That night.
Arthas silently regarded the two attendants before him.
One had been sent by Cersei to invite him to the queen's bedchamber for a chat.
Her stated reason was that she missed her outstanding younger brother terribly and hoped they could catch up properly before she left for Winterfell.
The other had come from the Little Rose of Highgarden-Margaery Tyrell.
The mighty Death Knight and Lich King now found himself utterly torn.
Arthas understood Cersei's intentions all too well.
This elder sister, who seemed rather keen on keeping the family bloodline pure, always had a special fondness for her younger Lannister brothers-the Imp excepted.
Whenever she saw him, her gaze burned so fiercely that she seemed ready to swallow him whole. Even Arthas, who had lived two lives, found it a little too much.
Although he and Jaina had tried every position in his previous life, he still found Cersei's naked desire for his body hard to accept.
As for Margaery's overtures, Arthas had always remained lukewarm.
Her eyes held only a thirst for power, without any particular affection mixed in.
Moreover, ever since Jaina had left him without hesitation, the prince of Lordaeron had developed a feeling called weariness toward romantic love.
"Please go back and tell your mistress."
After considering it for a while, Arthas decided to meet this elder sister whom he had only seen a handful of times.
He raised his head and addressed the attendant Margaery had sent:
"I'm sorry I cannot accept her sincere invitation."
"After all, Her Grace the Queen leaves King's Landing tomorrow. She may have something important to tell me."
"If Lady Margaery is free tomorrow, I will prepare a modest feast at home and await her visit."
It was an elegantly worded response, politely declining Margaery's invitation while allowing her to save face.
Having received his answer, the attendant did not dare say anything more before the Commander of the City Watch. He merely bowed slightly, then turned and left.
"Take me to Cersei."
Once Margaery's messenger had gone, Arthas rose without hesitation.
Some things were best made clear sooner rather than later.
"Hey, Arthas!"
Just as the two were about to leave, a short figure pushed the door open and hurried inside.
"I heard..."
The Imp had been about to say something, but when he noticed someone else in the room, he quickly shut his mouth and gave the attendant a questioning look.
"Wait outside."
Arthas could already guess most of the reason for the Imp's sudden arrival, and promptly gave Cersei's attendant an unceremonious order.
Faced with the queen's brother, who was also Commander of the Gold Cloaks, the attendant naturally dared not disobey and obediently left the room.
"Arthas, I heard the king owes six million Gold Dragons!"
Only after the attendant had left did the Imp approach Arthas and growl in a voice that only the two of them could hear.
His trembling voice could not conceal his unease.
"And what of it, Tyrion?"
Arthas seemed not to have heard his concern and instead asked the question with a relaxed expression.
"What of it?"
"Three million of that belongs to House Lannister!"
The Imp raised his voice a little, so anxious that he was almost jumping.
But with those short legs of his, no amount of jumping would bring him level with Arthas's chest.
"If I become Master of Coin, Robert will certainly take the opportunity to default on his debt to the Lannisters."
His teeth ground together as the Imp clenched his fists.
"Father will tear me limb from limb!"
In Tywin's eyes, he had always been a demon who had killed his own mother, a disgrace to the Lannisters.
Since childhood, he had never experienced even the slightest warmth from his father.
Even after Tywin had done that to him, he still desperately longed for his father's approval, to prove that his abilities were no less than those of any normal person.
He had thought becoming Master of Coin would finally let him hold his head high before Tywin. Who could have known Robert had dug such an enormous pit for him?
"Relax, Tyrion."
Watching the Imp fret like a cat on hot bricks, Arthas remained perfectly calm:
"Things aren't as bad as you imagine."
"Easy for you to say."
Arthas's air of detachment only irritated the Imp further, and he paced anxiously around the room:
"Why don't we go fetch Littlefinger back? Since he likes cleaning up Robert's messes so much, let him clean up all he wants."
"Oh, gods, I really don't know how that fellow managed to hold on this long!"
He muttered to himself for some time without receiving a single reply.
The Imp looked up in puzzlement, only to find Arthas wearing a teasing expression, as though enjoying the show.
"Arthas, you have a solution, don't you?"
Seeing how composed Arthas was, the Imp knew he must have already worked out a way out for him.
He hurried forward and threw his arms around Arthas's thigh.
"I'll ask you the same thing again, Tyrion."
Lifting his leg with some distaste, Arthas deposited the Imp, who was still clinging tightly to his thigh, onto a chair and asked once more:
"Are the Lannisters short of money?"
Already exceptionally intelligent, the Imp immediately took on a thoughtful look at the question.
