After eating the oatcake and drinking a small waterskin's worth of water, Corleone's strength had recovered significantly.
However, he deliberately rested for a while longer to appear less eager before standing up, walking over to Jaime, and squatting down to examine his injuries.
"Criminal! Abettor!"
"That damn man would have died from infection, but you healed him! Do you know how many more innocent people will die because you let him live?"
Before Corleone even touched Jaime's severed hand, a wave of curses assaulted his ears.
"Save it, my lady."
He didn't get angry. Instead, as he lifted Jaime's severed hand, he spoke calmly, "Don't try to restrain me from the moral high ground, because I truly don't have much in the way of morals."
"You... shameless!"
Seeing Corleone's indifferent demeanor left Brienne momentarily speechless. She couldn't even think of an insult, her face flushing red.
"Shameless?"
"That's completely irrelevant, Lady Brienne of Tarth."
He glanced at the woman who was half a head taller than Jaime, accurately called out her full name, and said in a deep voice, "Everything I do is merely to survive."
"There is no such thing as innocence in this world. can you honestly say you have never lied or done a single bad thing?"
"If I recall correctly, you swore an oath to protect Renly Baratheon, yet he was killed right under your nose."
Hearing this, Brienne, who was originally furious, froze first, then became even more annoyed, but couldn't find any words to refute him.
However, Corleone didn't intend to let her off. He continued relentlessly:
"I am alive because I possess a skill. Compared to those who were killed, I am very lucky."
"By the same token, you two are also very lucky people."
"Although the lion has lost a claw, it's far better than having his head chopped off."
"At least you have me, an 'abettor,' painstakingly examining your wounds to ensure you two lords can safely wait for your families to pay the ransom, no?"
These words seemed to be lecturing Brienne, but in reality, they were meant for Jaime's ears.
Corleone had seen early on that this man, who had always prided himself on his swordsmanship, was incredibly despondent over losing his right hand. He hadn't spoken a single word all day.
To accomplish Corleone's plan, he first had to get Jaime to pull himself together.
Sure enough, Jaime, who had been unresponsive, suddenly twitched. He raised his head. In the shadows, his emerald green eyes seemed covered with a layer of gray.
He looked at Corleone, who was cleaning his wound with a hot towel. There was not a ripple of emotion in his eyes, and his voice sounded somewhat dead.
"What is the difference between a lion without claws and one that is truly dead?"
Hearing this self-deprecating rhetoric, Corleone wasn't disappointed. Instead, he grinned.
A reaction is good.
With Jaime Lannister's mental fortitude, how could losing a mere right hand break him?
This guy is just stuck in a dead end for the moment; he needs some guidance.
However, Corleone didn't launch into a long speech immediately. instead, he picked up the severed hand, which had been covered in filth and only just cleaned, and examined it closely.
"Let me see... The cut is jagged, typical hacking wound. Looks like they didn't use a sword with good steel; looks more like it was chopped by an axe."
"Cartilage and bone fragments are mixed together. The wound is rotting badly. That you haven't developed a fever from infection yet... I must say, your constitution is excellent, Ser Jaime."
Hearing Corleone actually address him as "Ser" instead of "Kingslayer," a flicker of emotion appeared in Jaime's emerald eyes.
He lowered his gaze slightly and used his left hand to flick the severed hand hanging from his chest, making it sway.
"If you can reattach it, I promise my father will make you a Grand Maester..."
"One million Gold Dragons."
"What?"
Jaime was stunned for a moment, then looked up to see the other man's serious face.
"Give me one million Gold Dragons, and I can try to reattach it."
Corleone repeated seriously.
He wasn't joking. If he could recharge Gold Dragons and upgrade his [Surgery] skill to Lv5, maybe he really could do it.
However, this angered Jaime.
"Get lost! I don't need your treatment!"
The lion with the broken claw felt he was being mocked. He tried to forcibly pull his arm back, but Corleone suddenly pressed precisely on the wound!
"Aagh!!!"
Jaime cried out in pain, cold sweat pouring down his forehead, his body beginning to spasm.
"What are you doi..."
