Before long, a banquet was laid out at the gates of the Lord's main keep.
Fruits, bread, meats, fresh greens, fine wines, hearty soups, and all kinds of small pastries were spread across a long table. Chopsticks, cups, and utensils were neatly arranged, and two maids stood by to serve the guests and their lord.
"My lord, you've already stopped using forks and knives?" Gregor remarked.
He'd noticed that the Lord's bread had been pre-sliced into even, orderly pieces, much like the packaged loaves sold in supermarkets back in his past life. A small detail, perhaps, but a clear sign of progress.
"Lord Tywin has ordered it. If I don't set an example, who else will my men follow?" Lord Auren replied politely with a smile.
He gestured for Gregor to try the meat.
Gregor picked up a piece with his chopsticks and tasted it. Though it looked like a whole slab of meat, it had already been sliced up by the kitchen beforehand. The chef's knife work was so skillful, you couldn't even tell at first glance.
"Ser Gregor." Lord Auren said with a thumbs-up, "sliced meat cooks much faster than whole cuts. And you're right, the salt penetrates more evenly too. Every bite is seasoned just right. This little invention of yours, the chopsticks, is brilliant. Because of it, all our forks, knives, serving tongs, iron basins, wrought-iron railings, and other iron goods have already been sent off to the city's iron recycling division."
"You're the Lord. If you don't take the lead, no one else will change. But honestly, chopsticks? Anyone could've invented them. People just get used to doing things a certain way, even when it's inefficient. It's like staying in bed after you wake up. Everyone knows getting up early is better, but still they cling to comfort. Most folks would rather stick with what's familiar than make a change."
There was a glint in Lord Auren's eyes, though it quickly faded. Gregor was a brute, uncultured and foul-mouthed, and yet... today, not a single profanity.
Gregor, for his part, didn't care what the Lord thought of him. None of this was worth making a fuss over.
"When did you first come up with this simple yet incredibly useful idea of chopsticks?" Lord Auren asked with a laugh. He deftly used his own pair to pick up a slice of bread, then poured some honey from a jar onto it with a small spoon.
Before chopsticks, the table would be cluttered with all kinds of knives and forks, and the Lord would have to cut his own bread at the table. Now, with everything pre-sliced, there wasn't even a crumb in sight.
"Out hunting." Gregor replied without missing a beat. "We were boiling big chunks of meat in a pot. There were too many people, not enough knives and forks, so I broke a couple of branches to skewer the meat. Then some guy tried using two sticks together, and it turned out it worked better. I figured, hey, that's a pretty clever idea. So when we got back, I decided to give it a real shot."
It rolled off his tongue naturally, no hesitation.
This kind of smooth talk was nothing for a former science and engineering student. People always underestimated their way with words.
Gregor also noticed that the hand washing basins had been swapped out, from iron to wooden ones.
Lord Tywin's decree to replace iron with wood throughout the Westerlands was clearly having an impact. According to Maester Barlow's calculations, within three months, the price of weapons in the region's blacksmith shops would drop significantly.
All because of a pair of chopsticks!
And once weapon prices dropped, even commoners tightening their belts could afford decent arms. The military strength of the Westerlands would increase quietly but steadily. While others remained stagnant, their power would rise, subtly yet meaningfully.
Lord Tywin had profited immensely. In exchange for such a windfall, offering a foster daughter in marriage was a small price to pay. She wasn't even truly his, she belonged to House Westerling. And it was the Westerlings Gregor intended to stir up trouble with.
Tywin came out the biggest winner, earning everything at no cost.
Gregor smiled at the thought.
Lord Auren found it strange. Gregor Clegane was not the kind of man known for good humor, he rarely smiled around people. Seeing him in a good mood today was... noteworthy.
As the two of them laughed and drank, a centurion came hurrying through the garden, clearly out of breath, something unusual must've happened outside.
He rushed forward, only to freeze when he spotted the Lord and the Mountain drinking together at the gate in perfect harmony. His face stiffened.
"Barlow, what's going on?" Lord Auren called, stopping the centurion in his tracks.
Barlow shot a quick glance at the Mountain. Gregor narrowed his eyes, and Barlow gulped. He hadn't expected the Mountain to be here. Whatever was going on outside didn't necessarily require reporting to the lord, especially not with him present.
"N-nothing, my lord." Barlow stammered with a forced smile. "Lord Auren. Ser Gregor. Good morning."
It was clearly no longer morning, he was rattled and babbling nonsense.
"Good." Gregor rumbled, his voice like distant thunder. But Barlow heard the warning buried within it.
"Is it really nothing?" Lord Auren asked, eyeing the centurion closely. He knew something was off, but not quite what.
"Truly nothing, my lord. Nothing at all. Please, you two enjoy your drinks. I just remembered something I need to take care of, I'll be off now." Barlow bowed, nodded, smiled awkwardly, and made his escape.
He hadn't even left the garden when yet another centurion appeared, clearly in a rush. But spotting the Mountain and the lord from a distance, he stopped as if struck by an invisible blow, then turned sharply and hurried away.
Lord Auren understood at once: the trouble outside was definitely related to the Mountain. But since Gregor was here, drinking and chatting with him, the soldiers had clearly weighed their options, and decided to handle things in a way that would not displease him.
He had always suspected Gregor didn't just drop by for food and drink without reason. After all, thanks to the blessing of the Seven, Gregor had made remarkable inventions like chopsticks, the military whistle, and snow salt, gaining immense favor from Lord Tywin. Just the engagement feast had earned him a small fortune. At that banquet, he'd also won a bet with the nobles of the Westerlands and walked away with a heap of gold dragons, and a gold mine in Silver Hall.
Now that Gregor was rich, he had no need to mooch. His visit clearly had purpose.
But if the soldiers could handle the matter themselves, then it likely wasn't too serious. Just... tricky.
Troubles involving the Mountain always were.
As he pondered this, a third centurion approached, but this one was stopped outside by the guards. After a brief conversation, he peeked in, saw Gregor, and simply turned around and left without setting foot inside.
Lord Auren poured a full cup of Arbor wine for Gregor and filled his own as well. Raising his glass, he clinked it against Gregor's and said with a smile, "Ser, a toast to you."
Gregor, with his mouth full of lettuce, mumbled around a mouthful, "Cut to the point, my lord. Don't talk in circles like some woman."
Lord Auren burst into laughter. "Ser, all of those soldiers are officers on duty today, patrolling the city. If they came to find me, it had to be urgent, but the moment they saw you, each one turned back. I suspect whatever they're dealing with has something to do with your men. If you're planning something in Lannisport, just let me know. As long as it's within the laws of the Westerlands, I'll back you to the end."
"No need." Gregor said. "Just by sitting here eating and drinking with you, your men will know how to handle it. If your soldiers weren't so well-trained and disciplined, I wouldn't have bothered to come here at all. My men can take care of it without waiting for anyone to report to you first."
He reached out, grabbed a plate of bread and meat, and started eating with his hands, ignoring the chopsticks entirely.
Lord Auren let out a dry laugh.
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