"Just tell me, Ael."
Although he had some ideas, he still was not quite certain.
"Privileges, Tyrion."
"Privileges."
Arthas reached out and patted the Imp on the shoulder. He held this elder brother's intelligence in high regard; the man simply had not quite turned his thinking around.
"No amount of Gold Dragons is as useful as privileges promised by the king himself."
"Why can Robert borrow so much money without putting up any collateral?"
"Because he's the king of the Seven Kingdoms!"
"As the kingdom's Master of Coin, you can freely grant the Lannisters endless commercial privileges in the king's name."
Only when he saw understanding dawn on the Imp did Arthas continue:
"With Tywin's grasp of economic matters, I believe he'll soon earn back even more Gold Dragons."
"Then what about the Iron Bank?"
Having resolved the question of the Lannister debt, the Imp asked another question:
"We can't default on money owed to the Iron Bank."
"If we don't repay them, they'll certainly find every possible way to cause trouble."
"Oh, Tyrion, my dear brother."
An expression of exasperation at his failure to learn appeared on Arthas's previously mild face, and his tone grew somewhat stern:
"Tell me, what is your surname?"
"Lannister, of course!"
The Imp answered as though it were obvious, unsure what Arthas was getting at.
After a moment's silence, the Imp suddenly seemed to think of something and spoke in disbelief:
"You mean..."
Seeing that he had finally grasped it, Arthas nodded with some satisfaction:
"What does a Baratheon's debt have to do with us Lannisters?"
Arthas wore an amused expression as these treasonous words left his mouth:
"If I were you, I'd put all the responsibility on Robert, then ask the Iron Bank for another loan."
"Remember, if you owe the Iron Bank ten thousand Gold Dragons, they might make an example of you."
"But if you owe them three million, we get to decide when they're repaid!"
"If they resort to dirty tricks behind the scenes, Robert will be their target-the Baratheons."
"As a Lannister, all you need to do is be a Master of Coin who safeguards Lannister interests!"
The Imp's expression shifted repeatedly at Arthas's words, as though he were considering whether such an approach was feasible.
After a long while, he slowly sighed, his gaze complicated by envy and admiration:
"I'll say it again, Ael."
"Of all of us, you're the one most like Father."
Arthas rather scoffed at the Imp's praise.
He was nothing like Tywin, who habitually took his anger over mistakes out on others.
When he had once been young and impulsive, facing the mighty Scourge, he had merely shouldered all the responsibility himself.
Now, Arthas simply gave everything more consideration, hoping matters could be resolved satisfactorily.
Yet while he could calmly think through anything else in this world, Tywin alone was the exception.
He would have to die sooner or later!
"Hey, Ael."
With a perfect solution in hand, the Imp's mood gradually improved. Only then did he remember that someone was still waiting outside the door:
"If I remember correctly, that was one of Cersei's attendants just now, wasn't it?"
"That's right."
Without beating around the bush, Arthas readily admitted it, an amused smile touching his lips:
"Cersei invited me to her bedchamber tonight to catch up."
"Hahaha!"
The Imp immediately gave Arthas a suggestive look:
"Then you'd better enjoy yourself. Our sister was once the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms!"
Although he felt a little guilty toward Jaime, both men were his brothers, after all.
The Imp could only pray silently for Jaime, hoping Cersei would not become so enthralled by Arthas's charms that she forgot the father of her three children.
Seeing the Imp's suggestive look, Arthas knew exactly what he was thinking, but merely shook his head, not wanting to explain anything.
"All right, I won't keep you from your fun."
Now reassured, the Imp jumped down from the chair and headed outside on his short legs:
"I still have to work out how to repay the Faith of the Seven those nine hundred thousand Gold Dragons."
"That fellow Baelish left readily enough, but he didn't leave me much money."
"Surely I can't be expected to pay out of my own pocket to cover Robert's shortfall."
The Imp opened the door and had already stepped outside, only to poke half his head back in and wink at Arthas:
"Have fun, you two."
Accompanied by his sinister chuckle, our current Master of Coin finally left Arthas's room, thoroughly satisfied.
"That fellow."
Shaking his head helplessly, he slowly returned to his desk.
Looking at the intelligence that had just arrived at noon, an icy smile once again surfaced on Arthas's mild face:
"I never intended to repay the Faith of the Seven a single coin, Tyrion!"
He strode out of the room. A breeze slipped through the window, rustling the files on the desk and scattering them across the floor.
Atop the disordered files, a sheet covered in writing lay quietly.
At its head were the unmistakable words-"High Sparrow"!
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