The caravan's wheels kicked up dust, but instead of heading north, the ruts rolled southward.
Roderick's attendant leaned close to the carriage window, confusion written all over his face. He pointed behind the convoy: "Are we not going to King's Landing, my Lord?"
Roderick's voice came from inside the carriage, slightly hoarse from the bumps: "We are not going to King's Landing. King's Landing is a wolf's den. Taking such a treasure in there would be like a fat sheep walking into a pack of wolves."
"If they knew I had such a good thing, the greedy nobles would eat us until not even bones remained."
The attendant fell silent, thinking of the filth and darkness behind King's Landing. "Then where are we going, my Lord?"
Roderick's tone revealed his shrewdness. "To see the masters who feed King's Landing. The granary of the Seven Kingdoms. Highgarden."
"House Tyrell is the true master of the Grain Guild. Offering this great gift to the Lord Paramount of the Mander, the Warden of the South, Lord Mace Tyrell, is far safer than wading into that muddy swamp ourselves."
The wheels rolled down the Kingsroad, leaving the mud of the Riverlands and the Crownlands behind.
When Highgarden's beautiful, iconic white marble structures and the golden roses entwined upon them came into view, even the smell of the air changed.
The fields and manors outside the city were full of flowers and golden roses.
No longer the smell of dust mixed with horse dung, but the rich fragrance of flowers and roses.
Roderick straightened his most presentable robe. Through the guild's emergency channels, he requested an audience with the true master behind the Grain Guild—the Warden of the South, Lord Paramount of the Reach, Lord of Highgarden, Mace Tyrell.
In a hall hung with magnificent tapestries, Roderick met the legendary "Lord Pufferfish."
Lord Mace Tyrell's figure was indeed as "plump" as his nickname suggested. He was appreciating a painting presented by an artist with great interest, appearing somewhat indifferent to Roderick's arrival.
Finally, Mace Tyrell's gaze moved from the painting to Roderick, as if finally noticing him, looking down with a scrutinizing air: "You are Roderick?"
"Yes, my esteemed Lord." Roderick bowed deeply. He carefully took out a wooden box wrapped in gold thread from his breast pocket, gently opened it, and presented the strange glasses. "I have brought you a wonder never seen before. It can make a blurry world clear again."
Mace Tyrell's attendant took the glasses, checked them, and respectfully handed them to him.
Mace Tyrell picked up the gadget made of copper wire and crystal, examining it curiously. Seeing Roderick gesture to wear it on the nose.
"Oh? Interesting." He imitated Roderick, resting the glasses on his nose.
In an instant, the expression on Mace Tyrell's face changed. He called out his attendant's name in surprise: "Oh! Mason!"
"Look at the painting hanging over there! I can see the petals of that rose clearly!"
Mace Tyrell turned his head constantly, looking around like a child with a new toy.
"Very good, very good. The workmanship is exquisite. The noble ladies of the Seven Kingdoms will love it. I can give it to some lady to please her."
Mace Tyrell took off the glasses, looked at Roderick with satisfaction, and clapped his hands: "A very interesting gadget, Roderick. You have found a novel collectible for House Tyrell."
"I have decided to buy it. One thousand Gold Dragons for you."
One thousand Gold Dragons! Roderick's heart pounded wildly. Although this number was far lower than his imagination, he could get three hundred Gold Dragons from the split. And ten meant three thousand. As long as he earned this money, he could go to the Free Cities, buy estates and slaves, and truly change his destiny.
"Thank you for your generosity! My Lord!" Although Roderick felt the price was too low, he had to act excited, his voice trembling as he bowed deeply again.
"Go collect your money." Mace Tyrell waved his hand, turning his attention back to his painting, as if this was just an insignificant interlude.
Roderick retreated in ecstasy, feeling light on his feet, as if walking on clouds. He was rich.
If the Lord Paramount of the Reach was willing to pay a thousand, it meant someone would pay more. More importantly, he could act in King's Landing in the name of House Tyrell.
Mace Tyrell took his newly acquired toy and excitedly walked through the long corridor, preparing to present the treasure to his mother. He thought his mother would be happy with this little gadget that let her see embroidery patterns clearly.
Lady Olenna was sitting in a chair by the window, basking in the sun. The sunlight cast dappled shadows on her aged face. Her eyes were cloudy, like grey pearls covered in a thin mist.
"Mother, look what good thing I brought you!" Mace Tyrell said constantly in his slightly exaggerated tone.
Lady Olenna frowned without turning her head, speaking slowly: "If you brought another parrot that mimics human speech, I will throw it and you into the Mander together."
"No! No! Mother! It's this!" Mace Tyrell handed over the glasses like a treasure offering. "Our servant in King's Landing, Roderick, sent it."
Lady Olenna glanced impatiently, looking at him like he was a fool. She took the weird-looking thing and, under her son's urging, reluctantly put it on.
The world in the Queen of Thorns' eyes froze in an instant. Immediately, all blurred patches of color, hazy outlines, were seemingly wiped clean by an invisible hand. The veins of every petal on the roses outside the window were clearly visible. The cracks in the bricks on the distant tower were revealed in minute detail. She could even see the whiskers trembling slightly on her son's fat face due to excitement.
Lady Olenna was stunned. In those eyes that had seen the changing winds and clouds of the Seven Kingdoms, the cloudiness faded, bursting with a sharp light comparable to a falcon spotting prey.
