106: Chapter 106 The Gold Mine Gets a Second Up

Olenna took the pot of golden roses from Margaery and placed it before Drogon.

The pot was made of obsidian, its base carved with the House Tyrell rose sigil—every vein on each petal was rendered in exquisite detail.

Then, she used the tip of her cane to draw a rough map of Westeros on the gravel ground.

The cane scraped across the gravel with a sharp, grating sound, like fingernails dragging across a slate. The Reach, the Westerlands, the Riverlands.

The tip of her cane landed on the location of Casterly Rock and jabbed it hard. The gravel was pushed aside to form a shallow depression, revealing charred plaster at the bottom.

"House Lannister owes House Tyrell a blood debt. How is a blood debt repaid? With a gold mine.

The gold mine beneath Casterly Rock has been the foundation of House Lannister for three hundred years—they sit upon a mountain of gold to rule the Westerlands. Cersei killed my grandson; her father's treasury should be taken over by House Tyrell.

After the war, your mother will rule Westeros, and she will need the grain from the Reach. House Tyrell will continue to supply grain, but the gold mine at Casterly Rock—I want one-third of it. As a dowry for Loras, who was married to wildfire."

Drogon's tail drew a circle behind him, moving with extreme slowness.

He calculated quickly in his mind—one-third of the Casterly Rock gold mine was roughly equivalent to the liquid assets accumulated by three generations of House Lannister, plus a share of the mine's output for decades to come. It was no small sum.

But House Tyrell contributed more than just grain. Margaery's intelligence on secret passages, Ella's daily contacts, and the manpower needed to cover the impending removal of wildfire—these were all assets House Tyrell held in King's Landing.

If these two hundred people were discovered by Cersei, every one of them would be hung from the city walls.

"One-third of the gold mine. Plus retaining the title of Warden of the South. Plus Margaery's seat on the Small Council—my mother already agreed to that last time. Adding these three together—what more can the Queen of Thorns provide?"

A smile crinkled the corners of Olenna's mouth. She enjoyed negotiations like this. The other party did not refuse, but instead asked for a return.

It meant he was not overwhelmed by her presence, but was calculating calmly. When negotiating with such a person, there was no need for nonsense—only numbers.

"House Tyrell has two hundred servants, craftsmen, and retired guards in King's Landing who can be secretly mobilized.

Among them, thirty have worked as miners at Casterly Rock—they understand the internal structure of the gold mine and know which tunnels are the richest and which have already been hollowed out by House Lannister.

If your mother wishes to take over the gold mine at Casterly Rock, I can provide her with the roster of these men. Furthermore, seventy percent of the granaries in King's Landing are controlled by House Tyrell's agents.

Once the siege begins, I can ensure the food supply for the entire city of King's Landing is cut off within three days. A siege does not need to last half a year. After two weeks, King's Landing will open its own gates. Hunger is more accurate than a ballista."

Margaery had been standing quietly behind her grandmother. She added softly, "My grandmother means that House Tyrell is not here to divide the spoils of victory. We are here to help plant the tree."

Her dark brown eyes turned toward Drogon in the setting sun. Within their depths lay a complex light, somewhere between political caution and personal affection.

She was very measured when speaking in front of her grandmother, every word carefully chosen—yet, in the trailing notes of her voice, there was a warmth she dared not fully release.

Her fingers gently brushed against the petals of her pot of golden roses. It was the same variety she had shown him in the ruins of the Dragonpit—the edges of the petals bore a delicate, deep-red trim, as if licked by flames but not scorched.

Drogon was silent. He recalled what Daenerys had said in her bedchamber at Dragonstone: "If he can forge an alliance here that does not depend on dragons, then the rule of Westeros after the war will not rely solely on dragon fear."

Olenna's proposal, from a strategic standpoint, perfectly aligned with Daenerys's goals. But one-third of the gold mine—that figure required Daenerys's personal approval. What he could agree to was everything leading up to that: hiding, transporting treasure, and dismantling the wildfire.

"The percentage of the gold mine—I do not have the authority to decide that. The Mother of Dragons must answer that herself.

But regarding all other conditions—House Tyrell retaining the title of Warden of the South, Margaery having a seat on the Small Council, and the continued supply of grain after the war—I can agree to those now on behalf of the Mother of Dragons.

At the same time, please have the roster of the two hundred secret personnel House Tyrell has in King's Landing delivered to Tyrion Lannister as soon as possible. He needs the manpower to dismantle the wildfire."

Olenna stared at him for a long time. She was evaluating every word he spoke—not judging his sincerity, but assessing whether his understanding of the limits of his authority was accurate.

A negotiator who knows the boundaries of their authority is far more reliable than one who dares to promise anything. Then, she tapped her cane against the ground and stood up.

Her cane left a small indentation in the gravel. Her negotiation was finished—she had not forced him to agree to the gold mine on the spot, because she knew that pressuring someone without the authority to decide was the most foolish act in any negotiation.

"Very well. As for the gold mine—I will wait to speak with the Mother of Dragons myself. I am in no rush. Cersei is not yet dead, and I will not fight an ally over an inheritance."

She took another pot of golden roses from Margaery—this one was not a token, but a gift. She placed it at Drogon's feet. The base of the pot was carved with two words: "Targaryen".

"This is for the Mother of Dragons. It is the last batch of golden roses from Highgarden this spring. Tell her—roses and dragons can bloom in the same garden."