"Let them fight it out. Tyrion sees it clearly," Tywin praised. "Kevan, what do you think we should do now?"
Ser Kevan frowned at the map, his forehead creasing into deep lines. "Currently, Gendry has the support of Edmure Tully and the Lords of The Three Rivers, and his total strength is not weak. We also have the Northmen to our rear who have not yet moved... Tywin, staying here, I fear we will be attacked from three sides."
The Imp looked at the map. Even if House Arryn didn't send troops, if the forces from The Three Rivers cut off their retreat, the Direwolf raided the Westerlands, and the wild deer moved along the Kingsroad, they would indeed be attacked from three sides.
"In fact, it's not just three sides," Tywin said. "Now, if the Arryn and crabfeeders men also move together, we'll have no retreat at all. Fortunately, the situation hasn't deteriorated to that point; we can still retreat."
The Imp understood from his father's words that they would no longer besiege The Twins; the front lines were too long and dangerous.
"So are we still blocking the river?"
"That's impractical."
"I'm not staying here. We need to resolve the retreat issue before Storms End sends troops, whether it's through peace or war. I cannot allow The Boy Blacksmith and the Direwolf to cooperate. I'm not too worried about The Boy Blacksmith; although he's a bold man, after days of continuous fighting, he won't send troops to pursue us. Across the Narrow Sea, I've given gifts to those cheese vendors and butter vendors; those fools should make a move. Once he leaves, our pressure will greatly decrease... So, tomorrow morning we will set off for Harrenhal. Kevan, order Adam's scouts to conceal our army's movements. Give him as many men as he needs. Four men to a squad, and no more disappearances..."
"Yes, My Lord, but... why Harrenhal? That's a grim and ominous place, said to be cursed."
"Let them talk," Lord Tywin said. "Find Ser Gregor, Ser Amory... no, pick two fierce and cunning knights, and have them lead butchers who love to kill to raid everywhere. Send out our mercenary captains too, and that fool Jerry. They'll each take three hundred cavalry, and tell them: from Gods Eye to the Red Fork, I want the Riverlands scorched earth."
The Imp watched his father's expression; he was surely most vexed by the departure of his two good hounds. These killings would have originally belonged to Ser Gregor and Ser Amory.
"My Lord, just wait and see." Ser Kevan said, then stood up. "I will go give the orders now." He bowed and departed.
After the father and son were left alone, Lord Tywin glanced at Tyrion. "Your savages might enjoy some looting too. Go tell them: they are free to go out and plunder as they wish—whether it's goods, livestock, or women. Take what they like, burn what they don't."
"Teaching Shaga and Timmy how to raid is as superfluous as teaching a rooster how to crow," The Imp stated. "But I'd rather keep them close." Perhaps crude and unruly, but they were his men after all. The Imp distinguished clearly between the Lord's men and his own; there was a world of difference.
"Then you must learn how to control them. I don't want to see them ransacking the city."
"The city?" The Imp was confused. "Which city?"
"King's Landing. I'm sending you to court."
This was the last thing The Imp expected. He raised his wine cup, drinking and thinking, "What am I to do at court?"
"Take charge," Tywin said abruptly.
Tyrion burst out laughing. "My dear older sister will probably have something to say about that!" "Let her talk. Someone has to manage her son, lest he ruin us all. I believe this is all the doing of those fickle high Lords—our friend Petyr, the venerable Grand Maester, and that eunuch Lord Varys. What were they doing when Joffrey was committing one foolish act after another?"
The Imp listened intently, mainly because several of Joffrey's actions were truly outrageous.
Joffrey elevating that butcher's son to Lord of Harrenhal was utterly preposterous. Harrenhal! That was a King's castle! Why choose that particular territory out of so many? Then there was the public execution of Eddard in the Great Sept. Killing was wrong, especially in the Great Sept, and Joffrey seemed to have acted entirely on impulse. And the matter of The Hound, how could a dog replace a White Cloak? All these things were already outrageous enough.
As for the Small Council and the seat of power in King's Landing, it was currently an assembly of "righteous officials": a widowed Queen, a Child King, a eunuch Master of Whisperers, a dying Old Maester, a jester Littlefinger, a Gold Cloaks Commander who used to be a butcher, plus a dwarf Hand of the King. It was truly a motley crew.
The Imp couldn't help but feel happy, wanting to see his sister's reaction when he appeared.
The Imp puffed out his chest. Regardless, he was still a lion.
The Imp felt he still had some use, even if it was just a flicker of light, he was willing to shine for Lannister... In the early morning, through the thin mist.
Ser Brynden Tully rode forward personally, scrutinizing every detail of The Twins. The Blackfish had already shed his heavy armor and helmet as Knight of the Bloody Gate, replacing them with light scout leather armor, but the obsidian fish carved on his cloak remained.
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