read my new story : American Fast & Furious NSFW
Meanwhile, at the Gold Cloaks' headquarters, in the Commander's office.
Sven Rosby had been standing here for nearly an hour. His legs ached terribly.
He shifted his weight irritably, his gaze once again sweeping across the painfully familiar office.
The banner of the City Watch hung on the wall; Ser Addam's armor stand stood in the corner. Everything was as it should be, except for the absence of the master of this room.
He had been left hanging for far too long.
Raff had just called over a few of the top girls from the Street of Silk, and Sven was having a grand time down in Flea Bottom when suddenly, Humfrey Waters dragged him back here, claiming it was the Commander's orders. Since then, no one had paid him any mind.
Several colleagues had come and gone during this time. He tried to question them, but received only evasive glances and hurried departures.
Moreover, Sven vaguely noticed that whenever a fellow officer passed the door, they would whisper amongst themselves, sometimes even flashing meaningful smirks.
His gut told him something was very wrong. Perhaps the issue lay with the men he had arrested earlier today.
But he had confirmed with Raff repeatedly—those guys had absolutely no background.
Damn it... what is going on?!
Just as he was wracking his brain for a reason, the sound of hurried footsteps came from behind him. A moment later, Ser Addam Marbrand strode in and sat directly at his desk.
"My Lord!" Sven jolted, immediately trying to straighten his aching back.
Yet Addam didn't even spare him a glance, treating him as if he were mere air. His expression was dark as thunder.
Addam picked up a stack of documents, flipping through the pages with a loud snap-snap. The oppressive atmosphere spread through the room, far more suffocating than the long wait had been.
After another long while, just as Sven felt his calves about to cramp, Addam finally looked up.
"I hear you arrested some men today. One of them goes by the name Vito Corleone."
I knew it!
Hearing this, Sven's heart skipped a beat.
But he forced himself to maintain a facade of calm. "Yes, my Lord!"
"That man was acting suspiciously and has close ties to the wanted criminal Rorge. I believed he must be a fugitive!"
"A fugitive?"
Addam's eyes bulged. "Since you say he is a fugitive, where is the evidence?"
Sven swallowed hard and braced himself. "We haven't had time to interrogate him yet. Once the interrogation begins, the evidence will surely come out!"
"Fool! Shit! You maggot with a brain full of dung!"
Seeing this guy still trying to act tough, Addam felt like his lungs were going to explode. pointing a finger at Sven, he unleashed a torrent of abuse. "Who do you think he is? You want to interrogate him?"
"In your eyes, does wearing that gold cloak mean you can arrest whoever you want and interrogate whoever you please?"
"You just drag anyone back indiscriminately and tell me that evidence will appear after an interrogation?"
Still confused about the situation, Sven was dizzy from the barrage of questions. Cold sweat instantly soaked his undergarments.
"My Lord... whose man is that guy..."
"Shut up!"
Addam shouted him down, grabbing the file he had been reading and slamming it into Sven's chest.
Sven picked it up and looked. It was a transfer order.
"Starting tomorrow, you are assigned to the Mud Gate for night watch. Without my direct order, you are not to set foot in headquarters!"
Night watch at the Mud Gate!
At these words, Sven's face turned pale.
That was one of the most miserable, profitless, and dangerous posts in the Gold Cloaks!
This was practically destroying his future!
"I refuse to accept this!"
Seeing Addam being so ruthless, Sven felt a rush of blood to his head.
The other party was clearly using this as a pretext to kick him out of Flea Bottom so Addam could swallow the profits from that territory himself!
"I am the nephew of Lord Gyles Rosby, his closest blood relative!"
"Once he dies, I, Sven Rosby, will be the next Lord of Rosby!"
He puffed out his chest, attempting to use his bloodline to threaten Addam into retracting the order. "During the Battle of the Blackwater, my House protected the royal family, and I myself fought bloody battles on the walls! I still bear the scars!!"
"Ser Addam, you cannot use such an unreasonable excuse to kick aside a hero of the siege and a future Lord like garbage. If you persist in ignoring the facts and the law, I will go to the Red Keep personally and see the Master of Laws, Ser Kevan Lannister!"
Looking at Sven's righteous indignation, Addam was even more furious.
This idiot. Even now, he threatens to go to the Master of Laws? Does he not know that the people he offended are the Lannisters?!
If not for Lord Tywin's specific instructions upon his appointment to "maintain the current order of the City Watch and stabilize the sentiments of the nobles in King's Landing," he wouldn't give a damn if this brainless fool lived or died!
"You..."
Bang!
Just as he was about to give Sven another tongue-lashing, the door was violently pushed open.
A Kingsguard stormed in aggressively, his white cloak billowing high behind him due to his rapid pace.
"Jaime?"
