This "arithmetic lesson" did not last long.
Old Earl was not as pious as he thought, but when he pulled out the third nail, he explained everything clearly.
And he also made Earl understand three things:
First, pain can be pinpointed to nerve endings.
Second, fear can be literally quantified into every heartbeat.
Third, there are some secrets that even the Seven Gods cannot hear.
When Corleone returned to House of Order, the sky just turned white.
Without alerting anyone, he went straight to his room on the second floor and changed out of his dark clothes that smelled of cellar mold and a hint of alcohol.
Perhaps because of his eight-year medical career and countless anatomical experiments, Corleone didn't have the slightest psychological burden on the matter of murder from the very beginning.
Moreover, the death of Gales Earl was also very peaceful, not bloody at all, and looked no different from natural death. An ordinary bachelor would not be able to detect anything wrong with it.
That old silver coin of Pycelle might be able to do it, but given his extremely sleazy character and his obedience to Tywin's words, he would never be stupid enough to ask for trouble.
Corleone asked the waiter to get hot water for him. After washing himself, he even had a good night's sleep.
He didn't get up to have lunch until three o'clock in the morning.
"Bang!"
"The blood of my blood!"
Just when Corleone was concentrating on chewing the barbecue steak, Yego suddenly opened the door and appeared.
This Dothraki Warrior has dark circles under his eyes, but his spirit is strangely high, with a very lewd smile on his bronze face.
He scratched his messy hair and complained in Common Mandarin with a heavy accent, "How come... you came back by yourself?"
"I woke up at Hummingbird" and the red-haired woman said that you left in the afternoon. I then searched for you for two streets!"
Hearing this, Corleone paused slightly in cutting the bacon, swallowed the meat in his mouth, raised his eyelids and glanced at Yego, without saying anything.
How to say?
Could it be that I forgot you, "Blood of my blood," in the brothel?
"I think you need plenty of rest."
After a moment of pause, Corleone finally spoke, his tone was flat and no emotion could be heard.
"Rest?"
Yego grinned, showing his yellow teeth, and slapped his chest. "The Dothraki Warrior don't need a rest!"
"You don't know, that red-haired woman has a waist as strong as a mare on the prairie. Later we tried...
"Shut up and eat."
Corleone interrupted him and pushed the plate with the pork pie over.
Seeing this, Yego just laughed twice, and obediently buried his head in eating.
Seeing him wolfing down the food, Corleone couldn't help but sigh, this kid has really good physical strength, he can still be alive and kicking after a whole day and night.
For the "business" last night, he originally wanted to ask Yego to go, but after thinking about it, with the bonus of [Insight Iv3], he would be more confident in doing it himself, and Gales' body also needed to be professionally handled.
Facts have proved that Rosby City's lax defenses were full of loopholes under his [Insight|v3], and almost no effort was expended.
But then again, there are still too few people available to him.
In terms of force, Yego can only be regarded as a second-rate top player, but his skills are more flexible than those of knights.
And Rorge... that guy is really good at dominating the market and doing some civil construction. In terms of fighting, even Brienne is probably a few steps behind him.
If we could create an organization like the Faceless Men, it would be much easier to do things in the future.
While eating, Corleone was thinking.
At this moment, a black shadow silently jumped onto the dining table.
Yego was startled and almost drew his sword, but when he took a closer look, he found that it turned out to be a completely black...
Cat?
This Black Cat has very long hair and a huge body. Only a small piece of his left ear is missing, leaving a jagged gap. His amber eyes are staring directly at the half slice of bacon left in Yego's hand.
"That's for people to eat, you eat this."
Corleone's voice sounded, and then he picked up a piece of raw meat from his hand and handed it over.
"This cat...
"Brought from the Red Keep."
Hearing Yego ask, Corleone simply responded.
Yesterday afternoon, when he left the Prime Minister's Tower, the cat was lying on the flange of the tower's outer wall to bask in the sun.
It lowered its head, and its vertical pupils followed him for an instant until he walked out of the courtyard.
This feeling of being watched is very strange, Corleone felt it immediately.
By some strange coincidence, when he was about to leave, Corleone stopped and gently "tsk, tsk, tsk" him.
I didn't have much hope at first, but then Black Cat actually followed me and followed Corleone all the way back to Flea Bottom.
Now, we have lunch with him in a grand manner.
Looking at the raw meat handed over, Black Cat lowered his head and sniffed it, and then began to bite it slowly.
