The Mountain of Ice and Fire

Chapter 333: Sword and Shadow (Seeking Subscriptions and Recommendations)

Harrenhal was not close to King's Landing, but it wasn't far either.

The territory of Harrenhal was adjacent to the royal lands, field by field, soil by soil. If the weather was dry, the royal farmlands would also rely on the waters of the Gods Eye Lake in Harrenhal for irrigation.

Walking from Harrenhal to King's Landing would take many days, but for a well-trained raven, it would take less than a day.

Ravens, after all, travel in a straight line.

Carnivorous ravens could be considered birds of prey in the skies of the Riverlands and the Crownlands. Even in the harshest environments of the North and the Wall, the only natural enemies that ravens feared were birds of prey like mountain eagles. Besides those, other birds were no match for ravens, whether in combat, camouflage, or flight speed; ravens were second to none.

In just one day, Littlefinger received the Mountain's letter.

The raven's letter was not delivered directly to Littlefinger's hands. Petyr Baelish received this 'Mountain letter' from the 'little birds' of the dwarf, Bronn.

In the eyes of the nobles, the Mountain was an illiterate who couldn't read or write. Even if this unsigned letter were in the hands of the Imp, Tyrion, he wouldn't think it was written by the Mountain.

So the 'Mountain letter' was safe.

But after reading the letter, Littlefinger immediately burned it, even before the little bird who delivered it had left.

Littlefinger was meticulous to perfection in his actions, trying his best not to leave any trace.

"My lord, do you have a reply?"

"No, tell your little dwarf that I already know how to deal with the Imp, and they can rest assured."

"Do you not need our lord to send people to protect you in secret?"

"No. If Bronn replies to the big guy, thank him for me."

"Yes, my lord!"

The little dwarf naturally referred to Bronn, and the big guy naturally represented the Mountain. These matters were too confidential, and names were taboo.

Littlefinger Petyr Baelish, Bronn from the Flea Bottom orphanage, and the Mountain of Harrenhal, this was a network that could not be known to anyone outside. Even when speaking to his own people, Littlefinger was very careful and would never mention Bronn's and the Mountain's names.

The Mountain's one sentence instantly cleared up the confusion in Littlefinger Petyr Baelish's mind.

He was originally an extremely intelligent person, but he had been forced too hard by the aggressive Imp, and he was blinded by being in the midst of it. The Mountain, as an outsider, saw clearly and found the perfect way to deal with the Imp with just one sentence.

He decided to take the initiative and go 'date' the Imp who was eager to 'talk' with him.

*

King's Landing was composed of three high hills. The Red Keep was built on Aegon's High Hill, and to the left front of the Red Keep was Rhaenys's Hill, which held the famous Street of Steel and the Great Sept of Baelor. Beneath the hill was the famous Guild of Alchemists, a guild specializing in the study of wildfire.

Directly in front of the Red Keep was Visenya's Hill, where the famous Flea Bottom was located at the foot of the hill. The most upscale brothels and the old city where the nobles lived were located on the north side of Visenya's Hill. At the top of the hill was the ruined Dragonpit, a huge building where the Targaryen family raised dragons.

Between Rhaenys's Hill and Visenya's Hill, there was a famous square: Cobbler's Square.

Littlefinger Petyr Baelish arranged to meet the Imp in Cobbler's Square.

This was a very dangerous place.

Cobbler's Square was crowded with refugees fleeing the war, and naturally, there were also many hooligans mixed in, looking for opportunities to make a small fortune, such as tricking a little girl into being sold to a brothel. Or, if they saw someone with copper stars in their pocket, they would directly rob them, and if someone resisted, they would be stabbed with a white blade.

The Imp, who was engaged in a war of words with his sister in Maegor's Holdfast, was a little surprised after receiving Petyr's letter. This guy had been avoiding him since the last court session. If he dared to take the initiative to ask him out, it certainly wasn't a good thing.

But Tyrion was a Lannister, and he also knew how much influence Littlefinger had in King's Landing. If the opponent was someone like the Hound, the Imp would consider going to the appointment, but if the opponent was Littlefinger, then there was no need to consider it at all.

"Sister, we'll talk about our affairs this afternoon. I have something to take care of now."

