"A hand in the darkness..."
""
Tywin slowly repeated the phrase, savoring it as if tasting the risks and rewards hidden within. A glimmer of relenting appeared in his emerald eyes.
Seeing this, Corleone knew the moment was right and immediately struck while the iron was hot. "Yes, my lord. A hand in the darkness."
"A hand that can clear away obstacles for you when necessary, without ever staining your honor."
"And I... Vito Corleone, am very willing to become that hand you need."
As soon as these words were spoken, the study fell into a complete silence.
The air was still, with only the flames in the fireplace leaping tirelessly. The faint crackle of burning wood was amplified in the extreme silence.
Corleone could even hear his own heartbeat.
Tywin remained expressionless, his face showing no hint of emotion, but his eyes were locked firmly onto Corleone, as if trying to see right through him.
It was very strange.
This obscure, common stranger had saved the Lannister family's most important heir. Yet, when facing the most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms, he hadn't begged for anything—he hadn't even mentioned the bathtub full of Gold Dragons Jaime had originally promised.
But that didn't mean he was cowardly.
On the contrary, in Tywin's eyes, this boy was incredibly audacious.
Because he actually dared to make such a transgressive proposal, demanding the privilege of controlling King's Landing's dark side.
The courage to tie his own ambition to the other's interests, combined with extraordinary negotiation skills, made even Tywin Lannister, who had served as hand of the king for twenty years, take notice.
"Interesting."
After a silence that felt like a century, Tywin finally looked Corleone in the eye again. His tone was solemn. "I am the hand of the king, and you wish to become my hand. A very unique idea."
"But how can I ensure..."
"...that this hand will always be used by me, rather than drawing a knife at a critical moment and stabbing me in the back?"
""
As his voice fell, a heavy pressure, almost tangible, weighed down on Corleone's shoulders.
He knew very well that Tywin had basically agreed to his proposal, because this sentence was not a question, but a test.
But if his answer failed to satisfy Tywin, then all his previous efforts would have been in vain.
Meeting the gaze that would make ordinary people tremble, Corleone's face remained very calm.
He didn't make any solemn guarantees or oaths of loyalty; he simply and calmly gave an answer that was unexpected to Tywin, yet made perfect sense: "Because you are Tywin Lannister."
A single short sentence and a frank look made Tywin's pupils contract slightly.
It conveyed a wealth of information: because you are Tywin Lannister, because you are invincible, because the price of betraying you is more than anyone can bear, and even more so because our interests are aligned at this moment.
No one would dare to try and challenge your authority.
The two men looked at each other, and only they could read the meaning expressed in each other's eyes. Finally, Tywin gave a slight nod, seemingly reaching a consensus with Corleone through silent communication.
But just then, a noisy sound approached from a distance, breaking the solemnity of The Tower of the Hand.
"Hurry up!"
"You lazy bones, you useless trash! Are you going to make your King climb these two hundred steps himself with his noble legs?!"
A shrill and impatient voice rang out in the corridor outside, accompanied by hurried, messy footsteps.
Hearing this voice, Tywin, who usually never showed his emotions, actually had a flash of irritation cross his eyes.
Though it was gone in an instant, Corleone captured this subtle expression with great precision.
He understood and roughly guessed the identity of the newcomer.
Sure enough, as the heavy, disorganized footsteps approached, the heavy door of the Hand's office was pushed open once again.
A boy of about fourteen or fifteen appeared, wearing a velvet robe embroidered with the Crowned Stag of House Baratheon.
He had blond hair and green eyes, and his features could be considered handsome, but his brow was full of perverse and violent expressions. He was currently sitting grandly on a simple palanquin, being carried in by two attendants!
The stairs of The Tower of the Hand were not few, and the two attendants were clearly overburdened, panting heavily.
Beside the boy followed a member of the Kingsguard in snow-white armor.
Until they had fully entered the room, the Lannister guard who had previously blocked Jaime at the door now hurriedly peeked half his body from the doorway, saying in terror, "I'm sorry, my lord!"
"His Majesty..."
But before he could finish his sentence, he was stopped by Tywin's cold gaze and quickly lowered his head and retreated.
"Your Majesty."
Tywin stood up, his movements still steady, but his tone revealed a hint of faint helplessness.
Seeing the hand of the king stand up, Corleone naturally didn't dare to remain seated. He immediately rose as well and bowed to the boy.
The Eternal Emperor!
He lowered his head, secretly mocking him in his heart.
The legendary Emperor Joffrey Baratheon truly lived up to his reputation!
