"This is my team; I have to lead these people through this difficult time," Tyrion sighed inwardly. This task was somewhat grim. The master of laws, the former hand of the king, the master of ships, the former lord commander of the kingsguard, Ser Jaime—these people had either fled, were injured, or were in the Black Cells.
Joffrey himself was not here, just like King Robert before him, not fond of attending Small Council meetings.
"It's you!" His sister Cersei's tone was half disbelief, half extreme disgust.
"I finally know where Joffrey gets his good manners from," Tyrion stopped, admiring the two Valyrian sphinx statues guarding the door on either side, exuding complete confidence.
Cersei's beautiful green eyes watched her brother Tyrion, still unaware of the purpose of his arrival. Although they were siblings, the difference in their looks and height was too great, just like the Light of the West and Little Monkey, and their relationship had always been terrible.
"Delivering a letter for our dear father," Tyrion slowly walked to the council table, placing a rolled parchment before Cersei. His legs couldn't move too fast, or they would cramp.
Varys, whose head resembled a boiled egg, came closer, exuding a sweet, powdery scent. Varys used his powdered hands to examine the letter. From every angle, it was genuine; even the wax seal was like golden-orange gold.
"Of course it's real," the Queen Mother took the envelope and unfolded the letter.
Tyrion watched the Queen Mother's expression; his sister sat regally upon the throne. He felt very proud; this was a beautiful prank, and his sister's expression at this moment was wonderfully varied. Tyrion, seeing no one paying attention, unceremoniously took the hand of the king's seat.
"This is outrageous," the Queen Mother announced her father's command to everyone. Lord Tywin had sent Tyrion to court to take over his duties, and Tywin instructed all officials to regard Tyrion as the hand of the king until Tywin could personally attend court to assist in governance.
Normally, such overreach by the hand of the king would be disrespectful to the King and Queen Mother. But these were times of war, and many things could not be helped. Moreover, the high-ranking court officials had no objections.
The Old Maester Pycelle, with his waterfall-like beard, naturally had nothing to say.
Even Janos Slynt, commander of the gold cloaks, whom Tyrion had not been familiar with before, was very much in favor. Tyrion only knew this man was previously famous for corruption and embezzlement.
Janos Slynt had a double chin and was almost completely bald on top, looking exactly like a Frog. A Frog who had suddenly gained power and was full of himself. "My Lord, we truly need you. Rebellions are breaking out everywhere, there are ominous signs in the sky, and the city's streets are in turmoil..."
The Queen Mother became rather impolite upon hearing this, immediately rebuking him. Maintaining order was the responsibility of the Gold Cloaks; Janos's words sounded sarcastic. "As for you, Tyrion, fighting on the battlefield would surely be more helpful to us."
Tyrion smiled: "My Lords, sitting in a chair is much more stable than riding a horse, and furthermore, I'd rather hold a wine cup than a battle-axe. War drums give one a headache, armor is scorched by the sun, and there are warhorses defecating everywhere; how can that compare to King's Landing? Besides, I am small and cannot sit in too large a chair or drink too much wine. After all, I was almost kidnapped by that madwoman Stark; I don't think any result could be worse than that one."
"Lord Lannister, you are absolutely right," Littlefinger smiled very kindly at Tyrion, though Tyrion knew he could not trust this man.
Tyrion returned Littlefinger's smile. If Littlefinger could also explain the matter of a certain dagger with a dragonbone hilt and a valyrian steel blade, that would be even better. Tyrion never trusted this man, this perpetually smiling, inscrutable individual.
"So, I ask all of you to serve me, even in the most trivial matters, even for the time it takes to drink a bottle of fine wine."
The Queen Mother looked at the letter on the table and read it again.
"How many men did you bring?" the Queen Mother asked; this was what concerned her most. Besides the Gold Cloaks, King's Landing currently had no available soldiers. A city of four to five hundred thousand people without soldiers was simply ridiculous. Especially with enemies sharpening their blades; both Renly and Stannis could besiege the city.
"A few hundred, I suppose, mostly my own men," Tyrion said bluntly. "As for father, he refused to send troops over; after all, there's still a war going on. I'm sure you've heard about what's happening at Riverrun and in the North."
"I am very concerned about Ser Jaime's injuries; I pray for him day and night. Those ambitious men in the dark are truly too cruel," Varys approached Tyrion, who first caught a scent of perfume.
"I thank you for your kind heart," Tyrion said, looking at The Spider.
"Enough," the Queen Mother said, very angry. "The situation in the North is terrible, and The Boy Blacksmith has caused many problems, but the South isn't much better. Renly and Stannis have been negotiating, to betroth Edric to Stannis's ugly daughter. If they agree, whether Renly marches from Storms End or Stannis sails with his fleet, what good are your few hundred men? I need an army, but father sent a dwarf. The hand of the king is chosen by the King and appointed with the consent of the high lords. Joffrey appointed our father."
"I hope you'll relax a bit, sister. the three storms haven't allied yet," Tyrion countered. "As for the hand of the king, this was father's appointment."
"He has no right to do that, unless he gets Joffrey's consent," the Queen Mother said angrily, very displeased.
Tyrion looked at the Queen Mother; indeed, power changes people. The Queen Mother's decree, the first one, was thrown at his own father. But Lord Tywin was ungrateful, so the Queen Mother must have felt very frustrated.
But Tyrion knew he couldn't hold grudges like the Queen Mother; the biggest problem was resolving the war. Lord Tywin was at Harrenhal, and the Queen Mother could go there to inquire.
But for now, Tyrion needed to speak with the Queen Mother alone.
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