Afternoon.
On the third floor of House of Order, Corleone's office door is ajar.
Old John stood at the door, nervously not knowing where to put his hands, and in the end he could only fold them in front of him.
The clean coat he was wearing was forced on him by his daughter Ellie before he went out. He said that when he went to meet Mr. Corleone, he couldn't just wear a greasy apron in the kitchen, as that would look disrespectful.
But wearing this new clothes, he seemed more uncomfortable than ever.
"Go in." After waiting for a long time, Rorge's noseless face appeared in front of his eyes, and a hand was placed on his shoulder, with a gentle force.
Hearing this, Old John quickly crossed the threshold, but the soles of his feet were a little weak and he almost tripped.
After entering the room, he did not dare to look around randomly. He just felt that the afternoon light poured in from the window and was a little warm.
In the center of the room is a huge Oak Desk.
There was a man sitting behind the desk, with a Black Cat with half an ear curled up on his knees, snoring with his eyes squinted.
The man's hand kept stroking its back, and he didn't raise his head when he heard the footsteps. Old John, who was originally begging for help, felt his throat was a little tight and couldn't say a word.
The silence lasted for a long time.
It lasted so long that Old John felt like he was going to be asphyxiated.
Finally, Corleone took the initiative to speak, "I heard that your Restaurant is in some trouble, John."
As soon as these words came out, Old John's lips trembled, and all the fear and grievances that had been accumulated all night came up at this moment. "Master Corleone... please seek justice for me!"
"I don't know what to do... the soldiers are dead... in my shop... there is blood all over the floor...
He spoke incoherently, with a cry in his voice.
But Corleone just raised a finger to signal him to be quiet, and Old John's crying stopped abruptly.
"I heard." Corleone placed his fingers on Black Cat's back again, his tone still calm: ""Tell me, your daughter, Ellie, is she okay?"
Old John was stunned for a moment. He originally thought that Corleone would ask how those soldiers died, or whether Black Hand Mafia would be implicated in this matter, but he did not expect that the other party would ask Ellie immediately.
"She... she's fine." Old John's voice was still trembling, but it was better than before. "I found her in the kitchen later, she was just a little frightened."
"Very good." After hearing this, Lyon raised his head.
The afternoon light shone from the side, putting half of his face in shadow, and the other half of his face looked particularly calm under the light.
Staring at Old John with black eyes, he slowly said, "Your daughter Ellie, she works in my Laundry Alley."
"Miss Sansa told me about her. She said Ellie is a good girl who works very hard. She always rushes to do the work and never complains."
Hearing Corleone praise his daughter so much, Old John's lips began to tremble again, but this time it was not because of fear.
"She is a good girl, my lord."
His voice was choked with sobs. "After her mother died, we depended on each other. This girl has been sensible since she was a child. She swallows all the hardships and never tells me...
Listening to this tall and thick man talking pitifully, Corleone did not interrupt, but just listened quietly.
When the other party really couldn't find anything to say, he gently put Balerion on his knees on the ground. Black Cat let out a dissatisfied cry, jumped on the window sill and curled up in a ball.
Immediately afterwards, Corleone stood up, walked around the desk, and walked to Old John.
He is half a head shorter than Old John, but Old John feels like he is looking up at a mountain.
"Your daughter works at my place."
Corleone's voice was not loud, but he promised very seriously, "She is a member of Black Hand Mafia. She and her family deserve the protection of Black Hand Mafia."
As soon as these words came out, Old John finally felt a big stone fall in his heart. "Thank you so much, sir...
As he spoke, he bent down to thank him.
Corleone first accepted his thanks, and then put his hands on John's shoulders.
The force is neither light nor heavy, steady and sure.
"Get up, John."
Corleone looked at Old John's eyes that were red from crying, and said with rare relief, "The world is unpredictable, and none of us know what will happen tomorrow."
"But one thing I am sure of is that a man must take care of his family at all times. This is not a choice, it is a duty."
"I have never been stingy with my friendship and am keen to use it to help every friend. But please remember this friendship and help me when I need it, even though I may never need it."
"Can you do it, John?"
Listening to what Corleone said, Old John's tears welled up again, and then he nodded vigorously.
"I will always remember your kindness, my lord!"
After getting the affirmative answer, Corleone said nothing more and just shouted at the door, "Rorge."
The door was immediately pushed open, revealing that rather ugly face. "Here, sir."
"Send a few people with clean hands and feet to Old John's Restaurant to clean it up."
"Find a quiet place to dispose of those corpses without leaving any traces. Let the place be repainted and replaced with new tables and chairs. When the wind blows over, it will reopen."
"Understood, sir." Rorge nodded.
"Before Restaurant reopens, you two father and daughter will live in Flea Bottom. Rorge will find you a quiet place where no one will disturb you."
"Remember, John."
Corleone's voice sounded again, with a hint of warning. "In this place, you only need to tell me the facts, and I will handle the rest. The responsibility of you and your daughter is to live your life well and continue to work for me."
"Now, go ahead and have a good sleep."
