Green hadn't expected to encounter an important "story character" on his very first day in King's Landing.
A thought crossed his mind—there were no such things as coincidences in this world. The Lannisters were still a "close and loving" family at this point. Was Tyrion here to scout the situation in advance for Cersei?
Tyrion Lannister's loud declaration that he was treating everyone earned him a round of loud cheers from the entire tavern.
His attendant tossed a heavy bag of gold dragons into the tavern owner's arms.
Through Green's gaze, he could see Tyrion standing proudly with his little back straight, graciously acknowledging the gratitude of the crowd.
It was currently the ninth month of the year 297 AC. The young Daenerys Targaryen should still be living in the mansion of Illyrio Mopatis, Magister of Pentos, with her brother.
And yet, the future Hand of the Queen, Tyrion, was now spending gold like water across Westeros, simply enjoying life to the fullest.
Life was strange, indeed.
Tyrion hopped onto the chair across from Green's table. His attendant brought over two empty wine cups, placed them before them, and then poured them both a full cup from a flagon.
Tyrion raised his cup in a gesture to Green, took a sip, and remarked with nostalgic delight,
"Summer Red from Dorne—rich in fruity aroma and sweet to the taste. My favorite…"
He grinned and added,
"Each sip is like tasting the fragrance of a maiden's bloom—unforgettable."
Green smiled faintly.
Placing a hand over his chest, he nodded politely. "Good evening, Lord Tyrion Lannister."
Tyrion leaned back in his chair, swirling his cup. "My reputation already precedes me on the peninsula? I must say, I'm flattered and surprised."
Green took a sip of the Summer Red. This time, he didn't frown—the flavor was quite nice.
"In my childhood, whenever I refused to go to sleep, my mother would use your name to scare me. You were the shadow of my youth. When I grew up, I looked into it—turns out it was just one of her well-meaning lies. So, recognizing you wasn't much of a surprise."
"Haha! That must've been a tragic memory!"
Green chuckled, as if reminiscing. "My homeland is very far away."
Tyrion reached for a piece of roasted meat from the plate and chewed on it, then suddenly asked, "Not worried about the Hand of the King?"
Green shook his head. "Great lords don't bother themselves with small men."
Tyrion raised his cup again. "When I was your age, I often dreamed of having a dragon of my own. Are you burdened by the worries of inheriting a family legacy?"
"My legs are too short, and my head is too big. Thankfully, this head of mine serves me well. With it, I know what I can and can't do. It's my weapon. Jaime has his sword, King Robert his warhammer—and I have my brain. What about you, little baron?"
Tyrion's tone at the end carried a hint of mockery.
Unexpectedly, Green sensed a kind warning behind Tyrion's words.
Tyrion lowered his head to drink, but his eyes glanced up at Green, who remained unmoved.
He set down his cup, now watching Green with clear interest.
Green's lips curled into a faint smile.
"A heart that longs for peace? I don't think anyone would dare hinder a heart that desires peace."
Tyrion was surprised by the answer. After a pause, he burst into laughter.
"Yes, of course! Everyone loves and toasts to peace!"
After the laughter faded, Tyrion's tone turned serious.
"If I were you, I'd probably make the same choices. But, young man, let me warn you—our Queen can be quite capricious. Not in the way most think—she's unpredictably willful. My advice: bring Jaime with you on such occasions. He's the only one who can calm her down."
"I will remember, Lord Tyrion."
Tyrion leaned his small body almost entirely over the table, staring at Green with a more serious tone: "Then tell me, Baron Green, are you still a virgin?"
As expected, Green had already suspected Tyrion was about to start fooling around again.
Facing Tyrion's now grinning expression, Green looked complicated but resolutely shook his head in denial.
Tyrion laughed even louder.
Green rested his chin on his hand—maybe he should visit a brothel tonight to hear a song? Strictly for the music, of course.
The next morning, Hookport, the temporary residence.
Green woke up and rubbed his head.
Getting drunk was like falling for the wrong person: once the effect wore off, you woke up—and then came the regret. Regret for the gold dragons, in this case.
Tyrion's mind was filled with too many of Westeros's secrets, and his silver tongue didn't help. Green had been listening and drinking, and before he knew it, he was tipsy.
Still unsatisfied, the two of them had gone out to hear songs together, with Green generously throwing money around.
Now, Green was full of regret and reminded himself: just this once.
The Reach, Horn Hill, early sunrise.
Samwell Tarly, dragging his overly large frame, held his breath as he approached his father—Randyll Tarly.
Samwell Tarly was extremely overweight, with dark hair and a large round face with a pair of gray eyes.
Balding Randyll Tarly sat sternly at the dining table, having breakfast with his family. The room was quiet, filled only with the faint clink of cutlery and whispers.
Samwell's arrival seemed to disrupt the peaceful family meal. Randyll only glanced at him with the corner of his eye, ignoring the cautious look in Samwell's gaze.
The only person at the table who acknowledged Samwell was his younger brother, Dickon Tarly, who quietly greeted him.
"F-father… forgive me for interrupting. I…"
Samwell couldn't help but wipe the nervous sweat from his forehead.
Bang!
Randyll slammed down his knife and fork. The rest of the table immediately fell silent.
"Idiot. If you know you're interrupting, why come at this time? Look at yourself, nothing but useless fat!"
Samwell shrank back in fear.
"Weak, fat, your nose always buried in books, reading about the achievements of men far better than you."
"You're about to come of age, but you are unworthy of inheriting my land or title."
Randyll's wife, Melessa Florent, could no longer bear to listen. Still, she didn't want to argue with her husband in front of the children, so she got up and left in anger, silently expressing her disapproval.
Her departure had an effect; Randyll Tarly at last stopped his tirade against Samwell.
Samwell looked guiltily at his mother's retreating back.
Samwell had been born into this family carrying all of Randyll's hopes and expectations. From the moment he was born, too much had been placed upon his shoulders.
As the firstborn son, Samwell was supposed to fulfill Randyll's dreams.
When Samwell was very young, Randyll had truly doted on his son. But as he grew older, Randyll realized his child was nothing like what he had hoped for.
Despite pouring all his effort into raising Samwell, Randyll found himself helpless before him.
And as that hope crumbled bit by bit, the rigid and severe Randyll Tarly fell into complete disappointment—even bitter resentment.
"F-father… I've… been studying the Crakehall family's tactics."
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🔥 The Throne's Last Flame — A Song Forged in Ice and Wrath 🔥
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