At these words, the several Kingsguard members looked at each other, their faces turning pale.
After all, they had been so focused on protecting the King just now that they completely forgot about Margaery; if she couldn't be found, that old woman from House Tyrell wouldn't let the matter rest.
Even as Kingsguard, they would likely be punished.
As for Corleone, who was being groundlessly accused, he didn't get angry with Joffrey; after all, he knew the boy's nature too well—his brain was as smooth as if there were no folds at all, so no matter what he said or did, it wasn't surprising.
However, Cersei, beside him, let out a timely sob, interrupting the fuming Joffrey.
"The Seven!"
She covered her face, her shoulders trembling incessantly, her voice choked with tears.
But Corleone could still see through the gaps in her fingers that the corners of her mouth were curling upward.
"Miss Margaery... she must have already..."
""
"Oh, poor child, she's only sixteen. If she ends up like that fool from House Stokeworth, what are we to do!"
"Even if she's found, I fear she might no longer be fit to be Queen..."
""
She spoke so naturally, so sorrowfully, that even Joffrey almost doubted if the shove he had seen with his own eyes was just a trick of the light.
However, Corleone shook his head.
This stupid woman, for the sake of a moment's pleasure, actually intended to ruin Margaery's virtue, even hoping she would be killed by the mob.
One must realize that with Loras gone, Margaery was the only link in the alliance between the Tyrells and Lannisters; by doing this, she was clearly pushing their most powerful ally to the opposing side.
This act of stupidity was on par with Robb Stark executing Lord Karstark.
But none of that mattered; after all, even if the Lannisters and Tyrells fought like dogs, it was none of Corleone's business—let the Old lion worry about it himself.
While today's riot could fool Joffrey, it certainly wouldn't fool the shrewd Tywin and Olenna Redwyne.
If anything really happened to Margaery, Corleone would surely be killed by those two old foxes working together.
Fortunately, though...
Just as Cersei was about to burst out laughing, a series of footsteps suddenly came from the alley.
Then, a short, stocky man stepped out with several others.
Noseless Rorge grinned, his smile looking worse than a sob, forming a sharp contrast with Cersei's sob that looked like a smile.
But that wasn't important; what mattered was the delicate woman he held in his arms.
It was Margaery Tyrell.
Her pale blue gown was torn, stained with filth and dust, her hair was disheveled, and her dirty face was covered in tear tracks.
Luckily, her clothes were still on; though messy, they weren't shredded. Her arms were tightly wrapped around Rorge's neck, as if only this hideous man could give her a sense of security.
Rorge walked up to Corleone, carefully set Margaery down, and then straightened his slightly hunched back with an expression of immense pride.
Having grown up in Flea Bottom, he had never imagined in his life that he would one day get to hold the future Queen.
So soft...
His fingers trembled slightly; the warm, smooth sensation seemed to linger in his palm, and for a moment, Rorge was somewhat reluctant to let go.
Margaery's legs buckled for a moment, but she managed to stand firm.
She looked up at Corleone, then at Joffrey, and finally gave Cersei a fierce glare.
Her lips trembled; she wanted to say something, but she restrained herself from lashing out on the spot.
"Your Majesty, Lord Corleone."
Rorge's voice was loud, audible to everyone: "We found Lady Tyrell in the alley. She was surrounded by a few men, but fortunately, we arrived in time, and she wasn't harmed at all!"
At these words, Cersei felt as if she had been slapped hard across the face, and she turned to glare angrily at Corleone.
Corleone didn't look at Cersei but walked straight to Margaery, took off his outer cloak, and draped it over her trembling shoulders.
"You're safe now, don't worry, Lady Tyrell."
Hearing this, a flash of resentment first crossed Margaery's eyes, then she stumbled a few steps into Joffrey's arms, weeping like a pear blossom in the rain.
"Oh, Your Majesty, it's so good to see that you are alright!"
She thought Joffrey would comfort her, but to her surprise, he only nodded blankly without saying a word. That Margaery was alive should be a good thing.
But... why did it always feel like...
By now, Cersei had regained her composure and stepped forward, feigning an attempt to hug Margaery: "My dear, thank the Seven, you're alright..."
""
But Margaery dodged her.
Cersei's arms froze in mid-air, her smile turning somewhat awkward.
Seeing this, she had no choice but to step forward to Corleone: "Thank you so much, Lord Corleone."
"It's nothing, it's only what I should do."
Corleone nodded and said righteously: "Protecting the King is the duty of every citizen of King's Landing, and Lady Margaery is the future Queen."
"If anything had happened to her, I believe the Hand of the King and Lord Tyrell would have been very... very angry."
He emphasized the last few words heavily; if Cersei wasn't completely stupid, she should be able to understand.
Clearly, although the Queen Regent was foolish, she wasn't as dim-witted as her royal son and instantly understood how impulsive her actions just now had been.
Taking a deep breath, although she was still indignant, she didn't speak up to accuse him further.
"Your Majesty."
Seeing Cersei's expression, Corleone also nodded and turned to Joffrey: "Regarding today's events, although it didn't happen within my Flea Bottom, as compensation, please leave all those rioters who attacked you to me to handle."
"Right..."
""
Hearing this, the King, whose personality was already flighty and logic peculiar, suddenly had his eyes light up and clamored: "Kill them, kill all those commoners!"
"I want everyone on this street executed!"
