Game of Thrones: From a deserter to a high-ranking official

Chapter 97 Vito: Habro, at his age, I've never seen anyone more ruthless or more adept at manip

"Vito, give me a straight answer," Habroil said, baring his teeth. "What do you think of Tiberius, this captain?"

Although he had thoroughly analyzed for Lezabo last night that joining the White Legion would likely turn them into marginalized individuals with little hope for the future, when the time actually came to join Tiberius's Lightning Legion, the drum in his heart was beating louder than a war drum.

After all, what's the big deal? A fledgling mercenary group of a twelve-year-old kid? Someone like me, who's spent most of my life fighting in the mud and on the battlefield of the Controversial Lands, becoming his subordinate? That sounds absurd! Utterly absurd!

Even if this kid is incredibly smart and fairly fair, his age and lack of experience can't compensate for that! Intelligence alone can't put food on the table!

Honestly, when he woke up this morning, he really felt that this sounded like the worst beer joke in the pub!

Even if that kid is as clever as an old fox, being clever and being able to lead a team are two different things.

Finding out what Vito was saying was crucial for him. For mercenaries, the quality of their employer directly affected their finances and even their lives. Now, Tiberius was that potential employer, and they were the ones gambling their lives on.

"Tiberius?" Vito glanced at Habroy sideways, a weight lifted from his heart, and he even felt a little amused.

[Tiberius is in luck now.] He thought to himself. [Habroy, along with Dmitri, Lezapo, and the others, are genuinely considering joining the Lightning Order. His mercenary group is about to surge to nearly eight hundred members!]

"Stop laughing, Vito!" Habrol exclaimed, wanting to shove his fist into Vito's mouth.

"Damn it, if you laugh at me again, you third-rate poet, I'm really going to beat you up! My mercenary group is about to go bankrupt, and I need to find a reliable leader who can keep us alive!"

Vito dropped his nonchalant grin, his expression turned serious, and he looked sharply at Habro.

"Tiberius, that lad..." he began slowly, his tone carrying a rare, complex emotion, a mixture of admiration and apprehension. "He's just like his uncle Jules—his reputation as a 'trustworthy man' isn't just for show. What he says, he always does. There are no inferior, leaded coins; what's agreed upon is agreed upon, and you'll receive exactly what you promised in compensation, not a penny less."

But he immediately changed the subject, lowering his voice even further, as if revealing a dangerous secret.

"But when it comes to methods... Brother, I've been in this business for half my life, and at his age, I've never seen anyone more ruthless or better at manipulating people! This kid is as smart as a monster, but his methods are as ruthless as the most iron-fisted governors behind the Black Wall of Valantis!"

Vito leaned closer to Habro and counted on his fingers for him:

"He could sit among the ordinary soldiers in a linen shirt, swallowing coarse rice mixed with sand and bran without batting an eye, and downing pieces of corned beef as hard as iron. Seeing him like that, who among the soldiers could utter a single complaint?"

"But then he would personally hand the money bags full of silver coins to the meritorious officers, pat them on the shoulder and say: 'Take your brothers to the best tavern in town, order the fattest roast chicken, drink the strongest liquor, and find the most beautiful women! The credit is yours, and you deserve to enjoy it to the fullest!'"

"The orphans and widows of those brothers who died in battle will receive full, substantial compensation, enough for them to survive. He personally oversees this money; no one dares to withhold a single penny..."

At this point, Vito paused, then grinned, revealing a bloodthirsty smile.

"Back in Ries, some people on the estate were withholding food and money from his soldiers' families. He immediately dragged those stewards and scoundrels to the military camp. He said, 'What belongs to my soldiers can only belong to my soldiers! Anyone who dares to reach out their claws will have their claws, head and all, chopped off!' Then he raised an unsharpened iron sword and smashed it hard on the backs of those stewards, from their spines to the back of their heads!"

"He wouldn't let anyone else do it; he hammered away himself until the very end, covered in blood and brains, and then said to everyone: 'Throw these scum at the gate of the military camp! Don't worry about whether they're dead or alive. If they're alive and lucky enough to crawl back, then they've got guts...'"

Vito concluded by saying:

"Brother Habroy, you asked me what Tiberius is like? I'd say, a born lord, his heart as black as coal. But with him, you won't have to worry about being stabbed in the back by your own people, having your credit stolen, or your pension swallowed up. But you have to do things perfectly for him, don't have any crooked thoughts, and listen to him. On his 'Lightning Legion' ship, he's the only helmsman. Understand, old buddy? So, how about it, are you brave enough to board this 'Lightning Kid's' ship?"

"Damn, that's it?" Habroy curled his lip in disdain, deliberately drawing out his voice to try and hide the turmoil rising within him.

"I thought you were going to say this kid has some weird quirk like needing to shower eight times a day or sleeping with a doll he made himself!"

He slapped his thigh hard, making a loud sound, as if to bolster his courage: "What you're saying—a stick and a sweet treat, fair dealing, keeping one's word, bloody but not excessive... isn't that the standard equipment of those victorious generals in Valantis? Iron rod in hand, fairness on the lips! Isn't that a born general?!"

But after saying this, he paused for a moment, then raised his eyes, his gaze sharp as he looked at Vito, his voice deepening:

"Vito, but in reality, you and I both know that in this goddamn world, this 'basic standard' already puts us way ahead of 90% of the idiots. How many nobles and wealthy merchants, all talk and no action, can't even uphold the most basic principles of 'fairness' and 'trustworthiness'? They withhold wages; they give lead-filled, clipped silver coins; they don't provide food or supplies, leaving the mercenary group to fend for themselves..."

He spat, as if trying to expel all the rotten people, geniuses, and employers he had encountered in the past from his memory.

"Damn it," this time his tone lacked disdain, instead carrying a ruthless sense of relief, "I'm not saying anything more! If it's really like you say... then this kid isn't some 'potential stock' that needs luck, but a damn 'ready-made'! A sixteen-year-old 'ready-made general'! Vito, are you sure you're not exaggerating this kid? Let me make it clear beforehand, if there's even the slightest bit of inaccuracy..."

His face flushed red, and he wanted to say something harsh, but in the end he gave up.

"If we can achieve 70% of what you said, I'll stay with the Lightning Squad forever!"

Vito, watching his old friend's performance, finally grinned. He knew that Habro had already made his choice.

Vito's Diary:

(Yingzhai, Shuangqiao Town)

Habroy, that fool, has finally come to his senses.

(The wording here is slightly more elaborate)

That's fine. He and Chief Jules fought pirates side-by-side on the Steppes and carried off Doslak arrows together in the Mill Hills. They know each other well enough.

(The handwriting has softened a bit)

Aside from acting like a brainless mule when his gambling addiction kicks in; being unable to walk past women; and having such a huge appetite that I thought I was raising an elephant—he could feed half a squad by himself…

That's enough. Being able to fight on the battlefield and keeping contracts is enough for a mercenary. In the White Legion, who doesn't have some flaws? Old Tom is a gambler, Calvin is a womanizer, Leon is a drunkard... that's all fine.

In this world, having more capable arms is always a good thing.