The air in the hall seemed to freeze.
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Stannis Baratheon sat behind the stone table, his deep blue eyes staring at the striking number on the parchment, unable to look away for a long time.
Ten thousand pounds of wheat.
How many men did his army have left?
Two thousand three hundred, perhaps fewer; this laughable number was almost a naked insult to a "king."
After the mutiny at Bitterbridge, the vast majority of the Stormlands' lords and knights, as well as a few Reach nobles, had turned to surrender to him, the only Baratheon.
With the loyalty of the Stormlands lords, Stannis's forces once exceeded twenty thousand men, most of them knights and free riders; he had been in high spirits then.
At the same time, the City Watch of King's Landing numbered only a few thousand, a stark contrast in strength.
However, a battle that should have been a guaranteed victory turned into a crushing defeat. Stannis returned to Dragonstone with only two thousand men and a skeleton fleet; his forces were truly reduced to a tenth of their original size.
Most critically, under the Lannisters' intense blockade, Dragonstone's food consumption grew increasingly severe without any replenishment. If this continued, even Stannis was starting to consider whether to abandon his base and seek a way out elsewhere.
And these ten thousand pounds of wheat, at a ration of half a pound per person per day, would be enough to last nearly ten days!
For an army that hadn't had decent supplies for two months, this was almost like a stabilizing pill for the soldiers.
But the price?
Even Stannis knew very well that everything in the world came with a price tag.
"How much money do you want, Vito Corleone?"
Stannis's voice echoed in the hall. He did not use the honorific "Ser," a subtle signal; until he confirmed this man's true intentions, he would not grant any unnecessary respect.
"You are well aware, my lord, that the average price of grain has not yet come down."
Hearing this, Corleone replied steadily, "Since the War of the Five Kings, the The Riverlands have been turned to scorched earth, the grain routes of The Reach have been blocked by the fires of war, and Lord Tywin has implemented strict controls for the stability of King's Landing."
"The official price of grain is three copper pennies per pound, but that's only on paper. In actual transactions, the price has risen to one silver stag per pound of wheat, and it's all cash-only; absolutely no one will accept credit."
As he spoke, a suppressed gasp echoed through the hall.
One silver stag for a pound of wheat!
Ten thousand pounds means ten thousand silver stags, equivalent to over three hundred gold dragons!
This amount of money would be enough to maintain a minor noble family's decent lifestyle for ten years in times of peace, or to hire a hundred-man mercenary company for an entire year!
And now, it was only enough to buy ten days' worth of rations.
"That figure is quite reasonable." After a moment of silence, Stannis nodded slightly and instructed the knight beside him, "Go inform Ser Axell to take three hundred gold dragons from the treasury."
He didn't haggle, but he automatically shaved off the change after the three hundred gold dragons, his tone perfectly natural.
However, neither of them dwelled on that detail.
Soon, the side door was pushed open.
A middle-aged man who bore a sixty percent resemblance to the bound Allister Florent, but with a completely different temperament, strode in.
He wore the standard armor of the Dragonstone garrison, with the Crowned Stag sigil embroidered on his breastplate; it was Allister's brother, Axell Florent.
But unlike his brother Allister, whose eyes were always calculating gains and losses, Axell Florent's eyes burned with a light of paranoia and conviction.
As the Castellan of Dragonstone, Axell had managed this small island for Stannis during the years he served as the Master of Ships in King's Landing.
And when Stannis suffered a crushing defeat at the Blackwater and retreated to Dragonstone, it was Axell who personally arrested his own brother, who had tried to negotiate and seek a compromise with King's Landing, and threw him into the dungeon.
"Mmph! Mmph-mmph!!"
Seeing his brother appear, especially meeting Axell's cold and heartless eyes, Allister Florent struggled frantically as if branded by a hot iron.
His gagged mouth allowed him to only let out vague, desperate groans, but the terror in that sound was unmistakable to anyone.
He knew his brother all too well!
For the sake of the so-called "purification of the Lord of Light," Axell could sacrifice anyone, and had even publicly declared multiple times at council meetings that "waverers must be purified, and compromise is a deeper sin than betrayal."
