Red Fort, Prime Minister's Tower.
The chill of late autumn has spread from the Blackwater River to every crack in the stone city wall. Even if the fine oak wood is burning in the fireplace, Tywin Lannister can still feel the cold that penetrates his bones.
He was sitting behind his desk, holding a letter that had just arrived in his hand.
The content of the letter was so brief that it was almost arrogant. Petyr Baelish declined the order to return to King's Landing for questioning on the grounds that "his lady was unwell and the government affairs in the Vale were busy".
Decline politely.
Tywin sneered.
Since he became Hand of the King, no one has ever dared to refuse a direct order from him, whether when he was serving Mad King Aerys or now when he actually rules the Seven Kingdoms.
Petyr Baelish for what?
Just because he married that crazy woman Lysa Tully?
Just because he was hiding behind the Blood Gate, he thought the mountains could stop the Lannister's will?
Tywin threw the letter on the table.
It was very quiet in the study, except for the occasional popping sound of wood burning in the fireplace.
The sky outside the window was gloomy, with leaden gray clouds hanging low, as if they were about to crush the chaotic roofs of King's Landing.
Viewed from this height, the Flea Bottom area looks particularly dazzling. I don't know since when, the streets there seem to be more orderly than elsewhere, and even the smoke from cooking seems to be more regular, not as chaotic as other places.
At this moment, there was a gentle knock on the study door.
"Come in." Tywin's voice was calm, without any emotion.
The door opened, and Tybert Hesban Ser walked in.
He wore Lannister Household Guard's crimson armor, a cape embroidered with a golden lion pattern, and Longsword around his waist.
This guard leader, a loyal old knight, has served under Tywin for more than twenty years. He is familiar with Tywin's every habit and knows when to speak and when to remain silent.
But at this time, Tybert's expression looked very subtle, and the corners of his mouth were twitching slightly.
Finally, Tybert stood five steps in front of the desk, pressed his right hand on his chest, and bowed slightly. "Sir."
"This afternoon, news came out in Flea Bottom House of Order" that Lady Sansa Stark and Lord Tyrion Lannister, under the auspices of Bishop Renard, officially... dissolved their marriage!"
As if it was difficult to finish the words, Tybert couldn't help but swallow his saliva, no longer dared to speak, and stood aside like a quiet and loyal old knight.
Snap!
Sure enough, as soon as these words came out, the Prime Minister, who was slowly tapping the table with his fingers, couldn't help but clenched his fist and pounded the table hard.
The clear knocking sound echoed in the study, indicating that Tywin's mood at the moment was not as calm as usual.
Tybert remains silent.
He knew that no matter what he said at this moment, it was wrong. As knights, they only needed to wait quietly for Lord Tywin Lannister's instructions.
"Where's Tyrion?"
After a while, Tywin adjusted his mentality and asked, "He just agreed?"
"Yes, sir." Tybert paused and added, "According to reliable sources, Tyrion not only agreed, but even actively requested... a public ceremony."
As soon as these words came out, the air in the study suddenly became cold.
Tywin slowly leaned back in the high-backed chair. The afternoon sunlight fell on half of his face, and his green eyes appeared deeper in the shadows.
Even people who don't know him well can easily see that the prime minister is very angry when he meets him at this moment.
This is a quite rare emotion.
"Ha..." But I have to say that Tywin is Tywin, and he can still laugh at this time, but his tone is extremely mocking.
"Tyrion... that Tyrion can always find the right opportunity to remind me of his existence at the most critical moment, as if the gods are destined to cast a shame on my life!"
The chill in these words made Tybert's back feel slightly chilly.
But there was no expression on his face, he just stood quietly, waiting for the next order.
After leaning back in the chair and thinking for a moment, Tywin's eyes moved away from the report and fell on Tybert's face.
Those eyes were extremely sharp, as if they could penetrate flesh and see directly the deepest secrets of people's hearts.
Tybert met that gaze with a calm expression and calm eyes.
