After the words fell, the entire Ring of Order fell into a long silence.
"I blame everyone here."
Corleone's voice passed through the VIP seats, passed through the cold light of the knights' armor, and reached everyone's ears clearly.
No one spoke.
No one dared to speak.
Even Cersei and Falyse, who were biting each other just now and wanting to tear each other's hair out one by one, both shut their mouths at this moment.
Cersei stood there, her luxurious dark green skirt swaying gently in the breeze, her chest still heaving violently, the blush from the argument remaining on her cheeks, but her mouth had been closed.
She subconsciously turned her head and looked at the man sitting in the middle of the VIP table.
her father.
Prime Minister of the Seven Kingdoms, Duke of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West - Tywin Lannister.
Cersei wanted to see even a hint of displeasure and anger flash in those green eyes, as if then she could continue to have attacks.
But she saw nothing.
Tywin just sat there, with no expression on his face. His green eyes were as calm as an ice lake in winter, reflecting the back of Corleone, but showing no emotion.
It seems that Corleone said "everyone present", and he, Tywin Lannister, is not in the category of "everyone" at all.
Cersei's lips tightened.
She suddenly remembered the scene when her father taught her and James their first lesson in power many years ago.
Tywin called them into the study and pointed to the fire burning in the fireplace.
"Power."
"Like this fire.
"It can heat, it can light, it can bring everyone around it, it can cook food, melt steel, and burn those who dare to resist you.
He paused, picked up the tongs, moved a piece of burning wood from the center of the flame to the edge, and asked, "But what will you do when it is too hot, too bright, and too close to you?"
James straightened his chest and raised his head, and said matter-of-factly, "I will draw my sword, father."
Tywin shook his head.
Cersei sneered and said disdainfully, "I will order my servants to put it out."
Tywin still shook his head.
Finally, he took back his hand and pushed the piece of wood back into the center of the flame.
"You will retreat." He said, "When the flame is too hot, no one will move forward, no one dares to move forward."
"Everyone will instinctively step back and give it space."
"This is the nature of power."
At this moment, Cersei looked at her father, as if making room for the flame.
Cersei took a deep breath and stepped back reluctantly.
Falyse also took a step back. The heiress of House Stokeworth lowered her head at the moment, her eyes were still red, but the mean spirit on her face had completely subsided.
She pulled her husband Balman's sleeve and pulled him back. This action almost formed a vacuum around Corleone.
It's as if the power is on the move.
Only the eight-year-old king stood beside him, raising his head and looking at Corleone's profile.
The face was not handsome, and the facial features were as ordinary as any Farmer who had just returned from picking apples from the fields. But at this moment, under the afternoon sun, there was something indescribable about that side face.
Not majesty.
Not murderous.
Not anything that can be described in words.
Tommen didn't know what it was.
He only knew that when this hand was placed on his shoulder, he was not afraid at all.
Although what Corleone just said silenced everyone present, not even my grandfather spoke, and even my mother backed away.
But Tommen wasn't afraid.
Very strange.
Really weird.
He remembered the nightmare he had last night.
In the dream, the Iron Throne was no longer the seat symbolizing power, but became the real "Iron Throne", with countless swords, the sharp blades pointing upward, and the sword tips shining with cold light.
He sat on it and felt the pain of the sword tip piercing his skin with every breath he took. He wanted to stand up, but couldn't.
He wanted to call someone, but couldn't.
Then, a hand stretched out from the darkness and put it on his shoulder.
Very light.
Like now.
He doesn't feel pain anymore.
Tommen didn't know what that dream meant.
But he knew that at this moment, Corleone's hand was on his shoulder, and he was not afraid at all.
That's enough.
In the square, countless people stared at Corleone with wide eyes. The nobles could not believe what their ears heard.
When was the last time someone dared to speak like this?
I'm afraid it can be traced back to the time when the Harrenhal Tournament just ended. At that time, it was spread throughout the Seven Kingdoms that Prince Rhaegar Targaryen did not choose his wife, Princess Elia Martell, as the Queen of Love and Beauty, but instead placed a garland of winter snow roses on Lyanna Stark's lap.
