Brienne left, and the hall fell into a brief silence.
Jaime suddenly grabbed the wine cup on the table and downed the full cup of cheap wine in one gulp, as if trying to use the sour liquid to extinguish the irritability and guilt in his heart.
Roose Bolton's gaze returned to Corleone in the shadows. He didn't speak.
He was waiting.
Waiting to see how this mysterious farmer would clean up this slightly awkward situation.
Yes, Roose did it on purpose.
Whether to detain Brienne as a hostage, frankly speaking, was not a necessary move for Roose Bolton.
The potential alignment of interests with Tywin Lannister and the long-term benefits of smoothly returning Jaime had long been weighed in his mind.
But this farmer named Vito Corleone made him uncomfortable.
Not fear, but a sense of threat from being out of control.
That calm confidence emanating from the other party, as if born with the ability to see through everything, triggered Roose's defensive instincts.
In other words, he wanted to take back the initiative in the negotiation.
So, he specifically dug a pit for Corleone, breaking up this hard-won group, considering it a test for Corleone.
On the other hand, it allowed him to scrutinize more clearly whether Corleone was truly as he claimed, pursuing pure profit, or if he valued "friendship" as much as he said.
Under Roose's gaze, Corleone moved.
He slowly leaned out of the shadows. The firelight from the fireplace clearly illuminated his face for the first time.
There was no expected panic, resentment, or urgency to repair relationships, not even a trace of smugness from making progress in negotiations.
He was as calm as before, as if the fierce conflict just now was merely an insignificant interlude.
"Lord Bolton."
His emotionless voice even carried a hint of ease.
"Before receiving your written order and departing for King's Landing, I think we might discuss another 'business deal'."
This attitude made Roose even more curious.
This guy wasn't anxious for him to fulfill his promise, nor did he speak up for Brienne to request her release, but wanted to... discuss business?
Interesting.
"I'm listening."
He spoke softly, his pale pupils focusing on Corleone's face, his expression playful.
Hearing this, Corleone lightly touched his fingertips together, rested them on the table, and spoke eloquently:
" regarding the previous transaction, I think we should have reached a consensus. However, I am most keen on solving the worries of my partners, which helps establish longer-lasting trust."
"For example... when the dust settles on the war in the South and you need to lead your loyal Northern army back home, how to retake Moat Cailin from those Ironborn krakens with minimal cost."
"Moat Cailin!"
Hearing this, Roose Bolton sat up straight unconsciously, and even his pupils couldn't help but contract slightly.
After all, Moat Cailin was the only chokepoint into and out of the North, and now it had fallen into the hands of the Ironborn.
And those guys were stubborn and tough. Even if his overall plan succeeded perfectly, he would eventually face the embarrassing situation of staring at the mighty pass unable to enter.
But now Corleone actually said... he had a way to retake Moat Cailin?
Is this farmer boasting shamelessly, or...
Roose Bolton's reaction was clearly observed by [Insight].
Corleone pursed his lips and began to introduce his "business."
"The reason Moat Cailin is called the 'Throat of the North' and is impregnable lies in its unique geography."
"Surrounded by swamps, with solid walls. A frontal assault is a fool's strategy that will only make your loyal Northern soldiers shed blood in vain to fertilize that marshland."
"So what we need to do is not to attack it, but... to make it 'rot' from the inside."
"Rot?" Roose repeated the word, appearing quite interested.
"Correct." Corleone nodded. "Step one: You can dispatch troops to encircle Moat Cailin from both sides, completely cutting off its connection with the outside."
"Moat Cailin has been unmanned for centuries. There is no stored grain inside. The Ironborn came out to raid almost lightly equipped, impossible to carry large amounts of food. Soon, food shortages will occur within the walls, even leading to internal strife."
Hearing this, Roose nodded, but remained noncommittal.
This suggestion was standard, and they had already begun arranging to do so.
"Step two."
Corleone continued, "We can arrange for people to approach the walls of Moat Cailin at night."
"You want to launch a sneak attack?"
Hearing this, Roose Bolton frowned slightly.
Although reason told him Corleone shouldn't propose such a stupid suggestion, he couldn't help reminding, "For thousands of years, no one has ever been able to storm Moat Cailin from the south."
"That's because Torrhen Stark surrendered fast enough when facing Aegon the Conqueror and his dragons." Corleone chuckled first, then shook his head.
"No, my lord, I am not suggesting you launch a sneak attack. That would be too foolish."
