Chapter 21 Chapter 21 Tyrion

They warned him to dress warmly, so Tyrion Lannister donned heavy padded trousers, a woolen tunic, and a shadow lynx fur cloak from the Moon Mountains.That cloak was meant to be worn by someone twice his height, so he grew out of proportion.After dismounting, the only way to wear it is to wrap the cloak around his body several times. He looks like a striped furball. Still, he's glad he took the advice.The long cellar was dank, dark, and chilly to the bone.Timett didn't take a few steps, felt the chill a little, and decided to retreat to the upper floor.They are located deep beneath the Rhaenys Hills, just below the Alchemist's Guild Hall.The damp stone walls were strewn with saltpeter, and the only source of light came from the sealed iron bar glass oil lamp that Pyromancer Harling carefully carried.

Be careful...it must be for the jars.Tyrion picked up a jug and examined it carefully. It was a round fiery red jug, the shape of a fat earthen grapefruit.It was a little big for his palm, but he knew it would be just right for an average person to hold.The clay is very thin and brittle, so the warlock warned him not to use too much force, so as not to break it.In addition, clay is also rough to the touch, mixed with stones.Haring told him this was intentional: "If the surface is smooth, it will slip from your hands." Tyrion tilted the jar slightly, and Wildfire trickled slowly toward the mouth.He knew the liquid should be a cloudy green, but the light was too dim to be sure at the moment. "Very thick," he commented.

"My lord, it's the air-conditioning of the subterranean air," said Harling.He was a pale man with limp, wet hands and an extremely flattering manner.He wore a black and red striped robe trimmed with ermine, but the fur looked sparse and moth-eaten. "When the temperature is raised, the substance flows smoothly, like lamp oil." "This substance," is what pyromancers call wildfire.They call each other "wise men", and they are also used to constantly implying that they are knowledgeable, hoping that others will think they are learned people, which makes Tyrion very impatient.True, their guilds once flourished, but in recent centuries maesters of the Citadel have gradually replaced alchemists everywhere.Now this ancient organization has very few members, and no longer pretends to have a recipe to refine metals...

...but they do create wildfires. "I heard that this thing can't be extinguished with water?" "Exactly. Once set on fire, this substance burns violently until it burns out. Moreover, it seeps into cloth, wood, leather, and even steel, and sets them ablaze as well." Tyrion thought of Thoros, the red priest of Myr, and his flaming sword: a thin coat of wildfire, and the sword would burn for an hour.Soros has to change to a new sword every time he competes.Robert liked the fellow very much, and was even willing to offer him a new sword. "Why don't they seep into the clay?"

"Oh, why not?" said Harling. "There's a cellar down here, where we keep old jars. They're all left over from the reign of King Aerys—the jars are made in the shape of fruit." His idea. These fruits are very dangerous, Mr Prime Minister, and, hehehe, more 'ripe' than they used to be, if you know what I mean. We have waxed the jars and filled the lower cellar with water , even so... Hey, they really should be destroyed, but we had a lot of wise men killed when King's Landing fell, and we had only a few assistants, who couldn't do the job. To be honest, because of the chaos at that time, there were a few things we made for King Aerys. Quite a few are missing. We just found two hundred jars last year in a storage room under the Cathedral of Baylor, and no one can remember how they ended up there, but I don't need to tell you, you can imagine how much the Archbishop Panicked. It was I who supervised it myself before the safe transfer. I filled the cart with sand and sent out my best help. We only operate at night, and we-"

"—well done, I see," Tyrion said, putting the jar back.The table is full of such jars, neatly arranged in a row of four, extending toward the dark depths of the ground.From near to far, there are many such tables. "Are these, uh, the 'fruits' of King Aerys still usable?" "Oh, of course, of course it can be used...but be careful, my lord, be careful. Over time, this substance will become... hehehe, 'unpredictable'. Just a little Light a fire, and even a spark will burn at once. Pots may catch fire of their own accord, even at a mere rise in temperature, so never expose them to sunlight, not even for a short time. When a fire occurs inside, the heat will cause the substance to expand violently, The clay pot exploded to pieces in an instant. If there were other pots by chance, it would set off a chain reaction, and—"

"How many cans do you currently have?" "The wise men of Monsit just told me the count this morning: we now have seven thousand eight hundred and forty jars, including four thousand from the time of King Aerys." "Those overripe fruits?" Harlem nodded, "The wise men of Meliad firmly believe that we will be able to fulfill our promise to the Queen Mother—providing a full 10,000 cans. I also believe it." The pyromancer was triumphant, and his expression was almost obscene. Then the enemy will give you time.Pyromancers keep the wildfire recipe a secret, but know that it is a complicated, dangerous and time-consuming procedure.He originally estimated that the promise of 10,000 cans was bragging, just like the princes vowed to the lord to bring 10,000 troops to help, but only one or two hundred people went to the battlefield in the end.Having said that, if they can really provide 10,000 cans...