At these words, the people who were bound by ropes all glared at him with bloodshot eyes.
No one could have imagined that Joffrey, having just escaped danger, would make such an "enlightened" judgment in public, seemingly unafraid that their group might be killed before they even made it back to the Red Keep.
Fortunately, Corleone spoke up at the right time to advise: "Instead of killing them, I have a better suggestion, Your Majesty."
"What suggestion?" Joffrey asked curiously.
"Let them live," Corleone said. "But from now on, their lives no longer belong to them."
"Under my supervision, these people will work for Your Majesty until they die."
"Every ounce of their strength and every drop of their sweat will be used for atonement until their very last breath."
"This is crueler than death, because death is but a moment of pain, while working until death... is a long life of torment."
"Moreover, this will show everyone the mercy of the iron throne. You gave them a chance to live, even if this 'living' is more painful than death."
Hearing his proposal, Joffrey's eyes lit up.
This idea... was simply brilliant!
Without killing, there would be no bad reputation.
But these commoners would receive a punishment far more terrifying than death!
And it sounded very wise, like a decision a true king should make!
"Good!" Joffrey cleared his throat, trying to sound like an enlightened monarch: "So be it!"
"These people are yours, Corleone."
"I want them to work until they die, spending every minute in agony!"
"As you wish, Your Majesty." Corleone bowed slightly.
"Hehehe."
""
Joffrey wore a cruel smile, but he didn't notice that the bound people could almost not restrain themselves from laughing out loud.
Working for Corleone until death?
That was truly... fantastic!
You see, they were all low-level commoners who had trouble even finding food before Corleone arrived. The Place of Order provided food and housing, as well as a generous salary.
This wasn't a punishment at all; it was practically a reward!
"Furthermore," seeing Joffrey was happy, Corleone struck while the iron was hot: "To ensure such incidents never happen again, I request Your Majesty's permission to strengthen the security around Flea Bottom and form a security force of a hundred men to demonstrate the majesty of the iron throne."
"Of course, I will bear the costs myself."
"Good! Good!"
Joffrey agreed without a second thought, as every one of Corleone's suggestions seemed to be for his sake.
If not for his fear of his grandfather, he even felt that a talent like Corleone should simply be the Hand of the King!
"I must reward you, Corleone!"
He slapped Corleone's shoulder happily and shouted in excitement: "I must reward you. The Small Council needs people like you..."
""
"Your Majesty!"
"Joffrey!"
Seeing Joffrey actually attempting to promise a seat on the Small Council, Cersei and Corleone both rushed forward to interrupt him at the same time.
What a joke.
Those few positions were all in the Old lion's hands. If he were made to feel that Corleone's ambition was so great that he staged this whole play to achieve his goals, things would be difficult in the future.
As for Cersei, she felt a bit guilty, having just gotten rid of Loras and now nearly getting Margaery killed.
"Lord Corleone saved several of us; this is an act of knightly bravery and deserves to be rewarded."
She let out a long breath and raised her voice to ensure everyone around could hear: "Therefore, I believe Lord Corleone should be knighted as a true knight!"
Hearing this, Joffrey nodded vigorously: "Yes! He should!"
"How about this, I will personally dub you—"
"No, Your Majesty!"
Seeing this moron start coming up with reckless ideas again, Corleone quickly interrupted him.
Joffrey looked at Corleone in confusion, only to see his sincere eyes and earnest tone: "I am of humble birth, merely a Farmer. How could I be worthy of being dubbed by someone as noble as Your Majesty?"
"Exactly!"
Cersei also immediately stepped forward: "Bloodline is very important, but Corleone's actions today have also proven his courage, wisdom, and loyalty."
"How about this, Joffrey: order your great-uncle, Ser Kevan Lannister, to personally preside over the knighting ceremony at the Great Sept of Baelor."
"This way, Corleone's achievements are recognized without being too exaggerated."
She spoke with such high-sounding rhetoric that every word was beyond reproach.
The indecisive Joffrey's head spun from her words, and he nodded impatiently: "Then it's settled. Tomorrow morning, Uncle Kevan will knight you at the Sept."
At these words, Corleone finally revealed a genuine smile.
As Tywin's hand in the shadows, given the Old lion's methods of checks and balances, the chances of obtaining a title from him were minuscule; it could only be achieved through a setup.
Fortunately, despite a few minor hiccups, things had gone fairly smoothly.
Don't be fooled by the old woman Cersei helping him; it was because Corleone had said that even if Loras was gone, Tywin would likely marry her off at any time if the profit was sufficient.
To obtain Corleone's permanent solution, Cersei had no choice but to play along with him.
"Thank you, Your Majesty. Thank you, Queen Regent."
With his goal achieved, Corleone bowed slightly: "Please allow me to escort you back to the Red Keep. This road... is still not quite safe."
.
With that, he vaulted onto his horse, and the Dothraki Warriors raised the Black Hand banner.
Three pre-prepared carriages arrived. Joffrey got into one, slumping onto the cushions, completely exhausted.
He glanced out the window and saw Corleone riding beside the convoy, his back as straight as a sword, and a sense of security instantly filled his heart.
The procession moved further away.
All the clamor seemed to gradually settle. The entire riot had been very swift from start to finish, with almost no casualties.
Even the street where the dispute had initially broken out had become very clean and tidy again.
Save for... one missing corpse in white armor.