None of the important ministers and courtiers in the Red Keep looked up to the Imp, even if they were respectful to the Imp on the surface. The Imp knew the thoughts of these fools very well, and he would let these guys know how powerful he was, such as Littlefinger, who dared to frame him.

Because of Littlefinger's framing, the Imp almost lost his life. At least three times, he was almost dead. If it weren't for his wit and silver tongue, he would have either died in the Eyrie in the Vale or already died at the hands of the mountain tribes.

However, Cersei clearly didn't intend to let the Imp leave, because this guy had taken the position of Hand of the King today, and without her and Joffrey's approval, and he had refused to lead troops to Blackwater Rush to defend against Renly.

"What important matter do you have that you have to leave? I'm not interested in who gave you the letter just now. But this letter—" Cersei raised Duke Tywin's letter, "if I say this letter is fake and order the Kingsguard to throw you into the dungeon, I guarantee that no one would dare disobey me."

The Imp knew this very well. Even if he had Bronn and Shagga, they couldn't save him, because those guys wouldn't have time to save him. And once he was thrown into the dungeon, Bronn and Shagga would be driven away by the City Watch. The commander of the City Watch was the Hound, who listened to Cersei. The Hound's sword was no less than Bronn's sword, and if it came to ruthlessness, the Hound was no less than Shagga.

Because war was imminent, the King's Landing City Watch had expanded from two thousand to six thousand men. Imagine six thousand troops dealing with his three hundred mountain men.

But he understood Cersei and knew Cersei's weakness.

"Sister, when I return, I have a way to save Jaime."

Cersei's expression suddenly shook. The person she thought about day and night was Jaime. Even if her cousin Lancel Lannister climbed up at night and tried his best to please her, she still couldn't eliminate her desire and longing for Jaime.

"I'm not Father, Sister, I know what your relationship is with Jaime. Hehe, you opened your legs to one brother, but to your other brother..."

Slap!

Cersei slapped him hard.

"When I return, I have a way to rescue Jaime from Riverrun."

"What way?"

"When I return, I guarantee it!" The Imp lowered his head, dodged another slap from Cersei, and slipped out of the door quickly and awkwardly. "Sister, I didn't lie to you. As long as you treat me well and acknowledge me as the Hand of the King acting for Father, I guarantee I will send you a complete Jaime."

"You are not the Hand of the King, you are my Hand. I can agree to this, let you sit on the throne of the Hand, but everything you do, every decision you make, every position you appoint, must be reported to me."

"Uh, okay, I promise you."

"Where are you busy going this time, who are you meeting?"

"Cobbler's Square, meeting Littlefinger Petyr Baelish."

"What's the matter?"

"I don't know yet, I'll only know when I get there."

"Come back and tell me everything, word for word."

"As you command, Queen Mother." The Imp grinned.

*

Coming out of the Queen Mother's chamber, Tyrion nodded to the cold and gloomy Ser Mandon at the door. This was a damn guy who had always been very unfriendly to Tyrion. Tyrion smiled on his face, but cursed in his heart.

He walked through the long vaulted hall. Bronn followed, but Shagga and Conn were gone.

"Where are our mountain warriors?"

"Shagga wanted to look around, and he and Conn aren't used to waiting outside."

"I hope he doesn't kill any palace guards or courtiers." Tyrion walked quickly.

"Where are you going?"

"Cobbler's Square."

Bronn chuckled: "Need an escort? I heard the streets are quite dangerous now."

"I'll call the captain of my sister's guard, and remind him that I'm also a Lannister through and through. This guy probably forgot that his allegiance is to Casterly Rock, not Cersei or Joffrey."

"Then I can go have a drink? To be honest, I've taken a fancy to a maid with freckles on her face. She's also very interested in me. I winked at her, and she smiled at me. I know where to find her. She's tending the lawn."

"No, you have to come with me too."

Soon, Bronn and Tyrion rode out of the Red Keep, followed by a dozen Lannister guards with crimson cloaks and lion-crested helmets.

Tyrion noticed the heads hanging on the walls of the Red Keep gate. Although they had been soaked in tar, they had long rotted and turned black, making them unrecognizable. "Captain Vylar," he called, "remove these heads before tomorrow and hand them over to the Silent Sisters to clean."

