morning.
Oliver·Chested stood in front of House of Order and had been standing all morning.
The morning dew wet his boots, and the sun made his forehead sweat.
The once respectable dark blue velvet coat now looked old and wrinkled, and the elbows were even a little shiny.
He clenched the parchment roll in his hand, his knuckles turning white from the exertion, and looked towards the House of Order gate. The flow of people coming in and out was like an endless river.
Among them, there were civilians wearing coarse cloth, businessmen with short swords on their waists, and even a few nobles in luxurious clothes.
Knight, Oliver recognized one of the shop owners of Street of Flour, and a small lord who ran shipping. He also had some interactions with House Chelsted, but not much.
When everyone entered, their faces showed anxiety, anger or despair, but when they walked out of House of Order, their expressions became calm and relieved, as if the stone pressing on their hearts had been lifted and their breathing became smooth again.
Oliver Looking at all this, the hope that was about to be extinguished in my heart faintly ignited a little spark again.
Maybe...
.. maybe it actually works.
He had been in King's Landing for more than ten days, and the guards at the Hand's Tower refused to even report him. They only said that Lord Tywin was very busy with his affairs.
The clerk of Lord Chancellor Kevan Lannister took ten Gold Dragon from him and told him "this matter is not our business".
In desperation, someone secretly told him to go to Flea Bottom and find Ser Corleone.
Vito·Corleone?
That knight from Farmer?
Oliver scoffed at that time. After all, Chelsted Castle was far away from King's Landing. He had only heard some rumors about Corleone, but not much.
But the man told him that now in King's Landing, Black Hand Mafia can take care of the things that the golden robe does not care about, and Black Hand Mafia can also take care of the things that the golden robe does not care about.
So Oliver came.
With the last glimmer of hope and only twenty Gold Dragon left in my pocket.
This is all his belongings.
House of Order There are guards at the door. They are a group of young people. They wear uniform gray uniforms and carry short sticks on their waists. Everyone stands upright, their eyes are alert but not fierce, and they just maintain order calmly.
The queue was very long. When Oliver came early in the morning, there were at least twenty or thirty people lining up, but no one jumped in, no one argued, and everyone waited quietly. Now as time went by, there were less than ten people left in front, but it was already close to noon, and he was really hungry and couldn't bear it.
Oliver tries to go to the front of the line.
A noseless man stopped him. Oliver didn't recognize him, but he was dressed more appropriately than the others and looked like he was in charge.
"Get in line." Rorge's voice was hoarse and unpleasant, with a businesslike attitude.
"I... I have something urgent. Sir, please let me go in first." Oliver took out a Silver Stag and wanted to put it into Rorge's hand.
However, Rorge didn't even look at the Silver Stag, sending it away to beg for food!
"I said, get in line."
He stared at Oliver's face and reminded him in a calm tone, but Oliver felt a chill rising from his spine.
It was a look that someone who had killed many people would have, had seen blood and death, and had no regard for life.
Hearing this, Oliver swallowed, took back the gold coins, and walked back to the end of the team obediently.
Looking at Oliver's cowardly look, Rorge shook his head and warned, "Don't think about it, sir."
"Ser Corleone only meets people in order, and it's useless to give money. Last week, a businessman wanted to jump in line and stuffed five Gold Dragon. As a result, he was permanently banned from entering House of Order."
Oliver was stunned when he said this, "Five Gold Dragon... don't want any?"
"Here, order is more important than Gold Dragon."
After Rorge finished speaking, he turned around to maintain order in other places.
Oliver can only continue to wait, and then silently observe the surroundings.
This is a three-story stone building with newly painted white ash on the exterior walls and polished windows. There is a wooden sign hanging on the lintel, which neatly reads House of Order, Flea Bottom Special Autonomous Region Administrative Center, affiliated to Vito·Ser Corleone."
The handwriting is not beautiful, but it is correct and powerful.
There are two rows of holly trees planted on both sides of the door, neatly pruned.
The streets were so clean that they were completely unlike the flea holes he remembered. There was no garbage, no sewage, and even no feces everywhere.
