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

Chapter 41 Lightning Group

"Ha! Did you see that? How was my spear throw?" Lisangluo pointed at the convulsing leopard on the ground, his heart filled with pride. "How about it, brothers? That spear throw was absolutely accurate! It hit the beast right in the neck!"

A robust mountain leopard lay limp in a pool of blood, a light javelin having struck him squarely in the neck.

The companions of Lisanro were also wealthy merchants from Riss and sons of the governor. Of course, their fathers were not as powerful as Lisanro, and they were either Lisanro's political subordinates or relatively weak allies.

"See that? Just one throw, power from the waist and abdomen, a flick of the wrist... whoosh! And it hits!" Lisanluo said excitedly to his companions, completely forgetting that it was Tiberius who directed the hunters and hounds to drive the leopard into a corner, giving him the opportunity to hit it; and completely forgetting that it was Tiberius who taught him this spear-throwing technique.

However, Tiberius was now directing several slaves: "Go and skin the leopard, but be careful not to injure it! It's for your young master to use as a shawl!"

"But it's really hot here!" The second son of a minor nobleman wiped his sweat with a handkerchief and couldn't help but complain.

"Yes, it's incredibly hot!" another person said, while signaling to a servant to bring them chilled wine.

"Let's go, let's go up ahead!" Lisangluo pointed to a grove of trees ahead. "It'll be nice and cool under the trees, let's sit over there, besides, my stomach's rumbling!"

The group moved to the shade of a tree, where the servants quickly spread out blankets and laid out the food and drinks they had brought.

"Hey, this is really a good life!" After sitting down, Li Sanluo took the cold chicken platter handed to him by his servant, took a sip of chilled sweet wine, and comfortably took off his two muddy boots and tossed them to his servant.

[Actually, only you have an easy life, my dear young master Luo Jiaer!] The other spoiled brats muttered to themselves.

Lisandro's previous "Special War Tax" dealt a heavy blow to all the propertied people in Ries. Then, he and the bankers of the city-states of Tyros and Myr secretly reached a consensus and forcibly introduced "War Bonds" in their respective city-state councils.

Of course, the issuer of Ries' war bonds was the Rogers Bank!

Then, these war bonds can't possibly be sold to ordinary citizens, can they? How many could they possibly buy? It would probably take several families pooling their money to claim just one bond!

Besides, once these bonds are launched, there will definitely be people who want to buy them!

Then... Lisandro approached his allies and asked them to set an example by buying large amounts of bonds.

We can't expect Gasto Ferrero to buy it on his own initiative, can we?

"Tiberius, sit down!" Lisanro gestured to Tiberius. "In the hunting grounds, everyone is the same! There's no difference in status!"

Upon hearing this, Tiberius stopped refusing and sat down on the carpet, picking up a piece of white bread and eating it.

He was starving; he had spent the whole morning hunting with these spoiled brats and had to endure their almost clumsy hunting skills without laughing out loud.

Tiberius had Lisanro's men buy the leopard from the market and starve it for a while before releasing it this morning.

Even so, this almost made Hakimi fall in love with a slave...

The young noblemen who were near Tiberius saw him sitting with them, and although they did not show any disgust, they did not take the initiative to talk to him.

After all, there really is a sad, thick barrier between them.

It had nothing to do with reputation; it was simply that Tiberius wasn't part of their circle.

Tiberius didn't feel much about it: if he could leave the front lines of Volantis and live a comfortable life as a small landowner, drinking and eating meat every day, he would be happy if they ignored him for the rest of his life.

"Hey, have you heard?" one of the young masters suddenly said. "I heard that Mario Ferrero recently formed a new mercenary group!"

"Why did he form a mercenary group?" Lisanglu put down his wine glass, his brows furrowed.

"Alas, Lisanro, you've been busy with novels and poems about your father these past few days, you have no idea!" A nobleman put down his glass and poured out his grievances to Lisanro.

"That Mario, that vulgar, nouveau riche son of Ferrero! He's actually forming a mercenary group called the 'Golden Shield,' claiming he'll demonstrate 'true martial virtue' in the competition, rather than using 'petty crime-solving tricks' to attract attention. He says his mercenary group will truly get involved in the war against Valentis, using their swords to earn the glory of Rhys!"