"I mean, we can send people... preferably children with clear voices, to sing Ironborn ballads like 'The Iron Rain' or 'The Blood Cup' under the walls every night."
"What's the use of that?"
Roose Bolton clearly didn't think much of it and asked directly.
"Imagine." Corleone grinned. "When they have been cut off from food for days, starving, shivering behind damp, cold walls, tortured by homesickness and despair at night, hearing songs from their homeland, hearing the innocent voices of children... how do you think those Ironborn, far from the waves and trapped in an isolated city, will feel?"
He didn't need Roose to answer and continued on his own: "They will think of their barren but familiar islands. They will ask themselves why they should die of hunger and cold in this strange swamp for a worthless stronghold."
"In other words, they will get... homesick."
"The children's singing will be like the sharpest chisel, prying open their hard shells bit by bit, deeply planting fear and longing for home into their hearts."
"Soon, that despair will spread faster than any plague."
Listening from the side, Jaime involuntarily felt a chill crawl up his spine.
He imagined the scene: suffering in hunger and cold, hearing songs symbolizing home and freedom so close yet so far away...
By the Seven, this was simply the cruelest torture of the soul!
Thinking of this, he couldn't help glancing at Corleone, his heart shivering.
This guy's grasp of the human heart is truly terrifyingly precise!
What made Jaime feel even more suffocated was that he couldn't help but start associating: If I were locked in Harrenhal and Stark sent people to sing Westerlands songs in my ear at night, would I collapse because of it?
The answer... even he didn't know.
On the other side, hearing Corleone's suggestion, even Roose couldn't help but have his eyes light up, revealing undisguised appreciation on his face for the first time.
This idea was simply brilliant!
It perfectly avoided force, striking directly at the weakest part of human nature, causing suspicion and division within the Ironborn, and even directly causing them to lose combat effectiveness!
Vito Corleone, truly a formidable fellow!
However, Corleone seemed to think their shock wasn't enough.
He tapped the table lightly, pulling Roose back from his thoughts, and then threw out the final killer move, the most appalling suggestion.
"Step three... create a plague!"
"Plague?"
"Plague!"
Two exclamations sounded simultaneously from Jaime and Roose.
After all, in ancient times where medical conditions weren't good, this thing was basically synonymous with death and despair!
But... Corleone actually said it so easily and directly?
Facing their questioning, Corleone lowered his head slightly. Half his face sank into the shadows again, his lips pursing into a cold arc.
He spoke slowly, his voice becoming mesmerizing, like a devil bewitching hearts in legends.
"After the siege has lasted a week, the defenders' rations will be stretched, their nerves most fragile."
"At this time, we can select a few carcasses of diseased livestock... or human corpses, preferably those who died of fever, and use light catapults to fling them into the city in the dead of night."
"At the same time, make similar arrangements at their water sources."
Saying this, Corleone looked at Roose with sharp eyes. "Within three days, the Ironborn in the city will discover that people around them start developing inexplicable fevers, vomiting, and suspicious red spots or ulcers on their bodies."
"They might not think this is due to viral infection, but attribute it all to those ethereal... gods!"
Gulp~~~~
The sound of swallowing saliva was audible.
Sitting beside Corleone, Jaime breathed rapidly, feeling a chill rush from the soles of his feet straight to the top of his head. He looked at his "friend" in disbelief, his emerald eyes full of horror.
He had seen the cruelty of the battlefield and strategems. In the Battle of the Whispering Wood, he was captured because he fell for Robb Stark's stratagem.
But...
Too terrifying!
Such a cold, vicious plan made even him, the "Kingslayer," feel palpitating fear.
But he had to admit, if they really did as Corleone said, this could completely avoid losses from a frontal assault, almost conducting a psychological and biological war of extermination at minimal cost.
But... it was too venomous!
How venomous?
Even Roose Bolton was silent for a long time.
He didn't say a word, his pale eyes staring dead at Corleone. As cruel as the Lord of the Dreadfort was, for a moment, he didn't know how to... choose.
However, Corleone didn't stop persuading. Instead, he continued to use his incredibly bewitching voice to urge: "This is the best, simplest, and most direct method, my lord."
"At that time, the self-righteous Ironborn will erupt into the most extreme panic and start killing each other."
"They will draw swords against each other for the last mouthful of clean water, to stay away from those infected companions. Trust will completely collapse!"
"I dare assert that within a few days, terrified people will actively open the city gates to surrender, begging for treatment and mercy. Or, we just need to wait patiently until the chaos inside ends, then swagger in and easily take over a... castle full of corpses."