Chapter 183: Moment of Survival (Part II)
"If I recall correctly, our family motto is 'Hear Me Roar.' What's the matter? Have we finally realized that we're dead whether we roar or not, and found ourselves stumped?" Tyrion spoke as if he had no realization that his house was in peril, maintaining his smirking facade. He glanced at the slip of paper and grasped the situation instantly. "The paths before us are quite clear: either we roar and get hacked to death by a thousand swords... or we tuck our tails and crawl, sending my dear golden brother and sister off to be beheaded so that I—the Imp—can inherit Casterly Rock and restore the fallen House Lannister."
"Tch." Cersei let out a cold snort, and Jaime glared at his brother with displeasure. At a time like this, you still have the heart for your pathetic jokes?
Tywin said nothing, merely staring at Tyrion until the latter shrugged in boredom. "Fine. There is another option: find a way to reach a compromise with the Iron Throne. Have Jaime, who attacked the King, take the black, while the charges against Cersei and her... whatever-crimes... are dropped due to insufficient evidence."
"Compromise is a tactic used only when one cannot win on the battlefield. Why would Robert, leading six kingdoms against one, spare Jaime's life or overlook Cersei?" Kevan looked at Tyrion with confusion. "Anyone with eyes can see that once the armies of the six kingdoms rendezvous and march into the West, they won't need schemes or tactics. Even if they just push forward in a straight line toward Lannisport, we—who have no Bloody Gate to defend—will inevitably fall within a month."
"You are right, Uncle. Robert would never agree to such a compromise, so—he had best be removed from the equation." Tyrion shook his head regretfully at Jaime. "Dear brother, failing to kill him with that thrust was the greatest mistake of your life. As long as our 'Good King' lives, this crisis has absolutely no chance of being resolved. Instead of debating whether to follow the ultimatum, we might as well start considering which of the Free Cities is fit for us to live in, which can protect us from the Iron Throne's pursuit, and... whether the ship carrying our escape party can safely cross the Narrow Sea."
With regicide being discussed openly, the atmosphere in the hall turned subtle.
Tywin stared quietly at Tyrion. Of the four others present, his dwarf son was the only one whose thoughts aligned with his own. If not for the boy's unfortunate appearance which shamed the family, and a private life that was an utter shambles... Tywin truly entertained the thought of discarding Jaime and Cersei to let Tyrion succeed him. Perhaps this Imp really could revive House Lannister from the brink.
Speaking of private lives, now that his pride and joy, Jaime and Cersei, had committed such an act, what right did he have to look down on Tyrion for visiting brothels?
...
"Father, for you to have timely dispatched troops to retrieve my siblings, someone must have tipped you off. There are no outsiders here; at this critical moment of survival, can you tell me—is this informant inside the Red Keep?"
"Pycelle." Tywin uttered the name expressionlessly. "When I served as Hand to the Mad King, I worked with him to govern the Seven Kingdoms and kept everything in Westeros in perfect order. We forged a deep friendship then."
The talk of friendship was, of course, nonsense; only Tywin knew the Grand Maester was his man. Even Kevan and Cersei assumed Pycelle had simply sided with her out of greed for their wealth and her status as the King's wife. They had no idea that before Cersei was even born, Pycelle was already a loyal supporter of House Lannister—or rather, of Tywin himself.
Such secrets should have been kept even from one's closest kin, but with the family in existential danger, what use were informants and chess pieces if they didn't survive the crisis?
"So it was him," Tyrion said, enlightened. "No wonder you always get news first. I suspect that before Eddard's pursuers even left King's Landing, your informant's raven was already in the air... Let me guess... on the day the Rebellion ended, the one who urged the Mad King to open the gates to our army was surely this loyal 'friend' of yours as well?"
Jaime and Cersei both looked at their father with shocked eyes. They never imagined their father had such a deep-rooted connection. How many secrets did their patriarch still hold?
Tywin said nothing, seemingly confirming the suspicion.
Tyrion quickly recovered from his surprise. It was a bit unexpected, but it made perfect sense. "Then here comes the most crucial question, Father... Since Pycelle was willing to trick the Mad King into opening the gates for you back then, will he assassinate Robert for you now?"
"That might be difficult," Kevan chimed in. "When he betrayed the Mad King, he could hide behind the 'righteous' cause of saving the people from fire and blood. Now, we are the ones in the wrong in the eyes of the public. Who would dare take such a massive risk to assassinate the King recognized by all Seven Kingdoms?"