Several people wearing the same gray uniforms were patrolling. They did not carry swords, only short sticks, but they walked with their backs straight and their eyes sharp. It was obvious that they had been trained.
Time passed slowly and the team finally became shorter.
Oliver counted and found that there were five more people in front of him. His stomach was already growling with hunger, but he did not dare to leave to buy food. After all, what if he missed the call?
Just then, he saw a familiar face.
Hans Waters, a businessman in the leather business, was walking out of House of Order at this moment, with the same relieved expression on his face as the others.
"Your Excellency Hans!" Oliver couldn't help shouting.
Hans turned his head, saw Oliver, was stunned for a moment, and then walked over.
"Oliver Ser? Are you here too?"
"I..." Oliver was a little embarrassed. "I need Ser Corleone's help with something...
He said it very cryptically. After all, as a member of an old noble family, it was a bit embarrassing to come to ask a knight from Farmer for help.
However, Hans unexpectedly didn't mean to laugh at him. Instead, he lowered his voice and said seriously:
Me too."
"My cargo ship was robbed by pirates in Blackwater Bay, and I lost at least 800 Gold Dragon. The golden robe said that they could not control the sea. Royal Fleet also said that the merchant ship did not hire its own guards. I was desperate, so I came to ask Ser Corleone for help."
"Then what?" Oliver asked eagerly, "What did Ser Corleone say?"
"Ser Corleone asked me to write down the flag of the pirate ship, the location where it was robbed, and the cargo list."
"Then he gave me a piece of paper and asked me to go to Captain Plank in Blackwater Bay, saying that the goods would be returned intact within a month."
As soon as these words came out, Oliver's eyes widened in disbelief.
"Is it that simple? How much does he want?"
"Fifteen percent of the value of the goods." Hans said, "And you will pay it after you get it back. If you can't get it back, you won't get a penny."
The price made Oliver's eyes widen even more.
Not because it's too high, but...
... so damn fair!
"Do you really believe that he can get the goods back?"
Hearing this, Hans was silent for a few seconds, then nodded heavily. "I believe it."
"Because last month, House Field on Silk Street also encountered a similar thing. Their goods were robbed by pirates, so they came to Ser Corleone. Ten days later, all the goods were returned, and the pirates' heads were packed in a box and sent together."
As soon as these words came out, Oliver took a deep breath.
"But...
.. How did he do it? Pirates come and go without a trace in Blackwater Bay, not even Royal Fleet can be caught..
"I don't know." Hans shook his head. "I don't need to know this. I only know that Ser Corleone can solve the problem and the fee is reasonable. Sometimes he doesn't even charge any fee. He just asks the other party to owe him a favor. That's enough."
After speaking, Hans patted Oliver on the shoulder.
"Wish you good luck, Ser."
"Remember, tell your difficulties carefully, Ser Corleone... He is different from other nobles. No matter what bad things happen to him, he will patiently listen to what you have to say."
After giving instructions, Hans left with brisk steps.
Oliver stood there, holding the parchment roll in his hand tighter, and the anxiety in his heart relaxed a lot.
Finally, when the sun stood overhead, the noseless man opened the door and shouted, "Next!"
Oliver took a deep breath and walked into House of Order.
The first floor is a wide hall with more than a dozen tables, and behind each table there are people who look like clerks, working on documents.
People queuing up were diverted to various tables in an orderly manner.
There are notice boards on the wall with various notices on tax standards, dispute settlement procedures, the newly promulgated Flea Bottom Administrative Regulations, etc., and there are even dedicated personnel to explain these policies to make it easier for civilians who cannot read the text to understand these policies.
Everything is in order, and it can even be said to be very considerate.
But Oliver didn't care about this and just let Rorge lead him up the stairs.
The second floor is quieter, like an office area.
The doors to several rooms were closed, and some maps were hung on the walls of the corridor, including a map of King's Landing, a map of Blackwater Bay, and even a rough version of the map of Westeros.
There is only one door on the third floor.
Heavy oak door without any decoration.
Rorge knocked on the door.
"Come in."
The voice came from inside, calm, gentle, and indistinguishable from his age.
Rorge pushed the door open, turned sideways to let Oliver in, then exited and closed the door.
