Game of Thrones: The Impaler of the Blue Fork

Chapter 76: The New Greenery Under the Stone Mill and the Hidden Ledger

The ice floes of the Blue Fork River tumbled downstream with the surging, turbid current, crashing against the hidden piles on the bank and producing a dull, booming sound similar to a battering ram striking a city gate.

The deathly stillness in the air, created by prolonged freezing, was finally shattered by the violent sound of flowing water.

Spring brought no fragrance of flowers, but rather the fishy smell of thawing frozen soil.

Otto Hohenzollern stood beside the battlements on the second floor of the stone tower.

He changed into a clean black linen shirt, and his left shoulder was no longer as stiff as it had been before.

Although Maester Ilion's branding wound cleaning left a hideous charred scar, it also completely severed the lesion.

"My lord, the 'Eagle' of Haijiang City has landed."

The voice of Chief Steward Polliff came from the wooden stairs of the tower.

He was dressed shabbily today, with two deliberately torn slits in the cuffs of his sheepskin coat, revealing the yellowed, worn-out lining inside. He looked like a down-on-his-luck accountant whose savings had been emptied by the winter famine.

"Who is it?"

Otto didn't turn around; his fingers tapped lightly on the rough stone wall.

"Victor is Earl Jason's deputy tax collector and Maester Theron's nephew."

Pollifer walked up behind Oto, lowered his voice, and spoke with a barely suppressed shrewdness.

"He's someone who studied law in King's Landing, has his eyes on the top of his head, and his nostrils are stuffed with scented handkerchiefs. He's already complaining about the smell of lime here before he's even off the ship."

"Let him smell it. The strong smell of lime means we've been hit by a plague here, and many people have died."

Otto turned around.

"Did Torun lead people into the mountains to quarry stone?"

"They took it."

"Those sixteen fully armored soldiers, along with their newly acquired hook-and-sickle spears, were all crammed into the deepest mine shaft on the north slope."

"On the surface, the only ones left are those twenty wounded soldiers who are missing limbs and still have fevers."

Pollifer grinned.

"Let's go and greet our creditors."

On the muddy ground of the inner fortress, Victor wore a magnificent blue and purple robe, the silver eagle emblem on his chest jarringly bright in the dim sunlight.

He covered his mouth and nose tightly with a silk handkerchief and stepped across a puddle of snow mixed with horse manure with disgust.

Behind him followed four armored soldiers from the coastal city, each carrying a heavy bundle of iron chains and lever scales used for measuring land and weighing silver ingots.

"Your Excellency, Baron."

When Victor saw Otto descend the stone tower, he stopped five steps away and gave a very perfunctory bow.

"Lord Jason is worried about the defense of the Blue Fork River. The Duke is pressing him hard for payment for the winter wheat and the pig iron debt this winter."

"Lord Victor, as you can see."

Otto spread his right hand and pointed to the center of the square.

There, dozens of refugees were squatting listlessly in the muddy ditch, using broken wooden shovels to clear away the thawed mud.

The wheat porridge in the iron pot was so thin that you could see your reflection in it, and a few blackened vegetable leaves swirled on the surface of the water.

"A bout of dysentery took away thirty of my strong laborers. The iron-willed men's night raid also burned down the southern timber shed."

"I have to scrimp and save to buy medicine now."

Otto's voice was hoarse, carrying a sense of weakness from recovering from a serious illness.

As he spoke, he coughed violently a few times, even covering his mouth with a handkerchief, revealing a hidden but perfectly visible "bloodstain"—beetroot juice that Pollifer had prepared beforehand.

Victor frowned and took a half step back.

"Is this your silver coin for this month?"

Victor pointed to the two simple wooden crates that Pollifer had brought out.

The lid of the box was lifted, and inside were indeed dozens of silver ingots.

But during the smelting process, Otto deliberately had Cole add one-third lead slag and unrefined copper shavings.

The surface of the silver ingot had a grayish, even somewhat dull, deathly color.

"The mine shaft collapsed; this is the last bit of purity sifted from the mud. Lord Victor."

Pollyef groaned pitifully to the side.

"For these few boxes of goods, the men in our mine even pawned their pants to smugglers from the south."

Victor kicked the dusty silver ingot with the tip of his boot.

"The quality is too poor; it can't cover the debt from that expensive grain."

