Game of Thrones: From a deserter to a high-ranking official

Chapter 203

Chapter 134

Habroy cautiously opened his chest and looked at the gold and silver coins inside. His pupils did not show greed, but rather a sense of unreality.

"Damn it—" he sighed.

Then he opened another box, which was filled with silk and jewels, and the sense of unreality in his eyes intensified.

"Damn!" he exclaimed, then put the lid back on.

"Alright, Habro, if you keep going like this, I'm going to change cabins!" Leizapo, who shared a cabin with him, complained.

"These past few days you've just been opening boxes and rummaging through them—can't you just relax a little? These are all yours, is someone going to try and take them from you?"

"No, I just feel like it's not real. Can you understand, Lezapo?" Habro stared at the boxes in a daze, then a smile spread across his face.

"We should consider ourselves rich now, right?"

"Is that even a question? With the wealth in your chest, you could buy a large plot of land in the disputed territory, build a huge villa, hire several slaves to work on your estate, and still have money left over!"

"Ha! My day has come!" Habro's grin stretched practically to the heavens. "Goodbye to those debts, and to my blood-soaked mercenary life!"

Lezapo had no intention of paying any attention to him.

These past few days, he and that young master Li Sangluo have been extremely busy!

Not for any other reason, but for calculating wealth, estimating value, and organizing records—by the King of Light, he was truly praying that there weren't many accountants among the prisoners.

At this moment, Li Sanluo was engrossed in writing and drawing on a thick ledger, his fingers stained with ink, but his face showed an almost excited focus.

Several open small iron boxes were piled up beside him. They were not filled with military equipment, but with various coins, unpolished gems, fragments of gold and silver utensils, and even many antiques.

Tiberius shrugged. "Alright, now that we're on board, well, my accountant friend Lisanro, I guess we're rolling in money now, aren't we?"

"Rolling in money? Ha! Tiberius, what are you thinking?" Lisanro scoffed, tossing his quill into the inkwell.

"Tiberius, the phrase 'rolling in money' is an insult to us!"

He flung open the lid of the box at his feet with a whoosh, revealing neatly stacked gold coins that gleamed enticingly and heavily under the light.

"See that? This is just a random box! We have countless boxes like this, with an absurd amount of gold coins, not even counting the loose change that the soldiers stuffed into their own bags and melted down!"

He excitedly flipped through the ledger, his fingers tracing the dense, but legible, numbers and symbols: "I've roughly calculated it; just the good-quality gold and silver coins alone, at the market price in Ries, are enough—enough to buy half of the Spice Wharf district! And then there are the jewels, antiques, and fine fabrics—though much of it was lost during the escape to lighten the load, or used to buy passage—"

He then pointed to the antiques.

"We haven't even factored in the priceless antiques, works of art, rare spices, and fine silks that are difficult to liquidate right now. Not to mention the superior livestock, weapons, and armor we've requisitioned—although most of them have been directly distributed to the soldiers."

"That doesn't matter. Let the soldiers wear armor," Tiberius said. "They deserve it."

"And then, Lisanro, get ready for your father's welcome." Tiberius shrugged and left the cabin. "I bet he's prepared a welcoming ceremony for you!"

"Tiberius, what are your plans for the future?" Jules asked.

"Arrangements—" Tiberius put down his teacup.

"First and foremost, Uncle, you should probably prepare yourself mentally." Tiberius looked at Jules seriously.

"Your White Legion, especially your veterans, you need to be prepared for them to leave the Legion."

"As expected." Jules didn't even look up, continuing to wipe the sword in his hand.

"After all this, our soldiers have all become quite wealthy, with pockets full of gold and silver coins. Now that they've become rich, why would they continue to live a life of risking their lives on the edge? That's impossible."

"Yes," Tippy said, slightly unwilling.

He had painstakingly built up a "lightning band," only to be told that these former slaves, now small-time tycoons, had absolutely no intention of continuing to work for him.

This is the only powerful "knife" that he can truly grasp in this chaotic world.

If he puts down the knife, he will revert to being that helpless twelve-year-old (oh, he's thirteen now) boy, at the mercy of fate.

[What a fucking contradiction.] Tiberius cursed inwardly.

Now he finally understands why bosses are unwilling to give employees raises.

The thought that they would leave him after he paid them enough money, lay down their swords, and retire to their hometowns pained Tiberius.

It wasn't because of any particularly deep feelings, but because this unit was a weapon he was used to wielding, and he wasn't very willing to put it down.

But even though Tiberius was reluctant, he realized that things had changed.

In the past, no matter how tough the training or how fierce the battles, the atmosphere in the army was tense, oppressive, or ruthless like that of desperate men.