Oliver stood at the door, stunned.
The room was very large, much larger than he had imagined. Three walls were covered with bookshelves reaching to the ceiling, filled with books and scrolls. The number was comparable to the library of some minor nobles.
The fourth wall is a whole row of windows, and the afternoon sunlight slants in at this moment, casting bright spots on the dark wooden floor.
In the center of the room is a huge Oak Desk.
There is a person sitting behind the table.
Vito·Corleone.
Oliver It was the first time I saw him up close. This man who was so miraculous in the rumors of King's Landing, my first impression was that he looked... ordinary.
Definitely no more than thirty years old, with a decent face but not handsome, neatly trimmed black hair, wearing a simple dark gray linen robe, without a sword on his waist.
The most striking thing is that there is a cat lying on his lap.
A black long-haired cat, large in size, with shiny fur, but half of its left ear was missing, as if it had been bitten off by something. The cat closed its eyes and purred with contentment in its throat. Corleone's hand gently stroked its back.
The sun shines in through the window and falls just on this side of the desk.
Corleone sits at the junction of light and shadow.
Half of his face was exposed to the sun, Black Cat curled up on his knees, like a ball of black pom-poms.
There is a strange sense of tranquility about this image.
It doesn't look like a power center that handles disputes or decides life and death, but more like a scholar reading and relaxing in his study.
"Please take a seat."
Corleone raised his head and looked at Oliver.
His eyes were also dark and calm, without any sign of scrutiny or evaluation, just a simple gaze.
Hearing this, Oliver realized that he was still standing at the door.
He hurriedly walked to the chair in front of the desk, but did not sit down immediately. Aristocratic etiquette told him that the master did not invite him a second time, so he could not sit down rashly.
But Corleone raised his finger and pointed at the chair without caring, his voice still gentle.
"Sit down."
"You've been waiting for a long time, your legs should be sore."
After getting the other party's consent, Oliver sat down carefully, with only half of his buttocks, his back straight, his hands on his knees, and the parchment roll tightly held in his hands.
Corleone glanced at him and did not rush to get to the point. Instead, he looked at Oliver and asked thoughtfully, "You haven't had lunch yet?"
"I... I'm not hungry." Oliver refused subconsciously, not wanting to show his embarrassment in front of strangers.
Hearing this, Corleone smiled. The smile was very light and relaxing.
"I'm hungry."
"So eat some with me, and we'll talk again after lunch."
Oliver didn't know what to say, so he could only nod.
"Rorge."
The door opened immediately, and Rorge poked his head in.
"Prepare two lunches." Corleone said, "Just a standard meal, and bring a pot of water."
"Yes."
Corleone continued to read the file and occasionally stroked the cat on his lap.
The cat moved, raised its head, glanced at Oliver with its amber eyes, and then lay down to sleep again.
Out of boredom, Oliver secretly looked at the room with his peripheral vision.
In addition to books, there are also some strange things on the bookshelf, including a copper object that looks like a navigational instrument, a set of Surgery knives, several glass bottles filled with liquids of different colors, and even a small human skeleton model... placed on the top of the bookshelf like a decoration.
There were no weapons hanging on the wall, nor trophies such as various beast revelations hung like other nobles. There was only a detailed map of King's Landing and the surrounding areas, with various locations marked with needles of different colors.
After a while, the door opened again.
Rorge came in carrying a tray and placed it in the corner of the desk.
There were two simple meals on the tray, black bread, stew, a few slices of roast meat, a pot of water and two wooden cups.
"Thank you."
Taking the plate, Oliver subconsciously thanked her, but Rorge still didn't respond and just put another one on Corleone's table.
"Eat." Corleone started eating without any nonsense.
The way he eats is very elegant, not the deliberately artificial elegance of an aristocrat, but natural and very leisurely.
Chew every bite carefully and make almost no sound.
Oliver hesitated for a moment and also picked up the bread.
He is indeed hungry.
"Over there at the Lions Gate...
At this moment, Corleone's voice suddenly sounded. Oliver subconsciously thought that he was talking to himself and quickly put down the bread. However, when he saw Rorge bending down, he immediately realized that the other party was telling his subordinates.
