As the sedan chair moved forward, a faint, peculiar odor wafted into her nostrils. Unable to resist, Shae lifted the curtain to peek outside, her eyes immediately flashing with surprise and confusion.
She had imagined many possible destinations: Silk Street, the outskirts of Aegons High Hill, or even within The Red Keep itself.
But she had never guessed that Corleone would have someone bring her here!
Her pretty brows furrowed tightly, feelings of fear and disappointment intertwining in her heart.
Why would a man treated as an equal by Ser Jaime, a man for whom a noble like Herber Leyke was willing to run errands, choose to reside in such a place?
It was far from the residence of a great personage she had imagined—one who could speak directly to Lord Tywin—and was even inferior to the mansions of some wealthy merchants in Eel Alley.
"Young Master Leyke!"
Looking at the rows of low, cramped shanties before her, Shae gritted her teeth and finally spoke up to ask, "Have we taken a wrong turn..."
Hearing this, Leyke, who was ahead, turned back, a faint, knowing smile curling at the corner of his mouth.
"Quite surprising, isn't it?"
His tone was casual, tinged with a hint of superiority. "To be honest, I was just as shocked when I first came here."
"Rest assured, my lady. Though I don't know why Lord Corleone favors this place so much, he is actively working to change it."
"In my opinion, this might be his unique way of realizing his own value."
Seeing his relaxed demeanor, Shae finally felt somewhat reassured and looked out the window again.
Only then did she notice with astonishment that although the streets of the once-notorious Flea Bottom remained narrow, the mountains of garbage that used to pile up had all disappeared.
The air retained the scent of cheap disinfectant and old grime.
The road seemed roughly leveled, and she could even see people with cloth strips wrapped around their right arms patrolling at night.
How was this possible!
Shae's eyes widened as she stared incredulously at those people moving freely in the dead of night.
After all, since that riot, the Hand had declared a full curfew in King's Landing. Anyone appearing on the streets at night would face a death sentence, let alone in a sensitive place like Flea Bottom!
It was one thing for their own party to enter the city, as they had the Gold Cloaks clearing the way, but did even these obvious commoners have such privilege?
Did this mean Corleone possessed the authority to defy the Hand's decree?
As this bold conjecture flashed through her mind, Shae couldn't help but feel a curiosity far surpassing her previous impressions of the man she had met once, and even a hint of... awe.
The procession finally stopped at the very depths.
Shae stepped out of the sedan chair and looked up to see a wooden plaque hanging at the entrance, inscribed with the words: The Hall of Order.
Such a name... She swallowed hard before taking the hand Herber offered, carefully lifting her skirt as she walked inside.
Two guards stood at the entrance. Unlike ordinary street thugs, they stood in silent solemnity. Upon their arrival, they gave a slight bow to Herber and stepped aside to let them pass.
Proceeding inward, the interior space opened up, with torches lining the walls.
She looked up and saw Corleone seated on the only high-backed wooden chair. Shadows enveloped most of his figure, with only candlelight illuminating his profile.
Shae excitedly stepped forward, only to be pulled back by Herber.
Puzzled, she looked at Herber, who pointed ahead. Following his gaze, Shae finally noticed a man kneeling not far in front of Corleone, previously overlooked as he was covered by Corleone's shadow.
"You incited Weese's 'Rags' to challenge the rules I set."
Corleone's voice echoed in the hall. Though not loud, its commanding presence sent a chill down Shae's spine.
"Tell me, who do you work for?"
At these words, the man abruptly looked up, his face streaked with snot and tears. "Mercy, Lord Corleone!"
"I don't know his name. He... he was a sellsword. He paid me, three silver stags!"
"Oh, right... he... he had black eyes and hair, a fierce expression like a wolf, a scar on his left cheek, and he always spoke in riddles..."
His description immediately reminded Corleone of the sellsword guard by the dwarf's side.
"Three silver stags..." He chuckled softly, as if hearing the biggest joke. "I bring you cleanliness, food, and work."
"I will completely transform this filthy place, turning it into the most prosperous and affluent district in the Seven Kingdoms. Every single one of you will benefit from this."
"And yet you tell me that for a mere three silver stags, you would sow the seeds of chaos once more on the streets I just cleaned!"
Thud!!
As his words fell, the man couldn't even muster a plea for mercy. Crushed by Corleone's imposing aura, he collapsed face-down on the ground.
[Majesty Lv3]
Indeed, Corleone had not used the one thousand golden dragons to buy food. Instead, he had used them to upgrade this skill once more.
He had pondered for a long time. Neither swordsmanship, Insight, nor medicine could bring about a qualitative leap in his strength.