"Hmph, what does he know about honor!" Lisang sneered. "His ancestors, the Ferrero family, were nothing more than tenters on a ship. How can he compare to the long and illustrious history of my Rogal family? My family's history can be traced back to the ancient Valyrian fortress era!"

"Besides, during the Shadow Wars, whose treasury was the first to run out of money, forcing them to visit my father at night to beg for a ceasefire?"

"Yes, yes..." the crowd echoed, but what they were really thinking was:

But these are the achievements of your ancestors or your father, what does it have to do with you? Besides, Mario has essentially declared war on you, Risanro, are you really planning to be a coward?

At that moment, Tiberius spoke.

He said slowly, "Lisangluo, he's clearly looking down on us... Think about it, he's issuing a challenge to you! Are you just going to watch him trample on your father's head like this?"

Tiberius's words were tantamount to fanning the flames, but Lisanro was completely unaware of it.

After all, the feud between the Rogal and Ferrero families had been brewing for a long time, so Tiberius's words were not meant to incite conflict, but rather to signal that he was taking sides.

At the same time, Tiberius spoke in a tone filled with worry and a hint of indignation: "Young Master Lisandro, Mario's actions are clearly intended to undermine your and the Rogal family's prestige in front of everyone. If his 'Golden Shield Regiment' steals the limelight, what will outsiders think? They will only think that the Ferrero family is the true representative of the Ries's military power, while the Rogal family... Alas, our achievements will be overshadowed, and Lord Lisandro will lose face in the Governor's Council."

"However..." He frowned at just the right moment. "Why the sudden urge to form a mercenary group? How could that old bastard Gasto Ferrero possibly let Mario actually go to the battlefield? Why, gentlemen, can you explain this to me?"

One of the wealthy merchants' sons immediately chimed in, explaining, "Tiberius, you are a foreigner and may not know this. Recently, the Governor's Council has taken the lead in organizing a 'New Mercenary Group Competition,' ostensibly to 'select elites and boost morale,' but actually..." He chuckled.

"Oh, it's just giving the younger generation of us wealthy families a legitimate reason to squander money and vent our energy. Incidentally, it also concerns our fathers' reputation in parliament and their upcoming election as Chief Executive."

Another person added, "That's right. The position of governor is a crucial stepping stone to the throne of the first governor. Whoever demonstrates greater 'strength' in this competition—to put it bluntly, whose mercenary group spends more money and is more impressive—will have more 'martial' talking points and achievements during the election, further showcasing the family's wealth and influence. The richer they are, the better equipped their mercenaries will be, and the stronger they will appear. That's why Mario wants to form the Golden Shield Regiment. His nouveau riche father is hoping to show his allies through this operation: My Ferrero family still has mountains of gold and silver; our family's wealth and strength are extremely strong!"

"I see!" Tiberius feigned sudden realization. "I see! This isn't just a matter of pride; it's a political struggle concerning Lord Lisandro's future power!"

【Excellent, information gathered.】 Tiberius was secretly delighted. 【A "playing house" competition for spoiled rich kids has somehow involved real power struggles and huge financial investments. This is practically... a safe haven tailor-made for me!】

Therefore, he decisively turned to Lisanro.

"Lisanlo, your father, Lisandro, has been kind to me. Without him, there would be no 'Lightning Boy' Tiberius Mordekaiser. So, Lisanlo, if you trust me, give me authority and money, and I'll train a group of mercenaries for you to properly humiliate Mario Ferrero!"

"Tiberius..." Lisanro hesitated.

He knew that his friend was an exceptionally skilled fighter, a master javelin thrower who had killed Jon Starr; he was also a skilled hunter and fisherman, and extremely intelligent, as evidenced by his work on solving cases at Bloodwave Point and crafting stories.

But... did Tiberius know how to train troops?

"Tiberius, it's not that I don't trust you, but do you know how to train troops?" Lisanro quickly waved his hand.

"I don't doubt your courage or martial skills—after all, you genuinely killed Jon Starr—nor do I doubt your intelligence. It's just that…" He hesitated. Then he said, "Training a mercenary force capable of fighting and winning competitions requires experience, knowledge of formations, command, and coordination… Are you really capable of that?"

Finally, he concluded, "After all, you haven't actually participated in the mercenary training process. I think I should find a seasoned mercenary leader. Of course, you'll be his second-in-command. In any case, within this mercenary group, you'll undoubtedly be the second-in-command!"