"Master Tob Mott came to see me this morning. The Golden Robe is looking for trouble with him again, saying he has evaded taxes. He wants to fine him two hundred Gold Dragon. Do you know who is the leader of this matter?"
Tob Mott?
Oliver chewed for a moment, and surprise filled his heart.
Of course he knew Tob Mott!
The master forger who rules the Steel Street, his shop is located on the top of the Visenya Hills, which is a symbol of strength and credibility.
Oliver When his father was alive, he praised Mott's craftsmanship more than once, saying that the texture of the sword he forged under the hammer had a "calm flame".
What makes Oliver even more memorable is that after Prime Minister Lord Tywin Lannister obtained the legendary Valyria steel greatsword "Ice" from the Stark family, he commissioned Tob Mott to smelt and recast it.
Such a master craftsman who is even treated by top wealthy families and whose skills are legendary, actually needs to go to Flea Bottom to ask for help from "Farmer Knight" who has only been rising for a few months?
Jinpaozi dares to blackmail him?
Oliver felt a little ridiculous, and then felt extremely sad.
Even a figure like Tob Mott needs to seek refuge. How corrupt has this King's Landing and this king's law been?
He subconsciously pricked up his ears, and his heart couldn't help but beat faster.
Rorge bowed slightly. "Ser...
"Two days ago at the Old Eel" pub, I heard Balman·Byrch Ser mention it in drunken chat. It seemed to be the captain of the Lions Gate Patrol, Dickon·Bywater."
"This guy has been very generous recently. He hired two high-end girls from Reese in Silk Street Feathered Pavilion. He also spent a lot of money on Horse Market and bought a Purebred Dorne Sand Steed. The asking price was over three hundred Gold Dragon."
"Dickon·Bywater?"
Hearing this, Corleone finished chewing the bread and took a sip of water. "The son of the predecessor Commander of the City Watch Jeslin Bywater?"
"Yes, sir." Rorge nodded.
It turned out to be him!
As soon as these words came out, Oliver also understood immediately.
When Jacelyn Bywater Ser died heroically in Battle of the Blackwater Rush, his death saved the royal family's face. Therefore, as a pension and recognition, Prime Minister Tywin Lannister personally ordered that Dickon Bywater, who was young but had no outstanding achievements, be placed in the lucrative position of Captain of the Lions Gate.
This is both a reward and a political gesture to harness the remaining influence of the Bywater family for his own use.
The Bywater family has been operating in King's Landing for several generations. Although it is not a top-notch wealthy family, it has deep-rooted connections and intricate connections. It is far from comparable to House Chelsted, which is almost forgotten.
Dickon Bywater relied on his father's shadow and Lord Tywin's care, and he was almost able to get wind and rain in the Lion's Gate area.
Even if Tob Mott is a master blacksmith, it is not impossible for Dickon to blackmail a blacksmith.
Thinking of this, Oliver secretly raised his eyes and quickly glanced at Corleone's profile.
I saw young Ser gently scratching Black Cat's chin with his fingertips. The cat raised its head and purred louder in its throat.
What will he do?
Oliver secretly speculated.
It is obviously unwise to offend the Bywater family for a blacksmith.
According to the practice of Westeros, the most reasonable approach is to send someone to make peace, let Tob Mott shed some blood, treat Dickon, and at the same time hint to the other party that enough is enough to give Ser Corleone some face.
Use gold coins to lubricate conflicts, and use compromise to gain temporary peace.
Oliver has almost foreseen the ending.
However, just when he was thinking wildly, Corleone spoke.
His voice remained steady, not even rising a little. "Master Tob Mott's craftsmanship deserves the respect of any knight in the Seven Kingdoms."
"The swords he made for me and Jaime Lannister Ser were made of solid materials, with precise workmanship and fair charges."
"The value of a good craftsman lies in his skill and integrity. Such a person should not be extorted by moths or exploited by greed."
As he said that, Corleone raised his eyes and landed calmly on Rorge's face. "Find Dickon·Bywater."
"Tell him clearly that Master Tob Mott's forge and Anvil are protected by Black Hand Mafia from now on, and that he needs to pay a price for reaching out to ask for Gold Dragon's hand."
