example, Dontos Hollard." Corleone continued, pouring a glass himself. "Without those interests and relationships, you wouldn't have been able to find him within three days. I have a very good relationship with Earl Lych from Dusken Valley Town, and I promised to give him 30% of the profits from part of Flea Bottom's business."

"Almost all the docks in Blackwater Bay Stevedore owe me favors. Even more than one-third of the golden robes are willing to work for me."

He took a sip of wine.

"All these are woven into a net. Dontos is like a fish that falls into the net. No matter how hard he struggles, he will eventually surface."

Hearing this, he drank all the Ale in the cup.

Ale was very strong and made him frown, but after swallowing it, a warmth rose in his throat.

"You're right."

"If it hadn't been for that net, I might be completely confused now and not have a clue at all, and Tyrion... might be dead."

He put down his wine glass and looked at Corleone.

"So, thank you."

Corleone shook his head. "You're welcome, I said, this is a deal, you owe me a favor and you will have to pay it back in the future."

"I know," James said, "And... I may owe you another favor soon."

As soon as he said this, Corleone raised his eyebrows and looked at him in confusion.

James took a deep breath and stood up straight. This action made him look taller, White Armor glowing with a cold sheen in the afternoon sun.

His expression was very serious, almost serious.

"I came to say goodbye."

"Farewell?" There was a hint of surprise in Corleone's eyes. Such an expression had never been shown even when Baylor Great Sept faced the entire jury.

"I want to leave King's Landing." However, James was very determined. "I told you, I asked the North to go to the Wall."

The room was quiet for a moment.

Only the faint noise of the market could be heard outside the window, and the ticking of the old clock next to the bookshelf.

After a long time, James raised his only remaining left hand and said bluntly, "After I lost my right hand, I tried practicing swordsmanship with my left hand, but... it didn't work."

"The posture is wrong, the force is wrong, and I can't even do the most basic chopping. Even after practicing with Bronn, the way I use the sword now is still like a child who just picked up a weapon."

As he said this, he showed a deep sense of frustration.

As a swordsman genius since he was young, James was extremely brave in every battle. Even when he faced Smiling Knight, he went straight to the A without hesitation. He never felt inferior or depressed because of his swordsmanship.

Taking a deep breath, Jaime put down his hands and clenched them into fists, and continued, "After seeing Joffrey die in front of me and Tyrion being imprisoned, I realized that without swordsmanship, Jaime Lannister is even less useful than an ordinary gold robe."

"I can't protect Joffrey, I can't protect Tommen, I can't even protect my brother, watching him go to the gallows, and one day in the future, maybe I won't even be able to protect Cersei!"

His voice began to shake, not with fear, but with anger at himself.

"I don't want to go on like this anymore. I don't want to stay in King's Landing like a loser. Wearing this White Armor, pretending to be a "glorious" Kingsguard, actually can't do anything."

"Honor, title, family name, these things are worthless at critical moments. What is really useful is what you can do. It is you who can hold the sword tightly and block it in front of the person you want to protect. It is you who can say "this is the end", and then have the ability to make this sentence become a reality."

James became more and more excited as he spoke, while Corleone listened quietly.

Sometimes, listening itself is the best understanding.

"So I'm going to the Wall." James continued, his voice becoming firmer again, "I'm going to learn to fight again, with this left hand!"

"What about Tyrion?"

After the atmosphere calmed down a little, Corleone asked, "Who will protect him if you leave? Tywin will not let him go easily, and Cersei even wants him to die."

1

Hearing this, James looked at Corleone with a very determined look in his green eyes. "That's why I came to find you."

"While I'm away in King's Landing, Tyrion's safety... is in your hands."

As soon as these words came out, Corleone smiled, with a hint of ridicule in his tone. "I am not a god, Jaime Lannister Ser."

"I can't control everything. Tywin is the Prime Minister of the Seven Kingdoms and Cersei is Queen Mother. If they want Tyrion to die, there are many ways to bypass me."

"You can, as long as you want." James said, "Because you are Vito·Corleone."

He paused and glanced across the room, scanning the orderly flea nest outside the window.

"To be honest, I have never seen my father forced into such a situation by anyone. You broke into the Prime Minister's Tower at night and pointed a sword at his throat to force him to give in."

"You tore Flea Bottom from his hands and rebuilt this place full of order. You saved Tyrion. All of these things you did were things that my father could not do."

"So I believe that if you are willing, you can protect Tyrion, at least, keep him alive until I come back."

It is a simple sentence, but the trust contained in it is as heavy as a stone.

Corleone looked at him for a long time, and then he smiled. There was helplessness, recognition, and an inexplicable warmth in that smile.

"That's another price."

"I know." James also smiled, "And I said, I will pay it back.

"You already owe a lot."

"Then just owe a little more." James shrugged. "Anyway, you don't have to worry about the debt."

The room fell silent again.

Corleone stood up, walked to the window, and turned his back to James.

The sun shone in from his shoulder, casting long shadows on the table. He looked out the window and looked at the people living, working, and walking on the streets of Flea Bottom.

"Okay." Corleone finally said, "I am responsible for Tyrion's safety. Even the Seven Gods cannot take his life away, but I have a few conditions."

"You said."

"First, you have to come back alive. The dead cannot pay off their debts."

"I'll try my best."

"Second, you must really learn Left-hand sword. I don't want my investment to go to waste."

"I will."

"Very good."

Corleone nodded and walked back to the table. Instead of sitting down, he reached out and pulled a string hanging down by the table.

