"What secret weapon has Illyrio prepared for you?" Dany asked with interest.
"This…" Young Aegon immediately regretted revealing his trump card in a moment of impulsiveness.
Hearing his aunt's question, he instinctively looked to his foster father for help.
"Tell Her Majesty. There's no need for the prince to hide it," Clinton said without hesitation.
In just two short days, Clinton had already discerned the queen's character. Like himself and Barristan, she valued personal honor and possessed the spirit of a true knight—one with a "classical" sense of chivalry.
Pity the gods, the days of "classical knighthood" from the reigns of Robert and even Aerys were only sixteen years past, yet already felt like a bygone era.
Westeros today was rotten—true knights were rare.
"It's the Golden Company," Aegon said.
"The Golden Company?" Jorah, who had remained silent until now, exclaimed.
He remembered very clearly that the Golden Company had outright rejected both Daenerys and her brother Viserys.
To entertain them, Viserys had even sold Queen Rhaella's crown.
In return, the Golden Company had feasted and mocked him loudly as "the beggar king."
"Can they be trusted? What about their contract with Myr?" Dany frowned.
She remembered that in Game of Thrones, the Golden Company had even served Cersei against her.
Clinton explained, "Their contract with Myr is renewed annually. There are less than two months left until the end of the year, and they won't be renewing it.
"As for loyalty, there's little need for concern.
"The Golden Company was founded by exiled Westerosi nobles. Many of its core members are their descendants. They long to follow a true dragon and reclaim their ancestral lands and titles."
Old Aemon voiced his doubts. "The Golden Company was founded by Bittersteel. All those nobles and knights are 'Black Dragons.' But I, Dany, and Aegon—we're 'Red Dragons.'
"The Blackfyre Rebellions lasted nearly a century. Can such deep enmity be so easily resolved?"
In the first Blackfyre Rebellion, King Aegon IV's three legitimized bastards split into two factions: Daemon Blackfyre and Aegor Rivers (Bittersteel) versus Brynden Rivers (Bloodraven).
The Targaryen family banner was a red dragon on black. As a bastard, Daemon Blackfyre reversed the colors—his personal sigil was a black dragon on red.
Hence the rebellion became known as "Red Dragon vs. Black Dragon."
In the end, Daemon Blackfyre died at the hands of Bloodraven.
Bittersteel fled Westeros and founded the Golden Company across the Narrow Sea.
The will of the "Black Dragon" lived on among the knights of the Golden Company. Their battle cry was "Beneath the gold, the bitter steel."
So Dany wasn't particularly surprised that the Golden Company had refused Viserys.
What shocked her was that they were now willing to support Aegon.
"How did Illyrio persuade the Golden Company?" Dany asked.
Tyrion answered before Clinton could, grinning. "Red or black, a dragon is still a dragon."
Bullshit!
If the Golden Company really believed that, they wouldn't have mocked Viserys back then.
"That's what the spice merchant told me," Tyrion explained under Dany's skeptical gaze.
"He also said some contracts are written in blood and cannot be changed."
"Contracts written in blood…" Aemon cast a sidelong glance at Young Aegon, his expression doubtful.
"Illyrio must value you highly, to tell you such secrets," Dany said with a faint smile.
"Of course. The spice merchant may be gluttonous and lecherous, but he's certainly no fool. He knows my worth to Your Majesty," the imp replied smugly.
"You mean the pleasure of lopping off your big head?"
"No, no," Tyrion said, shaking his oversized head. "This big head holds many useful things. Chopping it off would be a terrible waste."
Leaning forward with her chin propped on her right hand, Dany smiled. "And what exactly is inside it?"
"Intelligence, boundless knowledge, grand strategies, and statecraft."
He puffed out his chest proudly. "I've been on the battlefield and served as Hand of the King—and did quite well. A talent like me, who can command on horseback and govern in court, is rare in Slaver's Bay. I hear Your Majesty still hasn't appointed a Hand…"
"Sorry, but you're useless," Dany said, trying not to laugh. "As far as I can tell, you're one of the biggest fools in Westeros. The kind who gets sold and helps count the money afterward."
Tyrion froze, pointing to the hole where his nose used to be. "I'm the fool?"
"Let me ask you: how did the lions and wolves end up fighting each other?" Dany asked.
"You're not saying it's my fault, are you?" Tyrion gave a sheepish smile.
"Isn't it?"
"I never ordered anyone to kill the little Stark boy, Bran. Lady Catelyn lost her mind—what was I supposed to do?" Tyrion protested.
"True, it probably wasn't you. But you never found out who framed you either."
"And why are you so sure it wasn't me?" Tyrion asked curiously.
"I'll be honest. Don't get mad," Dany said with a grin.
"I won't get mad," Tyrion nodded, growing more curious by the second.
Dany gave him a once-over, stifling her laughter. "You couldn't have beaten Bran."
"What?" Tyrion's eyes widened.
"You might be stronger than him, but with that big head, short legs, thick waist, and thin arms, you've got no agility at all. Compared to Bran, who climbed walls daily, you wouldn't have stood a chance. So if you were trying to throw him off a tower, you'd have failed."
"Since you weren't the one who threw Bran off the tower, then you certainly weren't the one who hired the assassin. There's no need to be so defensive!"
"This..." Jorah, Clinton, and the others scrutinized the Imp closely, their expressions blank. "You're right—this is such an obvious flaw. Why didn't we see it before?"
Tyrion lowered his gaze to his deformed legs, his misshapen face turning pale, then flushed red.