People were shocked by this for a while, but not long after, more explosive news came.
Lyanna was "kidnapped" by Rhaegar Targaryen!
No one knows what happened specifically, no one knows whether Lyanna was voluntary or forced. People only know that Rhaegar disappeared with her, somewhere in the south.
Then, Lyanna's eldest brother Brandon Stark immediately took his personal entourage and drove straight to King's Landing.
Ethan Glover, Caleb Royce, Albert Arryn, Joffrey Mallister... more than twenty young nobles from the North and the Riverlands, and most of them are the eldest sons or heirs of their families.
They rode through the city gates. Brandon rushed all the way to the gate of the Red Keep, dismounted, and shouted to the guards on the high wall, "Rhaegar Targaryen!"
"Get out!"
"Get out and die!"
Then... he died miserably, even killing his own father, the then Duke of Winterfell, Rickard Stark.
At this moment, at the VIP table of Ring of Order, more than one person remembered that story.
They looked at Corleone, the man wearing All-Black Formal Attire, standing in the middle of 2,500 people, but they couldn't help but think of Brandon Stark.
However, the situation seems to be different from that time.
The Prime Minister sat there and said nothing.
Queen Mother stepped aside, his face full of unwillingness, but he did not dare to speak again.
And those civilians... the men wearing short brown clothes, the women holding their children, the bakers with flour on their hands, Stevedore with scars on their legs.
The way they looked at Corleone was like a pilgrim looking at a statue of a god.
Fanaticism, piety...
Not the same.
Completely different.
Brandon Stark is alone.
All he has is a group of twenty young nobles, a passionate spirit, and a brother's love for his sister.
And Corleone... he has a flea nest of 40,000 people.
Not only that, he is also loved by the entire people at the bottom of King's Landing!
He... is Black Hand Mafia!
Under the spotlight, Corleone let go of his hand on Tommen's shoulder.
Turn around and face the audience.
"Today."
His voice is not loud, but everyone can hear it clearly.
This is the magic of Ring of Order. When designing Corleone, craftsmen specially asked craftsmen to embed some hollow ceramic tubes in the walls, which can conduct sound from the center to every corner.
"It's the opening day of Ring of Order."
Corleone continued, "I am not standing here to show off, not to perform, not to let you see how majestic I am."
"I want to tell you that this place belongs to all of you!"
As soon as these words came out, some people frowned in confusion.
What does it mean?
This place belongs to "everyone"?
But Corleone didn't give them time to think, and quickly gave the answer.
"See that sand patch?"
As he spoke, he pointed to the center of the circular field.
The stretch of sand covered with fine white sand, eighty feet in diameter, was deserted at the moment, with only the afternoon sun spreading a golden blanket on it.
The sand layer is three inches thick, which can cushion the impact without being too soft and affecting the pace. It is fine sand that is transported from the Blackwater River Beach by the truck, and is screened, cleaned, dried, and finally paved.
"That's a battlefield."
"But it's also a stage!"
"At Ring of Order, anyone, and I mean anyone, can stand up."
He scanned the audience. "No matter you are a noble or a commoner."
"Whether you are a knight or a peddler."
"Whether you are wearing silk or coarse cloth."
"As long as you dare, you can challenge whoever you want to challenge, and then win everything you want, reputation, gold, and status!"
"Because, this is Ring of Order."
"Here, the only criterion is whether you can win."
"Here, everyone has a chance to prove themselves!"
As soon as these words came out, some people in the audience started to shine, looking at the center of the venue with great enthusiasm.
But the sound of Corleone continues, spreading like fire on dry firewood.
"Do you know who I like best?"
He scanned the audience. "Not those nobles who were born with silver spoons in their mouths, nor those adults who live on the territory passed down from their ancestors."
"They are those who have nothing but dare to fight and break through."
"They are those who stand at the bottom but never accept their fate."
"They are those who have been stepped on, but they can still get up, pat the dirt on their bodies, and continue to move forward."