Seeing his friend return, Addam was momentarily stunned. Seeing Jaime's murderous look, a sense of foreboding flashed through his mind.
"Didn't you go with Corleone to see the Hand?"
Jaime didn't answer. He simply asked coldly, "How has the matter been handled?"
Hearing this, Addam couldn't help but glance at Sven.
But he still prepared to smooth things over. After all, he had confirmed that the guy named Vito Corleone didn't even have a title; he was completely a commoner.
To heavily punish a noble for arresting the wrong commoner seemed a bit excessive in Addam's eyes.
"Regarding this matter, I have conducted a preliminary investigation."
Addam cleared his throat. "Although Captain Sven was indeed at fault, that Rorge fellow really is a fugitive."
"Considering various factors, I have decided to demote Captain Sven..."
"You are Sven Rosby?"
Jaime coldly interrupted Addam, turning to stare viciously at Sven, making him jump.
Sven instantly understood. The man before him was Vito Corleone's biggest backer!
Damn it...
Heaven knows how a commoner got mixed up with the Kingslayer. This is too absurd!
Just as he was about to explain, Jaime kicked him squarely in the lower abdomen without a word.
Thud!
It was a swift and powerful front kick. Caught off guard, Sven screamed and crashed heavily to the floor.
"You..."
Sweating from the pain, he looked up and pointed an accusing finger at Jaime. "This is the City Watch! Even if you are a Kingsguard, you have no right to hit me! This is completely against the King's laws!"
Yet, facing Sven's accusation, Jaime turned a deaf ear. He took a step forward, looking down at him from above like a majestic lion staring at a struggling hyena.
"You said Corleone is a fugitive."
"Where is the evidence?"
His voice was terrifyingly steady, but Sven felt a naked insult.
Why!
"I defended the city during the Battle of the Blackwater..."
Thud!
Another kick to Sven's face.
"Where is the evidence?" Jaime repeated.
This arrogant attitude and the physical pain made Sven's brain buzz, and he instantly lost his reason.
"Gold Cloaks don't need evidence to arrest people!"
As soon as these words came out, Addam closed his eyes, cursing inwardly: That idiot!
Sure enough, Jaime chuckled softly.
Shing!
The Valyrian steel sword was unsheathed without warning, piercing through Sven's throat. His eyes went wide, hands clutching futilely at his neck.
"Gurgle..."
No matter how he struggled, he couldn't heal the wound. The light in Sven's eyes faded rapidly, and finally, he lost all signs of life, collapsing limp on the floor.
"You were too impulsive, Jaime."
Only after Jaime had done this did Addam step forward. His tone held a hint of regret, but mostly relief.
He had wanted to deal with this fool Sven for a long time, only holding back for the sake of the bigger picture. Now, Jaime had conveniently solved a problem for him.
"Now, that old man Gyles Rosby will probably nag the Small Council for ages."
"The Hand might be very angry..."
"Hmph!"
Jaime simply sheathed his sword indifferently and let out a disdainful snort.
"Give him a pension for dying in the line of duty."
"You write the report. I'll get Uncle Kevan to approve it."
With that, he turned and left, his white cloak cutting a proud arc behind him.
Addam stood there, watching his friend's retreating figure, then looked down at Sven Rosby's corpse. He shook his head helplessly and muttered.
"Vito Corleone, huh..."
"What kind of man is this guy, to make Jaime Lannister go to such lengths for him?"
"Heh..."
---
"Jaime tells me you are a very clever man."
In the Tower of the Hand, after Corleone took his seat, Tywin spoke first, dispensing with pleasantries.
"My son is very proud. No... rather than proud, I should say stubborn. Like the sword in his hand—obstinate and picky."
"For such praise to come from his mouth is rare."
"You flatter me, my Lord."
Corleone bowed slightly, meeting Tywin's gaze with candor. "I do not consider myself more intelligent than anyone else. I am simply accustomed to observing and thinking, and better at catching details that are easily overlooked."
"You know, for someone of my birth to find a foothold, one must learn to seize every opportunity. This can hardly be called wisdom. At most, it is... the instinct for survival."
"The instinct for survival?"
This peculiar phrasing piqued Tywin's interest in the man before him.
But he keenly grasped another, more crucial point in Corleone's words.
"You seem... not to complain about your birth."
"I have seen too many people blame their failures on their bloodline or station."
Looking at the probing look in Tywin's eyes, Corleone offered a carefree smile. "There are many things in this world we are powerless to change, my Lord."
"When I was young, I was resentful. Why is a farmer's son a farmer, a smith's son a smith, while a noble's son is born a noble? It seemed unfair."
"But later, I figured it out. Whether a farmer, a knight, or even a King, one must learn to accept the unchangeable reality."
"The difference is, some accept reality and sink, while others constantly seek paths within the rules of that reality and have the courage to challenge it."
