I never make a losing deal

Jaime's threat was the last straw that broke Walton.

As the saying went, only the person who wronged you knew just how innocent you were.

If he let this fellow run to his lord father and embellish everything that had happened in the Riverlands, pinning it all on him, the consequences would be unimaginable.

With the power of House Lannister, even if Lord Tywin had no evidence-or rather, needed no evidence at all and simply wanted to vent his eldest son's anger-the consequences would already be more than Walton could bear.

Damned Kingslayer, that lying devil!

At the thought of the situation he might face, Walton turned deathly pale, his body trembling uncontrollably as cold sweat poured down him.

He stared at Jaime and stubbornly retorted, "This... is Harrenhal. You're... challenging Lord Bolton's... authority!"

Although he tried to sound tougher, his chattering teeth robbed his threat of any force whatsoever.

Instead, his lack of confidence made him look distinctly guilty.

Noticing that his psychological defenses had crumbled, Corleone discreetly patted Jaime's thigh, signaling him not to add fuel to the fire.

They had more or less achieved the desired effect. Pushing too hard would be counterproductive and provoke resistance.

He took two steps forward and softened his voice in reassurance. "Captain Walton, I think we're all respectable men. There's no need to let things spiral out of control over a worthless wretch like him and a petty personal grudge."

"Lord Bolton's authority is meant to eliminate threats and maintain order, not to settle your personal grudges and start fights over a whore inside the castle."

"Wells is a male whore."

Before Corleone could finish, Yego, standing beside him, could not help bluntly pointing this out.

Hearing that, Corleone looked up at Walton in surprise. Seeing no change in his expression or any sign of discomfort, he shrugged.

After all, such preferences were hardly uncommon in Westeros.

And this world had no AIDS, making it considerably safer than his previous life... probably.

Without dwelling on it, Corleone merely shook his head and continued appealing to the wavering Walton's reason and feelings.

"Think about it, Walton."

He continued slowly forward, resting a hand on Walton's shoulder quite naturally, his tone suggesting he had nothing but Walton's interests at heart.

"If this reaches Earl Bolton, do you think he'll praise your actions, or blame you for disgracing him in front of an honored guest like the eldest son of House Lannister?"

Those words were like a precise scalpel, cutting Walton's mind wide open.

He lowered his head and fell silent for a moment, glanced at his men, then drew a deep breath. "All I know is to remain loyal to Lord Bolton and serve him faithfully. As for anything else... I haven't considered it!"

Well!

This fellow isn't stupid!

Seeing Walton straighten his chest and assume an air of righteousness, Corleone found himself regarding him with newfound respect.

He had some brains after all. He knew that suddenly backing down would utterly disgrace him as captain and leave him no way to save face, so he declared his position before the rank-and-file soldiers under his command.

But... all he needs is a way to back down.

Then I'll give you some money to step on!

"As I said before, Captain Walton, we're all respectable men."

Corleone tightened his right arm slightly around Walton and patted his shoulder, turning the aura of [Dignity Lv2] up to its fullest.

His voice softened, but the oppressive sense that he controlled the entire situation did not fade. Instead, it intensified. "How about this? I'll offer you a respectable solution."

He pointed at Rorge on the ground. "I must take this man with me."

"He offended you. I'll make him pay a price beyond your imagination, and from now on, he'll hold you in awe and never dare touch anyone or anything you've taken a liking to."

Corleone's voice carried such force that everyone present heard him clearly, instinctively inclining them to believe every promise he made.

Then he changed tack and pointed to the horse beneath Jaime. "As for this horse, it's all a misunderstanding."

"Perhaps Lord Bolton never specified which horse he was giving us. Perhaps the stablehands made a mistake. Either way, continuing to argue over ownership of an animal is beneath men of our standing."

Corleone repeated the word "respectable," steadily impressing it upon Walton's mind.

Then, without waiting for a response, he took a money pouch from inside his clothes.

He hefted it in his hand. The Gold Dragons clinked with a crisp, enticing sound, and the Soldiers of the North, who hailed from that bitterly cold land, stared transfixed.

"There are thirty Gold Dragons here."

Without allowing any argument, Corleone pressed the pouch into Walton's arms. "Consider it my personal compensation to you, as well as payment for this warhorse."

"Take it, forget all this unpleasantness, and treat your men to a feast at the best tavern in town, along with some fine liquor."

"Please don't think it's too little."

Gulp.

As Corleone finished speaking, Walton looked at the heavy money pouch in his hands and could not help swallowing.

Too little?

Thirty Gold Dragons, and you're telling me not to think it's too little?

In the south, the purchasing power of Gold Dragons was already absurdly high, even during wartime, when prices soared.

In the North, where supplies were scarce and people were generally dirt-poor, those thirty Gold Dragons were almost equivalent to an entire month's expenses for the Dreadfort!

"Master Corleone... you... I... I really..."

Looking up at Corleone's utterly sincere face, Walton was momentarily at a loss for words.

Although they had plundered a great deal of wealth during their march south to war, with Roose Bolton's private approval, most of the spoils had gone to the earl.

How could he not be excited to hold such a large sum now?

"Don't cry, Captain Walton."

Corleone heartily patted his back and stepped away, calmly sweeping his gaze over all the Soldiers of the North before laughing. "I know you've suffered a loss, but sometimes, letting both sides take a small loss means... everyone comes out ahead."

"Look, although we've both made a few insignificant concessions, resolving this dispute peacefully and respectably is the wisest choice compared with the worse outcome we might have faced, isn't it?"

Walton swallowed again. "How could I possibly accept this... That horse only cost ten Gold Dragons when I bought it."

Despite his words, his hands did not hesitate. He immediately tucked the Gold Dragons inside his clothes, as though afraid Corleone might change his mind.

Like hell I believe you.

Watching him, Corleone thought that although the horse was indeed tall and strong, it could not cost ten Gold Dragons. One or two at the absolute most.

His expression remained unchanged, however, and he gave Walton an elegant little nod. "As I said, we're all respectable men."

"Yes, yes, absolutely!!!"

With the Gold Dragons in hand, Walton instantly forgot all his anger and resentment. His smile could not have been brighter.

Now he treated Corleone as though he were his own father, enthusiastically coming closer and copying Corleone by patting his shoulder.

"We're all respectable men, Master Corleone. From now on, you're my best friend-Walton Steelshanks's best friend!"

"Never mind some Rorge. Even if you wanted my wife, I'd wash her clean and put her in your bed!"

"That really won't be necessary..." Corleone hastily declined.

"Anyway, just tell me whenever you need anything. Everyone in the Dreadfort knows that I, Walton Steelshanks, value loyalty above all!"

"Come on, let's go drinking!"

Giving the Gold Dragons inside his clothes another shake, Walton waved expansively and called all his soldiers to follow him as he strode away.

By the look of it, he had no intention of inviting Corleone, his "benefactor," to the feast.

"Blood of My Blood."

Only after watching them leave did Corleone instruct Yego, "Bring him along. We need to leave as soon as possible."

"Roose Bolton isn't a man who keeps his promises. We need to set off before he changes his mind."

Hearing that, Jaime nodded in wholehearted agreement.

Glancing at Rorge as Yego hoisted him onto his shoulder, he could not resist leaning closer and teasing quietly, "You made a losing deal, Vito. That man isn't worth thirty Gold Dragons."

"Did I?"

At those words, the corners of Corleone's mouth lifted slightly in a meaningful smile.

"You Lannisters aren't the only ones in this world who know how to do business, Jaime."

"Just watch. I, Vito Corleone, never make a losing deal."