He knew his own condition best. Forget climbing or agile movement—even walking a few steps made his legs ache and weaken.
"I only wish Lady Catelyn had had the chance to hear this," he said with a bitter smile.
"Don't worry, she'll have that chance. Catelyn Tully isn't dead. She was resurrected by a Red Priest. I chatted with her nearly all night. You should mentally prepare yourself before you meet her," Daenerys said with a peculiar tone.
"Catelyn isn't dead?" Tyrion was shocked. "The dead can come back?"
"Haven't you heard the story of the Lightning Lord?"
"The Brotherhood Without Banners in the Riverlands? I thought it was just a rumor. I wonder if they could bring my father back," Tyrion murmured.
"They could," Daenerys said with certainty.
"They could? My father's been dead for over half a year."
"Just bring a White Walker to your father's tomb. Even the thickest coffin lid won't keep him down."
"Ugh..." Tyrion's mouth twitched. Returning to the original topic, he said, "Your Grace, you were slightly mistaken. The person who pushed Bran Stark from the tower and the person who sent the assassin are not the same."
"I know—your brother pushed Bran. The assassin was probably sent by Littlefinger or your sister," Daenerys replied confidently.
She had watched Game of Thrones—she couldn't be wrong.
Unfortunately, she didn't see the expected shock on the Imp's face.
Just confusion.
Wait, confusion?What are you confused about?
"How do you know it was Jaime?" Tyrion asked.
"Bran must have seen something he wasn't supposed to. At that time, in Winterfell, what else could it have been other than your brother and sister... being intimate? What else could the second Stark son have witnessed?" Daenerys replied smugly.
Tyrion was stunned for a moment. "Your Grace, you are truly brilliant."
The more smug Daenerys felt, the more composed her expression became.
"However, the assassin wasn't sent by Littlefinger."
"If not Littlefinger, then was it Cersei?" Daenerys was visibly unsettled.
"No," Tyrion shook his head again and gave an answer that stunned Daenerys: "It was my dear nephew."
"Joffrey? Why would he want to kill Bran? That makes no sense!"
"The dagger belonged to Robert. Joffrey stole it and picked a down-on-his-luck knight from the royal household to carry out the job. As for the reason..."
Tyrion gave a bitter smile. "He was dubbed the 'Second Mad King' for a reason. He changed his mind about executing Ned Stark on a whim—what reason did he need?"
"You've got some nerve, Imp," Young Aegon said coldly.
"Ah, my prince, I apologize." Tyrion bowed with a smile.
Daenerys, deep in thought, said, "Seems I misunderstood you. You weren't completely clueless during the whole 'Bran assassination' incident."
"It wasn't entirely a misunderstanding. I was indeed framed by Littlefinger. When Lady Catelyn confronted me with the dagger, she said Littlefinger told her it belonged to me.
Isn't that absurd? As if I wouldn't recognize my own possessions," Tyrion sighed.
"If you knew that, why didn't you take out Littlefinger?" Daenerys asked curiously.
"Take him out?"
"You served as Hand of the King for a while, didn't you? Taking out a minor noble without strong backing should've been easy."
"Ah, at that time I wasn't even sure I could hold King's Landing, let alone initiate infighting. I even had to beg him to help negotiate with the Tyrells. He had a silver tongue and was good at winning people over.
By the time the tides turned and it was time to 'boil the hound once the rabbit was dead,' I had already been discarded like a worn-out tool.
That guy, on the other hand, moved up and became the Lord of Harrenhal," Tyrion said helplessly.
"You didn't tell your father that Littlefinger had stirred up conflict between the Lions and the Wolves?"
"Heh," Tyrion grinned wickedly. "I'm not targeting anyone specifically, but every enemy of House Lannister should be grateful to me.
You have no idea how cunning and ruthless my father was.
While I was unconscious and recovering from my injuries, he quietly made his move."
"What did Tywin do?" Daenerys asked, both surprised and curious.
"He granted Harrenhal to Littlefinger," Tyrion said with a smile.
"How is that considered a move?" Young Aegon asked, puzzled.
"My father believed the curse of Harrenhal was real. Even if it wasn't, it would eventually become real."
"Too bad that before Harrenhal's curse took effect, you and your father were already brought down by him," Daenerys sneered.
"What do you mean?"
Suddenly, Tyrion's pupils contracted as he exclaimed, "You mean Joffrey was killed by him?"
"Oh, so you're not completely stupid."
"Maybe Littlefinger had the means to do it—but what's the point? Framing me, or killing Joffrey—what could he possibly gain from that?" Tyrion asked in disbelief.
Daenerys stared at him for a long moment, until the dwarf began to squirm uncomfortably under her gaze. Then, suppressing her laughter, she said, "A chaotic kingdom... and he got your wife."
"Sansa?" Tyrion's face turned pale green.
"Do you know about Littlefinger's relationship with Catelyn?"
"He saw Sansa as a replacement for his first love, Catelyn? Damn it!"
Tyrion's face turned completely green.
The crowd of onlookers around him now looked at him with sympathy.
Especially the female dwarf, Fanny, who nearly teared up with sorrow for him.
"Talk about misfortune—being tricked by the same man again and again. Your wife ended up in his bed, and for all you know, they might already have kids together. And you still know nothing."
Daenerys had no sympathy at all and even seemed to be enjoying it.
Serves you right for betraying Daenerys!
The dwarf's face turned deathly pale, and he looked like he might collapse at any moment.
(End of Chapter)
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