In twenty years of guard career, he has already learned how to face this kind of scrutiny.
"Tybert."
"Sir." Tybert took a step forward, made a fist with his right hand and pressed it on his chest, performing a standard knightly salute.
"Has there been any progress on the matter I asked you to investigate?"
Tywin didn't specify what it was, but Tybert obviously understood.
These days, there is a depressing atmosphere in the Prime Minister's Tower all the time. Everyone knows what kind of spy Lord Tywin is looking for.
That is to say, those who leaked information inside and outside the Prime Minister's Tower to Flea Bottom and to Vito·Corleone.
"Still under investigation, my lord."
"I have interviewed the forty-seven attendants, servants, clerks and guards in the Prime Minister's Tower one by one, and checked everyone's whereabouts and contact records in the past month."
"But... no clear suspect has been found yet."
As he spoke, Tybert lowered his head slightly, with a respectful attitude but a straight back. "There are only a few doubts about the whereabouts of the three of them. Kitchen helper Marin left the Red Castle twice during non-purchasing hours. Clerk Garth appeared near the Prime Minister's Tower three times before and after you summoned Ser Corleone. There was also a young guard whose sister was married to a fisherman in Flea Bottom."
Regarding Tybert's return, Tywin just listened quietly and tapped his fingers lightly on the table.
Once, twice, three times.
Every time it seems to hit Tybert's heart.
"What did you do with these three people?"
"Marin has been transferred out of the kitchen and arranged to clean the stables. Garth is temporarily suspended."
"As for the guard..." Tybert paused: "I asked him to receive special training under Ser Herlender", from dawn to midnight every day, without rest."
Of course, both of them knew very well that the so-called "special training" usually meant non-stop physical torture until a person collapsed.
These measures may seem harsh, but in fact they leave room for maneuver. There is room for maneuver in every decision, and there is no direct conviction.
But given the authority of Tybert, being able to achieve this level seems to be a best effort.
It seems like there is no leakage.
Tywin stared at Tybert's face. The vicissitudes of his face were filled with loyalty and responsibility. His gray eyes stared directly at him without any dodge.
But it was this overly perfect performance that gave Tywin an unspeakable strange feeling in his heart.
So beautiful.
Like a shield that has been polished too brightly, it reflects dazzling light, making it difficult to see the lines behind it.
"Take them into the black cell of the Red Keep and hand them over to Rorge for torture."
Suddenly, the Prime Minister suddenly spoke.
"Ah... yes!!"
Hearing this, Tybert was surprised at first, and then agreed very readily.
Such a straightforward answer made Tywin gradually let go of the suspicion in his heart.
"Do you think there are only three minor characters among the moles?" Tywin took a deep breath and asked slowly, his sharp eyes still resting on Tybert's face, refusing to move away.
Tybert was silent for a moment, and then replied, "From the available evidence, yes, sir."
"But I will continue to investigate in depth and do not rule out that there are more hidden contact methods, or that someone takes advantage of our neglect of these small characters."
However, this answer obviously did not satisfy the Prime Minister. Tywin leaned back into the high-backed chair and suddenly felt a strong feeling in his heart.
This feeling is very strange. He has controlled the West for forty years and been the Hand of the King for more than twenty years. Tywin Lannister is used to seeing people's hearts, and is used to weighing everyone's desires, fears, and ambitions on the scale, and then giving the right price.
But now, I feel a subtle imbalance.
It's like a piece on the chessboard suddenly lost control and started moving according to its own rules.
"Vito·Corleone." Tywin suddenly said the name: "Did you find anything new about this person in your investigation?"
"Very limited, my lord."
As soon as these words came out, Tybert's expression became solemn. "According to the kind of ability you described... the sword cannot be attached to the body, I asked all the bachelors in the Red Castle and the Doctor, and no one could give a reasonable explanation."
"Some people say it may be some kind of oriental Magic, some people say it may be an illusion or a deception, but no one has seen anything like this with their own eyes."
