The door closed softly, cutting off the sight of Corleone and Yigo's departing figures.
Tyrion said nothing, his small body sinking deep into the oversized chair, his gaze locked on the closed door as if he could see right through the wood.
Within his mismatched eyes, there was a hint of contemplation and a subtle unease.
In the confrontation just now, he had undoubtedly won.
He had saved a significant amount of expenditure for the iron throne—or rather, for his own current difficult situation—quite beautifully.
This was a victory that should have been worth a few cups of fine wine.
But...
Thinking back to Corleone's calm, deep eyes before he left, and especially that confident tone of certain victory, it all felt very grating to him.
It didn't sound like the weak threats of a loser at all; it felt more like a signal of a formal declaration of war.
That posture of absolute determination actually reminded him of his father once again.
"That kid doesn't seem to be talking big."
Even Bronn, standing nearby, set aside his cynical smile and walked to Tyrion's massive desk. "I've seen many people talk tough, but eyes don't lie. I'd say this guy is either a madman, or..." As he spoke, he picked up a bright red apple from the fruit bowl, wiped it on the expensive tablecloth, took a large, crunching bite, and suggested half-seriously, "Just in case, I can take care of him for you in advance. Three hundred Gold Dragons. The price is reasonable, and it'll be a clean job."
Hearing this, Tyrion tapped his knee lightly with his finger, seemingly considering the feasibility of the idea.
Bronn's proposal was very direct, but it was also the most effective way to deal with trouble.
"He is Jaime's friend."
After thinking for a long time, Tyrion finally spoke slowly.
He couldn't order the death of Jaime's savior just because of a few meaningful words; it didn't align with political wisdom, not to mention that if Jaime found out later, the man would surely go mad.
Most importantly, who could guarantee that Bronn would definitely be able to kill Corleone?
Just the Dothraki by his side looked difficult to deal with, and the man had now taken over Flea Bottom, a place that was hardly peaceful.
"Send a few clever, unfamiliar faces to Flea Bottom."
Tyrion's tone regained its composure as he instructed Bronn, "Investigate thoroughly for me what exactly this Vito Corleone is doing."
"Keep an eye on him. I want to know exactly what he eats every day, who he meets, what he says, and even how many times he shits. Everything must be crystal clear!"
The order was given clearly, yet Bronn remained standing where he was, unmoving.
He simply looked at Tyrion with a playful expression and took another bite of the apple.
Seeing him like this, Tyrion rolled his eyes helplessly, fumbled in his coat, pulled out a shiny Gold Dragon, and tossed it over.
The gold traced a graceful arc through the air, landing precisely in Bronn's lap.
He weighed it before pocketing it, then grinned, revealing his mouthful of yellow teeth once more.
"Seriously, Bronn."
This blatant display of greed made Tyrion sigh with a complex tone, "Sometimes I really don't know if keeping you as a guard was a wise decision."
"It's definitely wise, my dear Lord Tyrion."
Bronn walked to the door, hand on the knob, and looked back at Tyrion. "After all, between a 'noble' knight who might stab you in the back at any moment and a bastard with a clear price tag who only recognizes gold, which one do you think is more reliable?"
Hearing this, Tyrion couldn't help but shake his head with a light laugh.
Crude words, but sound logic.
Having been in King's Landing for so long, he had long since grown accustomed to this environment of intrigue and lies.
Everyone wore a mask, speaking of honor and loyalty at every turn, but only they knew what they were truly thinking.
Yet, Bronn's blatant principle of money-above-all could sometimes be more reassuring.
You knew what he wanted, and how to drive him to do—or not do—something.
"Remember," Tyrion shouted at Bronn's back as he saw him push the door open to leave, "no matter when, if someone pays to take my life, I'll pay double!"
The corridors of the The Red Keep were wide yet felt somewhat cold and damp, especially in autumn.
Corleone walked ahead, with Yigo following half a step behind him in a huff, his face written with anger.
Even with a bag full of a thousand Gold Dragons on his back, he wasn't happy at all; instead, he wanted to throw it on the ground and stomp on it a few times.
Perhaps from being with Corleone for so long, this crude and savage dothraki man had also learned the meaning of'shame'.
Just then, a familiar voice suddenly came from around the corner ahead.
"I suggest you walk slower, Lady Lollys. Moving too much might harm the unborn child."
Corleone looked up to see Jaime Lannister in his white robes walking toward them, his cloak swaying gently with his steps.
Behind him followed a woman with a bloated figure and a protruding belly.
Although she wore a gown made of luxurious fabric, her gaze was vacant, and she giggled foolishly, tilting her head and curiously reaching out to catch the flickering shadows cast by the torches on the wall, as if trying to grasp them.