"I, Vito·Corleone, can pick apples from the Riverlands to King's Landing, build House of Order, and become a knight, and so can you!"
As soon as the words fell, applause and cheers broke out.
I don't know who started it first, but in short, it spread from the civilian areas first, like a wildfire or a tsunami.
Amid cheers, Corleone finally opened his arms and shouted, "In Ring of Order, everyone can be who they want to be!"
"Every dream can take root and grow here!"
"Every drop of sweat can be exchanged for the rewards you deserve here!"
As the words fell, the cheers exploded even more.
Two thousand five hundred people were excited at the same time.
The sound was so loud and violent that it seemed like the walls were shaking, and even the sky above seemed to be trembling.
Countless people waved their arms and waved desperately in the direction of Corleone.
Some people knelt down and kissed the stone slab under their feet, kissing the place where they saw hope.
That scene was simply more fanatical than the fanatic believers who believed in the Seven Gods!
Because when you are cornered, the Seven Gods will only tell you "You are guilty."
And Corleone really provides a platform for everyone to change their destiny with their hands!
In the shadows behind him, Tywin Lannister sat on a chair, his green eyes narrowed slightly.
He has seen too much fanaticism.
But those crazes are short-lived.
Incited by alcohol, driven by fear, bought by money.
Just like a summer rainstorm, it comes and goes quickly. After the rain, nothing is left.
But at this moment, what he saw was based on real interests.
This is different.
This is completely different.
While thinking about it, Tywin tapped his fingers lightly on the armrest.
Obviously, Corleone's prestige at this moment has reached a considerable height.
It was so high that even he had to give in temporarily.
Even Tywin Lannister had to admit...Farmer, who was knighted by his own hand, had become a threat.
A real threat.
But Tywin has lived for almost sixty years and has seen too many such "threats".
Tarbeck, Reynes...
And now?
There is only one song left.
Whenever someone wanted to challenge the Lannister authority, Tywin would have the song played in that person's castle.
No need to say one more word.
No need to do one more thing.
Now, he looked at Corleone.
Looking at the man cheered by 2,500 people, standing next to the king, more like a king than a king.
The corners of Tywin's mouth raised slightly.
Just fly, Corleone.
Fly higher.
The harder it falls.
The harder it falls.
In the end, not even the bones were left.
Inside Ring of Order, the cheers continued, and even many people in the VIP seats began to applaud.
After all, the idea is too tempting.
In this world where class is solidified, in this era where birth determines everything, in this society where "who is your father" is more important than "who are you", the picture Corleone depicts is simply like a dream.
A dream that everyone wants to have.
A dream that everyone has secretly had but never dared to tell.
Someone started shouting wildly.
Someone started screaming.
Some people started hugging each other and rubbing their legs and buttocks.
The scene was like a carnival. If there weren't a large number of Coordinators at the scene to maintain order, I'm afraid this chapter would have been blocked again.
And at this moment...
"Stop talking nonsense, Vito·Corleone!"
A mocking and provocative voice sounded loudly and clearly reached everyone's ears.
The cheers stopped suddenly, as if a song suddenly stopped during the most exciting chorus.
Everyone turned their heads and looked at the source of the sound.
I want to see who is so brave and dares to interrupt Vito·Ser Corleone.
I only saw the VIP seats, somewhere in the third row.
A man stood up.
He was wearing a dark gray knight's uniform. It was well-tailored and made of high-quality fabrics. It looked like it was made by a good tailor.
There is a Longsword on his waist, and a Ruby is embedded at the end of the hilt, shining in the sun.
The knight's face was stern, his chin was slightly raised, and there was always a faint sneer on the corner of his mouth, making him appear contemptuous and confident.
He looked very strange, and Corleone didn't recognize him. He didn't look like a noble from King's Landing, or even a king.
But someone knows him.
The moment the man stood up, Cersei clearly noticed that her father's fingers moved slightly beside her.
She looked back and saw the Prime Minister's green eyes full of meaningful... smiles?