"Lord Corleone..." Rorge opened his mouth to explain, but was interrupted by a burst of wild cheers.
The crowd erupted instantly, all attention drawn to the entrance of the fighting pit.
Corleone raised a hand, gesturing for him to shut up, his gaze calmly cast downwards.
"Watch the match first."
Although he was also very curious about what Rorge's trump card was, the environment here was too noisy, obviously unsuitable for discussing important secrets.
Receiving Corleone's approval, Rorge finally breathed a sigh of relief temporarily, sitting honestly beside him, his posture much more restrained.
Under the gaze of countless fervent eyes, a fat man walked out from one side of the fighting pit.
He wore only a brown hardened leather armor on his upper body, his thick arms exposed.
Most striking was the leather apron on his chest, splattered with darkened bloodstains. This attire made him look every bit like a butcher.
"Bod."
Seeing him enter, Rorge immediately leaned close to Corleone with great discernment, clapping along with him while introducing: "This guy used to be an honest butcher, making a living slaughtering livestock for noble lords. His skills were good, and he saved up quite a bit of money."
"Only later, one day he came home and found his wife having an affair with a male prostitute from the Street of Silk."
"So he killed his wife?"
Corleone raised his eyelids slightly, his tone without any fluctuation.
In Westeros, such stories were not fresh, even somewhat clichéd.
"Yes."
Rorge smacked his lips: "Actually, he didn't intend to do anything at first, just planned to drive that pretty boy away and be done with it. But his wife was determined to run away with that guy. No matter how Bod knelt down and begged her, that woman wouldn't relent."
"Not only that, she also took out Bod's life savings right in front of him, planning to take that money and fly far away with her lover."
"Stupid."
Corleone gave this evaluation.
Women often fail to truly realize that their strength is always at an absolute disadvantage in front of men. Perhaps usually men choose to tolerate some of their temper tantrums, or even let them hit and scold.
But when she truly enrages a man, in a situation where the other party gets serious, a woman will have no power to fight back.
"You are very right, Lord Corleone."
Hearing his evaluation, Rorge agreed: "In a fit of rage, Bod slaughtered that couple with his cattle-killing knife."
"Then, he sold the materials to a stall owner selling bowl of brown in Flea Bottom."
His tone even carried a trace of appreciation: "It is said that the first bowl stewed from that pot of brown soup was bought by Bod himself, and he drank it mouthful by mouthful in front of all the diners."
"Very cheap, a big full bowl, only two coppers."
Hearing this, Corleone raised his eyebrows slightly, looking sideways at Rorge: "How do you know so clearly?"
Rorge chuckled: "This matter caused quite a stir in Flea Bottom back then. The Gold Cloaks wanted to hang him according to the law."
"It was me who spent fifty Gold Dragons to bail him out."
"Later, having nowhere to go, he worked in this fighting pit. Have to say, this guy can fight. Back then, besides 'Biter', Bod earned the most money under me."
Speaking of this, Rorge suddenly paused.
Because he remembered in time that "Biter" died at the hands of the person before him.
He quickly shut up, glancing at Corleone somewhat apprehensively.
Towards this, Corleone waved his hand to indicate it didn't matter. His breadth of mind wasn't so narrow that mentioning a dead person was taboo.
However, he raised another question.
"Since you could bribe the Gold Cloaks to save Bod back then, how come you yourself were sentenced to death later?"
As soon as these words came out, Rorge instantly revealed a twisted smile mixed with resentment and self-mockery.
"Heh... capsized in the gutter, betrayed by people under me."
"Those guys complained I didn't share enough money and blocked their way. The leader was Raff. Speaking of which, this kid's life was saved by me back then... sigh, why talk about this, it's all in the past."
He shook his large head: "But the main reason was that the Commander of the Gold Cloaks changed."
"The previous Commander of the Gold Cloaks was Janos Slynt. That guy had a black heart, insatiably greedy, but as long as the money was right, anything could be discussed."
"Only later he was accused of corruption, stripped of his cloak, put on black, and sent north. Jacelyn Bywater, who replaced him, was a stubborn diehard who wouldn't listen to reason, only recognizing his chivalry and the King's law, not wanting Gold Dragons at all."
Suddenly, Rorge's tone became gloating again: "But fortunately, I heard that kid was blown to pieces by wildfire in the Battle of the Blackwater, corpse and bones gone. Serves him right, haha!"
Hearing him say this, Corleone nodded, expressing understanding.
In just over a year, the power changes and personnel fluctuations in King's Landing affected every corner.
People like Rorge or Raff, although considered top figures in Flea Bottom, were as insignificant as a speck of dust in front of true power holders. Perhaps until the day they died, they wouldn't even be qualified to have their names known by them.
"Since you know this Bod so well."
Tapping his knuckles lightly on his knee, Corleone turned to look at Rorge, asking in a bland tone: "Then what do you think are our chances of winning this bet?"
Hearing this, Rorge immediately grinned, revealing an absolutely confident smile.
"We will definitely win, Lord Corleone!"
He said decisively: "I suggest what you should consider now is, if that damn cripple Raff wants to renege after losing later, how we should break his other leg too!"
Seeing him so confident, the corners of Corleone's mouth also rose slightly, outlining a meaningful arc.
Winning this match was just the first step of his plan.
As an outsider with no family or background, all he could rely on were his own brain and that money-grubbing cheat.
And Jaime...
Their friendship was indeed good, but he couldn't possibly demand endlessly from Jaime.
Corleone knew very well that friendship required equality in status and identity to be maintained. If one side was always giving limitlessly, this friendship would run out sooner or later.
This Flea Bottom, although in the eyes of those big shots was smelly and dirty garbage they wished they could cut off like rotten flesh and throw away.
But in Corleone's view, this was the cornerstone for him to establish a foothold in King's Landing, and even build his own vast empire step by step!
Narrowing his eyes slightly, his gaze crossed the frenzied crowd to the other side of the venue.
Under everyone's gaze, the host of the fighting pit elongated his voice with all his strength, introducing loudly: "Next... entering the arena is an absolute new face!"
"From across the Narrow Sea..."
"—Iggo!!!"