The Lord of Tywin's breakfast table was not a place just any noble could take a seat at.
Seated to Tywin's right and left were Gregor, The Mountain, and Jeyne. Sitting beside Jeyne was her biological father, Gawen Westerling. He was worried about his daughter's health, especially after the night before when Gregor had legally laid claim to her like a beast ravaging a delicate flower.
Tywin looked at Jeyne with the steady gaze of a father. Though he said nothing, Jeyne could read the meaning behind his eyes. Tywin was the kind of man who dared to speak directly about anything, even matters concerning his daughter's "intimate" affairs. To him, this was as ordinary as commenting on today's weather. For Lord Tywin, all the usual social niceties were meaningless nonsense.
An elephant goes about its business, unbothered by ants' opinions.
Both fathers were concerned about her well-being.
After all, Gregor Clegane was a monstrous beast, something far more terrifying than a wild animal.
"I'm fine!" Jeyne's delicate face flushed slightly. "Ser Gregor… he truly loves me." By the end, her voice barely rose above a whisper.
Tywin didn't care, but Jeyne did.
He nodded and gestured to the servants to bring the dishes.
Gawen Westerling showed no expression but secretly breathed a sigh of relief.
Gregor's treatment of Jeyne was no doubt related to Tywin's authority. After all, Jeyne was Tywin's ward, and the Lord's honor could not be tarnished.
Gawen gave Tywin a grateful glance.
The Lord, however, remained expressionless, not returning the favor, as if he hadn't even noticed. His commanding presence made everyone uneasy.
A parade of lavish dishes arrived in quick succession until the table was piled high.
Sitting beside Gregor was Lord Auren.
Lord Auren was a Lannister and one of Tywin's trusted men, so his place close to the Lord was well-earned.
"Ser." Auren said, his speech slurred, "your men broke several of my teeth last night."
"My lord." Gregor replied, "if they hadn't broken some of your teeth, I would have broken a few of your bones instead. See, both my fathers are here, and the great lords of the Westerlands sit at this table. Let me say this once: from now on, no one touches my wife, not for any reason. Otherwise, it won't just be teeth or bones broken. The games you play with mistresses and such have nothing to do with House Clegane. Don't try to lure her with embroidery and fancy needlework. Don't play your ugly tricks in front of me."
Among the seated lords and knights, there wasn't one who didn't dabble in mistresses. In this primitive age without modern entertainment, the wealthy and powerful during times of peace satisfied their desires in all manner of debauched ways. There was simply no more refined amusement.
Gregor's shameless bluntness shocked the lords sitting with him. Jeyne's cheeks flushed even redder. The affair of mistresses was the ugly custom among nobles, everyone tacitly accepted it, but Gregor openly tore off their mask without hesitation. That left Jeyne feeling slightly embarrassed.
She was a smart woman, though. When the atmosphere grew awkward, she softly said, "Ser Gregor, please serve Father some soup."
Gregor Clegane dutifully ladled soup for the iron-faced Tywin.
Jeyne's tact dissolved the tension effortlessly.
Since his wife's tragic death in childbirth twenty-five years ago, Lord Tywin had never been close to another woman. Many eloquent matchmakers had been scolded away and dared not return. He never set foot in the brothels he so despised.
People said that Lady Joanna's death had taken all the goodness from Tywin's soul, and that since then, he had lost his smile.
Joanna was Tywin's cousin, and by every measure, their marriage had been a happy one. A saying once circulated, Tywin ruled the Seven Kingdoms, and Joanna ruled Tywin.
But with her passing, Tywin's nature hardened, losing all tenderness and mercy.
Though he despised the noble custom of mistresses, Tywin kept his thoughts private.
Gregor Clegane broke that silence on the morning after his wedding, bluntly voicing what no one dared say in front of so many lords.
This breakfast table was filled with powerful men: the Marbrand Lord of Castamere, Lannister's vassal; the Lefford Lord of Golden Tooth; the Crakehall Lord of Crakehall; the Swyft Lord of Cornfield; Kevan Lannister, Tywin's shadow in Casterly Rock; and the Serrett Lord, who had the right to be present but was away in Winterfell with the King and Queen. The younger Serrett were less entitled.
With Gregor serving the Lord and ladling soup, everyone began eating.
"Father." Jeyne smiled sweetly, enchanting in her charm, "may I say something small?"
They say women are men's schools, but in truth, men are women's schools, and women tend to graduate quickly. Jeyne's night with Gregor had certainly sparked all sorts of fantasies among men and women alike.
Tywin fixed his gaze on Jeyne Westerling.
"Father, our Clegane lands are small, and the population sparse. We want to establish a mercenary company in Lannisport to take noble contracts and earn some extra coin. May we?"
Tywin said nothing.
Under the table, Gawen gave Jeyne a light kick.
Lord Auren's heart skipped a beat.
Having been beaten the night before, and now Jeyne mentioned setting up a mercenary company in his city, a worrying sign. Gregor's new soldiers included a man named Cheswick, once captain of a disbanded mercenary group called the Battleaxe Company.
Cheswick had agreed to recruit his former men to give up piracy and join Lannisport's fleet, an arrangement Gregor and Tywin had made. So why had Jeyne suddenly brought up the mercenary company? It seemed to contradict the agreement. If the mercenary company only handled land contracts, it might barely pass.
Auren looked at Gregor, who seemed unaware.
"Women, you just can't keep them at home." Gawen jokes. "She's only been married to Clegane a day, and already thinking about the family business. Fifteen years I raised her, and it's all for nothing!"
Ser Kevan added, "Jeyne, Ser Gregor has won a gold mine from House Serrett. You won't need to worry about food."
"That small gold mine? The Serretts don't even care for it. It won't last long. We'll have children someday, and I don't want to have to rely on Father to get by."
Kevan's heart trembled.
He recalled Tywin's warning in his study last night: The gold mines had been dug for a thousand years and were running dry. The Westerlands' future, its army, and power were all supported by those mines, and soon they would be gone.
Casterly Rock was built after hollowing out a mountain.
The richest region in the Seven Kingdoms was nearing the end of its gold-supported era.
Jeyne's worry for her family's future was a microcosm of the Westerlands' crisis. But only Tywin saw it coming.
While the other nobles reveled in excess and intrigue, Tywin's eyes were fixed on the looming fall of the Westerlands.
Tywin nodded. "Jeyne, I support House Clegane's mercenary company in Lannisport." He gave a pointed look at the uneasy Lord Auren.
Before this, Gregor had told Tywin he wanted to find ways to make money. Tywin had told him to take mercenary contracts from Lannisport, a port where mercenaries found plenty of work.
But Jeyne was the one who brought it up again over breakfast, casually, as if chatting with her father.
It was a deliberate move to send a message to Lord Auren.
Auren understood perfectly.
Suddenly suspicious, he remembered last night's beating and Jeyne's mercenary plan this morning. Something didn't feel right.
Had the 'advice' he gave Tywin last night been overheard by Gregor? Or had Jeyne guessed something?
Impossible!
A shadow and a name slowly formed in Auren's mind: the witch.
Cold sweat broke out on his forehead and nose, but mixed with the heat no one noticed.
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