Tyrion chuckled.
“Ha!
My sweet brother, you’re wishing for the impossible.
How could a Lannister indulge in the absurd luxury of living happily ever after?
What we seek, for all our days, is endless power.” His tone shifted as he spoke, dripping with mockery.
Jaime shrugged, a bitter expression on his face.
The two Lannister brothers fell silent, each lost in his own thoughts.
After a long while, Queen Cersei’s handmaiden approached with a graceful step, curtsying deeply.
“Ser Jaime, Her Grace requests your presence.” Tyrion interjected, “Did my presently fragile sister happen to invite her favorite little brother as well?
Hmm…
your face tells me I didn’t make the cut.” Tyrion hopped down from the balustrade, straightened his clothes, and set off.
“If my dear sister sees me right now, it’ll only sour her mood.
I’m off, my hopeful brother!” With his back to Jaime, Tyrion gave a casual wave over his shoulder and walked away without breaking stride.
Jaime stared at the diminutive silhouette, sensing the loneliness trailing behind Tyrion, his mouth opening slightly.
Jaime knew in his heart that Tyrion possessed a kind soul.
Cersei never hid her disgust for Tyrion, yet Tyrion had never truly hated her for it; instead, he was always quietly yearning for family affection.
Whenever Cersei found herself in trouble, Tyrion’s small figure would always appear somewhere nearby out of her sight, though he never drew close.
Jaime loved his brother dearly, but Cersei, whom he loved most of all, had despised Tyrion since childhood.
Jaime had tried to mediate in the past, but failed.
Now, he only hoped that for his sake, the rift between Cersei and Tyrion wouldn’t grow any worse.
The Red Keep, the Queen’s Bedchamber.
Cersei sat before her dressing table, seemingly uncaring that anyone might see the bruise on her face.
She raised her chin slightly, her lips curling into a smile, though her voice was ice-cold.
“Jaime, I want you to kill Robert.” Jaime was startled.
He placed his hands on her delicate shoulders.
“Cersei, I understand your fury, but we cannot act rashly.
Robert is the King, and I am a knight of the Kingsguard.
Besides…” Cersei shoved Jaime away in anger, as if she had just heard the most ridiculous joke.
“Kingslayer Jaime, are you preaching the duties of the Kingsguard to me?” Hearing the word *Kingslayer*, Jaime’s hands tightened slightly into fists, a flicker of anger flashing across his face.
Suppressing his temper, he urged in a low voice, “Cersei, don’t be impulsive.
Robert won’t be easy to kill.
A single misstep could bring ruin to House Lannister, and Father will never forgive us.” The mention of House Lannister brought Cersei to her senses for a moment.
The memory of how a single glare from the Old Lion, Tywin Lannister, could make her hold her breath rushed back into her mind.
She had thought that memory faded after becoming Queen, only to realize it remained terrifyingly vivid and sharp.
Jaime walked up behind Cersei and gently wrapped his arms around her.
Still nursing her lingering anger, Cersei resisted his touch, but after trying a few times to break free without success, she let him hold her.
Jaime felt her warmth; he was willing to accept and endure everything about her.
Cersei’s beautiful eyes flickered softly, but in her mind, she was thinking of Lord Green Crabb, far away in Crackclaw Point.
She felt it was time to forge a sword that belonged truly to her—one unconstrained by the Lannisters or anyone else.
According to the intelligence provided by Grand Maester Pycelle, this little baron was formidable in battle, having defeated 20,000 men with just 1,000.
A sword sharp enough.
*** Whispers Castle, the Lord’s Study.
Green took a large sip of the sour red wine he had surprisingly come to miss.
He knitted his brows.
Still tasted terrible!
Having returned to Whispers Castle, Green had been in a fine mood.
“So, Maester Al, you told the Citadel that we defeated twenty thousand men in a single battle with only one thousand?” Maester Al grinned, revealing his few remaining teeth.
“I originally intended to write thirty thousand, but I worried about giving those old fools a heart attack, so I scaled the number down a bit.
Hoo-hoo-hoo.” Green let out a smile.
“My respected Maester Al, my sincere thanks for your unwavering support as always.” Maester Al rose unsteadily and bowed his head to Green.
“My Lord, you are correct.
Demonstrating one’s strength is a crucial aspect of political maneuver.
Since you are about to enter the Red Keep, you are essentially joining the game of thrones.
Remaining anonymous brings not only contempt, but a silent death.
I merely wanted to use the Citadel to let those great lords know in advance that Lord Randyll Tarly is not the only one who knows how to command an army.” “Your kind heart worries that the Citadel might hold me accountable in the future and tarnish my reputation, but I am already very old.
I only wish to do my part for you while I can still move.
Between you and the Citadel, my loyalty will always belong to you.” Maester Al blinked.
“By displaying your formidable military prowess to the outside world, I won’t have to worry about you being forced to climb into the beds of noble ladies for the sake of our domain.” Green threw his head back and laughed.
*** Whispers Castle, the Blacksmith Workshop.
Munden spread his arms, puffing out his large belly, allowing the craftsmen to take his measurements.
After taking his measurements, the blacksmith said respectfully, “Lord Munden’s build is very massive.
It will take roughly two and a half full sets’ worth of plate armor.” Hershel asked, “How long will it take to complete the entire set of plate armor?” “Steward Hershel, if we have enough hands, it can be finished in two months.” Steward Hershel pondered for a moment, resting his hands on his own belly, which was considerably smaller than Munden’s.
“Lord Green will depart in a week at the latest, and Munden is to accompany him.
Plate armor…
forge a breastplate for Munden first, and assign people to dismantle and refit an existing suit of chainmail into a size suitable for Munden…” “I give you five days.”