landbeastnovel Chapter 114: The Black Marks on the Mahogany Table and the Abacus in the Dust
Chapter 114: The Black Marks on the Mahogany Table and the Abacus in the Dust
The damp, chilly air of early spring carried a mixture of the sour smell of inferior red ink and the pungent alum smell unique to antiseptic parchment.
The ventilation window on the second floor of the stone tower was not closed tightly, and the cold wind from the Blue Fork River Valley, mixed with frozen mud, rushed in.
Maria Frey sat at an elegant mahogany table, draped in a heavy grey fox fur cloak.
Unlike the noblewomen of the South who fiddled with silk folding fans, she held a small silver paper cutter in her well-proportioned hands, mechanically scraping away a mistakenly written zero from an old account book.
On the open ground of the inner fortress downstairs, a dangerous, swordless battle was taking place silently.
Through the crack in the vent, Maria could clearly see the gaunt old accountant from Casterly Rock.
He wasn't wearing the cloak that symbolized knightly honor, but only a black woolen overcoat for wind protection.
The old man, resembling a keen-nosed old hunting dog, was lying in the mud outside the refugee camp.
When the people of the Westerlands audited the accounts, they never looked at the parchment that Bolivia presented with both hands.
The old official was directing several guards from the western border, who were using graduated iron shovels to measure the depth of the ruts made by the ore-carrying wheelbarrows in the mud.
Then, disregarding the stench, he went straight to the public latrine outside the camp and the earthen stove in the kitchen, using a short stick to scrape away the ashes inside.
Maria's fingers tightened slightly as she gripped the silver knife.
Just last night, William decisively buried fifty consumables alive in Mine Pit 5.
Pollifer managed to cover up the food expenses perfectly, but the traces remained.
The sudden loss of fifty people's excrement and cooking ashes overnight, if detected by the old official of the Westerlands' discerning eye, would mean that Bluefork River had concealed the true population size from Tywin.
Concealing the labor force is tantamount to concealing the absolute output of silver.
"Have the kitchen helpers go to the mess hall and scatter the three large baskets of wood ash from the cellar under the large stoves in the camp in batches. Also, carry four buckets of swill mixed with mud and water and pour them into the second latrine on the west side."
Maria didn't turn her head, but lowered her voice and gave subtle instructions to her trusted maid, who was standing in the shadows by the door, to fabricate the deception.
"Remember, do it slowly, like you just poured it in last night."
The maid obeyed and withdrew like a ghost.
Just then, the heavy oak door was violently pushed open.
"Ah, my dear niece. The mud here stinks even more than the stables in the Twins."
Sir Jerry Frey swaggered in, accompanied by a series of slightly flamboyant footsteps.
This greedy of old Walder Frey's many sons wore a magnificent blue wool coat, and a fake smile graced his face, which bore the signature features of the Frey family.
Maria did not get up.
She simply put down the small silver knife in her hand and looked at this nominal uncle.
She knew the Frey family's nature all too well; Jerry wasn't there to visit relatives, he was a hyena that had smelled blood.
"Uncle Jerry. The rules at Blue Fork River are very strict now. Lord Otto doesn't like people barging into the inner tower without permission."
Maria's voice was flat.
"Rules? Ha."
Sir Jerry pulled out a chair without any hesitation and sat heavily opposite Maria, glancing sideways at the skylight.
"I have no interest in your baronial rules. I saw it all clearly outside the camp. That old dog from the West Frontier was going through your underwear."
Jerry leaned forward, his murky eyes revealing naked greed.
"Maria, my dear niece. I'm not blind. Once that old man in the Westerlands discovers that you've been concealing your iron ore and raw silver production, Lord Tywin Lannister's wrath will burn this broken stone tower to the ground in an instant."
Maria's expression was as stiff as parchment: "What exactly are you trying to say, Uncle?"
"The Marquis of Walder asked me to give you his regards."
Jerry tapped the table, revealing his true intentions.
"Twin Rivers can remain silent about the dirty work you've done in the Willow Grove mines. But I need a ten percent cut of every shipment from Blue Fork River."
"Once the agreement is signed, I'll go downstairs right now and, as the rightful lord of the Riverlands, distract that old man from the West. Otherwise..."
Jerry gave a cold laugh.
"Otherwise, I'll go down there right now and chat with that old man for a bit about those refugees who suddenly disappeared the day before yesterday. Tywin's plans won't tolerate the slightest mistake."