"Ha..." The Prime Minister sneered again. Since Corleone entered King's Landing, he may have sneered more times than in his entire life.
However, this time there was a hint of imperceptible irritation in his tone, and he looked directly at Tybert and asked, "So, we are facing a Farmer who has unknown abilities, can control Flea Bottom in just three months, and even has enough ability to hide Sansa Stark under my nose!"
Tybert did not answer the call.
The study fell into silence again. There was only the sound of Tywin's fingers tapping on the table, which continued, like some kind of gradually tightening rhythm.
"Magic." After a long time, Tywin clenched his fists and slowly exhaled.
He never believed Magic.
That is the excuse of the weak and the solace that losers seek for their own incompetence.
True power comes from gold, steel and will, from carefully woven alliances and iron discipline enforcing punishment.
Magic?
It was the Targaryen family's self-immolation, the ashes of Summerhall, and the final madness of Mad King Aerys!
But that night, the feeling of the sword tip against Corleone's throat was so real.
That indestructible touch, that feeling of frustration that no matter how hard you try, you can't penetrate even a tiny bit...
Tywin closed his eyes and let the scene reappear.
The tip of the sword pressed against the skin and dented, but it was unable to pierce. It was like piercing a piece of fine steel or an invisible wall.
At that moment, a crack appeared in Tywin Lannister's understanding of the world that he had built up over sixty years.
"Continue to investigate." He opened his eyes, and his voice became hard again. "Use all resources, send people to the academy, and read all records about extraordinary phenomena."
"If necessary, contact the Iron Treasury in Braavos. They have the most detailed intelligence network of Nine Free Cities!"
"Yes, sir." Tybert bowed his head and accepted the order.
At this moment, Tywin stared at Tybert and suddenly asked a seemingly unrelated question, "How many years have you served the Lannister family, Tybert Ser?"
"Twenty-two years, three months and five days, my lord."
"I remember it very clearly."
"Both my father and grandfather served for Casterly Rock, and it is an honor for my family."
"Honor." The look in Tywin's eyes did not ease at all. "Tell me, Tybert Ser, in your opinion, which one is more important, honor or loyalty?"
The air in the study seemed to be stagnant for a moment.
The flame in the fireplace jumped, and the shadow cast on the wall swayed, like some uneasy omen.
Tybert was silent for a few seconds, which was a rare pause in his answer rhythm.
"My lord, I think...
"For knights, honor is the foundation of their lives, but for guards, loyalty is the only criterion."
An almost perfect answer.
Almost clearly stated his attitude.
However, just when he was almost congratulated for his answer, Tywin suddenly asked, "I remember Meera Ya!"
As soon as these words came out, Tybert trembled uncontrollably and quickly lowered his eyes.
Tywin didn't seem to notice his reaction and just continued to recall, "A beautiful little girl with brown hair and eyes, much like her mother."
"She likes to sing very much. In the summer, she often sings in the courtyard of Casterly Rock. Her voice is very clear. I heard it on the balcony once and asked the maid to give her some lemon cake.
"I didn't expect you to remember this!"
Tybert swallowed, with a look of gratitude in his eyes.
"I remember everyone who served Lannister, their sacrifices, and their losses."
It can be said that this sentence is not only comfort, but also reminder and warning.
Hearing this, Tybert took a deep breath and straightened his back again.
"Thank you for remembering me, my lord. It has been a long time."
"Some things will never really go away." Tywin said slowly, "Just like some loyalties, once they are shaken, they can never go back to the past."
The room was quiet for a moment, but it was fleeting.
"My lord." Tybert's voice returned to calmness. "My loyalty has never wavered. I serve the Lannister, now and in the future."
"Very good."
After staring at him for several seconds, Tywin said, "Then, please continue to investigate the details of the mole and Corleone, Ser."
"Yes, sir."
"As for Petyr Baelish, since he doesn't want to come to King's Landing, let him feel the consequences of not coming to King's Landing."