"Pain sensation remains, proving the nervous system is still functioning."
Just as Brienne wanted to shout a reprimand, she saw Corleone muttering calmly to himself.
"Congratulations, Ser. Your life is not in danger for now."
Only when Corleone released his finger from the wound did Jaime gasp for air, staring at him angrily.
However, the other party seemed not to care at all. While treating his wound, he continued indifferently, "Among the Night's Watch, there was a ranger known as the best."
"His name was Qhorin Halfhand. As the name suggests, half of his right hand was sliced off in battle."
"But the perseverance of a man of the Night's Watch is evidently stronger than a certain Kingsguard. Not only did he practice fighting with his left hand, but eventually trained it to be even stronger than his right!"
"That's impossible!"
Jaime scoffed at this remark, snorting contemptuously. "No one in the world can train their left hand to be more skilled than their right unless they are born left-handed."
Corleone still didn't get angry, just shook his head. "Don't say impossible. Nothing is impossible."
"Qhorin Halfhand is famous. Ask anyone in the North, and you'll hear about him."
Hearing this, Jaime's eyes lit up. A flame of hope seemed to ignite in his emerald eyes.
He wasn't someone who wallowed in self-pity at the first sign of a setback; otherwise, he wouldn't have served as a Kingsguard for over a decade while bearing the name "Kingslayer."
Now hearing there was a precedent, the proud Jaime didn't think he would be inferior to a mere brother of the Night's Watch.
He looked at Corleone, whose eyes were full of wisdom, and asked in confusion, "How do you know so much?"
"Unlike you great lords, Ser Jaime," Corleone answered patiently, "humble people like me must keep our eyes open at all times."
"I keep my friends close, but my enemies closer. That way, I can understand them better."
"You plan to resist?"
Hearing Corleone's blunt words, Jaime lowered his voice, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly as he pressed, "Just you? A... farmer who knows a bit of medicine?"
"Not me."
Carefully wrapping the severed hand with gauze, Corleone patted Jaime's arm gently. "It's 'us,' my friend."
"Us?"
Jaime snorted again. "Look at the three of us. A farmer, a Kingsguard without his sword hand, and a... woman who was nearly raped?"
"Forgive my bluntness, but as soon as we reach Harrenhal, they might chop your head off immediately."
"Of course, I am well aware of that."
Corleone shrugged, not denying it.
Given the nature of Vargo Hoat's gang, expecting them to be grateful to their savior was less realistic than expecting Brienne to become a polite lady.
However, under Jaime's gaze, Corleone moved closer unobtrusively and whispered:
"But I understand a principle: women and children can afford to be careless, but men cannot. In my environment, a moment of carelessness or a wrong word could cost you your life here."
"So, Ser, let us discuss a deal."
His tone was very plain, yet incredibly serious, as if he were truly discussing a business transaction of moderate importance.
"I will be very careful, solve the trouble facing us now, and bring you and your friend back to King's Landing together."
"And after that, I hope to receive my due reward."
Hearing Corleone's incredibly serious tone, Jaime flexed his severed arm, then exchanged a look with Brienne beside him.
In her eyes, Jaime saw only one word.
Do it!
The situation can't get any worse anyway!
"A Lannister always pays his debts."
Jaime Lannister seemed to transform back into that confident knight, laughing softly. "As long as you can help us return to King's Landing, I promise you will receive enough Gold Dragons to fill an entire bathtub."
"But before that, I need to know your plan, Vito Corleone."
"I can't tell you too much, but I can reveal a part of it first."
Corleone nodded. The candlelight shrouded half his face in shadow, while the other half remained in the light.
"That deputy commander, Urswyck."
"He will be our breakthrough point."
"You plan to support him in seizing power?" Brienne couldn't help interrupting, her tone disapproving.
"Jaime tried every method to buy them off earlier, but these mercenaries have no honor whatsoever..."
"No." Corleone shook his head, a meaningful smile curling his lips.
Then he reached into his pocket and touched the Gold Dragon he always kept close to his body.
"Urswyck will help us, not because he wants to, but because he has no choice."
"I'm going to make him... an offer he can't refuse."