"Sir Gregor!" said Duke Horst, his voice somewhat weak. "The Riverlands are willing to do snow salt business with the Westerlands. Come, Sir, let's discuss a long-term partnership." Duke Horst emphasized the word "long-term."
"No!" said the Mountain. "Sir Edmure, how many gold dragons will you give to ransom your father?"
Edmund was speechless.
"If you don't pay the ransom, I'll take your father away when I leave," the Mountain said with certainty.
Edmure's weakness is his filial piety. A few harsh words to Duke Horst are all it takes to make the boy obediently submit. The old Mountain's reputation for cruelty, bloodshed, and absolute authority is the greatest, readily convertible fortune he inherits upon crossing over.
Everyone would assume that the Magic Mountain can do what he says!
Duke Horst, Maester Weyman, and Earl Edmure all realized that what the Mountain said was true.
Duke Horst knew perfectly well that the Mountain had probably planned to demand a ransom long ago. Regardless of the snow salt business, the Mountain would likely have demanded a ransom anyway; it was just a matter of time.
The Demon Mountain is indeed the Demon Mountain!
Edmure sneered, "The Mountain, you've been thinking about the ransom all along, haven't you?"
"There is no such thing as early or late. According to the rules of conflict among nobles, the ancient road has been passed down for thousands of years. Paying a ransom to release people is a matter of course."
This is an unspoken rule among nobles, a disguised privilege of the aristocratic class. Those who aren't nobles are simply killed without a second thought. But demanding ransom from someone else's home to get them back is more like robbery!
"Alright, how much ransom do you want?" Edmure wasn't stupid. He figured he'd have to pay sooner or later, so he might as well bring it on.
"If you want me to speak up, then there's no room for negotiation," the Mountain said coldly, his tone laced with threat. "Duke Horst is of noble status, and two thousand gold dragons are more worthy of him."
Riverrun, with its abundant resources, could easily afford two thousand gold dragons. However, this also set a new record for ransom among nobles. The average ransom for a knight ranged from three to five hundred gold dragons, with some reaching as high as eight hundred. Duke Horst's two thousand gold dragons set a new high standard. Moreover, the Duke's status was the highest among the knights!
Duke Horst, having been ill for three years, became a severely shrunken version of the duke; the weight of the two thousand gold dragons exceeded the duke's own weight.
"Alright!" Duke Horst agreed before Edmure could speak.
Both Maester Weyman and Edmure were looking at the Duke himself.
The Duke said calmly, "Sir Gregory offered two thousand gold dragons to ransom me, which I think is fair. Maester, go and have the treasurer, Fran, bring the money."
"Yes, Your Grace!" Scholar Weymann left.
Before long, two thousand golden dragons filled two baskets, which were covered with embroidery.
"Sir Gregor, please take stock of the golden dragons," Maester Weyman said politely.
"No need." The Mountain waved his hand, and Bernie and four bandits carried the golden dragon into their guardhouse. The guardhouse where the Mountain's bandits lived was the original room where Duke Horst's personal guards lived.
The Mountain secretly admired Duke Horst's decisiveness. Indeed, in the current situation, when faced with a terrifying and invincible figure like the Mountain, the best approach was to settle the matter by inflicting bloodshed.
Edmure's cleverness was far inferior to the Duke of Horst's wise and unassuming wisdom.
"Duke Horst, you are free!" the Mountain said.
Two bandits beside Horst left the Duke and stood behind the Mountain.
But what difference is there between freedom and unfreedom?
Of course there is absolutely no difference!
The only difference was that the Mountain received two thousand gold dragons as ransom.
In the minds of the Clegane bandits, The Mountain shone even brighter. The power of idols to generate income had penetrated to the very depths of their hearts.
"Duke Horst, you don't want me to take Earl Edmure with me when I leave, do you?" The Mountain decided to strike while the iron was hot. Talking to someone like Duke Horst, who knew when to advance and retreat, and how to make choices, was always quick and easy.
Edmure glared at the Mountain!
Maester Weyman looked at the Mountain!
Fran, the finance manager who hadn't left yet, was taken aback!
Duke Horst said, "Sir Gregor, the ransom for Ador Sallewyn is one thousand gold dragons, and the ransom for Edmure Tully is also one thousand gold dragons. What do you think?"
"Alright!" The Mountain was quite pleased with the Duke's willingness to go along and cooperate.
Soon after, another thousand golden dragons were carried into the guardhouse where the Clegane bandits lived, under Bernie's command.
In a short time, three thousand golden dragons were acquired.
Even for nobles, this is a huge sum of money!
Bernie's eyes sparkled as he looked at his lord, the Mountain. His adoration for the Mountain rivaled that of characters like Sweet-Talking Ralph, Executioner Dunsson, and Neurotic Polliver.
Don't let Bernie's arrogant demeanor with The Mountain fool you; if you asked Bernie to go out alone in Flowing City right now, he wouldn't dare!
Bernie still feels like he's in a dream. The people before him were Duke Horst and Earl Edmure, the great lords of the Riverlands, high-ranking and powerful figures, among the most prominent nobles of the time. But before the Mountain Lord, Duke Horst was as weak as the sick old man next door to Alex Village. And the once arrogant Earl Edmure, well, he was utterly devoid of spirit and noble bearing!
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The Mountain gave himself the illusion that his new sidekick Bernie was unmatched.
These illusions allowed Bernie and his ilk to maintain their morbid worship of the Mountain, a worship that quickly and imperceptibly evolved into a highly desirable quality: loyalty. Ultimately, this loyalty was strengthened as they followed the Mountain in committing evil, and then loyalty transformed into faith!
The Mountain said, "Count Edmure, you are free now."
So, the two bandits behind Edmure also stood beside Gregor.
Four ruthless knives left Horst and his son Edmure.
Horst and Edmure breathed a sigh of relief without realizing it.
Having two bandits standing behind you staring at your neck is a really unpleasant feeling.
The Mountain glanced at Maester Weyman and smiled maliciously.
Scholar Weiman's heart skipped a beat. Behind him were two bandits, while six sharp blades were watching the patriarchs or heirs of the various noble families imprisoned in Flowing City.
"Duke Horst, Earl Edmure, Maester Weyman, I won't calculate the ransoms for the many nobles in the city separately. One price: how many gold dragons will the Tully family pay to redeem Riverrun?" the Mountain said.
Maester Weyman could not believe what he was hearing; his astonished look said it all.
Edmure was stunned!
Manager Fran looked at the Mountain with the astonishment of someone looking at a madman!
Even the usually calm and shrewd Duke Horst's pale face turned a faint purplish-red.
Bernie and the other six bandits stared in astonishment at their idol, wondering if they had misheard.
Lord Mountain casually asked Duke Horst and Earl Edmure to pay for the ransom of Riverrun. How much money would that cost?
This ransom demand is outrageous—but Bernie and the bandits feel incredibly excited!
The Mountain laughed, "Duke Horst, don't worry, I'm a reasonable man. Riverrun is in my hands, and I'm sure you won't just watch me burn it down, right? I won't ask for the ransom from the city's inhabitants; the common people don't have much money anyway. But shouldn't each of the nobles contribute to ransom their patriarch? I'll include the nobles' ransom in the total price you pay to redeem Riverrun, Your Grace. I trust your fairness and justice. Name a reasonable price that doesn't shortchange me, and I'll return Riverrun to you without hesitation."