Vylar hesitated: "His Majesty said to hang the heads of bastards and widows on the walls until the last row of empty spears is filled with heads."

"Vylar, my nephew is only thirteen years old, please remember that. I want these heads removed tomorrow, otherwise one of the empty spears will have something to hang, do you understand what I mean, Captain?"

"Yes, my lord, I will personally supervise it."

"Very good." Tyrion spurred his horse forward.

The streets of King's Landing were usually bustling with people and horses, but at this moment they were filled with a danger he had never seen before. Beside Weaver's Street, a tall male corpse lay in the gutter, stabbed in the abdomen, naked, being torn apart by a pack of wild dogs, but no one took care of it.

Tyrion stopped his horse. A pair of gold-cloaked guards walked over, saluted him, but turned a blind eye to the corpse in the gutter.

In fact, gold-cloaked guards were everywhere on the street, in pairs, patrolling the streets and alleys in black ringmail, with fierce and cold faces, and iron rods never leaving their hands.

However, no one cared in the slightest about the person who was killed on the street.

Tyrion took out a silver stag from his pocket and threw it to the two soldiers: "Soldiers, hire a carriage and send this corpse to the Silent Sisters. If I come back and see him still soaking in the gutter, I will throw you into the dungeon."

"Yes, my lord!"

Tyrion continued forward, and Bronn laughed: "My lord, I went to the Great Sept of Baelor yesterday and saw two heads floating in the Rainbow Pool. It was really scary, but no one took care of it. Do you want to take care of it?"

"That's the Hound's responsibility."

"The Hound, he's also a big guy. I heard he's the Mountain's brother. He's very scary." Bronn said with a grin, "My lord, are you going to punish the Hound? After all, you're the Hand of the King now!" Bronn's tone was not without sarcasm.

"Bronn, if you still want to have the best wine to drink, you better shut up."

"Is my lord going to cut off my tongue?" Bronn didn't care about Tyrion's threat and laughed.

The group came to Cobbler's Square, and Tyrion was shocked.

Cobbler's Square was full of people in ragged clothes, loudly selling their belongings. Tyrion watched for a while and saw that no matter what it was, people would sell it as long as someone was willing to pay. As soon as someone asked the price, a swarm of people would rush up to peddle.

So where was Littlefinger?

A ragged child ran towards Tyrion and stretched out his hand. Vylar shouted and immediately drew his long sword, but was stopped by the Imp in time. The child handed Tyrion a note and ran away.

There was one word on the note: Farmers Market.

There was a Farmers Market at the very end of Cobbler's Square.

Tyrion was the acting Hand of the King, and he knew very well that the starving people in the city were pitiful, but they were also a powder keg. If Littlefinger hadn't asked him out, he wouldn't have known that in just a few days, the city was already 'flooded with refugees'.

Tyrion came to the Farmers Market. His red-robed guards were majestic, and people avoided them wherever they went. He slowly walked through half of the market and saw almost no farmers selling meat and vegetables. The prices of the few stalls that displayed food were as high as five times the market price.

A vendor was loudly selling roasted rats skewered on a meat fork. "Fresh rats!" he shouted loudly, "Fresh rats!" Fresh rats were certainly more delicious than rotten rats.

Littlefinger was standing next to the rat meat vendor. He took out a silver stag and threw it to the vendor: "Two skewers, keep the change!" The vendor thanked him gratefully, almost kneeling down.

"Hand of the King, fresh rat meat." Littlefinger handed Tyrion a skewer, and he held one in his hand, "Fresh rat meat, a rare meat, my lord."

Tyrion took the rat meat. The rat meat didn't look fresh at all, and he didn't dare to eat it.

Littlefinger handed the skewer of rat meat in his hand to a pitiful little girl on the street. The little girl's hands were dirty, and she took it and devoured it. The Imp was very worried that the bamboo skewer would pierce the little girl's throat.

A row of dirty children leaned tightly against the wall behind the vendor, their eyes shining and wild.

Soon, the little girl finished eating, and her eyes fell on the Imp's meat skewer.

The Imp looked at the little girl, looked at the very suspicious rat meat, and stretched the rat meat skewer towards the little girl. The little girl snatched it, turned around and ran: "Thank you, sir, I'll take it to my mother!"