Beside her, a maid dressed in light clothing followed closely, her face full of disdain, showing no intention of supporting her.
"Hey, Jaime!"
Hearing the call, Jaime, whose face had been somewhat grim, looked up and immediately gave a bright smile: "Corleone!"
Excited, he immediately forgot the two people behind him and strode up to Corleone. "It's so good to see you. I heard from Adam that you just finished dealing with that mess in Flea Bottom. I thought you'd be busy for a long time."
"There is indeed a lot to do, but it's manageable." Hearing this, Corleone also chuckled. "But speaking of which, I haven't seen Lady Brienne for quite a while. Didn't she return to the The Red Keep with you?"
At the mention of Brienne, Jaime's face darkened again, and his tone became somewhat complex.
"She... she's been temporarily locked up because Ser Loras Tyrell insists on personally interrogating her about the truth of the night Renly Baratheon was murdered."
"He still believes Brienne is hiding something."
"They were both members of Renly Baratheon's Rainbow Guard. When he died, it's said only Brienne was by his side..."
"I understand."
Hearing this, Corleone nodded thoughtfully.
After all, to outsiders, Renly's death was full of suspicious points. Who would believe that a shadow could kill?
Not to mention, Renly was Ser Loras's...
"Don't worry, Ser Loras Tyrell is an honorable man. He will make a fair judgment."
Corleone couldn't easily interfere in this matter, but fortunately, he knew that Loras would eventually believe Brienne hadn't committed regicide, so he spoke words of comfort.
Hearing this, Jaime also nodded helplessly. "Let's hope so."
Since returning to King's Landing, nothing seemed to be going well for him.
His father wanted him to remove his white armor and return to Casterly Rock to inherit the family estate; Cersei wouldn't let him touch her for anything; and it was said his cousin Lancel had been getting quite close to her lately.
The King... better not mention him.
Looking around, it seemed that only the time spent with Corleone was Jaime's happiest.
"Heh~~~ yo~~~~ white-clothed knight..."
Just then, the large-bellied woman finally trotted up to Jaime, panting. "You run~~~~ ha, so fast. Lollys can't keep up with her bundle."
As she spoke, she even thumped her belly with her fist, but she hurt herself and squatted down, clutching her stomach.
"This is..." Corleone asked.
Seeing this series of actions, Jaime rolled his eyes in disbelief and introduced her to Corleone: "She is Lady Lollys Stokeworth."
"Lady?"
Corleone frowned, his gaze lingering on her protruding belly for a moment.
In the customs of Westeros, only unmarried noblewomen are called 'Lady', while married ones should be called 'Madam'.
Jaime saw his confusion and shrugged indifferently. "Not long ago, during the riot in King's Landing, she was unfortunately caught up in it and raped by a mob. Fortunately, she didn't lose her life, and she even got an extra one for free."
"She rested in the The Red Keep for a while until my father arrived and decided it was ultimately damaging to the royal dignity, so the King sent me to escort her back to Starkworth Castle, to her mother."
He spoke loudly, without lowering his voice at all, seemingly unconcerned about her feelings.
Corleone, however, took a step closer and whispered, "You say that right in front of her?"
Hearing this, Jaime pulled a slightly mocking smile and pointed at Lollys, who had plucked a somewhat wilted wildflower from the roadside and was sniffing it vigorously.
"As you can see, her mind... isn't quite right."
As he spoke, he pointed to his own head. "The Septons say it's a punishment from the gods, while the Maesters believe she's infected with some terrible disease."
"But regardless, she's a poor soul."
"She doesn't understand our conversation; she lives entirely in her own world. Though I think it might be better for her that way."
With Jaime's explanation, Corleone nodded thoughtfully.
His gaze inadvertently swept over the maid who had been standing quietly behind Lollys.
She appeared submissive, but between her brows, there was always a look of impatience or even disgust toward Lollys, which Corleone saw clearly with the help of [Insight Lv2].
Something's not right.
The corners of Corleone's mouth curled up slightly; a maid, even one serving a simpleton, wouldn't normally dare show such an expression to her mistress.
At this thought, his heart stirred with a bold guess.
Stepping forward, Corleone ignored Lollys and instead approached the maid, giving her a gentle and charming smile.
"Forgive my intrusion, beautiful lady."
"May I ask, what is your name...?"
The maid, who had been daydreaming, seemingly didn't expect this extraordinary-looking stranger 'noble' to suddenly strike up a conversation.
She quickly looked up, lifted her skirt in a curtsy, and answered softly, "I am called Shae, my lord."
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