Game of Thrones: The Impaler of the Blue Fork

Chapter 101: The Sweet Bait of Early Autumn and the Turning Iron Axle

More than a month has passed since that brutal battle on the riverbank.

The twenty-five stakes with human heads stuck in them had long been buried deep in the wasteland by Poliffer and his men, and burned to ashes along with the black and red robes that had been stripped off.

But the title "Piercing Lord" has taken root in much of the northern part of the Riverlands, like some kind of winged seed.

No more refugees or small groups of mercenaries dared to approach the gray stone wall at night.

But at this moment, Otto Hohenzollern, standing on the wooden pier of the inner fortress, did not feel safe at all.

On the river in front of him, a single-masted speedboat with a very deep draft was quietly moored.

The ship had no noble coat of arms, and its sails were whitened by the sea breeze and sunlight, making it look like an ordinary merchant ship from Seagull Town or Gull Town.

But the person who stepped off the ship made Otto's intuition, which was used to being immersed in icy water for many years, feel a prickling sense of vigilance.

He was a middle-aged man wearing a long gray silk robe.

He was slightly overweight, with a friendly smile on his face that seemed to be constantly calculating profits.

He had no guards with him, and was only carrying an ordinary walnut cane.

"Lord Hohenzollern."

The middle-aged man walked three steps away from Otto, stopped, and bowed slightly in greeting.

His movements were precise, yet they also revealed a deep-seated aloofness.

"My name is Loso, a merchant from Seagull Town. I have come to pay my respects on behalf of a 'great man from King's Landing'."

Otto remained silent, coldly scrutinizing the other man.

Manager Polliff stood aside, his eyes warily scrutinizing the merchant ship that had suddenly appeared.

"Come with me."

Otto turned around, his cloak drawing a sharp arc in the autumn wind.

Inside the study on the ground floor of the stone pagoda.

There was no fire in the charcoal brazier, and the room was filled with a refreshing coolness.

Loso didn't stand on ceremony. He sat down on the hardwood chair, took out a roll of parchment carefully wrapped in waterproof oilcloth from his pocket, and gently pushed it in front of Otto.

"My Lord Baron, my client in King's Landing has great admiration for your business in Bluefork over the past six months."

Loso glanced subtly at the ground.

"Your technique for purifying 'specialty products' is especially amazing."

Pollifer's Adam's apple bobbed violently. He knew what the other man was implying.

The smell of waste acid emanating from behind the kiln, hidden beneath the quicklime, was as dazzling as a torch in the dark to those who truly knew their stuff.

Otto didn't touch the parchment. He stroked the iron ring with his left hand, his voice calm and even.

"The merchants from Seagull Town, who don't trade spices and silk in the Narrow Sea, have come to this muddy place just to talk to me about 'special products'?"

"Spices and silk are only good for making a pittance."

Loso smiled, a smile like a perfect mask.

"But the white salt you have here, as well as certain 'hard currencies that are inconvenient to circulate in the river region,' can generate a continuous stream of fresh water."

"My customer meant that the Blue Fork River is too shallow and the goods are easy to get stuck. It would be better to hand over the goods to us."

Loso unfolded the parchment, which was covered with extremely tempting offers.

"We can buy half of your white salt production year-round, at a price 20% higher than what you sell to the Brecken family."

"As for those 'hard currencies,' we'll legally transport them to King's Landing through official channels in Seagull Town, or by sea to Braavos. We'll only take a 10% commission on the gold dragons we wash."

But Otto still didn't take the parchment.

This is "pig farming".

"As a token of our sincerity in our first collaboration."

Loso clapped his hands.

Two sailors struggled to carry a heavy, long wooden crate into the study.

The wooden crate was opened, and inside were dozens of sets of semi-new plate armor discarded by the Seagull Town garrison.

Although the style is a bit outdated, it is genuine high-quality steel armor.

At the bottom of the box, there were even five rare Mil crossbows.

"This batch of armor is considered a deposit."

Loso's smile softened even more.

"We hope that Your Excellency can have a well-equipped guard. After all, only if you are safe enough can our 'specialty' business last."

Otto glanced at the plate armor gleaming coldly. He didn't hesitate for even a moment.

He picked up the quill pen on the table, neatly signed his name on the "sales agreement," and stamped it with the baron's gold seal.

"Polliver, put the goods into storage."

Otto pushed the parchment back to Loso.

"Tell your customer that the goods from the Blue Fork River are never adulterated. The first batch of white salt will be waiting for you at the confluence of the Red Fork River early next month."

Loso put away the contract with satisfaction, bowed, and left the study.

Once the merchant ship's shadow disappeared into the river bend, Pollifer wiped the cold sweat from his brow and whispered:

"Sir...this business is frighteningly good."

"If they can launder money for us, they can definitely find a way to report us to the Iron Throne with those accounts. We're handing our lives over to them!"

"I know."

Otto stood up and walked to the wooden crate full of plate armor. He reached out and grabbed a breastplate, feeling the cold, heavy texture of the steel.

"This is a cup of poison laced with honey. But we are dying of thirst now."