Hearing this, Old John bowed deeply to Corleone, then turned around and followed Rorge out of the office.
After the door closed, the office became quiet again.
Corleone leaned on the back of the chair, his eyes falling on Black Cat who was curled up in a ball on the window sill. Balerion squinted his eyes and swayed his tail slightly.
The afternoon light moved slowly on the desk, illuminating a King's Landing defense map spread out on the corner of the desk.
The position of Cured Meat Street is clearly marked by a red circle, and there are several lines of small comments next to it, with neat and hard handwriting.
He stretched out his hand and pulled the city defense map in front of him, and tapped twice on the red circle with his fingers.
"I never thought that you would even care about such a thing."
Barristan's voice came from behind, and his tone seemed a little surprised.
He took a few steps forward and stood in front of the desk looking at Corleone with his blue eyes.
"The girl named Ellie told me that it might be useful to come to you for help. I almost couldn't help laughing at her at that time."
Hearing this, Corleone did not raise his head or answer the call.
He just picked up the quill pen and wrote a few words in the blank space of the city defense map. The tip of the pen fell on the parchment and made a slight rustling sound.
"The first step is to work hard to realize your self-worth."
His voice was low, as if he was talking to himself, but every word fell clearly into Barristan's ears.
"The second step is to take good care of your family. The third step is to help kind people as much as possible. The fourth step is to speak out for the ethnic group. The fifth step is to win honor for the country."
At this point, the pen tip stopped.
Corleone raised his head and looked at Barristan calmly with his black eyes. "This is my life creed, Barristan Ser."
When he said this, there was no showoff or complacency on his face, only a serious and determined expression, as if these words had been carved into his bones and became a part of his body.
Hearing this, Barristan's blue eyes welled up with some complicated emotions.
He arrived one step ahead of Old John.
Last night he helped Old John find his daughter in Restaurant, and initially handled the scene, but because there were too many corpses, and he was really not good at handling this kind of thing...
After all, since his debut, no one has dared to let the "fearless" Barristan do such dirty work.
Therefore, they can only use rough methods to clean it roughly.
Near midnight, the girl named Ellie suggested asking Corleone for help, but the old knight did not think that a high-ranking noble would offend the Prime Minister for a commoner.
So he took the initiative to come to House of Order, intending to plead for the girl, thinking that Corleone might sell his ex Lord Commander of the Kingsguard a thin noodle.
But he didn't expect that Corleone did more thoughtfully than he imagined. Not only did he promise to protect him, he also arranged for a place to live, and even sent people to clean Restaurant and renovate it so that the store could reopen in the future.
Barristan had never seen this kind of meticulous approach in his more than sixty years of life.
He has served four kings and met countless nobles and lords. Most of them only have two ways of treating civilians.
Either ignore it or exploit it.
Occasionally, some people would give a few Copper Penny, and they would ask the monks to ring the bell to announce it to the world, so that everyone would know their "mercy".
"You are a wise ruler."
Barristan spoke slowly, with a hint of sincere emotion in his voice. "I believe that you and Daenerys Your Majesty will have something in common."
As soon as these words came out, Corleone's pen tip paused.
"To be honest, I rarely have anything in common with women."
His tone remained calm, and then the quill fell back on the parchment and continued writing.
"My father once told me, don't let women influence your behavior. They have no such qualifications in this world - although it is certain that they will go to heaven and become saints, while men will go to hell and burn in fire."
After he said this, the office fell into a brief silence.
Barristan frowned slightly, but did not refute immediately because he heard another meaning in Corleone's words.
This is not pure sexism. Different from the vulgar remarks made by drunkards in pubs that "women should stay at home", Corleone's meaning is cold and rational.
In Game of Thrones, women often symbolize "soft" things such as family, emotion, and morality, and these things may become fatal weaknesses in life-and-death decision-making moments.
A true ruler needs to be absolutely calm. He cannot be swayed by emotions, cannot be kidnapped by morality, and cannot give up the optimal solution because "doing so will hurt innocent people."
Tywin Lannister is such a person, which is why he can stand in the Westerlands for forty years.
Barristan understood this logic, but he couldn't help but refute it in his heart.
Because he met Daenerys Targaryen.
He watched with his own eyes as the girl grew from the exiled princess of Pentos to the Liberator of Meereen.
She was smart, studious, kind to the people, and never killed prisoners indiscriminately. She liberated the slaves of Astapor and gave them freedom and dignity.
Everything the young queen did was to use justice and hope against the steel and gold of the slave owners.
She is different from other women.
"Compared to this." Corleone's voice interrupted his thoughts.
Barristan raised his head and saw that Corleone had put down his quill and turned to look at him.
The afternoon light shone from the side, putting half of his face in shadow, and the other half of his face looked particularly calm under the light.
Then, he tapped his fingers twice on the city defense map.
"As a knight who has experienced countless wars, I think you should be able to understand the map, Ser?"
Barristan was stunned for a moment, then stepped forward.
He lowered his head and his eyes fell on the spread out King's Landing defense map, and his pupils couldn't help but shrink slightly at just one glance.