The food looks very elegant, even aristocratic and calm.
Yego saw it interestingly, and reached out to touch the cat's back, but Black Cat's fur immediately exploded, and he scratched his arm with a claw, which directly caused blood.
"Tsk, you have a bad temper."
Yego retracted his hand in pain, but he wasn't upset at all.
As a Warrior on the grassland, he would not be angry with a pet, especially...Corleone's pet.
Black Cat finished eating the piece of raw meat, licked his paws, and then rubbed his head on Corleone's wrist, purring deeply from his throat.
This approach is completely different from the previous treatment of Yego.
Corleone put down the knife, stretched out his hand, and took him into his arms with his palms upward.
Its fur was softer and smoother than it looked. With his fingers caressing the cat's head and spine, Black Cat narrowed his eyes in comfort and purred louder.
He just sat in front of the table, stroking Black Cat on his lap. The sunlight outside the window came in, creating a strange light and shadow.
Somehow, Corleone seemed to have thought of something and softly called out, "Balerion?"
"Woo~~~"
At this moment, rapid footsteps came from the stairs.
"Boss! I found out...
Then, Rorge's loud voice stopped abruptly at the door.
The noseless guy froze at the door, eyes as wide as bells, staring at Black Cat who was snoring comfortably on Corleone's lap.
His expression instantly became extremely weird, first shocked, then panicked, and then trying to calm down, but his eyes frequently drifted to the two men following him, gesturing quickly.
Fortunately, his men were smart enough to quietly take half a step back and disappear around the corner of the stairs. Each of them seemed to be carrying two cages covered with cloth?
"Ahem...
After confirming that they had left, Rorge cleared his throat and forced a smile, "Boss, you are feeding the cat."
Corleone raised his eyelids and looked at him calmly.
That gaze seemed to penetrate Rorge's forced composure, causing a thin layer of sweat to break out on his forehead.
"How many times have I told you to call me Your Excellency?"
"Yes! Lord Corleone!"
"Come in and close the door."
Seeing him straighten his back and respond loudly, Corleone then let go and continued to comb Black Cat's fur with his fingers, "Let's get down to business."
Rorge As if he had received an amnesty, he hurriedly stepped in and led him to the door carefully.
But he didn't dare to sit down like Yego, so he stood at the table and couldn't help but glance at Black Cat.
"As you commanded this morning."
He began to report, "We focused on the old monk who preached at Fish Market Square. Time was too tight, so we only found some superficial information, which was quite a harvest."
"Tell me about it." Corleone nodded to continue.
Rorge took a few steps closer and lowered his voice. "You are indeed well-informed. That old guy has already put his hand into our flea nest!"
"I was just about to send someone to take a look this morning when I heard that hundreds of people were running there every day, so I quickly asked three people to inquire."
As he spoke, Rorge took out a dirty note from his arms. "The old shoemaker Hal, the vegetable seller Mora, and the son of the dock Stevedore."
"They all grew up in our Flea Bottom. I asked them separately, but they all said the same thing."
"Since last month, those people have been preaching the teachings of the Seven Gods in Fishermen's Square every morning."
"No matter who you are, as long as you go and stand in line, you can receive a piece of black bread and half a bowl of gruel. Although it is not much, it is enough to relieve a hungry person.
"Then just say the prayer."
"You can't leave after receiving the food. You have to join everyone and follow the old monk to praise the Seven Gods."
"No one cares if you pronounce it wrongly or in a low voice at the beginning, but if you don't pronounce it well for several days in a row, the bread you get will become smaller and even the porridge will be gone."
Hearing this, Yego frowned as he listened. "If your voice is not loud enough, you won't get anything to eat. What does this mean?"
"I don't know either."
Rorge swallowed and continued, "It is said that the widow Mora had a bright voice and recited the hardest, and she gave her a whole piece of bread on the third day."
"The old shoemaker Hal couldn't speak well. He went there for a week and took out a small one. His wife was so anxious that she helped and shouted, but she was kicked out. Afterwards, she begged for a long time before she could put it in."
"It's a bit of a routine." Hearing this, Corleone tapped his fingers on Balerion's back. "Continue."
"Yes, Your Excellency."
Rorge turned a page. "After the morning meeting, the monks will give them some medicinal soup. The color will be black and the smell will be a bit strange."
"According to the old shoemaker, his wife had a bad cough, but after drinking a bowl of medicinal soup, she immediately stopped coughing and looked much more energetic. That's..."