Otto's grey-blue eyes reflected the ruins of the workshop under construction outside the window.

"Tethos wants my life, old Wald wants to seize my power, and Jason of Seafront City has blocked my way north with his army."

"If we don't drink this poisoned wine, we won't even make it through this autumn."

"Since that important figure in King's Landing wants to raise me like a pig, then I'll use the gold and pig iron he's poured into the trough to make this body tough enough!"

"So hard that one day, when he tried to cut the bone, he found he couldn't cut it at all!"

With the arrival of supplies in Seagull Town, Blue Fork Valley began operating at full speed.

The pig iron ingots that Old Wade sent were thrown into the furnace of the earthen kiln in batches.

Blacksmith Cole, along with his four apprentices, toiled day and night in temperatures soaring to over a thousand degrees Celsius.

Molten iron, glowing red-hot, was poured into sand molds and shaped into thick iron hoops and gears.

"Clang—clang—"

The heavy hammer slammed into the anvil, sparks flying everywhere.

The ruins of the watermill were cleared away, and the huge fir logs, reinforced with iron hoops, were reassembled into a waterwheel that was one-third larger than the original.

As this burly machine was pushed into the river where the autumn floods had not yet completely receded, the waterwheel began to turn steadily, accompanied by a tooth-grinding screech of wood.

"Boom—boom—"

The water power drove the millstone, and also the pumping rods of several newly built large salt ponds next to it.

Efficiency tripled.

On the training ground.

As Instructor Torren looked at the fifty Iron Oath veterans who had donned their new plate armor, a satisfied, sinister smile finally appeared on his weathered face.

With this tortoise shell, his "backless formation" became a real barbed iron wall when facing heavy cavalry charges.

John Mudd selected twenty of the strongest Frey horses, equipped them with some plate armor, and began training a strange, heavily armored cavalry and infantry force on the riverbanks, specializing in mud warfare.

Everything is growing in the most violent direction.

However, inside the tents on the second floor of the stone tower, this growth encountered disgusting human resistance.

The three Frey stewards, whose calves were severely burned while scraping mud from the bottom of the waste acid pool, finally limped into the accounting office after lying in bed for half a month.

The arrogance that had appeared when he first arrived was gone from Innis Freeh’s face; in its place was an extremely vicious resentment born from having suffered a hidden loss.

He dared not provoke the armed soldiers outside again, but he decided to teach this ungrateful baroness a lesson.

"Maria. The three of us have recalculated the cost of this batch of white salt that was originally intended for delivery to Seagull Town."

Innis slammed a scribbled-on ledger on the table and said with a forced smile.

"Since the waterwheel has just been repaired, the workshop is suffering from excessive wear and tear. We have decided to reduce the daily oat rations of the laborers by one-third and replace them with a mixture of watered-down tree bark paste."

"At the same time, the price of each barrel of salt will be increased by half a copper coin, and the extra profit will be directly deducted as a 'toll' for the Twin Towers."

Innis's plan was extremely shrewd.

They embezzle the food meant for the poorest farmers to line their own pockets, while simultaneously raising prices to disgust the buyers in Seagull Town. Even if the business fails, Blue Fork River bears the loss.

Maria did not look at the ledger.

She sat behind the large oak table, quietly watching the three "family members" who still couldn't grasp the situation.

Maria stood up and grasped the heavy brass master key at her waist with her right hand.

"Uncle Innis."

Maria's voice was extremely cold, devoid of any warmth befitting family affection.

"It seems the acid mud only burned your foot skin, but didn't wake up your brain."

She abruptly pulled out the largest brass warehouse key.

Without any warning, Maria stepped forward, clutching the heavy key in her hand, and ruthlessly swung it backhand, smashing it into Innis's left temple!

"Bang!"

A muffled thud. The brass ridge smashed open a nearly two-inch-long gash on Innis's obese forehead.

Blood spurted out and covered his left eye.

Innis screamed, clutched his head, staggered backward, and knocked over a row of wooden chairs.

The other two managers stood frozen in fear.

They couldn't believe that the little girl who didn't even dare to speak loudly in the Twins City would dare to be so deadly to the elders of the Twin Towers.

"Polliver!" Maria shouted.

The steward, accompanied by two Iron Oath Legion soldiers clad in Seagull Town plate armor, entered like ghosts, their cold spears locked onto the three terrified tents.

Maria walked up to Inies, who was clutching his head and groaning, and looked down at him.

"In the Twin Towers, you can be insatiable and drink the blood of soldiers."

"But in Blue Fork River, even the lowest-ranking manure-carrying farmer's daily bowl of oats was fuel carefully calculated by the adults to extract energy from his body!"

Maria hung the blood-stained brass key back on her waist, her voice echoing in the hall with a she-wolf-like quality.

"Anyone who dares to touch a single grain of rice from the workshop's farmers, affecting the delivery schedule, I wouldn't mind chopping all three of you into pieces and throwing you into the iron pot used for boiling salt as firewood!"

Outside the window, the huge iron-hooped wooden wheel of the watermill made a teeth-grinding "rumble" sound, turning day and night without stopping.