"Fool!" Lady Olenna turned her head sharply, staring fixedly at her son, cursing constantly. Her voice wasn't loud, but like incredibly cold ice, it froze Mace Tyrell's triumphant smile. "You fat fool!"
"Mother, what's wrong?..." Mace Tyrell was stunned.
"You think this is just a toy?" Lady Olenna's voice became cold, as if looking at a pig. "This is the key to making every old pedant in Oldtown who can't see clearly kneel and kiss your toes!"
"This is a gold mountain that will make the fat bishops, nobles, wealthy merchants, Magisters, and slave masters in King's Landing, Tyrosh, Myr, Lys, Pentos... empty their vaults to enjoy life!"
"You dismissed a gold mountain with one thousand Gold Dragons?"
Lady Olenna thumped her cane on the ground violently. Mace Tyrell turned pale. "Arryk! Erryk!"
Two identical figures appeared at the door. They were the Queen of Thorns' most loyal twin guards.
"Go! Chase that merchant named Roderick back here! Alive!"
Roderick was wandering around the castle, muttering softly about the damn maze. He was lost and hadn't found his way out of Highgarden's labyrinthine gardens until two expressionless knights blocked his path.
Roderick was brought back to that magnificent hall again. Only this time, sitting in the main seat was the Queen of Thorns, who made his spine chill and sweat break out. Mace Tyrell stood behind his mother, saying nothing.
Under Lady Olenna's empty, cloudy, yet all-seeing gaze, Roderick dared not hide anything. From how he was intercepted, to meeting Solomon, to his ruthless methods, to the 70/30 split agreement, and the young lord's claim of having stock—he spilled everything.
Lady Olenna listened quietly, fingers tapping rhythmically on the armrest. In the entire hall, only the slight sound of her fingers tapping wood and Roderick's nervous breathing could be heard.
Lady Olenna repeated softly, her eyes flickering with calculating light that made one palpitate: "Interesting. A minor lord in the Riverlands..."
Finally, she looked at Roderick, waved the glasses in her hand, and spoke slowly: "Go back. Tell that young man named Solomon."
"House Tyrell is willing to buy all the Clear-Sight Glasses in his possession for one thousand Gold Dragons each."
Roderick's breath stopped! All of them! He had to empty his entire fortune immediately! Get high-quality crystals! Have Solomon make them! Ten meant ten thousand Gold Dragons! Twenty meant twenty thousand! He could get three thousand or even six thousand Gold Dragons! Or even more!
Lady Olenna's gaze turned to him: "You, Roderick, facilitate this deal, and I will give you an additional three hundred Gold Dragons as a reward."
Although Roderick felt he couldn't even look at three hundred Gold Dragons anymore! But to show gratitude! His knees went soft! He almost knelt down!
Lady Olenna's voice became cold. She lowered her voice, carrying irresistible authority, as if the person before her was Solomon, throwing out her real terms: "In addition,"
"We will pay another two thousand Gold Dragons."
"To buy out the time until we produce imitations."
"That is to say, during this period, he—I forget his name—cannot make this thing anymore, nor is he allowed to sell this item to anyone else. You must watch him with your own eyes and have him swear by the gods he believes in."
Roderick broke out in cold sweat. Listening to Lady Olenna's undeniable tone, he bowed and retreated.
Seeing Roderick leave, Mace Tyrell, standing aside, turned pale with shock and finally couldn't help but speak: "Mother! So many Gold Dragons! Is this... isn't this too generous? We could totally..."
"Shut up, fool." Lady Olenna didn't look back.
But finally, Lady Olenna seemed to be thinking about something and decided to explain to her enlightened son. She looked at her son who was still in a confused expression, seemingly distressed:
"You think we are spending over twenty thousand Gold Dragons buying those dozen pieces of broken crystal?"
"We are buying Time!"
"Before our craftsmen in Highgarden imitate this thing, a second pair cannot appear on the market!"
"We will immediately organize manpower, use the best crystals, the best craftsmen, and imitate it day and night!"
"When we have hundreds, thousands of pairs in our hands, then we release them together!"
"Sell them to the High Septon in King's Landing, to the Iron Bank of Braavos, to the Magisters of the Free Cities, to the Wise Masters of Yunkai, to those slave masters who are so rich they ooze oil but can't even see their contracts clearly!"
"At that time, do you think a pair is only worth one thousand Gold Dragons?"
"They will be willing to spend three thousand, five thousand, even ten thousand Gold Dragons to buy back their youth and power to enjoy their short, filthy lives!"
Lady Olenna's words shocked Mace Tyrell. His eyes widened, seeming to understand, his face flushing red with excitement.
Roderick was sent out of the city, feeling cold all over. He finally understood how ridiculous merchants were in the eyes of true power players in Westeros.
Holding a token engraved with the rose seal of House Tyrell given by Lady Olenna, he embarked on the road north to the Riverlands again. The carriage sped along, but his mood was a hundred times more complex than when he came. It was no longer pure ecstasy, but mixed with a trace of fear. His merchant sensitivity told him this matter would bring him danger.
He was a merchant; of course, he knew Lady Olenna's plan. He knew it would be a huge sum of money. But that wealth... what did it have to do with him? In Westeros, nobles were the true masters. He just had to take his share and leave. Roderick clenched his fist.
But he was somewhat unwilling.
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