King's Landing is always bustling, a unique spectacle in all of Westeros. The city is alive with the hum of opportunity-seekers from every corner, yet it carries a rather strong, unpleasant odor alongside its vibrancy.
Many residents harbor a deep dislike for the Lannister soldiers. During the War of the Usurper, under Tywin's command, these soldiers stormed the city, leaving a trail of terror and bloodshed. Time may heal wounds, but the memories linger among those who experienced it firsthand.
In a shadowy room on Silk Street, several figures cloaked in secrecy gathered. One spoke, "When will His Majesty finally attack King's Landing? I heard Storm's End has been captured, and over twenty thousand men are ready to fight for him at any moment."
His voice was hoarse, disguising either illness or identity. Another chimed in anxiously, "Exactly! We've armed three to five hundred men. When His Majesty attacks, we can seize the Old Gate and welcome the main army to rid us of that incestuous bastard, Joffrey."
He'd joined the "Stags" to escape debts owed to the Crown. If Stannis Baratheon delayed, Littlefinger would seize his property, leaving his family destitute.
"What's the panic about?" The central figure roared softly, calming the group. "Times have changed. Tywin brought ten thousand seasoned soldiers to King's Landing. His Majesty needs more strength and will attack with certainty."
His eyes swept coldly over the group. "Keep this to yourselves, not a word to anyone. His Majesty gathers more soldiers. The Reach and Stormlands will eventually support the true King, understood?"
The figures nodded and dispersed, changing clothes and slipping out of the "Gilded Lily" like ordinary patrons. A muddy-faced little girl watched them leave from the shadows, then vanished into the alleys, a "Little Bird" in Varys's network.
She slipped into a perfumed room where Varys, the Master of Whisperers, sat thoughtfully. He murmured, "I hope you don't blame me, Lord Tyrion," though his face bore only a smile.
He'd reported Tyrion's actions to Tywin, including the courtesan Shae, anticipating intrigue between father and son.
When Varys noticed the Little Bird's arrival, he smiled kindly, asking for her news. She handed him a note, which he read and dismissed with a murmur, "It's not time yet."
He rewarded her with copper coins and instructed, "Keep watching and report to me. If I'm not here, hide the note in the fireplace crack. Alright?"
The Little Bird nodded and disappeared. Varys tossed the note into the brazier, sipped wine, and pondered.
A knock interrupted his thoughts. "Lord Varys, Duke Tywin has called a Small Council meeting. Please proceed to the council chambers immediately."
"I understand." Varys straightened his robe, a faint smile on his face, and exited.
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**In the Council Chambers**
Duke Tywin, the meeting's initiator, was the first to arrive, followed by his son, Tyrion Lannister, temporarily acting as Master of Coin. With Tywin's return, Tyrion lost the power of Hand.
The former Master of Coin, Petyr Baelish, had left King's Landing upon Renly's death, taking guards and a commission to negotiate Margaery Tyrell's marriage to Joffrey I, securing the Reach's support.
Cersei Lannister, the self-important Queen Regent, arrived next, followed by Varys, the Master of Whisperers, and Grand Maester Pycelle.
Tyrion mused, "This so-called Small Council is becoming a Lannister family meeting," still unsure of Varys's intentions. Pycelle, a family ally, had fawned over Tywin since his arrival.
Once gathered, Tywin coughed softly, drawing attention. "Thanks to Pycelle's diligence, Lord Petyr's raven arrived. Negotiations went smoothly. House Tyrell will send Margaery to King's Landing with fifty thousand men from the Reach."
"That's wonderful," Cersei exclaimed, her excitement barely contained. "Father, once the Reach army arrives, we'll march to the Riverlands, behead the rebels, and rescue Jaime and Uncle."
Tywin remained silent, his pale green eyes impassive. "My dear sister," Tyrion interjected, "even with the Reach's support, don't forget Stannis Baratheon, gathering his bannermen at Storm's End."
He cautioned, "The Stormlands will have a continuous stream of soldiers. Once the Reach army leaves, they'll attack King's Landing. And the Riverlands aren't easily conquered. Harrenhal holds five thousand men, Robb Stark is in Riverrun, and Golden Tooth threatens the Westerlands."
"Sister, please be reasonable. The area near Lannisport is already in ruins."
Tywin turned to Tyrion, acknowledging his insight. "So, tell me, what should we do next?"
On Tywin's return to the Red Keep, he learned of Tyrion's actions from Pycelle and Varys—some commendable, like the alliance with Dorne, others infuriating, like allowing Shae into the city.
Cersei sat indignantly, crossing her arms, her cleavage accentuated, coldly watching Tyrion.
Tyrion declared, "Negotiate!" His father's warning loomed over him, reminding him of past pain. He'd hidden Shae, recalling Tessa's tragic fate.
He'd grown up, unwilling to endure such loss again.
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