บท 433: Chapter 434: Anxiety
King's Landing, the Red Keep.
Today was Queen Mother Cersei Lannister's name day, but Lord Tywin had decided against hosting a grand celebration.
The official reason? With war imminent, a lavish feast might disrupt morale.
But Tyrion Lannister knew the real reason: there simply wasn't enough food in the city.
Thus, the grand banquet befitting the Queen Mother of the Seven Kingdoms was reduced to a modest family dinner with only the core members of House Lannister present.
Of course, by Tyrion's standards, the spread was still fairly luxurious. The servants first brought out cream chestnut soup, crispy hot bread, and vegetable salad. These were followed by eel pie, honey-glazed ham, buttered carrots, white beans with bacon, and roast swan stuffed with mushrooms and oysters. For dessert, there was creamy pudding.
In times like these, a feast of such delicacies left Tyrion with little room to complain.
But the guest of honor, Cersei, was not so easily pleased.
She wore a deep green velvet gown with a low neckline that matched her emerald-green eyes. Her golden hair fell in waves over her bare shoulders, and an embroidered belt adorned with emeralds cinched her waist. She looked stunning—
—if not for the stormy expression on her face.
"Have we fallen so low?" Cersei finally couldn't help but ask.
Although it was Tywin who had decided on the scaled-down celebration, she dared not complain to him. So, as usual, her ire was directed squarely at Tyrion.
Tyrion dutifully sliced off the juiciest portion of the swan and placed it on his sister's plate, saying,
"If you have time, you might take a look from the city walls. Across the river, Caesar's army camps stretch for miles along the banks."
"They haven't crossed the river yet," Cersei said dismissively, her green eyes boring into her brother. "You're in charge of logistics, aren't you? The enemy hasn't even attacked, and we're already running out of food?"
"I must admit, I'm woefully inadequate for the task," Tyrion replied smoothly, casting a glance at Tywin. "Perhaps you should find someone better suited to replace me."
Tywin said nothing, continuing his meal in silence.
Cersei opened her mouth to retort but thought better of it, not daring to overstep.
Tyrion sighed theatrically. "Ah well, I suppose you're stuck with me. So, dear sister, you'll just have to endure a little longer."
"And how much longer is 'a little'?" Cersei snapped.
Tyrion smirked. "That depends on how soon our wise and noble father can defeat Samwell Caesar."
Tywin finally looked up, his face impassive, and directed his gaze at Tyrion. "Why haven't you completed the task I assigned to you?"
"Which task might that be?" Tyrion asked innocently.
"The one about confiscating all food stores in the city for centralized distribution."
"Oh, that one." Tyrion shrugged. "I deemed it too sensitive. Mishandle it, and we risk inciting riots. Besides, didn't a shipment of grain just arrive from across the Narrow Sea yesterday? That should ease the pressure for now. No need to provoke the common folk by taking their supplies."
Tywin stared at Tyrion, his golden eyes gleaming faintly in the candlelight.
After a long silence, he set down his knife and fork, stood, and said curtly,
"Come with me."
Tyrion reluctantly got to his feet, pausing only to tell his sister, "Save me some swan."
The two retreated to a side chamber, where Tywin shut the door firmly.
"Did you personally inspect yesterday's shipment?"
"No." Tyrion, catching the grim look on his father's face, suddenly had a sinking feeling. "Don't tell me… there was something wrong with it?"
"It wasn't grain." Tywin's voice was flat. "It was sand."
Tyrion froze, then let out a bitter laugh. "Another one of your little tricks, I see."
"It's about maintaining morale—and helping you. When people see ships full of 'grain' arriving at the harbor, they'll be less resistant to surrendering their own supplies."
"But sand is still sand. It won't fill anyone's stomach."
"I've already said it: the army comes first. As for the commoners, as long as they don't starve to death, that's enough."
"Your ruse won't last long," Tyrion warned, shaking his head. "Just like your deception with the Braavosi. Lies like these only work for a while. Eventually, the truth will come out—"
"Then give me a better solution."
Tyrion hesitated, then said, "With the Braavosi, I admit there's no better option. But for the grain… you should buy real supplies instead of shipping in sand."
"And where exactly do you propose I find the money for that?" Tywin retorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Between our efforts to secure the Iron Bank's favor and the costs of war, the Lannister coffers are drained. I've even sold the next ten years of gold mine profits to Braavos. Tell me, Tyrion, where would this money come from?"
"You're the one who can conjure gold out of nowhere…" Tyrion trailed off, realizing his mistake too late.
Tywin's face darkened visibly.
"Tyrion," he said, his voice cold enough to chill the room, "I appointed you as Master of Logistics. The food issue is your responsibility. If the army goes hungry, don't think for a moment that I won't have you executed."
"I've never doubted your willingness to kill me," Tyrion replied dryly.
"Then start doing your job. Confiscate the food in the city."
With that, Tywin turned and strode out, as if he couldn't stand another moment in his son's presence.
---
When Tyrion returned to the dining hall, he saw that the goose had been picked clean.
"Oh, dear sister, how thoughtful of you."
Cersei wiped her lips and smiled smugly. "Hard times call for no waste."
Tyrion chuckled, shaking his head, and climbed back into his chair to pick at the scraps.
Tywin, evidently having lost his appetite, had already left.
Cersei watched their father's retreating figure, then turned to her brother.
"What did you say to upset him this time?"
Mouth full of stale bread, Tyrion muttered, "Oh, the usual. But trust me, his foul mood has nothing to do with me."
"Then what's bothering him?"
"Samwell Caesar."
"Samwell?" Cersei arched a brow. "He's been camped across the river for weeks. Why would that suddenly bother Father now?"
"Because Samwell still hasn't crossed."
"Isn't that a good thing?"
Tyrion sighed. "We can't afford to wait him out."
"Because of the food shortage?"
Because the Braavosi will soon realize they've been deceived. Tyrion almost said it aloud but caught himself. That secret was better left unspoken. Instead, he replied,
"Yes. Because of the food."
"Well, then it's your fault," Cersei said smugly. "No wonder Father's angry with you."
Tyrion rolled his eyes, said nothing, and focused on gnawing at his cold, hardened bread.
(End of Chapter)
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