He didn't know whether to be excited or terrified, maybe both. "Wise man, I hope the brothers in your guild don't needlessly work overtime. After all, we don't need 10,000 cans of wildfire with defects, not even one can... We care very much and don't allow any accidents to happen." "Prime Minister, please rest assured that there will be absolutely no accidents. This substance is produced by well-trained assistants, and the place of operation is a series of empty stone rooms. Every time a bottle is completed, it will be handed over to the apprentice to send it here. Every There is a sand-filled room above each of the studios, and on the ceiling is cast, hehehe, the most powerful protection spell. If the stone chamber catches fire, the ceiling will fall, and the sand will immediately extinguish the fire."

"Needless to say what will happen to a careless assistant." Tyrion thought that the "spell" in Harlem's mouth referred to a "mechanism". The timing is not right now, let's wait until the war is won. "My brethren will never be careless," insisted Haring, "but if I'll let you, hey hey, to tell you the truth..." "Ah, please." "This substance runs through my blood and exists in the heart of every pyromancer. We fear its power, but ordinary soldiers... hehehe, they are often hot-headed when fighting, and they just want to fight big, such as the Queen Mother The operator of the flamethrower under him may be... But any small mistake can lead to disaster, and I must repeat it here again. My father reminded King Aerys many times, and my grandfather did the same to old Wang Jie Harris said."

"I suppose they accepted," said Tyrion. "If they burnt the capital, I'd be told the story. Well, you advise us to be more careful?" "Just be very careful," Haring said, "very, very careful." "These clay pots... Are there enough materials to make pots?" "Very abundant, my lord, thank you for your concern." "In that case, you don't mind if I take a few. In fact, I want several thousand." "How many 'thousands'?" "Under the premise of not affecting the production process, you can give as much as you can. Listen clearly, I only want empty cans. Please divide the things to the captains of the guards at each city gate."