Then, the row of dirty children staring at the wall followed the little girl, pushed the little girl to the ground at the street corner, and snatched the meat skewer.

"Hand of the King, the front is Flour Street." Littlefinger smiled, his tone full of irony, and took the lead.

The Imp silently followed behind Littlefinger. He signaled Bronn to go over and help the little girl up. He wanted to give the little girl a few gold dragons, but he knew that would kill her. Even giving a copper star was too dangerous. The eyes of the surrounding adults and children looked too terrible, like wild beasts, they were all hungry.

"No grain coming into the city?" Little Tyrion finally couldn't help but ask Littlefinger.

"Barely any, Lord Hand. The Riverlands are consumed by war, and Lord Renly is raising an army at Highgarden's Bitterbridge, so both the southern and northern roads are blocked."

"What measures are we taking?"

Littlefinger smiled slightly. He knew his strategy had worked. The moment Little Tyrion asked that question, he was safe, without a doubt.

"The Hound is working hard to maintain order in the city. There are murders and assassinations every day, as well as rapes and robberies. The City Watch has tripled in size, and of course, so has its expense. The Queen Mother has also sent a thousand artisans to build fortifications, and they all need to be paid, along with the ever-increasing cost of materials. Stonemasons are reinforcing the walls, carpenters are building hundreds of siege crossbows and trebuchets, fletchers are busy making arrows, blacksmiths are forging swords, and the Alchemists' Guild is willing to provide ten thousand jars of wildfire."

Tyrion felt uneasy upon hearing this. The pyromancers' concoction was notoriously unreliable, and ten thousand jars of the stuff could burn all of King's Landing to ashes. If it got out of control, everyone in King's Landing would die.

"Does the crown have the money to buy ten thousand jars of wildfire?"

Even a single jar of wildfire was frighteningly expensive.

It was no secret that Robert left the royal family with enormous debts, and the pyromancers were certainly not philanthropists.

"Lord Hand, I am a sinner who oppresses the people. When the entire court was unable to solve the problems of military pay, soldiers' food, construction funds, the king's favorite Arbor Gold wine, and the Queen Mother's favorite Westerling noodles, I came up with a way to get money, but my heart is full of guilt."

"What method did you use to get so much money?"

"I decreed that everyone entering the city must pay taxes." The mischievous smile disappeared from Littlefinger's face. "Now everyone entering the city is cursing me. I don't even dare to say my name outside. Every night, I can't sleep. My conscience is uneasy, Lord Hand!"

Tyrion only saw Littlefinger's hidden hypocrisy and cunning!

"Hmm, an effective method!" Tyrion said casually, but his heart was full of bitterness. This was another clever trick to incite the starving people to rebel, but it was also the best way for now.

A clever and cruel method.

Thousands of people were fleeing to King's Landing to escape the war, believing it to be the safest place. When these people arrived outside the city, they would surely spend all their wealth to exchange for the towering walls as a barrier… but if they knew about the wildfire, they might reconsider.

Littlefinger led Little Tyrion into Flour Street.

Tyrion saw mercenaries with swords at their waists and armor standing at the door of every household, and teams of Gold Cloaks patrolling back and forth. Inside each shop, flour was piled high, but the prices were so high that only nobles or wealthy merchants could afford it.

Tyrion knew very well that this flour was specially supplied to the army and nobles, and had nothing to do with the starving people outside.

"Lord Petyr, didn't you say that the southern and northern roads were blocked?"

"The southern road is blocked, and the northern road is cut off by war, but I still have some other small channels, a few reliable old friends. There's no other way. If I don't find a way, the soldiers and nobles of King's Landing will soon go hungry."

"It's just that this method is not bright, and it's all based on personal friendship and some dirty promises. Looking at the city full of starving people, my conscience is uneasy, and I also feel that danger is everywhere. Just yesterday, I saw a skinny child stab a strong man in the stomach with a dagger to snatch a loaf of bread, right on the street. I was so scared that my legs went weak. Lord Hand, can you spare a few loyal red-robed guards to protect me on my way to and from court every day?"

Little Tyrion's one black and one green eyes stared intently at Littlefinger, and Littlefinger's mischievous smile slowly appeared on the corner of his mouth.