The linen wrapped around Jaime's forearm was gray and foul-smelling from pus, and his gaze was empty.
"Alas!"
Tyrion lay directly beside Jaime, his hands clasped behind his head, one short leg propped up. He truly hadn't expected that revealing Cersei's infidelity, instead of provoking the anger he imagined, would make Jaime lose his will to live.
"Brother Jaime, aren't you going to ask her face to face?"
Jaime's eyes moved imperceptibly, and Tyrion's voice sounded again: "Aren't you curious? Why would Cersei do this?"
Noticing that it had an effect, Tyrion said against his true feelings: "Perhaps, Cersei… she has her reasons?"
He continued: "Perhaps, she was forced?"
He spoke more and more smoothly: "Cersei is isolated and helpless in the Red Keep, and she might have been forced for Joffrey's sake?"
If Jaime had been sober, he would certainly not have listened to the "absurd" advice from Tyrion's mouth. He knew her; no one could force his Lioness. But… at this moment, Jaime was very willing to believe. Yes, he wasn't by Cersei's side, and her betrayal was a helpless choice.
Cersei… her charming figure seemed to be right before his eyes, reaching out to him helplessly.
Tyrion was right, he couldn't die, Cersei was waiting for him, she needed him!
Yes, Cersei was still alive, he couldn't die, he was born on the same year, same month, same day as her, and he would die on the same year, same month, same day.
Jaime's dim eyes finally showed a glimmer of light.
"Tyrion…" Jaime called out softly, wanting to tell his brother that he would live, and they would return to the Red Keep alive together.
There was no response for a long time. Jaime laboriously turned his head slightly, and within his sight, his brother had fallen asleep at some point.
Jaime could feel Tyrion's exhaustion. Staring at that face, his brother still looked ugly no matter how he looked at him—his lips curved slightly.
Late at night, a loud commotion suddenly came from outside the simple wooden hut. Tyrion, curled up on the ground, abruptly opened his eyes.
Tyrion got up. He held his breath and listened for a moment, then looked at the awake Jaime and said, "I'll go check."
Tyrion had two short axes tucked into his belt. Just as Jaime was about to ask Tyrion for one, the wooden door was pushed open with a "bang," and a damp, cold wind blew in.
Ser Adam Marbrand (Jaime's childhood friend), dressed as a hunter, stepped in. Tyrion tilted his head slightly; a stranger followed behind him.
The stranger was a very tall, slightly hunched, kindly-faced old man with gray hair and many wrinkles around his prominent brown eyes.
Ser Adam assessed Jaime. Seeing that he looked a little better than when he left earlier in the day, he smiled and said, "Looks like I wasn't too late."
He pointed to the strange old man standing nearby and added, "I brought someone who can treat you."
Seeing everyone look at him, the old man bowed slightly: "Good evening, my name is Qyburn."
Tyrion glanced at Ser Adam without batting an eye and said, "Are you a Maester? Why are you here?"
Qyburn's tone was gentle: "The Citadel stripped me of my Maester's chain, Lord Lannister. As for why I stand here… I think you would prefer to hear it from Ser."
Tyrion grinned: "I like your answer. Something interesting must have happened there. So, do you know medicine?"
Facing Tyrion's skepticism, Qyburn's tone remained gentle: "The Citadel can strip me of my Maester's chain, but it cannot strip me of my knowledge, Lord."
Tyrion stepped aside, and Qyburn came to Jaime's side to examine the wound. He leaned in to sniff, and his brows furrowed.
Jaime said hoarsely, "Is it bad? Am I going to die?"
After a pause, Qyburn shook his head and replied, "The flesh has rotted, and the canker will spread. The most thorough solution is to amputate the entire arm."
A dark look flashed across Jaime's face, but he quickly said with determination, "I just need the wound cleaned. Let me take my chances."
Tyrion and Ser Adam exchanged glances. He silently gestured with his chin towards another part of the room and then hobbled away. Ser Adam looked at the determined Jaime and followed Tyrion.
Leaning against the drafty wooden wall, Tyrion stared at Qyburn and asked in a low voice, "Two questions: How did you meet him? Can he be trusted?"
Ser Adam sat directly on the ground, leaning tiredly against the wooden wall, and said, "Qyburn was once a member of the Brave Companions. Lord Tywin once hired the Brave Companions for battle, and later they defected to Lord Bolton."
Tyrion looked at Ser Adam: "Bolton… that flaying family from the North? Is selling leather very profitable? I should suggest my father stop mining so hard."
He had a slightly schadenfreude expression on his face. Ser Adam gave him a cold glance and said, "During the pillaging of the Riverlands, Vargo Hoat of the Brave Companions had a conflict with Amory Lorch (Chapter 272), which is why they left the Lannister army."
Tyrion shrugged: "And then?"
An impatient look flashed across Ser Adam's face. He said, "Qyburn got separated from the Brave Companions. I saw him at Kneeling Stump… helping people with treatment, so I just brought him over."
Tyrion's eyes moved slightly, and he said, "Don't you think it's too much of a coincidence?"
Ser Adam said coldly, "Jaime needs a physician."
...…
If he became crippled, Jaime would rather die. Qyburn frowned deeply: "I can save your upper arm, amputating from the elbow, but this cannot guarantee…"
Jaime's gaze was sharp: "Do as I ask, or I'll strangle you."
A hint of regret flashed in Qyburn's eyes. He said gently, "Very well, I will only dig out the canker and touch nothing else, Ser."
He placed his small bag in front of him, taking out its contents as he spoke: "First, treat it with boiling wine, then apply a poultice of nettle, mustard seed, and bread mold. This might work."
Holding a small bottle, he said, "I'll feed you milk of the poppy first, it will be very painful…"
"No need." Jaime dared not sleep, fearing that he would wake up to find his hand gone. This seemingly kind old man made him feel uneasy.
Qyburn insisted on feeding him milk of the poppy: "Ser, it will be very painful."
Jaime was firm: "I will scream."
Qyburn said somewhat helplessly: "This will be very, very painful."
Jaime was even more firm: "I will scream very, very loudly."
Qyburn pointed behind him, smiled kindly, and said, "Your companions will be watching me. You can rest assured and sleep, Ser."
Jaime did not relax his guard: "No need, I only need wine."
Qyburn spread his hands: "Alright, lie down, I need to tie your hand first, Ser."
Then, Ser Jaime screamed miserably for over half an hour before passing out.
After the treatment, Tyrion walked over. He looked at Jaime, whose eyes were tightly closed, and said, "Hey, Qyburn, your craftsmanship is good."
Qyburn's sternness was tinged with warmth. As he packed his tools, he said, "When I was with the Brave Companions, dealing with severed limbs was commonplace. Wherever they went, people would lose arms and legs."
"Interesting experience…"
Saying that, Tyrion gazed at Qyburn and continued, "So, Master Qyburn, how did you happen to appear at Kneeling Stump?"
He grinned: "Don't tell me it was the guidance of the Seven Gods' old home."
Qyburn stopped what he was doing and slowly said, "Count Kleber offered a high reward, and many people were looking for you. What attracted me most was his promise to shelter whoever found you, which is exactly what I needed most. My luck was pretty good; just as I was about to give up, Ser Marbrand found me."
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