If it were the timid and submissive doorman Ami from before, she might have already broken down and given in by now.
But now Maria is the matriarch of the entire miniature empire, "Blackwater Intelligence Network."
Maria looked at Jerry without getting angry, not even frowning.
"You just said you wanted to tell the Western Reich's accountant about the Blue Fork River's concealed population?"
Maria placed her hands on the table, speaking calmly.
"If you do that, Otto will be hanged, and the Blue Fork River will change hands. Will a corpse and ruins bring the Twins even half a copper coin?"
Jerry paused for a moment, his chubby face stiffening slightly.
"Grandfather sent you here to collect the gold coins, not to smash the piggy bank."
Maria said coldly.
Then, Maria opened the drawer of the mahogany table, precisely pulled out a piece of parchment that smelled of fish, and gently pushed it in front of Jerry.
"Before you go out to inform on the Westerlands, you should take a look at this."
Sir Jerry lowered his head in suspicion.
With just one glance, the smug fake smile on his face froze, and his originally rosy cheeks faded to grayish-white at a visible speed.
It was a copy of a private account book from the ferry crossing south of Twin Rivers City.
The document details how, over the past two years, Sir Jerry used his position to secretly embezzle a total of eight hundred gold dragons' worth of toll money, and even secretly sold a batch of old spears bearing the emblem of the Twin Towers of Frey to bandits near Blackwood River at a low price.
"You...how did you get this...?"
Jerry's voice began to tremble, and cold sweat beaded on his forehead.
"Boats from the Blue Fork River often sail on the Trident River, and the sailors always manage to retrieve some scraps of paper that they shouldn't have."
Maria looked at her uncle with a shrewd, discerning look in her eyes.
"Uncle, you know better than I what kind of person Grandfather was. He hated it when someone stole food right under his nose."
"If I accidentally slip this note into the New Year's gift for my grandfather next month... do you think he'll praise you for your cleverness, or will he strip you down to your underwear and hang you on the gallows in the Twins?"
"Maria...you, I'm your uncle..."
Jerry's teeth were chattering as he tried to reach for the parchment, but Maria coldly blocked his hand with the back of her silver knife.
"It is precisely because you are family that I did not hand it over directly to my grandfather."
"Don't even think about getting a share of the profits. But Blue Fork River has a monthly 'wear and tear' fee to pay the river tax collectors. Starting next month, I'll have Pollifer allocate thirty silver deer each month."
"This money won't go through the official account; it will be sent directly into your private pocket."
Maria stared at Jerry's chest, which was heaving rapidly with fear.
"Take this money and go back to tell Grandfather that Blue Fork River is now being closely watched by the Westerners. There's nothing to be gained here but mud."
"Furthermore, from now on, I will receive your secret letter the day after my grandfather finishes his meal, regarding any decisions made in the Twins concerning trade routes and marriage alliances."
Jerry Frey sat there, feeling as if all the blood in his body had frozen.
"I...I understand, madam."
Sir Jerry swallowed hard, even changing his form of address.
He clung tightly to that empty promise, stumbling and fleeing the study as if escaping a plague.
The heavy oak door clicked shut again.
The study fell silent again.
Maria sat quietly at the mahogany table, listening to the hurried footsteps on the stairs fade into the distance.
She lowered her head and subconsciously spread out her hands.
My palms are dry.
She closed her eyes slightly, feeling the beating of her chest beneath the fox fur cloak.
She paused for two seconds, stood up, and picked up the glass of Tsing Island wine that Jerry hadn't bothered to drink because of his fear.
She walked slowly to the burning iron brazier and tilted her wine glass.
The scarlet liquor was poured onto the glowing charcoal, producing a piercing sizzling sound and sending up a plume of white smoke with a sweet aroma.
Just as the white smoke dissipated.
Down in the mud, Pollifer was standing beside two carriages loaded with high-purity raw silver ingots.
The old accountant from the western border was using his iron spade to stir the ashes under the kitchen stove one last time.
The tip of the iron shovel brought out a few specks of damp earth—the moisture unique to ashes freshly removed from the cellar.
The old official's hand paused slightly.
He turned his head and glanced at the two carts of silver of excellent quality and substantial weight, then at Pollifer's flawless face.
No attack occurred.
He simply took out a tattered cloth and wiped the damp dust off the iron shovel.
As he boarded the ship, the old official turned around and, through the fine, freezing rain, took a deep look at the towering stone pagoda's ventilation window.
The old official boarded the ship.