Tywin's eyes fell back to the letter on the table. "Send a message to the lords of the Vale, especially those who are dissatisfied with Lysa Tully marrying Petyr, to remind them that they will always have their friends in King's Landing."
"Understood."
Captain of the Guard saluted again, turned around, and walked out of the study with steady steps.
The door closed gently behind him, and Tywin was the only one left in the study again.
He sat in the high-backed chair and did not move, just staring at the closed door.
The sky outside the window became darker, dark clouds gathered, and it seemed like it was going to rain.
The streets of King's Landing began to light up with sporadic lights. From a height, they looked like broken stars scattered in the filth.
The lights in the Flea Bottom area seemed denser and more regular.
The location of Corleone's "House of Order" is the brightest place in the entire Flea Bottom, like a glowing heart, pumping some invisible energy around.
Tywin recalled the way Corleone walked into Baylor Great Sept on the day of the trial.
Wearing coarse cloth clothes and hanging an ordinary Longsword around his waist, he looks like a Farmer who just came back from the fields.
But the way he walks, the way he looks at people, and the tone of his words are never what a Farmer should be like.
That is the calmness that only those who have experienced power, controlled life and death, and seen things far beyond ordinary people's imagination can achieve.
And Sansa Stark.
The girl who was once timid, naive, and only fantasized about knights and love, has now changed so much that Tywin can hardly recognize her.
And all this is obviously related to Corleone.
Corleone saved her, hid her, trained her, and now supports her divorce.
Why?
Unless.
This knight from Farmer wants more than just Flea Bottom, more than King's Landing.
He wants more!
But he, unknowingly, paved the way for him.
He decided to take back control of Flea Bottom, which resulted in a riot and allowed Corleone to win the hearts and minds of the people.
He decided to put Tyrion on trial publicly, which gave Sansa a chance to appear in public, giving Corleone a chance to show her influence.
He decided to win over Petyr Baelish, but he ended up staying in the valley and now even dared to refuse his orders.
Every decision seemed logical at the time, but what was the result?
Everything is getting out of control.
Was his judgment wrong?
Shouldn't he try to control Corleone, but eradicate it completely from the beginning?
No.
Tywin clenched his fists, with a hint of stubbornness in his eyes.
He is Tywin Lannister.
He began to rule the Westerlands at the age of nineteen. He put down the rebellion of Tarbeck and Reynes families, filled Casterly Rock's treasury to overflowing, assisted Mad King Aerys in ruling for twenty years, and ensured the status of Lannister in Robert Baratheon's dynasty.
He has never made a major mistake in his life.
Not once.
Of course, except for the guy who gave birth to Tyrion.
As for Vito·Corleone?
He is just a lucky farmer and a speculator who knows some medical skills and swordsmanship.
He may have some mysterious methods or the ability to confuse people, but in the face of real power, these are all tricks.
They are all bubbles that will burst as soon as you poke them.
Tywin Lannister is not intimidated by bubbles.
He stood up and walked to the window. Night had completely fallen, and King's Landing was shrouded in darkness, with only scattered lights flickering.
In the distance, there was a faint sound of waves coming from the direction of Blackwater Bay, like the city's deep breathing.
He's Tywin Lannister, and he's always in control.
It must be possible.
But at this moment, there was a panic and urgent knock on the door.
Tywin frowned. "Come in."
The door was pushed open, and in came Kevan, his younger brother and Minister of Justice.
But Kevan, who was always calm, restrained, and even somewhat rigid, now had a rare uneasy look on his face.
His brows were furrowed, his breathing was short, and he was holding a volume of documents tightly in his hands.
"Tywin."
"What's the matter?"
Kevan took a deep breath, walked to the desk, and placed the documents on the table.
"Just now, Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne made a formal request in front of Tommen Your Majesty."
"He wants...
Kevan took a deep breath, and every word seemed to be squeezed out from between his teeth. "Formally request a retrial of the murder of Princess Yi Lia·Martell and her children."
"He named Gregor Clegane Ser as the murderer, and...
"Require Clegane Ser to identify the person who gave the order!"