Bang!
Tiger punched the wall.
He got angrier the more he thought about it.
Duke Tywin Lannister always valued House Saloth highly, entrusting them with the important task of defending the Golden Road and bestowing upon them the mineral-rich mountain range of the Silver Mountains.
But the things the sons did behind Tiger's back this time were terrible, and their actions greatly displeased Duke Tywin.
The Duke of Tywin's authority is absolutely not to be offended.
From the bedroom inside the living room, one could hear Mrs. Tiger sobbing.
The news of her youngest son Alva's death saddened the lady greatly.
On this journey north, in order to get closer to Queen Cersei Lannister, Tiger Sallor specifically brought his wife along, so that she could talk and chat with the Queen during the two-month trip. The journey was long and arduous, and Queen Cersei needed a noblewoman companion to alleviate her fatigue and loneliness.
"Stop crying," Tiger snapped.
"...My son...is dead...that damned...Mountain...that damned Mountain, who deserves to be torn to pieces…"
Tiger stormed to the bedroom door: "You're having a good time cursing here, but don't you know you're about to be in big trouble? Haven't you heard of the rainy season in Castamere?"
The song of the Rains of Castamere, sung throughout the Seven Kingdoms, chills all who hear it. The two most powerful families in the Westerlands were wiped out for offending the Lannisters. Their territories remain desolate and overgrown with weeds to this day.
The lady lifted her tear-streaked face, and her sobs abruptly ceased. Her grief vanished, replaced by shock.
"...Is it...that...serious...?"
"Take a look at this letter?"
"There was no accusation against us by Duke Tywin in the letter."
"No, no, Lord Tywin just told Maester Potter that I should discipline my son, and his next sentence was that if I didn't, he would. Don't you understand what Lord Tywin meant by disciplining my son?"
The lady gasped in surprise and instinctively covered her mouth with her hand.
Her face was pale, and her body was trembling slightly.
"However, Sir Gregor also said that the poisoning and cavalry raid had nothing to do with our Silver Hall Salot; it was all done by Alan Salot."
"Do you even believe it yourself?" Tiger sneered.
"...I...believe..."
"I don't believe it, and neither will Duke Tywin."
"...Why..."
The lady found that her slight trembling was uncontrollable, and her body began to feel cold.
"How could Alan Saloth, a mine guard captain, have obtained the Golden Green Isle wine to present to Sir Gregor without the permission of our Saloth family? And how could Alan have such an expensive and secret poison as the Strangler without the support of the Silver Hall Saloth?"
The lady was immediately rendered speechless!
"My only worry right now is that Duke Tywin might think I knew about this."
"...Then what should we do?" The lady's tears had dried, and she suddenly stood up. "You must write back to Lord Tywin immediately. I will go to Maegor to explain the situation to Queen Cersei. We know nothing about what happened in the Westerlands. It wasn't your order, nor was it mine." The lady stammered, her words incoherent.
She rushed out of the bedroom, then hurried back in, opened the closet, and rummaged through her clothes: "Tiger, which one do you think suits me best? White? Red? Pink or silk? No, no, no, I need to put on makeup first. Oh, Kxia, where are you? Damn Kxia, I'm going to chop your head off! Hurry up and put on my makeup, you damn idiot."
"Can't you calm down for once?" Tiger roared. "When this happened, we were in King's Landing. Even Lord Tywin Lannister couldn't be sure whether I had ordered Ser Gregor to be poisoned. So we need to seize this opportunity to clarify things and gain Ser Gregor's forgiveness."
"...No, why should we seek that damned Mountain's forgiveness...? We just need to gain Lord Tywin's trust..."
"You know nothing… Sit down and do your makeup properly. I need to write to Lord Tywin, Ser Gregor, and Ador Salo immediately. You should get ready and go to Maegor Tower to see Queen Cersei."
*
Western Frontier, Fort Criggon.
Gregor stood on the high steps, looking at eleven dark-skinned men. These men were all subjects of his territory, recalled by a conscription order.
Once the conscription order was issued, the Saloth mine had no choice but to immediately settle accounts and release the workers.
Each lord has absolute military power over the people in his territory.
Of the eleven households, eleven were miners. One household had three men, two households had two men, and the remaining four were divided among four households. This meant that the men in four of these households had died in the mine. Thomas Mann's son was killed in a mine collapse the day before he was to return.
These men constitute the entire male force in Gregor's territory.
But they were not skilled warriors.
In Gregor's eyes, a miner who can truly be a warrior needs to be trained.
Skilled warriors who can fight are not miners, farmers, fishermen, or hunters.
Gregor summoned them back with the conscription order not only to have them put on armor and take up swords to fight, but also to have them mine.
Mining for gold.
The current horseman, formerly Thomas Mann, is in charge of leading this team of miners.
After he finished his stammering speech to his eleven fellow miners, the miners stared at Thomas Mann in collective silence. They had many questions, but with Lord Mountain beside them, along with several of his notorious, ruthless henchmen, they preferred to be wrong rather than speak wrongly.
"I can see you all have something to say. Speak. Tell me your questions, and I won't punish you. Whoever dares to speak first will be rewarded with a bag of salt, a fine horse, a suit of armor, and a good sword," Gregor said. His voice, unusually, lacked any of its usual menacing tone.
The entire room fell silent.
The people also know that the Mountain recently had a fierce battle with the Salomon family and made a fortune.
A bag of salt, a fine horse, a suit of armor, and a good sword—such a generous reward was something these men couldn't refuse, yet dared not believe. They could never earn so much in a lifetime.
The price of a good sword is enough for them to mine for twenty years.
"Notebook".
"Yes, sir."
"If no one speaks after three more heartbeats, then deal with them one by one."
"Yes, sir, how do you want me to deal with them?"
"Cut out their tongues. Since they do not like to speak, their tongues are superfluous."
"Yes, sir." The notebook chuckled.
Sweet-talking Ralph, executioner Densen, and brainless fanboy Pollyfo all wore happy smiles.
They all quite enjoyed doing this kind of work, such as blinding people, cutting off their tongues, and chopping off their hands and feet.
The silence was brief, then broken by a stammering voice: "Lord Gregor, the place you arranged for us to mine is not our territory."