"Bring back the little finger of his left hand."
Hiss!!!
As soon as these words came out, Oliver Chested took a deep breath.
He suddenly covered his mouth, his eyes filled with unbelievable horror.
Left little finger!
The target is still Dickon Bywater!
This is not just a personal punishment for Dickon, it is a blatant slap in the face of the Bywater family, and even... even the majesty of the Prime Minister is being challenged!
Corleone How dare you do this?
He looked at Rorge in horror, expecting to see even a trace of hesitation or surprise on this ferocious man's face.
However, no.
The noseless face was so calm that it was almost numb.
He even nodded slightly, as if the master was not asking him to get the finger of a captain with background, but to go to the market to buy a fish for tonight.
"Yes, Ser, guaranteed to be clean and tidy."
Rorge agreed, then turned around and put his hand on the door handle.
At this time, my heart was beating so fast that it was about to jump out of my throat, and my mind went blank.
He couldn't understand at all how the two people in front of him could regard such an appalling order as just eating and drinking.
"Wait."
At this moment, Corleone's voice sounded again, calling Rorge who was about to leave.
This series of pauses and turns made Oliver, who was already nervous, feel his heart beat again, almost doubting whether his heart could withstand these successive shocks.
The cold piece of bread in his hand was slightly soaked with sweat.
~~~~And somehow, when Rorge turned around, Oliver breathed a sigh of relief.
It seems that Corleone also felt that the order he gave was too exaggerated, so...
However, Corleone's next words almost made him jump off his chair.
"Prince Oberyn, what's going on over there?"
Prince Oberyn??
Hearing this name, Oliver was stunned.
Oberyn Martell, the "Red Viper" of Dorne, it is said that the madman openly revealed the murder case seventeen years ago at the Royal Council two days ago and demanded that the Mountain be judged!
Now the whole King's Landing has been spread, they will be at Free Fighting Arena in two days...
Wait!
That Free Fighting Arena... seems to be in Flea Bottom!
As soon as I thought about this, Oliver suddenly felt dizzy.
Where exactly are you sitting?
This young man in front of me, how much energy he has!
However, upon hearing Corleone's inquiry, Rorge's expression became a little subtle.
"He... is still the same."
Rorge reported truthfully, with no praise or criticism in his voice, "During the day, I basically went to the brothels on Silk Street. Last night, I booked the three most popular Top Courtesanss from "Hummingbird". I heard that there was quite a stir."
"I drank a lot, played with a lot of props, and reportedly broke some tables, chairs, and beds...
"This morning "Hummingbird"'s madam Ros has sent the bill to his temporary residence."
Hearing this, Oliver felt a little hot in his ears, and at the same time, he was shocked that this prince had gone so wildly.
In the face of a formidable enemy and a life-and-death trial by combat, how could he still be so intoxicated?
Hearing this, Corleone also frowned.
"Has he not made any substantial preparations for the upcoming trial by combat, such as training, gathering intelligence, or even just resting his mind?"
As soon as these words came out, Oliver also had the same question in his heart.
Facing a monster like "The Mountain" Gregor Clegane, any sane person would stay prepared, repeatedly deduce tactics, and maintain the best condition.
He has long heard of Oberyn's reputation for being crazy, but to be so crazy is to seek death.
Hearing this, Rorge also glanced at his lips. "He said, this is his preparation."
"And he also blatantly ridiculed, saying that you need to prepare what you need to kill a dog. Just sharpen the knife, then walk up and chop it down. Thinking too much will slow down the action."
Arrogant!
Oliver almost shouted in his heart.
But Corleone just remained silent for a moment, then opened an inconspicuous drawer under the desk and took out a Booklet directly.
The Booklet is very thin, only about a dozen pages long. There are no words or emblems on the cover. It looks inconspicuous, just like the Ledger that can be seen everywhere in the market.
"Give this to Prince Oberyn."
Corleone ordered, "Report my exact words, just say that this is the order of Vito·Corleone. If you don't want to have your head crushed in the trial by combat, then give me a good look at it and memorize it!"