Things are different now. There's a lot more laughter in the cabin, and lots of discussions about "going home to buy land," "marrying a beautiful wife," and "opening a small shop."

Of course, some people were still polishing their armor, but Tiberius could tell at a glance that they weren't preparing for the next battle, but rather for making it into a family heirloom.

Of course, I can understand. When I first got rich, my goal was to buy a large tract of fertile land, build an estate, hire a group of reliable guards and capable servants, fill the warehouses with grain, and store fine wine in the cellars. I would sleep until I naturally woke up every day, eat the best food, occasionally ride horses, hunt, read books, play with cats, and no longer worry about being trampled to death by war elephants, pierced by heavy cavalry, or covered in arrows the next day—to live a completely decadent and corrupt feudal life.

However, Tiberius would rebuke his soldiers if they had such thoughts.

"Slacking ambition is a disgrace; every soldier carries a marshal's baton on their back!"

However, Tiberius himself mocked himself.

"Come on. Even they don't believe this nonsense. Who are we? We're mercenaries, former slaves, fugitives, outlaws banded together for survival and money, not some noble lord with family honor and chivalry. Titles? Marshals? Can you eat those or exchange them for money?"

Jules' voice was calm: "I won't force you. The bonuses for your military achievements will be doubled. Those who are wounded or killed in battle will receive triple compensation. Anyone who wants to leave with the money can leave amicably after our victory celebration in Ries; we'll still be brothers when we meet again."

"As for those who are willing to give me the face of a faithful follower and continue to follow me, Jules Maud, you are welcome, and the rules remain the same."

[Those who just walk away are idiots.] Tiberius thought to himself.

[Don't they realize the current situation?! Jules Moder, with his Golden Spurs, achieved a decisive victory against overwhelming odds! After capturing the upstream crossing, he penetrated deep into enemy territory, striking directly at their heart (though he only briefly lingered near their doorstep). He also just nearly annihilated a main force of Valantis on the main battlefield, capturing their banner and even "cursing" their general. His fame and prestige are at their zenith!]

[At a time like this, if we return to Riss, won't Lord Lisandro and the Governor's Council treat him like a precious treasure?]

"City defense commander" or "citizen militia commander" are the bare minimum; he might just be given an honorary general title. At the very least, he'll be given the position of captain of the dock and port garrison!

[Following him means you've secured a stable, lucrative job in Ries!]

Leaving now would be foolish, short-sighted! By then, will the status, resources, and opportunities to make money be any less than they are now?

However, among those who leave, there will definitely be those who use their savings to improve their lives.

But another part—ah, Tiberius was not surprised at all:

It seems that as soon as they arrived in Ries, their souls were captivated by the girls of the "Fragrant Garden" and the dice of the "Golden Bull" casino.

In a few months, no, maybe a few weeks, the tavern will be filled with a bunch of penniless, debt-ridden "former Cannibal heroes," boasting about their "glorious deeds" of fighting alongside "The Keeper of the Faith," "The Lightning Boy of Jules," and driving the Tiger Robe Army into the river. At the same time, they'll shamelessly try to sell their "extensive" combat experience to some fat merchant or scheming minor nobleman, begging for a job as a guard or to risk their lives again.

They would boast with great enthusiasm to anyone willing to buy them a drink about their glorious exploits following "Tiberius the Lightning" and "Jules the War God," and vigorously promote their "extensive" combat experience in exchange for the next job—or simply a full meal and a beer.

Of course, that has nothing to do with Jules and his men. In the mercenary business, it's all about settling accounts and getting paid—it's that simple.

"Speaking of which, what did Lisangluo say about letting the brothers invest in real estate and start some small businesses?" Jules' lips twitched slightly, but he still asked the question.

Tiberius's lips curled up.

"Lisanlo? His attitude was very good. He said, 'Tiberius, this is an opportunity! My father can help these brothers who want to settle down. He has so many stable properties in Ries and the disputed lands that need reliable people to manage them, and there are also shares of highly promising real estates, manors, and even small mines available for internal transfer—at absolutely fair prices!'"

Tiberius, looking at Lisanrona's face as he tried to conceal his shrewdness as a businessman and put on the act of "working for the benefit of his brothers," knew perfectly well what was going on.

Whatever "industry investment news" or "real estate opportunities" it is, nine times out of ten, the money ends up in the pockets of the Luo Jiaer family, or becomes a new bond binding these veterans to serve that old fox, Lisangzhuo.

"Actually, that works too." Jules nodded after hearing this.

