Kapitel 428: Chapter 429: Bad News
The Red Keep, King's Landing.
The "Imp," Tyrion Lannister, felt like his back was about to break.
Judging by the light outside the window, dawn had just broken.
Another sleepless night.
Rubbing his tired eyes, Tyrion left his desk and splashed his face with cold water from the basin by the window.
Then, at his own leisurely pace, he went to relieve himself.
When he returned, the sounds of his movements had already alerted his servant outside, who promptly prepared breakfast for him.
"Good morning, Podrick," Tyrion greeted.
"Good morning, my lord. You seem to be in a good mood," replied Podrick.
"Ha!" Tyrion shook his messy hair and gave a bitter smile. "Of course. We've only got enough food for two more weeks. Isn't that a cheerful bit of news?"
Podrick froze, his face shifting from red to pale.
"My lord… surely you're joking, right?"
Looking at his servant's stricken face, Tyrion realized he probably shouldn't have blurted out such sensitive information.
Uncle Kevan was right. This foul mouth of mine is going to get me into trouble someday.
Tyrion chuckled and backtracked. "Yes, of course. Just a joke."
"You really had me worried, my lord," Podrick sighed in relief.
Watching his servant's expression return to normal, Tyrion said no more.
After finishing his breakfast in silence, he threw on a coat and headed for the Tower of the Hand.
---
When Tyrion found Tywin Lannister in the study, the old lion was engrossed in writing.
At the sound of the door opening, Tywin glanced up briefly before resuming his work.
"Father, would you like to hear some good news?"
"Speak."
"We're almost out of food," Tyrion quipped.
Tywin finally looked up again, his expression unreadable.
"That's your idea of good news?"
Tyrion shrugged. "We still have two weeks' worth of supplies. Compared to running out today, isn't that good news?"
Tywin's lips thinned, and his golden eyes glinted with restrained anger.
"You're responsible for logistics. Find more food."
"And how do you propose I do that?" Tyrion spread his hands. "Perhaps you don't know, but the Riverlands haven't sent us supplies in weeks. It seems the local lords are emboldened by Riverrun's rebellion and our inability to deal with the 'Blackfish.'
If you want the Riverlands to keep feeding us, you'll need to figure out how to get rid of him."
"We can't spare troops for Riverrun right now," Tywin said curtly. "You'll have to scour the Crownlands for provisions."
"The Crownlands don't have much food left either," Tyrion pointed out.
"Then confiscate grain from King's Landing. As of today, all grain stores in the city are to be seized and redistributed under military supervision."
Tyrion sighed, his concern evident. "King's Landing is a hornet's nest, Father. Are you sure you want to provoke it like this?"
"I'm giving you a suggestion," Tywin replied coolly. "How you implement it is up to you. But under no circumstances can the army go hungry."
Tyrion whistled mockingly. "Thank you for the suggestion. That solves everything."
Tywin's patience wore thin. Without lifting his head, he dismissed his son with a sharp tone: "If you have nothing else to say, leave. And don't forget, we're hosting the Braavosi delegation tonight. Dress appropriately and bring your fiancée to the banquet."
"Oh, my lovely fiancée," Tyrion sneered. "Aren't you worried she'll start screaming in the middle of the feast that she's not actually Sansa Stark?"
"Then teach her to keep her mouth shut," Tywin retorted without looking up.
"I can't even keep my own mouth shut."
At this, Tywin's expression darkened, and Tyrion hastily scurried out of the room, feeling a strange mix of exhilaration and dread.
---
After leaving the Tower of the Hand, Tyrion decided to pay his "fiancée" a visit.
As usual, the girl—Jeyne Poole, posing as Sansa Stark—was silent and fearful, speaking only in timid, cautious whispers.
Finding the interaction dull, Tyrion informed her about the evening banquet and promptly took his leave.
It wasn't until nightfall that he returned to escort her to the feast.
