Over the next hour, the two began to haggle over the details of their cooperation.
Petyr proposed an enormous volume of demand, which Luke flatly rejected.
He agreed to supply Petyr only:
500 jars of Mithril Salt, 1,000 jars of Velvet Snow, 200 jin of Ice Crystal Honey, and a total of 120 bottles of various perfumes each month.
He emphasized that “magical crafting is no easy feat; yields are limited, advance orders are required, and transport routes are highly unstable.”
In terms of pricing, the purchase rates Petyr offered were: 8 Gold Dragons per jar of salt or sugar (far below the inflated black market prices), 20 Gold Dragons per jin of Ice Crystal Honey, 50 Gold Dragons per bottle of Florida Water, 1 Gold Dragon per bottle of Essential Balm, and 50 Gold Dragons per bottle of perfume.
Luke did not haggle endlessly over the unit prices, but instead put forward his own conditions:
First, Petyr had to release official word confirming Luke Jackeneen as a royal-sanctioned “special purveyor,” ensuring his goods carried the endorsement of the crown.
Second, the Gold Cloaks of the City Watch had to increase their daily patrols around Rhaenys’ Hill, where his manor was located, to guarantee his personal safety and the security of his property.
After a brief consideration, Petyr agreed.
For him, these were trivial matters—a mere word here, a minor adjustment of patrol routes there—yet they bought him a stable, unique, and highly profitable supply of goods while currying favor with the crown.
It was killing several birds with one stone.
With the preliminary agreement struck, the atmosphere grew considerably more “harmonious.”
After a few more pleasantries, Luke rose to take his leave.
Leaving that room thick with the scent of incense and political scheming, he walked down the bustling stairs of Chataya’s brothel.
Only when he breathed in the relatively cool night air outside did Luke let out a soft sigh of relief.
Bronn followed closely behind.
Once they had walked a safe distance and the surrounding clamor of voices had died down, he leaned in close to Luke, lowering his voice with unconcealed curiosity and teasing intent:
“I say, Luke, the terms that fellow laid out sounded rather intimidating.
He wants so much stock every month!
Do you really have that many ‘magical treasures’?”
“And why don’t you just present the recipe…
or whatever method you use to get these things, directly to the King?
Maybe Robert gets happy enough to carve out a fief larger than King’s Landing for you, letting you live as a carefree lord.
Isn’t that better than dealing with a schemer like Littlefinger?”
Luke glanced at him, his tone flat.
“First, there is no recipe; it is ‘magic’ and lost artistry.
Second, the yield is indeed limited, and I decide the amount.
Third…”
He stopped in his tracks, looking at Bronn under the dim streetlights, his gaze appearing exceptionally deep in the night.
“A fief will be ours!
The Iron Throne will be ours!
Everything will be ours!”
Bronn froze for a moment, then grinned, exposing his yellow teeth.
He gave Luke an “I’ll believe it when I see it” look, though a trace of thoughtfulness slipped into his eyes.
Shifting the road, he let the matter rest.
Instead, he rubbed his hands together, his eager gaze darting back toward the brightly lit entrance of Chataya’s.
“Fair enough.
You’re the boss, you call the shots.”
“So…
my Lord, seeing as tonight’s talk went so smoothly, how about…
we don’t rush back just yet?
In any case, that old fox Petyr will surely put it on his tab!”
“The girls at Chataya’s are the finest in the Seven Kingdoms!
My treat, how about we head inside and have some ‘fun’ to celebrate?” Bronn winked, his face practically shouting the kind of anticipation every man understood.
Watching his impatient display, Luke found it both amusing and exasperating.
He patted Bronn on the shoulder.
“Bronn, your ‘leave’ hasn’t started yet.
Escort me back to the manor first.
As for you…
Just remember to show up on time tomorrow.”
Hearing this, although Bronn was slightly disappointed he couldn’t dive into “battle” right away, he was overjoyed that Luke wouldn’t interfere with his subsequent actions.
He nodded vigorously.
“Understood!
I’ll make sure you get back safe and sound!
And after that…
heh heh, just leave it to me, my Lord!”
The party lingered no longer.
With the guards surrounding Luke, they walked toward Rhaenys’ Hill.
King’s Landing remained boisterous in the dark.
This “cooperation agreement,” born of calculated interests between Luke and Littlefinger, was like another pebble thrown into a deep pool, destined to ripple out in unpredictable ways.
But what Luke cared about most was the unexpected windfall of 2 Free Attribute Points.
Where should he assign them?
Strength?
Constitution?
Or…
should he try the vacant “Intelligence” or “Spirit”?
Returning to the manor on Rhaenys’ Hill, which now felt a bit like home, he gave Arthur and Bronn a few instructions.
Luke then went up to the second floor alone, entering the private chambers he had designated as an absolute restricted area.
He locked the door behind him and checked the windows once more before finally sitting at his desk.
Outside lay the sparse, twinkling lights of King’s Landing under a heavy night sky.
Inside, the only light came from a soft, warm USB rechargeable nightlight he had brought over from the Blue Star.
With a slight nudge of his thoughts, the translucent system interface unfurled before him, the data as clear as ever:
[Name]: Luke
[Gender]: Male
[Age]: 25
[Strength]: 3
[Constitution]: 7
[Intelligence]: 1
[Spirit]: 1
[Free Attribute Points]: 2
His gaze wavered between [Strength] and [Constitution].