"Yes, my lord, but why...?" Tyrion smiled at him. "I'll dress warmly if you want me to. You want me to be careful, so..." He shrugged. ?” "Master Prime Minister, I, hehehe, I'm very happy." Harlem held up the oil lamp and led the way to the stairs. "It's great that you can visit in person. It's our, hehehe, a great honor. It's been a long time since The prime minister’s visit, at the top, is Lord Rosat, who is a member of our organization. It happened during the reign of King Aerys, and King Aerys has always been very interested in our work.” King Aerys is using you to roast his enemies.Brother Jaime had told him stories of the Mad King and his pack of pyromage lackeys. "I believe His Majesty King Joffrey will also be deeply concerned." That's why I tried my best not to let you get close to him. "We sincerely hope that His Majesty can also visit our meeting. I mentioned to your distinguished sister that we will hold a grand banquet..." The higher they climbed, the warmer they felt. "Your Majesty forbids any banquet until victory is achieved." This is of course my insistence. "Your Majesty believes that if the people do not have food and clothing, no one has the right to enjoy delicious food." "My lord, this discussion is really, hehehe, an act of benevolence. Why don't we let a few wise men enter the Red Castle to meet His Majesty on behalf of the brothers. We can play a little trick, so that His Majesty, who is always busy with everything, can take a break Evening. The association has a long history, and wildfire is just one of our many terrifying secret arts. The wonders we will present to the court and the princes are so complex that they are too numerous to count." "I'll discuss this with my sister." If it's just magic, then he has no objection, but every time Joffrey is a councilor, he likes to make people fight "until the death", he doesn't want to let this kid The idea of ​​setting fire to the living. At the end of the stairs, Tyrion threw off the lynx-skin cloak and wrapped it around his arm.The alchemist's guild hall is a big maze made of black stones. Harlem led him to turn left and right, and finally came to the "Iron Torch Corridor".It was a long, echoing great room, with green flames dancing around twenty feet of black iron beams.Will-o'-the-wisps flickered on the glossy black marble walls and ceiling, bathing the hall in an emerald light.These giant "iron torches" were lit this morning to welcome his arrival, and they would be extinguished immediately after he left - if he didn't know about this, the impression would be even deeper.Wildfires are too expensive to be squandered. They came out of the great curved staircase facing the Street of the Silent Nuns, almost to the bottom of the Visenya Hills.After saying goodbye to Harlem, he staggered down the steps to join Timett's son Timett and the rest of the Scorching men who had been waiting for a long time.In order to achieve today's purpose, it is perfect to choose them as guards.In addition, the scars on their bodies can scare away the poor who gather in the city, which is especially critical in this extraordinary period.Because three days ago, a group of mobs gathered in front of the Red Fort, clamoring for food distribution.Joffrey responded with a thousand arrows, killing four at once, and then he called from the city, "Give you the dead." We were growing more and more beloved. Tyrion was a little surprised to see Bronn with the litter. "What are you doing here?" "A message for you." Bronn said, "Iron Hand reported that there is an urgent matter at the Gods Gate, but he refused to go into details. Also, Maegor Tower is also calling for you." "Call me?" Tyrion knew that only one person dared to use the word. "What did Cersei want from me?" Bronn shrugged, "The queen mother ordered you to return to the castle immediately and meet her in her room. It was a message from your pussy cousin. Heh, with a few hairs on your mouth, you think you are mature." "A few hairs, a title. Don't forget, he's 'Ser' Lancel now." Tyrion knew that Ser Jacelyn would not rush him unless it was a matter of great importance. "I'd better see Bywater first. Tell my old lady, and I'll see her as soon as I get back." "She won't like it," Bronn warned him. "Very well. The longer Cersei waits, the angrier she will be, and the angrier she will be, the more stupid she will be. Rather than seeing her when she is free and scheming, it is better to wait until she is angry and stupid." Tyrion folded it up. Throwing his cloak into the litter, Timothy helped him into the litter. Tyrion walked through the market square in the Gate of the Gods, usually crowded with farmers selling vegetables and fruits, but now it was empty.Ser Jacelyn was waiting for him at the city gate, and raised his iron hand in a curt salute. "My lord, your cousin Ser Cleo Frey has just arrived from Riverrun, bringing a letter from Robb Stark under banners of peace." "Peace conditions?" "That's what he said." "It's really my good cousin, take me to see him quickly." The gold cloaks held Ser Creo in a windowless guardroom in the gatehouse, and he rose as soon as they entered. "It is good to see you, Tyrion." "Cousin, this is really rare for me." "Is Cersei coming too?" "My sister happened to be busy with other things. Is this a letter from Stark?" He took it from the table. "Sir Jacelyn, stand down, please." Bywater nodded and left. "My mission is to present the terms of peace to the Queen Regent," said Sir Cleo, after the doors closed. "I'll deliver it myself," Tyrion glanced at the map attached to Robb Stark's letter. "Let's take our time, one by one. Cousin, sit down first and rest for a while, you He looks unwell, a little haggard." In fact, his condition was really bad. "Isn't it?" Ser Cleo sat down on a bench. "Tyrion, there's chaos in the riverlands, especially around God's Eye and the Kingsroad. The lords of the riverlands are burning their crops in an attempt to trap and starve us, and your father's foragers are coming from village to village. set it on fire, and hunted down the people in it." This is the way of war: the nobles are captured and wait for someone to redeem them, but the common people can only wait to be slaughtered.Thank the gods that I was born a Lannister. Sir Creo ran a hand through his thinning brown hair, "Even under the banner of peace, we were attacked twice. They were armored wolves, hungry, just waiting to ravage the weak. Which side were they originally on?" I’m afraid only God knows, but these guys are acting independently now. Three people in my team were killed and six others were injured.” "How is the enemy moving?" Tyrion turned his gaze back to Stark's conditions.This child wants a lot, half of the country, the release of prisoners, the demand for hostages, the father's sword... Oh, of course, and two younger sisters. "The kid is doing nothing at Riverrun," Ser Cleos said. "I don't think he dared to meet your father. His numbers are dwindling, and the river lords have gone back to defend their lands." Is this what father intended?Tyrion rolled up the Stark's map. "These conditions are impossible." "Would you please at least agree to exchange the Stark daughters for Tyn and William?" Ser Cleo asked bitterly. Tyrion remembered that Tion Frey was the other's brother. "No," he said gently, "but please rest assured, we will propose a corresponding prisoner exchange. Let me discuss with the important ministers and Cersei, and then let you return to Riverrun with our terms." Obviously, his mood has not improved, "My lord, I don't think Robb Stark will give in easily. It is Lady Catelyn who wants peace, not the kid." "And Lady Catelyn thinks only of her daughter." Tyrion rose from the bench, letter and map in hand. "I asked Sir Jacelyn to help you arrange food and clothing. Cousin, you look like you really need to catch up. I will let you know when we have reached the conclusion of our discussion." Tyrion found Ser Jacelyn on the ramparts, watching the hundreds of recruits parade in the square below.Due to the influx of refugees into King's Landing, many volunteered to join the City Watch in exchange for a straw bed in the barracks for food and clothing.When the war started, Tyrion had no illusions about how much fighting power this group of mobs could have. "You did a good job in calling on me," said Tyrion. "I entrusted you with Ser Cleos. Please meet all his needs." "Where's his retinue?" asked the commander of the city garrison. "Give them food and clean clothes, and find a maester to heal their wounds. But they are not allowed to set foot in the city, understand?" The current state of King's Landing must not reach Robb Stark's ears. "Very clearly, my lord." "Oh, one more thing. The alchemists' guild will be sending large batches of clay pots to the gates, and you'll use them to train fire-breather and ballista operators. Fill the pots with green paint, and practice loading and firing. Whoever spills the paint will remove it. When they are familiar with the paint cans, modify the lamp oil, let them light the fuel cans first, and then shoot. When they are comfortable with using them without hurting themselves, they can use wildfire in war. " Ser Jacelyn scratched his cheek with an iron hand. "Brilliant. But I don't like alchemist shit." "Each to each other, but what's my use." After returning to the litter, Tyrion Lannistra climbed up to the curtain, and took another cushion to sleep on.Cersei would be very dissatisfied if she knew that he intercepted Stark's letter, but his father sent him into the city to manage affairs, not to make Cersei happy. In his opinion, Robb Stark had really given them a golden opportunity.Just let the boy sit and wait at Riverrun, dreaming that peace is so easy to come by.Tyrion would offer his own peace terms, just enough to keep the King in the North alive.Let Ser Cleos wear out his small Frey ass and run back and forth as a courier.At the same time, their uncle Sir Stafford was preparing weapons and training the new army at Casterly Rock City. When he was ready, he and Lord Tywin could flank Tully and Stark back and forth. If only Robert's younger brothers were as good.Though Renly Baratheon's army was advancing at glacial slowness, yet his southern army was closing in on the northeast.Besides, Tyrion could not sleep well at night, lest he hear word that Lord Stannis' fleet was sailing into Blackwater Bay.Ha, there's plenty of wildfires these days, but... The noise in the street interrupted his thoughts.Tyrion peeked cautiously out of the curtain room. They were passing Shoemaker's Square, where a large crowd had gathered under a leather canopy to listen to the words of a "prophet."From his undyed woolen coat and the hemp rope tied at his waist, he was nothing more than a brother of the Beggars' Gang. "Fallen!" the man screamed. "This is a warning! This is the Whip of the Father!" He pointed to the blurred red scar in the air.From this vantage