---
The banquet was held in the Throne Room. Before Tyrion and Jeyne even stepped inside, the lively sound of exotic Braavosi instruments reached their ears.
"Grand Maester Gormon," Tyrion greeted as the elderly scholar hurried past, looking flustered. "There's no need to rush; the feast hasn't started yet."
Gormon stopped briefly and handed Tyrion a letter.
"My lord, I think it's better if you deliver this news to Lord Tywin yourself."
"Judging by your expression, it must be bad news," Tyrion muttered.
Gormon sighed heavily. "It is indeed bad news. Braavos is in turmoil."
With that, he turned and hurried off, clearly eager to avoid the fallout.
Frowning, Tyrion opened the letter and quickly scanned its contents. His face twisted into a wry smile as he muttered to himself: "The gods must truly enjoy their cruel jokes."
"What's wrong?" Jeyne asked softly.
"The old Sealord of Braavos has staged a purge," Tyrion explained. "He's eliminated a number of prominent nobles."
Jeyne looked confused. "Sealord? Purge? How does that affect us?"
"If Tormo Freygar finds out, he might abandon us and sail his fleet back to Braavos immediately."
Tyrion quickened his pace, leading Jeyne into the hall.
---
Inside, the throne room was already bustling. Tyrion found a seat for Jeyne before heading straight for the high table.
On the dais, King Tommen Baratheon sat in the shadow of the Iron Throne, happily stuffing his face.
To his left sat Tywin, Queen Mother Cersei, and other members of the court. To his right sat the Braavosi delegation, led by Tormo Freygar.
As Tyrion approached, Cersei's icy gaze fixed on him.
"Tyrion, your seat is below."
"I know my place," Tyrion replied breezily before reaching Tywin's side. Handing over the letter, he lowered his voice. "More bad news."
Tywin read the letter quickly, his expression remaining as calm as ever.
"Who else knows about this?" he asked quietly.
"Grand Maester Gormon."
"Take men and have him detained immediately."
Tyrion raised an eyebrow, realizing Tywin intended to suppress the news.
"You plan to keep this a secret?" he asked.
Tywin didn't answer, but his meaning was clear.
---
"What's the matter, Lord Tywin?" Tormo Freygar asked, his curiosity piqued.
"Nothing serious," Tywin replied smoothly. "A minor riot in the city. Tyrion, see to it that the unrest is quelled."
Understanding the implicit order, Tyrion bowed. "As you wish."
Once Tyrion departed, Tywin turned back to Tormo.
"Lord Tormo, the Lannisters are deeply grateful for your support. Your friendship will never be forgotten."
"You're too kind, Lord Tywin. I, too, value the Lannisters' friendship."
Tywin nodded before shifting the conversation. "Your fleet has deterred the Storm King from crossing the river. However, he cannot be allowed to delay forever."
"Indeed. But I cannot remain here indefinitely. Do you have a plan?"
"You could feign a retreat to lure the Storm King into action. Once his forces begin crossing, return swiftly to cut them off."
Tormo hesitated. "If we withdraw and return, will he truly take the bait?"
"We can spread rumors to ensure he does," Tywin said, his golden eyes gleaming.
"What kind of rumors?"
"Perhaps whispers of a rebellion in Braavos."
Tormo laughed, though uneasily. For a brief moment, even he felt the chill of the possibility.
---
At the far end of the hall, Jeyne Poole listened to the exchange, her heart pounding with fear.
Several times, she considered standing up and exposing Tywin's lie, but her courage failed her each time.
When Tyrion finally returned and sat beside her, she whispered, "You look pale, my lord."
Tyrion smirked. "Do I? And you look as lovely as ever, my dear Sansa Stark."
"I am Jeyne Poole," she corrected quietly.
"And I am a tall, handsome knight," Tyrion quipped before sighing. "Relax. As long as you behave, I'll make sure you're safe."
"Yes, my lord," Jeyne murmured, lowering her head.
(End of Chapter)
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein