The litter continued forward. A faint, strange odor drifted into her nose. Shae couldn't help but lift the curtain to peek outside, a flash of surprise and confusion immediately appearing in her eyes.
She had imagined many places—the Street of Silk, the outskirts of Aegon's High Hill, or even inside the Red Keep.
But the one thing she never guessed was that Corleone would actually have her brought here!
Her pretty brows furrowed tightly as fear and disappointment intertwined in her heart.
A man who was treated as an equal by Ser Jaime, a man who could make a noble like Herb Rykker willingly run errands for him—why would he hole up in a place like this?
It was a far cry from the residence she imagined for a big shot who could speak directly with Lord Tywin. It couldn't even compare to the mansions of some wealthy merchants in Eel Alley.
"Lord Rykker!"
Looking at the rows of low, cramped shacks before her, Shae gritted her teeth and finally spoke up, "Did we go the wrong way..."
Hearing this, Rykker turned his head from the front, a light smirk curling the corner of his mouth.
"Surprised, aren't you?"
His tone was casual, carrying a hint of superiority. "Honestly, the first time I came here, I was shocked too."
"Rest assured, my lady. Though I don't know why Lord Corleone is so fond of this place, he is actively working to change it."
"If you ask me, this might just be his unique way of realizing his own worth."
Seeing his relaxed demeanor, Shae finally let her guard down a little and looked out the window again.
Only then did she realize with surprise that while the streets of the once-infamous Flea Bottom were still narrow, the mountains of garbage that used to pile up had vanished.
The air held the lingering scent of cheap disinfectant and old grime.
The roads looked as if they had been roughly leveled, and she could even see men with cloth bands tied around their right arms patrolling the night.
How was this possible!
Shae's eyes widened, staring in disbelief at the people moving freely in the dead of night.
After all, ever since that riot, the Hand of the King had declared a city-wide curfew in King's Landing. Anyone caught on the streets at night faced a death sentence they couldn't escape, let alone in a sensitive place like Flea Bottom!
It was one thing for her group to enter the city—they had Gold Cloaks clearing the way—but even these obvious commoners had special privileges?
Did this mean Corleone had the privilege to defy the Hand's decrees?
As this bold guess flashed through her mind, Shae couldn't help but feel a curiosity far exceeding before for the man she had only met once, and even a trace of... awe.
The procession finally stopped in the deepest part of the district.
Shae stepped out of the litter and looked up. Hanging above the entrance was a wooden sign that boldly read: The Hall of Order.
What a name...
She swallowed hard before resting her hand on Herb's extended arm, carefully lifting her skirt as she walked inside.
Two guards stood at the door. Unlike typical street thugs, they stood silently at attention. Seeing them arrive, they gave Herb a slight bow and cleared the way.
Moving forward, the interior opened up into a spacious area, the walls lined with burning torches.
She looked up and saw Corleone sitting squarely in the only high-backed wooden chair. Shadows draped over most of his figure, with only the candlelight illuminating the side of his face.
Shae excitedly prepared to step forward, but Herb held her back.
Looking at Herb in confusion, she saw him point ahead. Following his gesture, Shae finally noticed a man kneeling not far in front of Corleone. He had just been hidden by Corleone's shadow.
"You incited 'Ragged' Wes's people and challenged the rules I set down."
Corleone's voice echoed through the hall. It wasn't loud, but its commanding presence sent a chill down Shae's spine.
"Tell me, who are you working for?"
At those words, the man jerked his head up, his face covered in snot and tears. "Have mercy, Lord Corleone!"
"I don't know his name! It... it was a sellsword. He paid me... three silver stags!"
"Oh, right! He... he had dark eyes and dark hair, and looked as vicious as a wolf! There's a scar on the left side of his face, and he always talks in a weird, mocking way..."
His description immediately brought the dwarf's sellsword guard to Corleone's mind.
"Three silver stags..." He let out a light chuckle, as if he had just heard the funniest joke in the world. "I bring you cleanliness, food, and work."
"I am going to completely transform this filthy place. I'll turn it into the most prosperous and wealthy district in all the Seven Kingdoms. Every single one of you will benefit from it."
"And yet, you tell me that for a mere three silver stags, you would sow the seeds of chaos on the very streets I just cleaned!"
Thud!!
As his words fell, the man couldn't even utter a plea for mercy before he was utterly crushed by Corleone's aura, collapsing flat onto the ground.
[Presence Lv. 3]
That's right. Corleone hadn't used that thousand gold dragons to buy food; instead, he used them to upgrade this skill level once again.
He had thought about it for a long time. Whether it was Swordsmanship, Insight, or Medicine, none of them could provide a qualitative leap in his actual power.
But [Presence]—this ultimate skill for posturing... er, negotiating—could give him the upper hand in many situations. At least in King's Landing, and in the game of thrones, it was true.
Fortunately, the system didn't let Corleone down. After upgrading [Presence] to Lv. 3, he could feel a very obvious improvement. Combined with the right environment and tone of voice, he could even scare people with weaker mental fortitude right onto the floor.
The man in front of him was the best proof.
Corleone even suspected that if he pushed this skill to Lv. 5, it might produce an exaggerated effect like an aura of sheer intimidation, knocking people unconscious with a single glare.
The hall fell silent, but this silence was more terrifying than any reprimand. Everyone could feel the incredibly real, oppressive weight radiating from Corleone, pressing down on their hearts like an invisible boulder.
Even Shae, standing far away, unconsciously held her breath, her palms breaking out in a cold sweat.
"I'll give you a chance to live."
Finally, Corleone slowly raised his head and leaned back in his chair, his entire body cloaked in shadows.
"Thank you!"
The oppressive aura vanished. The man on the ground wailed, crying bitterly, "By the Seven! Lord Corleone, thank you for your mercy!"
"I'll never do it again! Never again..."
"Rorge." However, Corleone cut him off.
From the shadows, a single finger raised. He spoke in an understated tone, "Instigators should have their tongues ripped out."
"Teach him how to keep silent forever."
"Yes, Lord Corleone!"
Behind him, Rorge grinned broadly and immediately strode forward.
But just then, Corleone issued another order. "Don't do it in my place. Take him further away."
Hearing this, Rorge grabbed the man by the back of his 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 allowed himself to be dragged away, quickly vanishing into the darkness.
From beginning to end, the five Gold Cloaks behind Shae showed no reaction whatsoever. This silent acquiescence left her utterly shocked.
Only then did Corleone slowly rise from his seat. He walked over to Shae, a perfectly measured smile on his face.
"Lady Shae."
Corleone bowed slightly, his movements smooth and elegant. His tone was incredibly gentle, like a completely different person from the one who had just ordered a man's tongue torn out. "Please forgive my lack of hospitality."
"I am truly sorry that your beautiful eyes had to witness something so unpleasant. I hope it didn't frighten you."
As he spoke, he extended a hand in invitation. "Dinner is ready. Please, follow me."
"Only good food and fine wine can wash away the dust of the day."
His posture was absolutely flawless. Though still somewhat shaken, Shae subconsciously curtsied in return. "You... you are too kind, Lord Corleone."
"The task you assigned is complete, so I won't disturb the two of you any further."
At this moment, Herb appropriately bid his farewells to Corleone, giving him a subtle waggle of his eyebrows, his sleazy thoughts self-evident.
Corleone didn't call him out on it; he merely nodded slightly. "I will visit the Dun Fort another day, and we can discuss some business while I'm at it, my lord."
After a few brief pleasantries, Herb departed with the Gold Cloaks.
Of course, aside from Herb, each of the guards received a reward of one gold dragon.
Walking up the stairs to the second floor, Corleone and Shae entered a more private space.
On a long table draped with a crisp white linen cloth, silver candelabras, exquisite porcelain, and wine glasses gleamed brightly.
The aroma of roasted meat and a faint hint of spices permeated the air.
To set up this ambiance, Corleone had spent nearly all the money he brought back from the Riverlands.
But it didn't matter.
Because he knew very well that after today, he would no longer be strapped for this kind of pocket change.
"Please, take a seat."
Personally pulling out a chair for Shae, Corleone then walked to the other end of the table and sat down.
Servants filed in, placing a wide variety of dishes on the table. The dazzling array of food actually overwhelmed Shae, who had worked in the Red Keep for quite some time. For a moment, she didn't even know where to begin.
"These are oysters brought in fresh from Blackwater Bay today, paired with lemon juice and tarragon. They are quite delicious."
Seeming to notice her awkwardness, Corleone didn't mock her, but instead personally introduced the dishes. "This is a roasted crab prepared in the style of Crackclaw Point. While it might not match an Arbor lobster, its strength lies in its freshness."
As he spoke, he raised a hand, signaling the servant to pour her some wine. The deep crimson liquid swirled in the crystal glass.
"A Dornish Summerwine, fifteen years old."
"It has a rich palate, carrying a hint of desert sunshine. Dorne had plenty of rain that year, so the grapes grew exceptionally well. I hope you like it."
Every word he spoke seemed casual, yet he was quietly showcasing his wealth, his connections, and his elegant taste.
Shae slowly recovered from her initial fright, completely intoxicating herself in this atmosphere she had always dreamed of—wrapped in power, elegance, and luxury.
This was worlds apart from the oppression she endured at Stokeworth Castle, and her hidden, disgraceful affair with Tyrion.
Even though she could normally drink Tyrion under the table, after just two sips of wine, she actually felt a little drunk.