Yet [Majesty], this show-off... negotiation divine skill, allowed him to gain the upper hand in many situations. At least in King's Landing, in the game of thrones, this was the case.
Fortunately, the system did not disappoint Corleone. After upgrading [Majesty] to Lv3, he could feel a very noticeable improvement. With the right environment and tone, he could even frighten those with weaker mental fortitude into collapsing on the spot.
The man before him was the best proof.
Corleone even wondered if, upon raising this skill to Lv5, it might produce an exaggerated effect akin to Conqueror's Haki—making anyone he glared at faint.
Silence fell in the hall, but this was more terrifying than any rebuke. Everyone could feel the incredibly real pressure emanating from Corleone, like an invisible boulder weighing on each person's heart.
Even Shae, standing far away, unconsciously held her breath, her palms sweating.
"I will give you a chance to live."
Finally, Corleone slowly looked up, leaning back in his chair, his entire form shrouded in shadow.
"Thank you!"
As the oppressive aura dissipated, the man on the floor cried out through his tears, "By the Seven, Lord Corleone, thank you for your mercy..."
"I'll never dare again! Never again..."
"Rorger." However, his words were cut off by Corleone.
From the shadows, a finger was raised as he spoke in a light, offhand tone. "An instigator should have his tongue removed."
"Teach him to remain silent forever."
"Yes, Lord Corleone!"
Behind him, Rorger grinned and immediately strode forward.
But then, Corleone added another instruction. "Not here. Take him farther away."
Upon hearing this, Rorger grabbed the man by the collar and dragged him toward the door like livestock headed for slaughter. The man had gone completely limp, lacking even the strength to cry out, and could only be dragged away, quickly disappearing into the darkness.
Throughout it all, the five Gold Cloaks behind Shae showed no reaction. Their tacit approval shocked her even more.
Only then did Corleone slowly rise from his seat. He walked up to Shae, wearing a perfectly measured smile.
"Lady Shae."
Corleone gave a slight bow, his movements fluid and elegant, his tone exceedingly gentle—a stark contrast to the man who had just ordered a tongue removed. "Please forgive the poor reception."
"I apologize that your beautiful eyes had to witness such unpleasantness. I hope it did not startle you."
As he spoke, he extended his hand in invitation. "Dinner is ready. Please, follow me."
"Only fine food and wine can wash away the dust."
His demeanor was impeccable. Though still somewhat shaken, Shae could only instinctively curtsy slightly in response. "You... you are too kind, Lord Corleone."
"The task you entrusted has been completed, so I shall not disturb you two any further."
At this moment, Herber, standing nearby, also took his leave from Corleone at an opportune time, giving him a discreet, suggestive eyebrow raise—his lewd intentions clear without words.
Corleone did not call him out on it, merely nodding slightly. "I shall visit Brown Castle another day to discuss a business matter, my lord."
After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Herber left with the Gold Cloaks.
Of course, aside from Herber, each of them received a golden dragon as payment.
Ascending the stairs to the second floor, Corleone and Shae entered a relatively private space.
A long table covered with a pristine white linen tablecloth gleamed with silver candlesticks, fine porcelain, and wine glasses.
The air was filled with the aroma of roasted meat and a faint hint of spices.
To arrange this setting, Corleone had nearly spent all the money he had brought back from the Riverlands.
But it didn't matter.
Because he knew very well that after today, he would no longer lack such a trivial amount of money.
"Please, have a seat."
Personally pulling out a chair for Shae, Corleone also took his seat at the opposite end of the table.
Servants filed in, bringing a variety of dishes to the table. The dazzling array of food overwhelmed even Shae, who had worked in The Red Keep for a long time, leaving her momentarily unsure where to begin.
"These are oysters freshly delivered from Blackwater Bay today, served with lemon juice and tarragon. They are quite delicious."
Seeming to notice her discomfort, Corleone did not mock her. Instead, he personally introduced the dishes. "This is crab roasted in the style of Crackclaw Point. Though not as grand as lobster from The Arbor, it excels in freshness."
As he spoke, he gestured for a server to pour wine for her. A deep red liquid swirled in the crystal glass.
"summer red from Dorne, fifteen years old."
"Rich in flavor, with a hint of desert sunshine. That year, Dorne had ample rain, and the grapes were exceptionally good. I hope you enjoy it."
Every word he spoke seemed casual, yet each subtly showcased his wealth, connections, and refined taste.
Shae slowly calmed from her initial fright, completely captivated by the atmosphere of power, elegance, and luxury she had always dreamed of.
It was a world apart from the oppression she endured at Starkworth Castle and her clandestine relationship with Tyrion.
Though her alcohol tolerance usually surpassed even Tyrion's, after just two sips of wine, she felt somewhat intoxicated.
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