[Chapter Size: 1200 Words.]
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The next day, news of Theon's trial by combat against the Mountain spread like wildfire.
Theon himself was now hailed as the greatest knight in the Seven Kingdoms. After all, even the Mountain had been slaughtered by his hand.
In truth, most people knew little of the actual battle. But as always, stories grew more exaggerated as they spread, each retelling laced with more scandal and awe.
At that moment, Theon was returning home with Tyrion and Bronn at his side.
Tyrion, still reeling from what he had seen and heard throughout the Riverlands, turned to Theon in astonishment.
"How did you do it?"
The scars of war had vanished across Riverrun. Civilians hurried through the streets, busy with their lives. Yet the dull numbness once etched on their faces had lifted, replaced now with color and vitality.
"We reduced the grain tax and abolished several other harsh levies. Once they had food, they naturally found the will to work harder at everything," Theon explained.
Tyrion raised a brow. "Ha. But how did you convince your nobles to accept such reforms? You don't exactly strike me as eloquent."
"Oh, that." Theon's tone was indifferent. "Those who obeyed lived. Those who disobeyed… went to the Seven Hells. I kept the loyal ones and found excuses to kill the rest. Then I placed my own men in their stead. Naturally, no more problems arose."
Tyrion blinked, momentarily speechless.
"With that, and a fairer tax system in place, why would any peasant risk their lives joining the lords in rebellion?" Theon added.
At last, Tyrion understood how Theon had stabilized the Riverlands so swiftly.
"But aren't you afraid your nobles will grow resentful and turn against you?"
Before Theon could answer, Bronn cut in. "Give it a few years, and no one will be able to stand against His Majesty Theon."
Tyrion frowned. "And why do you say that?"
Bronn only shook his head without replying.
"Damn it," Tyrion muttered irritably. "Why say half a thing if you won't say the rest? There are few things in this world more infuriating."
Chirp!
A piercing cry split the air as Zeus swooped down and landed on Theon's shoulder.
Theon raised his hand, signaling the company to halt.
"Seems someone doesn't want us returning home. And it's all thanks to you, Tyrion," Theon said dryly.
"My sister is the only one who would dream of moving against us on the border between Riverrun and the Crownlands. To her, this must feel like the height of political cunning."
Hearing Theon's bitter complaint, Tyrion only sighed helplessly. He had not expected that even Cersei lacked such a basic sense of political awareness.
Theon had always thought the lowest of her, but even so, it seemed he had still overestimated her.
"You did this here, and you think no one would guess it was you? Only a fool would miss it."
As they muttered among themselves, a dense crowd suddenly appeared ahead.
"Perhaps Cersei isn't entirely witless," Theon remarked. "She managed to guess I would take the shortcut."
Tyrion, seizing on the moment, added, "She assumed you'd be arrogant enough to ignore everyone else, so she gambled on this ambush. If she wins, she wins. If she fails, so be it. Cersei wouldn't be foolish enough to strike on the Kingsroad."
A host of one or two thousand men stood before them. Though large in number, it was clear at a glance that they were mostly refugees, few bore proper armor.
"They must be the High Sparrow's men," Theon sneered. Already, he was thinking of how best to repay the old zealot for daring to strike at him.
At that moment, Theon had five hundred knights behind him and could have easily slaughtered the band of refugees.
He gave Bronn a quick glance, signaling for him to handle it.
Bronn understood this was his first test. Without hesitation, he rallied the troops and led the charge against the ragged force ahead.
Faced with the thunder of cavalry, the once-confident refugees broke instantly, scattering in all directions.
"Seems the High Sparrow isn't very obedient. My foolish sister probably still thinks he's loyal to her," Tyrion sneered.
Judging from their performance, the High Sparrow had clearly sent throwaways, not his trusted followers.
"Perhaps my dear sister is already waiting for your head in King's Landing," Tyrion added with a crooked smile.
Soon most of the refugees lay dead, while not a single one of Theon's five hundred knights was harmed.
Theon led his company onward, resuming their slow journey.
…
A week later, Theon returned to Seagard.
At that moment, a shipment had just arrived at Harbor, and a great number of dockworkers were busy unloading goods.
Spotting the large banner of the Kraken flying from the merchant ship, Tyrion remarked to Theon, "No wonder we've suddenly had fewer reports of Ironborn raids. You've already gone back to trade?"
"This ship is so large that anyone might mistake it for a warship," Tyrion added in awe.
Theon chuckled. "No one wants to trade if it means being robbed for a handful of coins. But when your neighbor sets sail and returns with more gold than you could plunder in years, how long can you stomach it? No one can accept that."
"Money is always the best motivation," Bronn agreed. "You must hold some real prestige here. These people seem genuinely happy to work for you."
"Of course!" Theon dismounted. "Those who work hardest earn the most. They make at least one silver coin a day."
Bronn blinked in surprise. "How much? A silver coin?"
A silver coin per day, thirty silvers a month, nearly a gold dragon every three months.
"Yes," Theon confirmed with a grin. "That's why they rush to move goods. If you want horses to run, you have to feed them grass. Do you know how many in the Riverlands are desperate to join my next recruitment drive?"
"How many?" Tyrion asked, half-joking. "Fifty thousand? Hah!" He burst into laughter.
"At least three hundred thousand! Even women are eager to enlist."
"Pfft, hah!" Tyrion doubled over. "Did you hear him? Three hundred thousand!"
But as the laughter faded, Tyrion grew thoughtful. He glanced at Theon, then at the workers heaving crates onto the docks.
"What are the benefits of joining your army?" he asked seriously.
Theon replied: "Soldiers earn one gold dragon a month, or thirteen a year. That includes three meals a day, lodging, four days of rest each month, and a stipend for their families. If they fall in battle, their kin receive a single payout equal to twenty-four years of wages."
"???" Tyrion was stunned. "Doesn't that mean all your money goes straight into the army?"
"What else would I spend it on?" Theon said carelessly. "If I run out of coin, I'll find a way to make more. If I can't make it, I'll steal it. Either way, all my wealth goes into the army."
Tyrion drew in a long breath. Your neighbors may be storing grain, but you, you're sharpening your blade.
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