Not only that, he had repeatedly suggested to Stannis that he "purify" his "weak-faithed" brother with fire!
However, Allister's struggling didn't catch Axell's attention at all; he didn't even give him a single glance, merely bowing slightly to Stannis: "Your Majesty."
He then walked up to Corleone and handed him the purse containing the gold dragons.
*Clink, clink... clink, clink...*
Corleone weighed it in his hand. The three hundred gold dragons made a crisp, pleasant sound in the purse, and a hint of a smile appeared on his face.
A greedy fellow indeed.
Looking at his expression, Stannis felt a deep sense of disdain.
However, in the next second, Corleone's actions made him frown involuntarily.
With a flick of his wrist, the man actually tossed the purse back to Ser Axell!
"What are you trying to do, Vito Corleone?" he questioned sharply. "Do you think my price is too low?"
"No, no, dear lord."
Under Stannis's gaze, Corleone spoke slowly, his voice even carrying a hint of a gentle smile: "As I said, this is a gift."
"So... these ten thousand pounds of wheat are completely free."
Free!!
As soon as the word left his mouth, everyone present was shocked.
A gift of over ten thousand pounds of grain was indeed a grand gesture.
"A gift?"
Stannis murmured the word, but in the face of such a massive gift, his voice grew even colder, his eyes fixed on Corleone. "Ser, in my life, so-called 'gifts' often come with the most expensive price tags."
"What exactly are you trying to do? Are you acting as a lobbyist for Tywin Lannister, intending to use grain to persuade me to give up my resistance and recognize the legitimacy of the false king?"
"If that's the case, then I can tell you directly: it is impossible!"
His voice gradually rose, ending in what was almost a growl.
However, Corleone only shook his head gently.
"No, Your Majesty."
"These ten thousand pounds of wheat come with no strings attached."
"It is merely a proof—proof that my channels are real, proof that my promises are not castles in the air, and proof that every word I am about to say is built on a practical foundation."
With that, Corleone took a step forward.
"What we are about to discuss..."
""
In a brief moment, his voice suddenly became clear and powerful, each word seemingly striking Stannis's heart: "...is a business of one hundred thousand pounds of wheat... every month!"
"One hundred thousand pounds!!!"
As he spoke, a chorus of gasps erupted from everyone present.
Every eye was filled with a look of disbelief.
What did so much grain mean?
It meant that every soldier, craftsman, sailor, noble, and even commoner on Dragonstone—everyone could eat their fill!
The days of being unable to sleep at night due to the agonizing cramps in their stomachs were about to be gone forever!
But amidst the cries of shock, Corleone was not yet finished.
"Not only that."
He continued, his gaze slowly scanning every face in the hall, whether shocked or skeptical. "Medicine, clean gauze for bandages, wool for warmth, tung oil and timber for repairing ships."
"Even..."
""
With every word Corleone uttered, the heartbeats of those present quickened by another notch.
At this point, he paused deliberately until everyone was listening intently, then spoke syllable by syllable: "Weapons, armor, warhorses, ships!"
"As long as it is something you and your army need, there is nothing I, Vito Corleone, cannot obtain."
"You only need to remember one thing: what others sell, my Mafia dares to sell; what others do not dare to sell, my Mafia still dares to sell!"
Boom!
The shock triggered by this sentence was more intense than all the previous words combined.
One hundred thousand pounds of grain per month was enough to change the survival state of Dragonstone, but weapons and armor?
That was tilting the scales of war!
With this grain, weaponry, and logistical support, Stannis Baratheon could fully muster a force of nearly ten thousand men!
If he could truly do that, they would no longer be confined to a lonely island!
Axell's breathing grew noticeably rapid as he looked at Stannis, a certain fervent light burning in his eyes.
Part of that light came from faith, and the other part from the most primal desire for survival.
"Such a massive business..."
Swallowing hard, Stannis finally spoke, his voice clear to everyone.
He didn't look at Corleone, but stared at his own hand resting on the arm of the stone chair, veins bulging from the sheer force of his grip.
