The Mountain shut the door behind him and returned to stand beside Jeyne, like a beast towering next to a little girl.
"Jeyne, where's your cat?"
"My little sister really liked it."
"So you gave it to her?"
"You're always so busy, and I didn't have time to dote on a cat either, so I just gave it to Mother and my sister."
The Mountain looked at Jeyne and spread his large hands. "Jeyne, today's decree, I announced it without consulting anyone. I hope you won't mind."
Jeyne smiled faintly. "You've already done it. Obviously, you don't care whether I or my parents mind. Our opinions don't concern you anymore."
"There's not much time left before war breaks out. I can't waste time arguing with parents who don't understand that. If I had told them, they would have definitely opposed it, and then nothing would've gotten done. I didn't tell you either, because I wanted to protect you, so they wouldn't think you knew but chose not to tell them. That would've caused a rift in the family. If they have grievances, let them direct it at me."
"I know. You didn't tell me because you care. Go on, sleep."
"You go ahead. I still have important things to take care of."
Jeyne sat on the bed, bracing herself with both hands as she looked up at the Mountain. She didn't say anything, but he could tell from her expression that she wanted to ask.
"I'm going to talk to Foulmouth and Reynald."
Jeyne's eyes asked another silent question: "About gold?"
The Mountain nodded. The two of them had reached a point where Jeyne could ask questions with her eyes, and he could read them without a word.
Jeyne finally spoke, her voice crisp and captivating, especially as she sat at the bedside, her pink lips alluring. "Ser, do you really believe war will break out in less than a year?"
"It's not what I believe. It's what Grandmother the Witch saw in her prophecy."
"What if she's wrong?"
"Then at least we won't be executed by Lord Tywin for minting our own coins."
"Why are you so sure?"
"Because Tywin already knows the Lannisters are sitting atop a bonfire. He doesn't want to lose his own head, so he certainly won't want mine to roll either. I'm the sword he'll use to cut down others."
"Who wants to take Lord Tywin's head? And how does he know he's sitting on a bonfire? Grandmother? What exactly did she say to him those days?"
"...Uh... a lot. That's why Lord Tywin decided to act first. That seven hundred gold dragons he gave her? Definitely not for nothing. He's convinced now, everything she prophesied is real."
"It wasn't seven hundred. It was one thousand. And once Mark catches Littlefinger, Petyr Baelish, and brings him to the Westerlands, you'll get another three hundred gold dragons."
"Not just me, we as husband and wife will get those three hundred."
"You used my grandmother's words to earn gold from a Lord. You think he doesn't know?"
"That's a silly thought. Lord Tywin considers every coin he spends. If it wasn't worth it, he wouldn't pay a single copper. But if it is, he won't hesitate."
Jeyne thought for a moment, then subtly tilted her head toward the door, a silent sign that he was free to leave.
But the Mountain stepped forward instead and lifted her into his arms like a doll. He gently kissed her cheek, then laid her softly on the bed. "Aren't you going to ask why I'm buying milk in July and August? It really does sound like a stupid idea."
"If you can handle the money part, then it's not stupid. Buying milk is buying the hearts of the people. And today, you did just that! Especially that extra gold dragon, it was a brilliant touch."
"The decree to buy milk wasn't just about winning hearts. It's also a way for us to make money."
"Pouring that milk down the sewers won't make us rich."
"I never said I'd pour away the milk we buy at one-third or one-quarter the market price," the Mountain said with a grin.
"Then what will you do with it?"
"Make milk bread, milk pastries, milk tapioca, even milk noodles. High-quality, high-energy food. Besides feeding our soldiers, we'll also sell it back to the people, at prices several times what we paid. Buy low, sell high. The profits in between will be substantial. And I won't just buy milk from our own lands. When word spreads, I'll buy milk from other territories too, at one-fifth or one-tenth of the usual price. The more, the better."
Jeyne gave him a sideways glance. "You've thought of another shady scheme, haven't you?"
"Not shady. No harm to heaven or earth. All safe, healthy food. But I'll need your help."
"Speak!" she said commandingly, raising her head, her delicate chin pointing at him.
A woman in love is always bold before her man.
"I need a glass tube, about the size of a finger, or maybe a bit bigger. Preferably custom-made. A rounded bulb at the bottom, straight and hollow on top."
"Does it need to be sealed?"
"No, open-ended. But it should have a rubber stopper that can seal it when needed."
"That's it?"
"That's it."
"And this thing can make undrinkable milk drinkable?"
"Yes."
Jeyne looked at him with disbelief, turning her head away as if reevaluating who she had married.
"I had a dream last night," the Mountain said. "The Seven came to me. They said, 'Mountain, Mountain, wait, no, Ser Gregor, no, it was Ser Gregor!' And they said, 'We have a way to fix contaminated milk.' I said, 'I'm a bad guy. I'm not listening. Tell my lady Jeyne instead, she knows the stars and the earth and even the air in between. She'll understand.' The Seven said, 'Ser Gregor, we're telling you, so you can tell Jeyne. That's how we choose to tell her.'"
Jeyne couldn't keep a straight face any longer. She burst out laughing. "Get out!"
"All right!" The Mountain shrugged, opened the door, and stepped out, closing it gently behind him.
The Mountain had come from modern Earth, beginning his studies at six and learning for sixteen full years, 50% longer than the "ten years under a cold window" of ancient Maesters. The books he read, the history he learned, the chemistry experiments he performed, the physics formulas he memorized, they weren't completely forgotten.
After all, they'd been paid for.
If knowledge were a product and school a supermarket, then those were goods he'd paid real money for, private stock now stored in his memory.
Jeyne walked to the door and pulled it open, catching a glimpse of the Mountain's towering figure as he turned the corridor corner. On both sides, household guards stood at attention, saluting him.
The Mountain stopped, nodded, and said a few soft words. The guards all looked visibly moved.
In their hearts, the Mountain had led a team of just twenty-two unseasoned Clegane cavalrymen to crush the northern nobles in a single night. He captured twenty-seven knights, bound them, and chopped off Damon Marbrand's right hand in Casterly Rock's great hall. Every soldier and guard in the castle admired him deeply.
As for the Mountain's infamous reputation? The soldiers, guards, knights, servants, and even Jeyne's mother, had all chosen to ignore it, as if he had always been a noble, upright, wise, and brave hero of a knight.
Jeyne closed the door quietly, leaning against it, lost in thought. Last night, during their intimacy, the Mountain had joked that he wasn't from this world, and she'd left a trail of delicate bite marks on his shoulder in reply.
Now, he wanted a glass tube. Round on one end, about finger-sized or a bit larger. Could that really make bad milk drinkable?
How?
═══════✧❁✧═══════
The Mountain descended into the dungeons beneath Casterly Rock.
The gates opened immediately. The jailers greeted him with utmost respect, admiration shining in their eyes. To them, being able to personally welcome Lord Mountain was an honor.
As he stepped inside, a dozen guards filed out. Led by their captain, they stood firmly posted outside the dungeon, hands resting on their sword hilts.
This had already been arranged by Reynald Westerling, heir of Casterly Rock, before the Mountain's arrival.
Two youths had entered the dungeon earlier at the Mountain's command, one was Foulmouth, the other was Reynald Westerling.
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