"Even though that smiling old fox, Lisangzhuo, stands at the end of this road, it's still better than losing everything at the casino or being swindled to death by a conman. At least the old fox guarantees that your investment is unlikely to be wasted. No matter how shameless he is, he wouldn't dare to run off with all the money of a group of former mercenaries at once, unless he's suicidal."

"But casinos and dens of iniquity are different."

"Oh, and I'm also thinking of designing a relatively respectable identity for Vito and Old Tom."

Jules looked at the gleaming sword and said in a low voice.

"Many of them have spent half their lives risking their lives for me, Jules. Now our luck has turned around, we have money, and the brothers are going to live a decent life."

"Brothers, you've followed me, the faithful one," Jules risked his life, all for a peaceful life, free from worries about food and drink, to start a family and build a career.

"But as the leader, I know the ins and outs of this city-state better than they do."

"For people like us, having money without status is like being a fat sheep waiting to be slaughtered. The money comes quickly but goes quickly, and without the protection of corresponding status and reputation, it will be a disaster."

Tiberius understood what Jules was planning to do.

"I understand, Uncle. Simply having money isn't enough. In the eyes of those Risi nobles, officers, and wealthy merchants, you'll always be an outsider," he said, implying that you won't face difficulties in daily life, work, buying land, or even starting a small business.

"So, Uncle, you mean, honorary citizens of Ries? You're planning to give them that status?" Tiberius asked tentatively.

"Yes," Jules nodded.

"It shouldn't just be an empty title. There should be official documentation, preferably registered with the Senate or the First Governor and publicly granted. With this title, it will be much easier for them to acquire property, participate in trade, and even for them or their children to pursue official careers or join the citizen army. They will suffer much less harassment and exploitation. This is the long-term solution."

"I spoke with Lisanro, and he said there was no problem. In fact, the governor wants to hold a grand ceremony, and even have the First Governor of Bambaro personally present Vito and the others with certificates, proving that they are honorary citizens of Rees —"

But as Jules sketched out his beautiful vision, Tiberius was faced with a series of images:

In the solemn Governor's Council Hall, the elegantly dressed but shrewd-eyed governors and wealthy merchants sat and observed.

On the high platform, Governor Bambaro, known for his shrewd self-interest, wore an impeccable, formulaic smile as he handed the parchment certificate to those standing below—

Vito—that old killer with a foul mouth, who killed without hesitation and secretly enjoyed reading collections of love poems—struggled to straighten his back and put on a serious expression. As a worldly veteran, a rugged-looking artistic youth—oh, middle-aged, Tiberius believed he could say a few nice words and provide plenty of emotional value.

Dmitri and Habro, they might be relatively more normal, but only relatively—they'd be incredibly nervous, their legs would go weak—well, that certainly provided Governor Bambaro with plenty of emotional value.

Lezapo, born into a minor noble family, was not a concern for Tiberius.

Old Tom's scarred face must have been taut, but his eyes were probably fixed on the food at the banquet, and he was probably cursing under his breath, wondering why the First Governor was talking so much nonsense and if he could hurry up so he could go eat.

Calvin, Leon, and Halvin—ha, these seasoned veterans. They'd pay more attention to the governor's clothes and accessories than his certificates, estimating their value. Their smiles might be a bit roguish, and their movements less than standard, but generally they wouldn't stray too far—after all, practicality is paramount.

However, Tiberius vowed that after the certificates and badges were awarded, they would take the opportunity to bite into them to see if they were real gold or just gilded.

Sevita—Oh, oh, by the gods/the seven gods/the king of light/the drowning god, this is absolutely the biggest destabilizing factor in the entire scene, a nightmare scene in Tiberius’s imagination!

Tiberius was not at all surprised that the Ironborn boy would probably look arrogant and impatient, feeling that this ceremony was far less enjoyable than drinking rum on the deck and shouting "The dead are not dead, they will rise again, and with greater force!"—who knows if he would subconsciously ask if he could exchange the certificate for money for rum or gold coins, and then start talking at length about the "ancient road" and "iron coins".

Then, he would most likely scrutinize the silver tableware and gold candlesticks at the banquet, and then try to find a way to steal a few.

[This scene—it's too shocking, and too—bizarre.] Tiberius's lips twitched, and he quickly suppressed this absurd thought.

"Uh, I don't dare to think about it—" he muttered under his breath.

Tiberius snapped out of his mental reverie, coughed lightly, and said to Le, "Uncle, this idea—is excellent, truly. It's a long-term guarantee for the brothers."

"However, we may need to put some thought into the details of the ceremony and—well, the training of the staff—beforehand."

Especially on Sevita's side.

Jules's lips twitched almost imperceptibly, clearly indicating that he too had considered certain possible scenarios.

A spectacular scene.