"Sir Corleone." Stannis snapped his head up, his deep blue eyes like the surface of the sea before a storm.
He was not dazed by this sudden stroke of good fortune; instead, he maintained sufficient composure to question, "Do you understand what you are saying?"
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"One hundred thousand jin of grain and other logistical supplies every month, even weapons and equipment, transported from King's Landing, right under the nose of Tywin Lannister, to his mortal enemy?"
"Are you insane, or do you take me for some ignorant fool?"
"Or is it…"
As he said this, his eyes became incredibly sharp: "Is this a plot by Tywin?"
"Sending a batch of harmless grain to gain my trust, and then poisoning one of the shipments?"
"Or, at an appointed time, having warships hide among merchant vessels to secretly land on Dragonstone and wipe out my forces in one fell swoop?"
As soon as these words were spoken, the expressions on the faces of those present shifted once again.
To be honest, everything Corleone had just described had left them feeling rather dizzy, almost causing them to lose their reason and agree immediately.
Now, hearing Stannis put it this way, they finally calmed down and thought it over carefully.
His Majesty is right!
That would be aiding the enemy right under the nose of Tywin Lannister; how could the Old Lion ever allow such a thing to happen!
That brat must be lying to trick us!
In an instant, the guards all gripped their sword hilts and glared at Corleone, as if they would mince this deceiver sent by the Lannister into bits in the next second.
Even Axell Florent spoke up at the right moment: "The flames show me, Your Majesty."
"This man's words are shrouded in too many shadows. The gifts he promises may well be bait leading to destruction. The enemies of the Lord of Light always disguise themselves as friends!"
"I suggest we burn him now!"
"Burn him!"
"Burn him!!!"
Once these words were spoken, everyone present echoed them, the sounds of armored boots and spear butts hitting the floor rising one after another.
Stannis also looked at Corleone coldly, but he did not give the order immediately.
Facing the accusations of the crowd, Corleone did not immediately retort.
He just stood there, the light of the torches reflecting on his face, one half of his profile completely cast into shadow, while the other half remained in the light.
When he spoke again, his [Majesty Iv3] aura was once again fully unleashed. People suddenly noticed that there seemed to be something strange in this peculiar man's voice, which sounded incredibly confident.
"I never promise what I cannot do, my lord."
These words were spoken very softly, very calmly.
There were no impassioned oaths, nor any complex explanations, only a statement so simple it bordered on arrogance.
Yet, spoken by Corleone, this sentence carried a strange, persuasive power.
Stannis stared at him, saying nothing for a long time.
Time in the hall seemed to have frozen.
The torches on the walls crackled, and from the distance came the muffled sound of waves crashing against the cliffs.
That sound, day after day, year after year, had almost become a part of the very blood of Dragonstone.
Melisandre's red lips pressed into a thin line. She was silently observing this man standing at the intersection of light and shadow, seemingly taking an interest in him.
Finally, Stannis's eyes narrowed slightly.
Did he believe him? Not entirely.
But at least, he began to allow himself to consider whether what the other party said had any truth to it.
However, Stannis Baratheon was never a man to be ruled by impulse.
He believed in law, order, and prudence all his life.
Faced with such a huge temptation, he needed a crueler trial; he needed to confirm whether this person standing before him was a messenger bringing new life, or a devil leading to destruction.
He needed even more to make this person understand that Dragonstone was not the market of King's Landing, where one could play business tricks at will.
But… what should he do?
"Ser Axell Florent."
Just then, Melisandre, who was to the side, suddenly called out, her voice filled with an undeniable sense of command.
Axell knelt on one knee.
The red woman did not waste words, but raised her finger and coldly ordered: "Burn him."
This command was concise and cold. Axell turned his head to look, only to see that the direction Melisandre was pointing was not at the arrogant Vito Corleone, but at his brother—Allister Florent!
Seeing Melisandre pointing at him, Allister Florent felt his blood freeze. He hurriedly struggled, making "woo-woo" sounds toward Stannis.
However, his king just sat in his chair, not moving a muscle.
Only now did Allister Florent suddenly realize that he had become the sacrifice Stannis used to demonstrate the rules of Dragonstone to this guy!