Entering the Hand's office in a palanquin, like someone being carried up a mountain on a sedan chair—who else could do that?
"Put me down, you idiots!"
Joffrey was quite rude, or rather, completely lacked any upbringing. Seeing the attendants carrying the palanquin were dazed, he raised his hand and gave one of them a sharp slap across the face.
The attendant didn't even dare to show an expression of anger, and quickly and carefully set the palanquin down with his companion.
Adjusting his robe, Joffrey stepped down with a frivolous expression, shaking his head like a child who hadn't grown up.
He walked a few steps to Tywin's desk, without even sparing a glance for Corleone beside him.
"Lord Tywin."
The King tilted his head back and questioned in a voice he thought was full of majesty, "I told you before that every decision of the Small Council must be reported to me in advance. Have you forgotten?"
Hearing this, Tywin's face showed no sign of emotion, and he only patiently replied, "I remember very clearly, Your Majesty."
"The next Small Council meeting is scheduled for tomorrow after lunch. You can come back in this palanquin then."
As he spoke, he calmly glanced at Corleone and added, "But right now, I am merely receiving a guest to discuss some matters that are not so important."
"These matters are tedious and insignificant. I don't think it's necessary for you to waste your valuable time on them."
But with Joffrey's smooth brain, he didn't seem to understand Tywin's implicit hint to leave.
Not only did he not leave gracefully, but a curious light flashed in his emerald eyes, which he had inherited from the Lannister bloodline.
Under Tywin's gaze, the young King's lips curled up, and he walked over boldly to the chair Corleone had just occupied, shaking the hem of his robe as if he were the master of the room.
"Discussing matters?"
Joffrey raised his chin and spoke imperiously in a childish tone he was deliberately trying to make sound adult. "Lady Margaery told me that even a King with a thousand things to do should occasionally take the time to observe the affairs of his subjects. It just so happens that I am free today."
"Go ahead and talk, I'll listen in. Let me see what my Hand is busy with for the kingdom every day."
These self-righteous words caused a shadow of gloom to cross Tywin's brow.
He took a deep breath, as if forcibly suppressing the helplessness in his chest. As the Lord of Casterly Rock, he had been brilliant his whole life, yet he always felt inexplicably frustrated when facing this grandson.
In Tywin's view, Joffrey was stupid, cruel, and unpredictable, and he would always appear at the most inopportune time, in the most headache-inducing way, and perform the most unexpected actions.
For example, cutting off Eddard Stark's head... But since the King had given an order, Tywin, as the Hand, had to sit back down.
"Vito Corleone."
Tywin spoke, returning to the conversation that had been interrupted. "Regarding what we were discussing earlier, what specific ideas do you have?"
""
His posture remained majestic as he turned his gaze toward Corleone, sending an extremely subtle look.
Seeing this, Corleone immediately understood and bowed respectfully to Joffrey. "Your Majesty, my lord."
"As I mentioned to Lord Tywin before, King's Landing is a great city, but it also gathers many idle commoners."
"As everyone knows, idleness breeds trouble and drains the energy of the City Watch. Therefore, I decided to open a... Free Fighting Arena."
In front of Joffrey, he deliberately chose this relatively neutral and entertaining term.
"A fighting arena?"
Sure enough, hearing this word, Joffrey instantly showed a strong interest.
He leaned forward, a cruel and excited light bursting from his eyes.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
A perfect smile tugged at the corners of Corleone's mouth.
He knew Joffrey too well. This child, spoiled by power, longed to be a warrior as strong as his "father" and gain the recognition of others.
Only, unlike Robert, Joffrey was cowardly yet extremely temperamental, and he adored violence and blood. He was a complex of contradictions.
"This will not be just a simple fighting venue."
Meeting Joffrey's excited gaze, Corleone continued in a highly provocative tone, "In my vision, it will be a stage for courage, strength, and fighting skills. Warriors from all over the Seven Kingdoms, and even from across the Narrow Sea, can compete fairly here. The winner will earn honor and rewards."
"Like a tournament?" Joffrey pressed.
"Similar, Your Majesty."
Corleone nodded slightly. "But a tournament is a bit monotonous. Even with swordsmanship, archery, jousting, and melée, it always has its limits."
"But the Free Fighting Arena I'm going to open will have no rules or restrictions!"
"As long as one has the courage to participate, even commoners, wildlings, or even death-row prisoners can join. And the only rule is to survive the battle!!!"
