By the time they finished their inspection, evening had fallen.
Although Cersei disliked Tyrion, he was still a Lannister, at least in name, so she held a small feast for him. But the atmosphere was so oppressive it was hard to breathe.
After the feast, Tyrion kept the Hands of the King behind for a brief meeting.
When Joffrey heard that Tyrion had brought troops to reinforce King's Landing, he hurried over in excitement. He was still wearing his splendid armor, looking as though he might march onto the battlefield at any moment, his cheeks flushed with anticipation.
"Uncle." Joffrey's eyes lit up when he saw Tyrion. "You're finally here! How many troops did you bring? When do we attack?"
Tyrion gave him a slight bow. "Your Grace, I brought only five hundred cavalry. The main Westerlands force is still in the Riverlands. My father needs time to deal with the northerners."
Joffrey's face darkened at once. "Five hundred? What can five hundred men do? Are you mocking me?"
"Of course not." Tyrion straightened, his voice calm. "Those five hundred men were only meant to escort me safely to King's Landing. We will have to raise our actual fighting force here. Besides, my father sent me to serve as acting Hand of the King and oversee the city's defenses."
Tyrion drew a roll of parchment from inside his clothes. "This is a letter from my father, Lord Tywin. By his order, I am now responsible for all of King's Landing's defenses, and all personnel are at my disposal."
Cersei narrowed her eyes. "And what about His Grace and me?"
"The queen mother will, of course, assist His Grace in governing." Tyrion smiled. "After all, I'm not very familiar with such matters."
Cersei watched him, complicated emotions flickering in her green