Although Victor complained, he gestured to the soldiers to quickly carry the box away.

"If the remaining debt is not paid off by the end of the month, the halberdiers of Haijiang City will personally come to seal up your salt mine."

"Hohenzollern, don't expect the Duke's golden seal to put food on the table."

The tax official hurriedly boarded the returning sailboat.

Once the silver eagle flag had completely disappeared around the bend in the river, Otto's previously hunched back suddenly straightened.

He wiped the sweet-smelling "bloodstain" from the corner of his mouth.

"Polliver, put it in the storeroom."

Otto uttered two words.

Pollifer, having reversed his earlier dejected state, darted like a nimble mouse to the hidden door on the side of the stone tower and let out a loud whistle.

"Squeak—"

The back door of the longhouse number two, which had been tightly closed, was pushed open.

Beneath the charred haystack, a well-disguised hidden door was revealed.

That was the secret warehouse that Otto had Cole and William dig out of the frozen ground, shovel by shovel, with their help that winter.

The soldiers carefully carried out three boxes of pure, high-quality silver ingots.

The bottom of each silver ingot is engraved with the unique mark of the Baron of the Blue Fork River.

This is the actual output for this month.

What Victor received was nothing more than scrap from the bottom of the mine and bad debts mixed with fakes.

"Sir, the Brecken family's 'Red Ship' has arrived as well."

Jack came running from the direction of the dock, carrying a heavy bag.

As the ice melted, the waterways of the Blue Fork River were fully revived.

A medium-sized barge bearing the Brecken family flag is steadily moored beside the log pier.

This time, the wheat unloaded from the ship was not stale wheat mixed with sand.

As the cowhide tarpaulin was lifted, bundles of southern wrought iron bars, carefully wrapped in grease, gleamed with an alluring dark gray light in the weak spring sunlight.

Those were truly high-quality items that could be used to forge breastplates and heavy crossbow bolts.

"And this too."

Jack lowered his voice and pulled a warm oilcloth bag from his pocket.

Otto took it and opened it.

Inside was half a sizzling, oily roasted lamb leg, a small packet of precious dried mint leaves, and two perfectly colored tangerines.

This was Maria's "return gift" for her diplomatic success in Baron Piper's territory, and also a gesture of goodwill from the Brecken family to their ally after tasting success in the white salt trade.

The brazier on the top floor of the stone tower was relit.

Otto, Pollifer, Toren, and Gareth sat around the rough stone table.

The fragrant lamb leg was deftly sliced ​​into several large pieces by Otto with his short sword, and the pieces were then stuck into the tips of each person's dagger.

The oil drips onto the red-hot coals, releasing an intoxicating aroma of meat.

This was the first real "meal" they had eaten this winter.

"That idiot Victor will definitely go back and tell Count Jason that Hohenzollern is so hungry that he's drinking mud soup mixed with salt."

Pollifer took a bite of the marbled mutton, hissing from the heat, but his eyes were full of pleasure.

"The more Haijiang City looks down on us, the more horses we can buy on the black market with these seventy-odd gold dragons."

Otto took a sip of the steaming hot mint water, the sweetness sliding down his throat and into his stomach, dispelling the last trace of chill.

He took the license stamped with a gold seal from the lining and laid it flat on the table.

"This isn't just paper; it's the rope we'll use to draw circles."

Otto surveyed his men, his voice steady.

"Tonight, let everyone have a good meal. There should be oil in the pot."

"Tell Group Two that starting tomorrow, it will no longer be digging mud, but spring plowing."

He pointed to the two miles that Blairwood had cut off on the map.

"But here, some things need to be settled with iron and blood."

Gareth tore off a piece of lamb, the scalding fat dripping through his fingers and onto his mud-splattered boots.

He looked at Otto's still expressionless face in the firelight, and then at the box of fine silver that gleamed eerily in the shadows.

The aroma of charred lamb masked the last vestige of unease in Gareth's heart.

Victor's ship had sailed far away, carrying with it a shipload of tarnished lead slag and the false complacency of the coastal city.

The sound of ice cracking outside the window came again, like a giant war drum.

Otto picked up the dagger stained with mutton fat and lightly ran it along the edge of the charter.

Spring has arrived.

Otto's voice echoed in the stone chamber.