"Pycelle is the Grand Maester; he must be the one treating Robert's wounds. Wouldn't it be simple to tamper with the medicine, ensuring the wound doesn't heal or even worsens?" Tyrion smirked, offering a viable solution. "Once Robert is dead and the body cremated, even the Seven couldn't find out who did it."
"Pycelle doesn't have the stomach for it," Cersei said. "We'd be better off hiring a Faceless Man in Braavos. It's said they never fail."
"The Faceless Men aren't as mystical as the common folk claim, nor are they a simple guild of assassins who kill for coin. Robert is one of the Iron Bank's biggest clients. As long as he doesn't default on his debts, it's nearly impossible to bribe them to kill him." Jaime shook his head helplessly at Cersei. "Even if we offered double the debt in cash, Braavos might not take a contract that could ruin their reputation."
Tywin ignored the conversation between the Golden Twins and continued to stare straight at Tyrion. He did not love his dwarf son, but no one could deny the small man's intellect. At this juncture, ordinary, safe methods could not save the family; perhaps it was time for a gambit.
"Assuming—and I mean assuming—I have a way to make Robert die, what would you suggest I do next?" Tywin already had a plan in mind, but he wanted to test the dwarf. Jaime had attacked the sovereign twice; he was no longer fit to succeed him. Tyrion wasn't an ideal candidate either, but as an advisor, he was suitable. "Once Robert is dead, no matter who succeeds him, they won't let the Kingslayer Jaime or the rumored former Queen go."
...
"One thing at a time, Father. If House Lannister is to survive this great crisis, we cannot afford a single misstep. Before considering 'what next,' let's think about the enemies closest to us. If things go poorly, they might be landing on the shores of the Westerlands before the sun sets today."
"The Ironborn?" Tywin's brow furrowed. He had intended to see if Tyrion could think as comprehensively as he did, only for the dwarf's first sentence to wake him up. For the past two days, he had been so focused on dealing with Robert and the other six kingdoms that he had nearly forgotten a nearby enemy—one with mediocre strength but a penchant for causing trouble!
"The Ironborn have been forbidden from following the Old Way since Aegon's Conquest. The coast of the Westerlands has thus been spared from raids, allowing the commoners and lords to grow wealthy. The Ironborn have long been salivating," Kevan realized as well. "The moment word reaches them that Jaime attacked Robert, those who love to live by plunder... they'll be boarding their ships immediately to raid the villages and towns along our coast!"
"Someone, come!" Tywin frowned, realizing this was urgent. He didn't even wait for the meeting to end before calling his attendants, issuing commands in front of everyone. "Dispatch orders to the Lannisport and Fair Isle fleets immediately—set sail, prepare for battle, and patrol the coast to avoid being bottled up in harbor. Notify the coastal Houses to move their people and assets into secure castles. Increase shore patrols and raise the alert to the highest level!"
Cersei asked in confusion, "The ten-day ultimatum hasn't expired yet. Would the Ironborn dare defy the Throne's orders and strike first?"
"They only need to claim they are 'applying pressure to the Lannisters' to force us to bow to the Throne. Would Eddard punish them for mobilizing too quickly once the fighting starts?" If Cersei weren't the one involved, Tywin would have ordered his daughter back to her room; she was no help here, yet she insisted on interrupting. "Besides, as long as they don't admit the raiders are from the Iron Islands, who can do anything to them in these chaotic times?"
"Father, you certainly move with lightning speed." Tyrion offered a smiling compliment. "From the look of you, you've no intention of handing my siblings over for execution. If that's the case, we should consider how to fight this war. Should we wait for the six kingdoms to assemble their armies and face them in a massive pitched battle on the plains, or should we strike first, avoid their main strength, and hit their vitals? If we take the initiative, who should we put to the sword first?"
"Strike first?" Kevan was startled by Tyrion's suggestion. "We are already the side in the wrong and the weaker one. If we actually strike first, there will be no room for maneuver. It would be a dead end!"
"Uncle is right; striking first is a dead end. But Father just said—'If he could kill Robert'." Tyrion drained his wine. "My view is simple: if Robert doesn't die, no matter how we struggle, we're finished. But if Robert dies, the one who strikes first can gain an advantage. Now, I ask quite seriously: Father, no hypotheticals—do you actually have a way to kill Robert, even just a possibility?"
"For the future of the family, any risk must be taken. There are still a few people in the Red Keep who do not bear the name Lannister that I can contact. At this point, we can only try, regardless of the consequences." Tywin stared at Tyrion, asking seriously this time: "Besides guarding against the Ironborn, what other suggestions do you have? Stop playing games and tell me everything."
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