"In his wife's own words: she looked a little distracted and felt light-headed. She felt that everything the old monk said was right, as if the Seven Gods were really coming before her eyes."
As soon as these words came out, Corleone's originally half-closed eyes suddenly opened.
The air in the room became stagnant, and even Yego noticed the change and put down the bread in his hand.
"Where's the medicine?"
Corleone's voice changed. It was no longer the usual gentle tone, but became very cold and hard, even with a murderous intent.
Rorge was frightened by this momentum and quickly said, "The monks are not allowed to take them away. They must drink it all on the spot. Even the bowl must be taken back on the spot. It is said to be God's Gift's grace and cannot be kept secretly."
"But fortunately... the shoemaker's wife was clever. When she drank, she took out the dregs of the medicine and hid it in her sleeve. She wanted to save it for licking when she felt uncomfortable at night. I spent one Silver Stag to buy it."
As he spoke, he carefully placed a small oil paper bag on the table.
Corleone reached out and opened it, [Insight Iv3] fully open, first look at the color, dark brown almost black, uneven, with obvious traces of sediment layering.
Then use your fingernails to gently scrape off a little bit of the dried residue, and twist it around with your fingertips.
The texture is rough, with fine graininess, mixed with incompletely ground plant fibers.
Finally, he put his fingertips under his nose and sniffed lightly, then put the residue on his tongue and spit it out instantly.
Bang!
Without warning, he punched the table with his fist, startling Rorge.
Ever since I met Corleone, he has always been calm and unhurried, even killing people with an almost artistic grace. I have never seen him get so angry.
However, at this moment, Corleone was completely immersed in anger and had no time to pay attention to him.
Because in the medicinal powder, he first tasted amygdalin, an ingredient in nuts that can relieve coughs in trace amounts, but can be fatal in excess.
Next comes lead.
This is not medicine.
This is poison!
It is carefully formulated for the poor, working both mentally and physically, with the intention of exchanging immediate "curative effect" for long-term dependence and damage, and using the false "Glory of the Seven Gods" to cover up its ugly purpose... poison!
"Your Excellency... Your Excellency... what's wrong with you?"
Looking at Corleone standing there, his chest rising and falling slightly, his eyes, which were always deep and calm, were filled with extremely complicated things that Rorge couldn't understand.
Angry.
No, not just anger.
But the disgust and rejection coming from the depths of the soul!
"Go buy food."
Corleone didn't answer. He slowly retracted his hand and spoke in a deep voice.
Rorge was stunned. "What... what?"
Corleone raised his head, his dark eyes staring straight at Rorge: "I said, go buy food."
"Now, immediately, using all the channels and relationships we can use, I want to feed at least 10,000 people for more than a month."
"Brown bread, oats, beans, bacon, dried fish, anything that can fill my stomach, I want it!"
Hearing this, Rorge opened his mouth wide, his brain calculated rapidly, and his face became paler and paler.
"But... Sir, how many Gold Dragon does this cost?"
"The war has been going on for so long, there is still a famine in the Riverlands, the valley is closed, and the price of food in King's Landing is more than ten times higher than usual."
"We have spent a lot of money repairing Fighting Arena and supporting Cleaning Crew in the past few days. Even if we include all the income from Flea Bottom now, we still can't afford so much Gold Dragon!"
However, Corleone's expression did not change at all, and he said coldly and firmly, "The money will be there soon."
"You just have to do it."
As he spoke, he walked around the table, walked up to Rorge, looked into his eyes and ordered word for word, "Before sunset today, I want to see the first batch of grain transported into the warehouse."
"Within three days, rations for 10,000 people must be in place. Prices can be negotiated and channels can be found. If there are grain merchants who raise prices... you know what to do."
The strong sense of oppression made Rorge nod vigorously, his back soaked with cold sweat. "Understood! I...
I'll do it right now!"
"And."
Rorge, who had already turned around, turned back.
"Spread the word."
I saw Corleone walking to the window and looking at the flea nest downstairs that seemed to be getting better and better.
The morning light shone from behind, seeming to coat him with a sharp golden edge.
"I, Vito·Corleone, from today onwards, set up a porridge shack and Clinic in Flea Bottom.
"Free food, free medical care, no need to pray, no need to recite sutras."
"As long as you come, there will be food. As long as you are sick, there will be medicine."
"I want to... declare war on the so-called Seven Gods!"