"I know. So I've left this to Vito to take the lead in making preparations. He knows when to put on a show and can teach them a few tricks to handle situations."

"As for Sevita—I'll have Lisanro find a clever servant to keep an eye on him," he said, reminding him what to do and what not to do. If all else fails, he'll tell him that if he performs well at the ceremony, he'll be given a barrel of the finest ale and double the reward afterwards.

"Let's do it this way," Tippi prayed, sounding somewhat desperate.

"Giving them a dignified home and security is also the responsibility of those in power. I hope Governor Bambaro's speech will not be too long."

"With an honorary citizenship, things will be much easier from here on out," Jules sketched out the blueprint.

"Let Lisangzhuo handle it, under the guise of rewarding military merit and restoring production, sell it to us at an extremely low price. With a tax-exempt certificate, we'll hardly have to hand over anything for the first few years; all the output will be ours. Let the brothers become manor owners, with land, property, and status, enough for a stable retirement, and also to take care of the brothers who come after them."

"The garrison in the city and the port has always lacked officers with combat experience. Sending a few of our brothers in as captains or deputy captains is a respectable but lucrative position with good inside information. It's like planting a nail in the Ries system."

"A mundane clerical job, like a checker at the port cargo registry or a paperwork assistant for merchant ships entering and leaving the port—though I bet only those two literate, cunning guys like Lezapo and Vito could do it; the rest are just roughnecks, how could they possibly understand it?"

"In short, they all have some status, but they're not exactly noble. However, they're respectable enough to be mentioned in public, right?" Tiberius concluded.

"The key point is that it won't threaten the positions of the real elites in Ries. It's stable, affordable, and offers some hope for the future."

"Yes, absolutely right." Jules nodded.

"If we really give them titles like 'knight,' 'noble,' or 'governor,' we can expect to be met with hostility. If we elevate them too much too quickly, they'll fall hard. We need to take it one step at a time, establish a solid foundation, and then consider other things."

"The only problem is with Sevita—and his wolf-like outlaws—" Jules asked cautiously.

"Don't think about it, Uncle." Tiberius waved his hand.

"As for that savior of Sevita's, and his pack of wolves who get excited at the smell of the sea, they wouldn't even give your respectable arrangements a second glance."

He shrugged, his tone certain: "Sevita's only concern these past few days is one thing—ships, ships he can legally rob, and the paper that allows him to legally rob them. He's been pestering Lisanro the whole time!"

Jules' eyes flashed: "You mean—a letter of marque?"

"That's right." Tippi nodded slightly.

"And it can't be a small-scale operation. It has to be a privateering charter issued by the Governor's Council of Rees, bearing its official seal, with a broad scope of authorization and generous profit-sharing terms."

"Also, help them get two or three more longships that are fast, sturdy, and can carry both spoils and people, or convert them into merchant ships."

"For them, this is more valuable than a hundred manors and the title of garrison captain. With this, they are loyal allies in the defense of the Ries's seas," and "a sharp sword against the shipping of Valantis." They can continue doing what they do best and love to do, while openly making a fortune and incidentally helping Ries cut off enemy trade routes. A win-win, no, a win-win-win."

"Uh, he also said something about Tiberius, that once I turn the Narrow Sea into my own lair, every bit of gold and silver I plunder will be yours, since you're our captain without a ship." Tiberius imitated Severus's Iron Clan-style speech and couldn't help but laugh.

"He's even thought of names for the ship: 'The Revengeful Lightning' and 'The Tiberius Blessed by the Drowned God'—he really insists on that name."

"Very well, very well." Jules raised an eyebrow. "Letting them go to sea is fine too, after all, he can't be kept on land."

"But Tiberius, to let him get older before he gets involved in shipbuilding, licenses, and recruiting outlaws—a fifteen-year-old captain, that's too outrageous! It's not an honor, it's a joke, and a death sentence. The sea is more brutal than the land, and he needs time to truly mature and learn to do more than just talk with courage and an axe."

"As for you? My uncle, the first thing you need to do is probably to find some kind of identity, right?" Tippi looked at Jules with a slightly mischievous expression.

What are you waiting for? Why don't you marry Miss Johanna?

"Indeed, Tiberius. Now, I want to talk about you, and our family—" Jules looked into Tiberius's eyes and calmly took out a letter from his pocket.

"Are you curious why you're following me, a mercenary leader from Essos? Are you wondering why I'm so familiar with Westeros? If you observe closely, you'll find that most of my veterans have a Westeros background, my main force consists of Westeros knights and the second sons of nobles, and we ourselves are typical Westeros people —"

"Our family?" Tiberius frowned. "No family?"