The chicken slaughtered to warn the monkey!
He was going to die, not because of treason, not because of wavering, but because the king needed to declare to a stranger the consequences of betraying or playing games with Stannis!
Faced with such an outrageous request to burn his own brother, a light of joy, mixed with piety and cruelty, instantly erupted in Axell's eyes.
He bowed his head without hesitation: "I obey your command; the Lord of Light shall witness this cleansing fire!"
"The flesh and blood of the traitor shall turn to ash in the flames, and if his soul still remains, it shall find redemption in the purification!"
After speaking, he rose quickly with exceptional agility, signaling the guards to drag the almost limp Allister Florent out.
Two burly soldiers grabbed Allister Florent from left and right. His legs were already too weak to stand, and a dark stain at his crotch rapidly expanded, emitting a pungent stench of urine.
He had lost control of his bladder.
As he passed by Corleone, Allister Florent used his last bit of strength to turn his head. Those eyes, filled with fear and despair, stared fixedly at Corleone, as if pleading, or perhaps cursing.
Perhaps he was thinking that if it weren't for Corleone's arrival, he would never have suffered such a punishment.
It's all your fault!
But facing this resentful gaze, Corleone just looked back at him calmly.
Sympathy, disgust, fear, excitement.
He felt none of these superfluous emotions. After all, to Corleone, Allister Florent was nothing more than an entirely ordinary person.
How this guy would die, or when he would die, had absolutely nothing to do with him.
He just watched the other person calmly, like a doctor examining a specimen about to be dissected, wondering where it would be most appropriate to make the incision.
Axell followed behind. As he passed Corleone, he cast a cold glance at this outsider, as if to warn him that the price of deception, wavering, and betrayal was fire.
No matter who you are.
Stannis's gaze remained locked on Corleone's face.
He was observing whether any other reaction would appear on the other person's face, enough for him to see clearly what kind of person this Vito Corleone really was.
However, Corleone just turned slightly to the side to let the dragged Allister Florent and the escorting soldiers pass, his movements natural and polite, as if making way for a waiter carrying dishes at a banquet.
Then he turned back to face Stannis and nodded slightly: "I defer to the host, my lord."
"I am honored to witness the justice of Dragonstone."
His voice was steady, his expression calm, and his eyes clear and unfathomable.
This kind of calmness was more inscrutable than any intense reaction.
Because it meant that this person possessed inner strength and control far beyond what ordinary people could imagine, capable of completely hiding his true emotions.
This made Stannis feel very troubled.
In the courtyard, a blazing fire soon lit up.
That light shone through the high stone windows into the hall, casting swaying, grotesque shadows on the walls and floor.
The shadows danced and twisted, and accompanying the crackling of the firewood, Allister Florent's miserable wails also pierced through.
The wailing lasted for a long time. Although they had already performed many sacrificial rituals, as the strong aroma of roasted meat wafted in, everyone in the hall still showed more or less signs of discomfort.
Even the corner of Stannis's eye could not help but twitch a few times.
Every time he heard people screaming in the raging fire, he felt that some things he insisted on in his heart were also being burned along with them.
Axell was the only exception. He stood by the window, facing the courtyard, his lips moving as if in prayer, with a look of morbid satisfaction on his face.
Melisandre was also watching.
Her eyes did not blink; the firelight was reflected in her fiery red pupils, as if the flames were burning not only in the courtyard but also deep within her soul.
When the last trace of whimpering completely vanished, Stannis finally spoke again.
"Ser Vito Corleone." His deep blue eyes were like the ocean, appearing very profound in the flickering light and shadow: "You have seen it."
"On Dragonstone, the price of deception, wavering, and betrayal is fire."
"Regardless of whether this person is the hand of the king or a nobody."
"The same fire will also consume those who attempt to play games with me and use my predicament to achieve their own ends."
"No matter if they come from King's Landing, Casterly Rock, or anywhere else."
The firelight flickered, casting Stannis's face in light and shadow.
The light and shadow cut hard lines across his face, making him look more like a god statue carved from stone than a living, breathing… man.
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