Thousands of people, to escape the war, fled to King's Landing, believing it to be safer. Tyrion witnessed the surging crowds on the Kingsroad: mothers with children, anxious fathers eyeing his mount and carriage with greedy eyes. Once these people arrived outside the city, they would surely spend all their possessions to gain the protection of the towering city walls… "Although it's so bad, we should still take a chance, perhaps we should think about winning over the enemies' friends. The Boy Blacksmith is destined to be unnegotiable, at least in the North."
"That takes some brains. The Stark people won't forget that we cut off quite a few Northern heads."
"Indeed," Tyrion nodded in agreement, and reiterated the matter of the hostages. "But you still hold his daughter, don't you? I saw that sister with Joffrey in the square. Of course, we also have a more important hostage, the 'Eddard' who was already beheaded—a truly brilliant idea."
"That's Sansa," the regent queen mother said. "I publicly claimed her wild sister Arya was also in my hands, but that's not true. When Robert died, I sent Ser Meryn Trant to capture her, but her damned dance teacher interfered, and she escaped. No one has seen her since. Many people died in the city that day; I assume she didn't make it either."
Tyrion felt that even without Arya, the bargaining chips of Sansa and Eddard were already a significant advantage, they just needed to be used at the crucial moment.
"Who all knows about that Eddard swap?" Tyrion asked in a low voice.
"The four people you just saw, except for Lord Janos."
Tyrion understood. That idiot Janos was the most critical right now; he definitely needed to be replaced. As for the others, their knowledge of this secret was also troublesome.
"Take good care of that person. I hear the Black Cells beneath The Red Keep can drive people mad."
"I at least understand that. What do you plan to do?" the regent queen mother said in a lowered voice. "Send an envoy to calm the North, and appease the Stark children and women."
"That was the intention, but it's too late. If the Northerners march south, they and my father will soon be at war," Tyrion said. Two suitable Stark hostages, if he could find a good opportunity to release them, would deal a fatal blow to The Boy Blacksmith's cause. The Northerners wouldn't need to betray them, only return to the North.
"Tell me about our esteemed friends on the Small Council," Tyrion asked.
The regent queen mother glanced at the doorway. This small group was everyone she had managed to control. "What about them?"
"my father doesn't seem to like them. When I left, he said, 'If I could cut off the heads of these fellows (referring to Littlefinger, the master of coin, Grand Maester Pycelle, Varys, the master of whisperers, and Janos Slynt, the commander), impale them on spears, and hang them on the city walls next to the Northerners' heads, I wonder what that sight would be like.'"
Tyrion leaned across the table. "Are you sure they are reliable? Do you trust them?" Tyrion was skeptical of the loyalty of King's Landing's ministers. Two old foxes who had survived from the Mad King's era, and two newly risen, ridiculous upstarts—his father's concerns were not without reason.
"I trust no one," Cersei retorted, "but I need them. Does my father think they have ill intentions?"
"Let's just say he suspects as much."
"On what grounds? What inside information does he have?"
Tyrion was about to lose his composure, so he looked at the regent queen mother and spoke. Joffrey had only been king for a few days, but bad things were already piling up. This indicated that someone must have led the Boy astray.
The regent queen mother was also helpless, so she could only explain, "Joffrey doesn't lack good advice, but he is inherently stubborn. Now that he is king, he feels even more that he should do as he pleases and refuses to be manipulated."
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