point, the castle on Aegon's High Hill was just behind him in the distance, and the comet hung portentously high above its towers.It would set the stage, Tyrion thought. "We grow fat, dirty, and corrupt. Brothers and sisters have sex in the king's bed, and incestuous offspring dance in the palace to the flute of the deformed little monkey. The noble lady adultes with the clown, and a terrible monster is born. !Even the Archbishop has forgotten the gods! He bathes in perfume, eats eels and larks, eats and grows fat, and lets his people starve! Pride comes before prayer, maggots rule castles, gold is everything... This must end! The rotten summer is coming to an end, and the whore king is punished! He was disembowelled by a wild boar, and the terrible stench rose to the sky, and a thousand snakes came out of his belly, hissing and biting!" He pointed his thin fingers again at the comet and the castle. "Behold, that is a sign from heaven! The gods are crying out for our self-purification, or we will be completely wiped out of the world! Bath in the wine of justice, or we will be burned! Burned!" "Burning the body!" Although some people echoed, they were covered by the sound of ridicule.Reassuring a little, Tyrion ordered to move on.The scorching people rushed forward to clear the aisle, and the sedan chair shook violently like a ship in a storm.What a "deformed little monkey".But that bastard's evaluation of the archbishop was correct. What did Yuetong say about him last time? "Your Bishop worships the seven gods and has a pious belief. No wonder he has to eat a meal for each of the seven gods when he is hungry." Thinking of the jester's joke, Tyrion couldn't help smiling. To his relief, there were no other accidents until the Red Castle.Tyrion climbed the stairs back to the tower room, feeling a little more hopeful than he had done in the morning.Time, time is all I need, time to put things together, just to wait for the chain to be finished... He opened the study door. Cersei turned from the window, her skirt dangling beside her slender hips, "I summon you, how dare you not come!" "Who will allow you to enter my tower?" "Your tower? This is my son's castle!" "Well," said Tyrion, grumpily.I will teach Kraun a lesson later, and today it is his Lunar warriors who are in charge of guarding. "Actually, I was going to find you." "yes?" He closed the door, "Why, don't you believe me?" "Of course not, and I have good reasons." "I'm so sad." Tyrion limped to the sideboard to fill himself with wine.He didn't know anything more dry than talking to Cersei. "If I offended you, I want to know why." "Okay, you disgusting rotten maggot! Myrcella is my only daughter, do you think I will really let you sell her like a bag of oats?" Myrcella, he thought, well, now that the egg is hatched, let's see what color the chicken is. "What do you call a bag of oats? Myrcella is a princess, in a way, she was born to do that. You don't mean to marry her to Tommen, do you?" With a wave of her hand, she knocked over the wine glass in his hand, and the wine spilled all over the floor. "That alone should have pulled out your tongue, my brother or not. I am Joffrey's regent, not you, and I will never consent to ship Myrcella to this Dornishman , as I was given to Robert Baratheon!" Tilang Ang flicked the drop of wine from his fingers, and sighed, "Why not? It's safer to go to Dorne than to stay here." "Are you hopelessly stupid, or are you really insane? You and I both know that the Martell family doesn't like us." "Yes, House Martell hates us terribly. Even so, I think they will agree. Prince Doran's hatred for House Lannister can only be traced back a generation, but between the Dornishmen and Storm's End and Highgarden The war has been going on for thousands of years. To our particular advantage, Renly takes Dornell's support for granted. Myrcella is nine years old, and Trystane Martell is eleven, and I have proposed that, She was fourteen, and they were to be wed immediately. Until then, she remained in Sunspear as a guest of honor, under the good protection of Prince Doran." "It's a hostage," Cersei pursed her lips. "A guest of honor," insisted Tyrion, "and, after all, I think Martell is definitely better to Myrcella than Joffrey is to Sansa Stark. I'm interested in Ser Arys Oakheart being Her guards are accompanied by the Royal Guards, I believe no one dares to underestimate her identity." "What will Ser Arys do if someday Doran Martell decides to take my daughter's life to avenge her sister's death?" "Martell is a man of honor, and he will never harm a nine-year-old girl, especially such an innocent and sweet Myrcella. As long as she is in his hands, he will trust us to fulfill our promise, not to mention our conditions are very generous, Forgive him for not being able to refuse. Myrcella is just one of them, and I also proposed to him to hand over the murderer who killed his sister, and promised him the position of important minister, several castles on the frontier..." "Too much." Cersei paced away from him, skirts fluttering, restless as a lioness. "Not only have you given too much, but without my consent, it has no effect at all." "We urgently need to win over Prince Dorne. If we give less, I'm afraid he will dismiss it." "Too much!" insisted Cersei, spinning back. "How would you give it? The hole between your legs?" Tyrion was also angry. This time he saw clearly the slap on the face, and with a slap, his head was tilted to one