Cured Meat Street, Baylor Great Sept, Red Fort, every key location is clearly marked.
The red mark represents the deployment of Lannister troops. Cured Meat Street is densely packed along the line, like a red chain, extending from the Lion Gate to Sept Square.
The blue marks are the defensive nodes of Flea Bottom, which are much sparse, but each one is guarded at key intersections and commanding heights.
None of this is important. What is important is that it has only been less than a day since the Lannister soldiers entered the city!
Barristan raised his head and looked at Corleone, a trace of unconcealable shock flashed through his blue eyes.
Of course he can read maps. After fighting for forty years, he knows better than most commanders how to read the situation between the enemy and ourselves from a map.
But what really frightened him was not the map itself, but what the map represented.
Corleone's intelligence network is deeper and wider than he imagined!
"Tywin arranged most of his troops on the route from Cured Meat Street to Sept."
Barristan suppressed the shock in his heart, moved his fingers slowly along the red chain, and frowned more and more.
After a moment, he raised his head and looked at Corleone.
"Why would he do this?"
"If he wants to control King's Landing, these troops should be dispersed and deployed to guard every city gate and every main road. He concentrates the main force on this line, leaving gaps in other places."
"This is unwise!"
Faced with Barristan's professional question, Corleone raised the corners of his mouth slightly, and his smile was so weak that it was almost invisible, but Barristan caught it.
"He was warning me."
His finger landed on Cured Meat Street and tapped lightly next to the red circle.
"Two thousand people are not enough to completely control King's Landing, but he does not need to control the entire city. He only needs to ensure one thing."
"That is to ensure that Coronation Ceremony proceeds smoothly."
Hearing this, Barristan was silent for a moment, then nodded slowly.
He understands.
Tywin deployed his main force along the line from Cured Meat Street to Sept, not for attack, but for blockade.
Cured Meat Street is located close to Flea Bottom, which is the first threshold for Black Hand Mafia's influence to extend outward.
Tywin pressed his most elite troops here, which was equivalent to erecting a shield at the door of Corleone's home.
He is telling Corleone that I won't go in, but you can't even think about coming out.
"He's testing your boundaries," Barristan said.
"More than just a test."
Corleone leaned back on the chair, a hint of coldness flashed in his black eyes. "He is still putting pressure on me."
"Two thousand heavily armed soldiers are stationed across the street, practicing, patrolling, and showing off their power on the edge of my territory every day. My people will see it and they will start to panic."
He paused and tapped his fingers lightly on the table.
"Fear is contagious. Once Flea Bottom begins to shake, order will collapse on its own without him taking action. Tywin is trying to use pressure to force me into chaos."
Hearing this, Barristan fell silent.
He has seen too many such tactics. In many cases, real war is never just about swords and blood. The competition between the two sides is more about a battle of patience, will and psychology.
Tywin Lannister, who once created "The Monsoons of Castamere", is obviously a master in this area. He didn't move a single sword or a shot, and only deployed two thousand people to force Corleone into an extremely passive situation.
"How many men can you use?" Barristan asked.
"Eight hundred."
"There are about eight hundred people who are well trained and able to wear armor and go into battle.
As soon as these words came out, Barristan frowned even more tightly. There was a huge disparity in strength between eight hundred and two thousand.
Moreover, the opponent is a well-equipped regular army. They have experienced the baptism of the Five Kings War, and their combat effectiveness is far beyond that of ordinary troops. What's more important is...
"You can't make the first move." Barristan said slowly.
"That's right."
Corleone nodded and admitted this point calmly. "The loss is too great if we fight head-on, and taking the lead will play into Tywin's hands."
"That guy is worried that he has no excuse to mess with me. As long as my men draw their swords first, he will immediately label me as sabotaging Regent's coronation and plotting rebellion."
"At that time, what he has to deal with is not the verbal abuse of the commoners of Flea Bottom and the nobles of King's Landing, but a traitor."
"The entire the Seven Kingdoms nobility will side with him, because no one will sympathize with a madman who launched a rebellion on the eve of the king's coronation."
Watching Corleone talk endlessly, Barristan took a deep breath and suddenly felt extremely admired in his heart.
Whether it was Tywin moving troops into the city, or the Lannister soldiers showing off their power in Cured Meat Street, or the huge disparity between two thousand and eight hundred, this man always maintained an almost absolute calmness, as he himself said before, "not affected by any factors"!
Of course, if Barristan had heard about Corleone, a certain saint who attained enlightenment in Guizhou Longchang in his previous life, he would know that this state is generally called...
Unity of Knowledge and Action.
However, the old Kingsguard obviously didn't realize that since then, in just a few words, he had unknowingly assumed the role of Black Hand Mafia.
Outside the window, the afternoon sun has begun to set in the west. There are faint cheers from the direction of Ring of Order, and the gamblers are cheering for a wonderful fight.
Barristan retracted his gaze, looked at the city defense map on the table again, and couldn't help but ask, "What do you need me to do?"