These sincere words were somewhat unexpected, even for Tywin.
He had seen too many people desperate to cling to the Lannisters. They were either sycophantic, greedy, or foolishly displaying their laughable loyalty.
But this man was different.
He didn't complain about the unfairness of fate, didn't eagerly profess loyalty, nor did he deliberately show off his abilities.
He simply stated his philosophy of survival calmly, like an old friend chatting after years apart.
This relaxed posture allowed Tywin to lean back slightly, the scrutiny in his eyes fading to reveal a hint of genuine appreciation.
"I must say, Corleone."
Tywin's address lost its previous distance, appearing a touch more intimate. "I thought you were just another opportunist following the scent of gold dragons, bent on clinging to power."
"Now it seems you are different."
"But men always have desires. You took such a great risk to escort Jaime all the way back to King's Landing. Surely it wasn't solely for gold dragons, correct?"
Corleone caught the subtle shift and the corner of his mouth ticked up.
He knew the groundwork was laid. Now it was time to get to the point.
"You have a keen eye, my Lord."
The carefree smile on his face faded slightly, becoming more serious. "Everyone has desires, and I am no exception."
"But I know very well that the fulfillment of desire should depend on the... value one can create."
"Value?"
Tywin mulled over the word, raising a hand to signal him to continue.
"Yes, value."
Corleone straightened his back, looking directly at the man who arguably stood at the pinnacle of power in the Seven Kingdoms. His tone was peaceful yet full of strength. "Take this city, King's Landing, for example."
"It operates under the laws of you and the King, governed by magistrates, guarded by Gold Cloaks. This is the side of order, the world under the sun."
Then, his tone shifted, his voice dropping a few octaves. "But any great city has its shadows."
"The brighter the sun, the deeper the shadows. Those winding, narrow alleys are corners where the law and the light of the Seven do not reach, filled with chaos, violence..."
"Just like... the riots in King's Landing not long ago!"
Hearing Corleone mention the riots, Tywin's pale green eyes narrowed slightly.
However, he did not interrupt, instead waiting with interest to hear what unique insight the other party might have.
"I heard about it, my Lord."
Seeing Tywin's interest, Corleone continued, his tone becoming grave. "In that riot, several knights lost their lives, and many noble ladies were raped."
"Even... your nephew, Tyrek Lannister, disappeared without a trace during the chaos."
"We have the City Watch." Hearing this, Tywin tapped his finger lightly on the desk, speaking with certainty. "The Gold Cloaks suppressed the riot, did they not?"
"Yes, my Lord." Corleone bowed slightly in acknowledgement. "But no one can guarantee it won't happen again."
"The Gold Cloaks can maintain order on the streets, but they cannot eradicate the festering sores in the shadows. On the contrary, overly harsh crackdowns can sometimes break the fragile balance and trigger even greater chaos!"
"Like a balloon. If one presses it too hard, the result will only be... BOOM!"
Corleone spread his five fingers, illustrating the metaphor vividly.
The logic was simple and easy to understand, and Tywin had a deep appreciation for it.
Back when the "Mad King" Aerys Targaryen reigned, Tywin, as Hand of the King, had governed the Crownlands exceptionally well.
However, the King began to suspect and even suppress Tywin, opposing him at every turn. Later, ignoring Tywin's advice, Aerys went to Duskendale with only one Kingsguard to meet with the rebellious Lord Darklyn.
The result...
The Kingsguard was killed, and King Aerys himself was imprisoned by a mere Count for over half a year!
So, when Corleone spoke this simple truth, Tywin felt a strong resonance.
Especially with the current King...
"So?"
Seeing Corleone pause, Tywin finally spoke, with a hint of subtle prompting.
At this moment, Corleone finally met his gaze and delivered the line he had carefully prepared. "So, the order under the sun needs a ruler like you to establish and maintain it, my Lord."
"But the order in the shadows requires a matching will to organize and guide it."
"You wish to wield power?" Tywin sneered dismissively, dissatisfied with Corleone's ambiguous statement.
"No, my Lord."
Hearing this, Corleone slowly raised his head, looking at Tywin with sincere eyes, explaining clearly and slowly. "You possess the strongest army in the Seven Kingdoms, the fullest treasury, and countless nobles sworn to your service. You control all power in the light."
"But some matters, some people... problems that are inconvenient for the Lannisters or the King to handle directly, need to be resolved in the shadows."
"After all, you cannot order the Gold Cloaks to kill every commoner in King's Landing. What you need is stable rule, not to take over a city of corpses."
Under Tywin's slightly surprised gaze, the fire in the hearth flickered, seeming to reflect a unique power in Corleone's dark eyes.
After a brief pause, Corleone grinned sincerely. "Therefore, you need someone who can carry out your will even in the shadows, Lord Hand."
"You need... a hand in the dark!"