side. "Dear dear sister," he said, "I assure you that this is the last time you will strike." The elder sister smiled and said: "Little guy, don't threaten me. Do you think that everything will be safe with the letter from your father? It's just a thin piece of paper, and Ed Stark also has one. Look at what happened to him." Eddard Stark doesn't have the City Watch, Tyrion thought, nor the Mountain Clan, nor the sellswords Bronn has recruited, but I have all three.At least he hoped so, for it meant trusting Varys, Ser Jacelyn Bywater, and Bronn.Lord Stark may have felt the same way back then. But he didn't say anything.A wise man does not pour wildfire on the brazier, so he pours another glass of wine. "Think about it. If King's Landing falls, will Myrcella be safe? Then Renly and Stannis will hang her head with yours." Cersei cried. Had Aegon the Conqueror charged into the room on a dragon, juggling lemon pie, Tyrion Lannister couldn't have been more surprised.He hadn't seen his sister cry since their childhood at Casterly Rock.He took a step closer to her awkwardly.When a sister cries, a brother is supposed to comfort her...but...this is Cersei!He tentatively reached out and patted her shoulder. "Don't touch me!" she said, twisting away.He shouldn't have felt bad, but it hurt him more than any slap.Cersei was flushed, sad and angry, she gasped, "Don't look at me, don't... look at me like this... don't let you do this!" Tyrion turned his head respectfully. "I didn't mean to scare you. Really, I promise you, nothing will happen to Myrcella." "Liar," she said behind his back, "I'm not a three-year-old, so stop giving me empty promises. Didn't you claim to be able to rescue James? Huh, where is he?" "Riverrun, I suppose. He's under guard, safe and sound, and waiting for me to try to get him out." Cersei sniffled, "I wish I was a man, then I don't need you at all, and these things wouldn't happen. What happened to Jaime, who fell into the hands of that kid? And father, count me stupid Benz actually trusts him, when he is needed right now, where is he? What exactly is he doing?" "He's at war." "Hiding behind the high walls of Harrenhal?" she said contemptuously. "What a strange way of fighting. To put it bluntly, it's evasion!" "You should use your brain more." "Then what are you talking about? Why do father and Robb Stark each occupy a city, but do nothing!" "Aren't they just waiting?" said Tyrion. "Both sides are waiting for their opponents to act. There are two kinds of waiting. The lion wags its tail to relax, but the fawn is too scared to move, scared to death. No matter which direction If you run around, you will be eaten by the lion in the end, and it knows it well." "Are you sure that father is that lion?" Tyrion grinned, "Here, shouldn't it be painted on our flag?" She didn't smile, "If it was father who was captured today, I can assure you that James will never sit idly by." Jaime would throw his troops away, send them to die at Riverrun's fortified walls, and the White Walkers knew that couldn't work.He was never impatient, like you, my dear sister. "We mortals can't all be as brave as Jaime, but there are other ways to win the war. You see, Harrenhal is impenetrable and in a perfect position." "And you and I both know that King's Landing isn't like that. When Father and the Stark kid were playing lion and stag, Renly was coming down the Rose Road with an army, and could be at any moment!" "The capital is so great that it doesn't fall at the first battle. From Harrenhal it's a straight and swift King's Road. Before Renly can set up his siege engines, my father will attack from behind. For example, Father's army was the hammer, and we were the anvil, and it was wonderful to think about." Cersei stared at him with blue eyes, wary though still, eager to believe his assurances. "What if Robb Stark sends troops?" "Harrenhal is near the fords of the Trident, just to prevent Roose Bolton from crossing the river with the Northern infantry to meet the Young Wolf's cavalry. The Starks cannot reach King's Landing without taking Harrenhal, and even Together with Bolton's infantry, he won't have enough troops to take this nightmarish castle." Tyrion smiled the most charmingly, "And meanwhile, father will be recuperating in the fertile riverland, Our Uncle Stafford is gathering new troops at Casterly Rock." Cersei looked at him suspiciously, "How do you know these things? Father told you all about his plans?" "No, I just looked at the map." Her eyes immediately turned to disgust, "You little devil, all those sweet words just now came out of your deformed head, right?" Tyrion clicked his tongue. "My dear sister, I ask you, if not for our victories, why would the Starks ask for a truce?" He produced a letter from Ser Cleo Frey. "Look, Lord Young Wolf has set out conditions. Of course, these conditions are unacceptable, but it's a start anyway. Would you like to have a look?" "Of course." In a blink of an eye, she turned back into the queen mother again. "How did the letter end up in your hands? It should be given to me." "Hey, what are the prime minister's hands for? Isn't it to help your Majesty solve your problems?" Tyrion handed out the letter, and the cheeks that had just been slapped by Cersei were still aching.Let her fight, as long as she is willing to agree to marry Donne, what is it?He had a hunch that this would happen. In addition, the whistleblower has also come to light... Hey, it's time to catch the turtle.