Today’s meeting with Petyr Baelish and everything he had witnessed in King’s Landing lately had given him a far deeper appreciation for the dangers of this world.
Dragons?
White Walkers?
Gods?
Truth be told, Luke wasn’t afraid of any of those things!
*Just wait until I bring some “great equalizers” over.
If a 9mm bullet won’t kill you, I’ll wheel out an anti-aircraft gun or a thermobaric bomb.
Let’s see you try to act tough then!*
The truly fatal threats were:
A poisoned dagger in a dark alley; a colorless venom slipped into fine wine at a feast; seemingly submissive servants who harbored treacherous intent; even the lethal schemes hiding behind a partner’s smile…
They were impossible to guard against.
This was a low-magic world where extraordinary forces were mostly dormant, leaving blades, poisons, and conspiracies as the standard instruments of slaughter.
If dragons and White Walkers actually showed up, Luke had plenty of ways to deal with them.
“Constitution determines how much damage I can take, how quickly I recover, and the sheer vitality I possess,” Luke muttered to himself.
He recalled the earth-shattering changes that had occurred last time when he dumped all three attribute points into Constitution—his injuries had healed completely, his physical form was optimized, and he had even grown taller!
That sensation of rising to a higher tier of existence was intoxicating.
Furthermore, he had a vague intuition: once his Constitution crossed a certain threshold, say…
10 points, he might undergo some kind of qualitative transformation. The source of this chapter is g.com.
For example, developing a powerful resistance to common toxins, perhaps even becoming entirely immune to poisons?
The importance of such an ability could not be overstated for a formerly useless college student!
“Survival first, damage output later.”
Luke made his decision.
Strength could be gradually built up through training and potential future attribute points.
But strengthening his Constitution, especially with the prospect of poison resistance, was currently his most strategically valuable investment.
Focusing his mind, his gaze locked onto the number “7” next to [Constitution].
*Allocate points.*
With a single thought, the “2” beside [Free Attribute Points] instantly dropped to zero.
Meanwhile, as if injected with vitality, the number in the [Constitution] column ticked upward, jumping from “7” to “9.”
There was none of the surging warmth or intense drowsiness he had felt during his last upgrade.
This time, the change was gentler, yet no less distinct.
A deeper, more fundamental sense of comfort spread from his bones to his limbs.
He could feel his heartbeat growing steadier and more powerful, his breathing stretching longer and deeper.
The muscle fibers beneath his skin seemed to quietly adjust and optimize, becoming denser and more resilient.
His Constitution, which had become somewhat lean after growing taller from his previous point allocation, now seemed to fill out slightly.
His muscle lines became more fluid and natural without looking bulky at all.
Most obvious of all was a feeling of “cleanliness” and “transparency.”
It was as though all the subtle impurities and fatigue accumulated from his past urban life on the Blue Star, along with the stress and displacement of his initial transmigration, were washed away and dispelled by an invisible force.
His mind was exceptionally clear, and his five senses seemed a touch sharper.
He stood up, performing a few simple stretches and throwing a couple of punches in the room.
His sense of raw power had clearly increased, but the improvement in his stamina, coordination, and bodily control was even more pronounced.
He felt that if he were to run several kilometers at a sprint or engage in prolonged hand-to-hand combat training, he wouldn’t tire easily.
“Constitution 9…
just one point away from 10.” Luke clenched his fists, feeling the vibrant, lifelike warmth radiating from his palms.
He felt no disappointment.
A Constitution score of 9 was already far superior to that of an ordinary person, who likely ranked between 3 and 5.
This gave him enhanced recovery, stamina, and resilience against harsh environments.
As for poison resistance…
perhaps it was already beginning to show, but it would certainly be nothing compared to the qualitative leap at 10 points.
“Next time I get attribute points, my priority will be raising Constitution to 10 to see the results.”
He laid out his plan: “After that, I’ll focus on Strength.
I need to raise it to a level where I can defend myself and serve as a deterrent.”
“Once my Strength is high enough, taking down The Mountain in a single strike will be child’s play!”
“Even without technique, I can still be an unstoppable force!”
“Ever heard of ‘overcoming all arts with absolute strength’?”
The abundant energy and clear thinking brought on by his improved Constitution allowed him to plan his next steps with greater ease.
“Starting tomorrow, I’ll have Bronn ramp up the training intensity for those ten recruits.
I also need to find an opportunity to learn some of this world’s combat techniques myself; I can’t always rely on others for protection,” Luke mused.
“And those gemstones…
I must find a safe and reliable way to cash them in as soon as possible.
My trade with Petyr requires a stable supply of ‘magical items’ to serve as a cover.
This actually works in my favor, providing a perfect excuse for my frequent ‘procurement trips’.”
“Immunity to all poisons…”
He turned that enticing possibility over in his mind, his gaze growing increasingly resolute.
Living, and living healthily and strongly, was the prerequisite to enjoying wealth and power.
Constitution was the rock-solid foundation he had chosen for now.
An indestructible body was, after all, the eternal pursuit!
The night grew deeper, yet Luke had not a trace of sleepiness.
One of the side effects of his boosted Constitution was that his need for sleep seemed to have decreased, leaving him with boundless energy.