Corleone made this bold claim, observing Joffrey's reaction. Seeing that even his breathing seemed to have quickened, he immediately invited him at the right moment. "At that time, if Your Majesty is interested..."
"...perhaps you could take some time out of your busy schedule to witness it in person."
"As everyone knows, your late father, His Majesty Robert Baratheon, was an invincible warrior of the Seven Kingdoms. He killed Rhaegar Targaryen single-handedly!"
"And you have perfectly inherited his great bloodline. The blood of a warrior flows through your veins!"
"When the time comes, we can arrange an absolutely safe exhibition match for you to participate in personally, so that your subjects can witness the King's fearless heroism with their own eyes!"
"I have no doubt that everyone will go crazy for it and offer the most enthusiastic cheers for your bravery!"
These words were highly inflammatory and happened to hit the point Joffrey most desired to be satisfied.
He had ascended the throne at a young age, yet his bloodline's purity had been "slandered," and he had encountered such a powerful Hand as Tywin.
Even if Joffrey was stupid, he knew he had to prove he was not a puppet, but a true ruler!
"This idea is simply brilliant!"
Joffrey's cheeks were slightly flushed with excitement, and he almost jumped out of his chair.
As a King, he shouted loudly without any shred of dignity, "Where? This fighting arena, where are you going to build it?"
"It must be near The Red Keep so I can go anytime!"
Seeing this, Corleone still maintained his smile.
That's it?
Just a little sweetness and you're so impatient. If I were to give you a few books like 'Difficulties in the Way of Persuasion' or'Solitary Indignation' and tell you about the experiences of a true Eternal Emperor, wouldn't you just take off?
But even so, Corleone hadn't forgotten who really called the shots in King's Landing right now.
His gaze swept over the eager Joffrey and finally landed on Tywin's face, who had remained silent, as if seeking his opinion.
After receiving the other's nod, Corleone spoke in a calm tone.
"Flea Bottom."
"Ah????"
This word made the excited Joffrey feel as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped over him. The flush on his face instantly faded, turning pale, and even showing a hint of fear.
Not long ago, it was in Flea Bottom that he had been attacked by a mob.
In that chaos, stones and dung had rained down, and his proud Royal Guard was in total disarray.
He had even seen with his own eyes the Master-at-Arms of The Red Keep, Ser Aron Santagar, and the Kingsguard Ser Preston Greenfield being overwhelmed by the crazed mob. The bodies recovered afterward had been gnawed until they were incomplete.
That fear of being shrouded by death, as well as the naked humiliation, was deeply etched in his memory like a nightmare.
At this moment, the Kingsguard member beside him stood up and pointed at Corleone's nose, cursing, "You ill-intentioned fellow!"
"His Majesty Joffrey is the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, his status is extremely noble. How can he go to such a stinking and filthy place like Flea Bottom?"
"This not only damages the dignity of the royal family, but also puts His Majesty in unpredictable danger!"
Looking at his indignant appearance, Corleone asked in return, "Danger?"
"If I remember correctly, whether His Majesty is in danger should depend on you, Sir Kingsguard."
"Or... are you so unconfident in your martial skills that you believe you cannot protect the King's safety?"
"You..." The Kingsguard member took an angry step forward.
However, before he could make a move, Tywin called out his name directly.
"Ser Meryn Trant."
Hearing Tywin's voice, Meryn immediately froze on the spot.
He turned around and saw the Hand staring straight at him. Cold sweat instantly covered his forehead.
"Lord Corleone is right. If a member of the Kingsguard believes he cannot protect the King, then you can take off that armor and leave The Red Keep right now."
"Or, in the intervals between helping the Queen Regent with her reckless behavior, you could also find some time to practice your swordsmanship."
Faced with such a humiliating reprimand, the usually arrogant Meryn Trant only swallowed his spit and didn't dare to speak.
After all, although he was cruel and enjoyed bullying women and children for fun, he knew very well where his power came from.
From Tywin's words, Meryn could tell that the Hand was already very dissatisfied with him for allowing the Queen Regent to run wild during this period.
Seeing that he no longer spoke, Tywin nodded in satisfaction and turned to Corleone. "Continue."
"Yes, my lord."
Corleone bowed slightly, then raised his voice a bit, making it sound very powerful. "Please rest assured, Your Majesty."
"Since I have the confidence to invite you to go, I will naturally make full preparations!"
"Two months!"
Under Joffrey's gaze, he held up two fingers. "I swear by The Seven, in two months at most, Flea Bottom will be completely transformed!"