"Ser Gregor, as per your instructions, we've brought one thousand gold dragons." said Allen Serrett.
Two soldiers from the Serrett family opened a chest, revealing a dazzling pile of glittering gold coins.
Raff the Sweetling grinned with satisfaction.
Scribe licked his lips.
Dunsen's hand went to his sword hilt, and Polliver's eyes went wide.
Julie managed to stay composed, but cavalryman Thomasson nearly fell headfirst into the chest of gold.
Maester Harry was inwardly shocked. That much money? That didn't seem like the Serrett family.
Gregor did a quick mental calculation: a thousand gold dragons was roughly equivalent to ten million on Earth.
For a great noble house, it wasn't an astronomical sum, but still far beyond the usual price for a hostage.
Typically, ransom for someone of this status would be in the range of three to five hundred gold dragons.
But here they were, offering a full thousand despite already losing Arva Serrett. That struck Gregor as odd.
In his past life, Gregor hadn't been a business mogul, but he'd haggled in his share of street markets. The first offer was never final, it was just the opening gambit, meant to be slashed in half before settling.
Yet the Serretts hadn't bargained at all.
They had accepted Gregor's asking price without complaint.
No proper merchant dealt like this.
Even if the Serretts were wealthy, this wasn't how deals were done, especially after losing one of their own and gaining a blood feud in return.
Something didn't add up.
Fully armed and clad in armor, Gregor wore a massive flat-topped helm crowned with an iron fist jutting toward the sky. It looked imposing, but was completely impractical. He made a mental note to have the iron fist removed later. Shedding a bit of weight was always a good idea, every ounce counted.
His visor was also thick, designed to stop arrows, with only a narrow slit for vision and tiny holes for breathing.
In this world, metalworking was highly advanced. The smiths were skilled in crafting from gold, silver, copper, and iron, producing beautiful decorations, armor, and coins, all with superior craftsmanship that often surpassed Earth's. Their glasswork, too, was refined, used to make exquisite ornaments. With such solid foundations, Gregor hoped to someday create a few items of his own design.
…
Gregor's expression remained unreadable. If the Serretts were willing to pay one thousand dragons without even attempting to negotiate, it likely meant they were already planning revenge. After all, when a man is doomed to die, it makes no difference whether he costs one coin or a thousand. Why make it harder than it had to be?
Still, Gregor stayed cautious. Fully armored and carrying his greatsword, he remained on guard in case the Serretts tried anything sudden.
He glanced at the gate.
The cavalry Allen Serrett had brought were still waiting outside, Gregor hadn't let them into the courtyard. Only the two guards who had carried the chest were allowed in.
"My lord, would you like to count the gold dragons?" Allen asked respectfully.
Count them?
Gregor recalled those movie scenes from his previous life where people would bite gold coins to check their authenticity. But what if someone had smeared poison on the gold…?
It's good to be wary of others, even if you mean them no harm.
"No need to count." Gregor said. "Dunsen, Thomasson, take the chest inside."
"Yes, my lord."
A thousand dragons weighed around a hundred pounds.
Dunsen and Thomasson carried the chest into Gregor's bedroom and locked the door behind them.
They were suddenly very rich.
One thousand gold dragons. Ha! Hahaha!
Raff no longer needed credit to have the family crest forged in Lannisport. He could afford to have it made from solid gold.
Tonight, the high-class brothels of Lannisport would welcome their favorite patrons, the Rhoynish courtesans would be busy indeed.
With money in their pockets, drinking, feasting, and brothel-hopping were the top three pleasures of Gregor and his men.
"My lord." Allen said with a courteous smile, "you've taken the gold. Would you now return Ser Ado to us?"
Gregor nodded.
His eyes, behind the narrow slit of his visor, were calm and calculating as he stared at Allen.
If they were planning anything, it would happen after Ado Serrett was released.
Ado wasn't just anyone, he was the eldest son of Lord Tyger Serrett, heir to the Serrett family.
True, the small group with Allen, even with the thirty-odd swords waiting outside, was no match for Gregor's forces. But who knew what might be hiding just beyond the Silverhills?
Gregor's caution now far exceeded that of his former self.
The old Gregor wouldn't have bothered with armor on his own turf, at Clegane Keep. With his greatsword in hand, he'd feared no one, not even wounds.
But this new Gregor, with a past life's memories, thought differently. What if they used poison-tipped arrows?
The scene of Gregor being tortured by the Viper's poison in Game of Thrones was still vivid in his memory.
Better safe than sorry.
In this world of intrigue and betrayal, of darkness and fire, Gregor trusted criminals more than nobles.
Julie stepped forward and cut Ado's bonds. He thanked her briefly, then marched straight toward Allen, not looking back.
He was angry, furious, in fact. His brothers had acted recklessly. Why pay a thousand gold dragons for him? Five hundred would have sufficed!
Without another word, Ado Serrett mounted his horse and rode out of the courtyard. Gregor said nothing either.
Now that the hostage was gone, the Serrett's could openly declare war on Gregor. But they had to consider the consequences. If they angered him, Gregor might burn Silverhill to the ground and kill every last Serrett.
Allen turned to Gregor with a polite smile and said, "Bring in the Arbor wine."
Arbor wine was this world's finest vintage, the Rolls-Royce of wines, in Gregor's eyes.
Raff the Sweetling chuckled. "Serrett, why didn't you bring the wine in with the gold, to show proper respect to Ser Gregor?"
Allen laughed. "Raff, what if Ser Gregor had taken the gold but refused to give back Ser Ado? We would've had to carry the wine back."
"But now that the money's been taken and the man returned, you're willing to give us the wine?"
"Exactly!"
Several barrels of Arbor wine were brought in.
The wine came in large, round-bellied wooden casks. Each barrel was painted blue and adoned with a cluster of deep purple grapes, the sigil of House Redwyne from the Arbor. It served as the authentic mark of genuine Arbor wine, like a trademark from Earth.
Gregor and the others all swallowed unconsciously.
This was the finest wine in the world, Arbor wine, shipped across the Narrow Sea to the Free Cities and even farther to the mysterious lands of the East.
As soon as the casks were set down, Raff the Sweetling, Executioner Dunsen, Scribe Mark, and Polliver rushed forward.
The wine was even more enticing than the chest of gold dragons.
"These two barrels are red wine, and those two." Allen said, patting the barrels, "are rare golden wine, a gift from the Serrett family."
Their eyes nearly popped out of their heads.
Even Maester Harry's lips moved slightly.
Everyone had tasted the red Arbor wine before, but golden wine was another story, rarer, more expensive, and reserved only for the high nobility.
They had all heard of golden Arbor wine, but few had ever had the chance to taste it.
Gregor's crew were legends in the brothels and heroes of the bottle.
Polliver licked his lips and looked at Ser Gregor. "M-milord… can we…?"
"Take it inside. Bring the cups." Gregor said.
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