The other end of the rope leads to a room downstairs, where there is a bell.

After a while, the door opened.

Rorge walked in.

"My lord."

"Bring me what I ordered."

Rorge said nothing nonsense, nodded and left quickly.

James frowned and asked, "What?"

"Farewell gift." Corleone sat down again and said in a very relaxed tone, "I originally wanted to get you a Valyria steel sword. It is light and sharp, never wears out, and is best suited for one-handed use. It is no different from an artifact."

"But I asked around and found that there are too few Valyria steel weapons in circulation on the market. Each one has its own owner, and the owner regards it as a family heirloom and refuses to sell it."

"So I had to settle for the next best thing. I asked Master Tob Mott, the best blacksmith in Steel Street, to make one for you. It uses fine steel that he has collected for many years. It is folded and forged repeatedly, and the quenching process is also top-notch."

"Although it is not as good as Valyria steel, with the current technology of the Seven Kingdoms, this is already the best sword that can be made."

With that said, before James could express his gratitude, Corleone walked to the bookshelf again and pulled out a leather-bound Booklet: "During this period, I studied all the records of Sir Left-hand sword that I could find, although there are not many."

Then push Booklet in front of James.

James looked down and saw some names recorded inside. There were a few lines of small words under each name, recording their training methods, common moves, and even eating habits.

After looking at these names for a long time, I suddenly felt a lump in my throat.

During these days, his father had neglected him, and Cersei blamed him for not protecting Joffrey. However, every time he came to House of Order, he could feel that there were indeed people who still cared about him in this King's Landing.

"Where did you get these records?" James asked with a sigh of relief.

"There are scattered records in the books written by the bachelors, and some pieces are pieced together from the drunken chats of the veterans."

"It is said that "Coldhands Colin" took a full year to practice." Corleone raised his head and joked, "For a swordsman, one year is not a long time. You are only thirty-four years old this year. Even if you spend another five years practicing, it will not be too late."

"Don't forget, Barristan Selmy was still able to win the tourney at the age of fifty-seven, and...

, "You are not a swordsman who relies on brute force to win, James."

Corleone The more he continued to speak, the more James lowered his head and became silent.

After losing his right hand, the voices he heard were all regret, sympathy, and even schadenfreude.

No one told him that you can still become a top swordsman.

Only Corleone He was even reluctant to leave King's Landing, but... he had to go.

There was no silence for long before Rorge came back.

He was holding a long wooden box in his hand.

The box was very simple, with no carvings or paint. It was just ordinary oak, but it was polished very smooth. Rorge placed the box on the table, then stepped back to the door and stood with his hands hanging.

Corleone Open the lid.

It was covered with crimson velvet, and a sword lay on the velvet.

The scabbard is made of black leather with silver edges. The handle is wrapped in leather, which is non-slip and comfortable. The pommel is carved into the shape of a lion's head.

And in the forehead of the lion's head, there is a small badge inlaid.

A hand reaches out from the shadows, palm up.

The lion and Black Hand, the two symbols complement each other, which not only highlights James' identity, but also hints at the origin of this sword.

Corleone took out the sword and handed it to James.

James took it.

The sword was lighter than he expected. The usual Longsword was quite heavy even when used with one hand.

But the weight distribution of this sword is excellent. The center of gravity is close to Gauntlet. It should be easy to swing it. The size is just right for his left hand. The leather feels solid and comfortable.

Draw your sword.

The blade of the sword glows with a cold light like flowing water, and the steel has natural lines formed by repeated folding and forging. The spine of the sword is straight and the blade is sharp. Gauntlet is a simple cross shape, but it is polished smoothly and the edges are rounded, so it will not hurt your hands when using it.

Rub~~~

James waved.

The blade of the sword cut through the air, making a slight whistling sound.

The movements were smooth and without any hesitation, as if the sword was an extension of his arm.

"It doesn't have a name yet." Corleone said, "You can pick one yourself. If it were me, I would call it Frostmourne".

James looked at the sword for a long time.

Then he sheathed the sword.

"Thank you."

There are no false excuses. Between two men, there are some things that don't need to be said too much.

James wore the sword on his waist. White Armor The belt has a buckle specially designed for hanging the sword. Although this sword is not the standard weapon of the Kingsguard, it is suitable for hanging it.

"Then, I'm leaving."

"Have a nice trip."

Corleone had no intention of staying, and said concisely, "The Wall is far away, be careful on the road, the North is not peaceful now, Bolton and the North lords are in a quarrel."

Hearing this, James nodded.

He took one last look at the room, at the flea nest outside the window, and at Corleone.

Then he turned around, opened the door, and walked out.

Corleone sat on the chair and drank the remaining Ale in one gulp.

The footsteps gradually faded in the corridor.

Corleone walked to the window, watched James walk out House of Order, and then rode away.

That White Armor is very dazzling in the afternoon sun, heading towards the north, towards the Wall, towards the unknown road ahead, gradually getting further and further away.

Corleone watched for a long time until his figure completely disappeared behind the layers of buildings in King's Landing.

Then, he said softly, as if he was speaking to someone traveling far away, but also as if speaking to himself, "A man always has to fight for something in his life, for his family, for his honor, for the one he loves, or... just to prove that he can still fight."

He raised his glass and faced the empty north, facing the invisible figure.

"Good luck, Jaime Lannister."

"Blessings to all of us.

The wine sloshed in the glass, reflecting the setting sun outside the window, like melted gold.