After a quick breakfast of eggs and sausage, I stayed cooped up in my rooms until the time came for the meeting with Tywin. I slipped out of the apartments without speaking to any of my family and followed a servant in red livery through the giant maze that made up Casterly Rock's innards.
Considering how low on the totem pole House Tarth sat, we had to take two winch elevators, many flights of stairs, and countless never-ending hallways adorned with more gold than Evenfall Hall had ever seen before we arrived at the lord's solar at the near top of the mountain castle.
That's when the power plays started. It was a well-appointed sitting room that I found myself in, with plenty of watered wine, rich pastries, and comfortable enough seating that I could've fallen asleep on one of the cushioned chairs; but waiting this long despite having a scheduled meeting bordered on the absurd.
Lord of the Rock or not, I imagine I would've blown up by now had I not known of Tywin's ways. Most lords lived and died by their pride, Tywin included. And deep down, it irked me that I had to come here like a beggar for his scraps, and pretty much be treated as such, but these were early days still.
As long as it served to further my own goals, I would play along and wait as long as I had to. I had been no one important in my previous life. Just a normal, unremarkable man. A speck of dust flying blindly on the winds of fate. Here, I vowed to be the whirlwind itself.
It took another hour until I was finally ushered through a sturdy wooden door flanked by two knights in full kit.
As soon as I stepped inside, Tywin's eyes rose from the pile of parchment in front of him. He considered me for only a second before he went back to what he was doing.
"You're not Selwyn Tarth," he said.
I almost froze. Hadn't my father told Steffon I would be the one coming? Or had Lord Baratheon dropped the ball and failed to mention the meeting was for myself, not Lord Tarth?
Catching myself, I moved further into the room and sketched an appropriate bow. "Aye, my lord. My name is Galladon Tarth, Lord Selwyn's son and heir. I'm here on my own behalf, not that of my father's or my house."
He didn't even blink my way. With precise movements, he pulled out the next piece of parchment, quickly scanned it over, and signed it.
"Get out," he said, voice flat. Then it was onto the next document.
I knew he would be an exhausting prick, but Tywin Lannister did have a way of exceeding expectations.
So I just shrugged, rooted myself where I stood, and said nothing. The only sound in his solar was the scratching of his quill and my own measured breathing.
I took the quiet reprieve to look about the place.
Like most rooms in the castle, the lord's solar was carved straight into the rock, one of a series of old mineshafts repurposed as living quarters for the ruling family of Casterly Rock.
To one side of his desk, a great green-stained window looked out into the sunset sea, while to the other, a giant banner of the roaring lion of Lannister rested above a smoldering hearth. Bookshelves filled out the rest of the room lined with leather-bound books shined to perfection.
That painted an almost cozy picture that I had a hard time associating with Tywin Lannister. Of course, that image was contrasted by a single giant vein of unmined gold cutting through the rock like a lightning strike caught in amber serving as the backdrop for his massive dark wooden desk.
Talk about aura farming.
It was another minute before he deigned to address me.
"You have not left."
The quill didn't stop moving even as he spared me a single derisive glance.
"Do you think the Hand of the King has time to meet with every boy barely old enough to earn his stirrups that wish a minute of his time?"
"I was in fact hoping for quite more than a minute of your time, my lord."
My smile remained pleasant even as I spoke.
"And I'm here to meet with the Lord of House Lannister, not the representative of the crown."
At my tone, Tywin finally stopped writing and turned to me. "You're insistent, boy, I will give you that."
His piercing green eyes were hard and flat as he tried to stare me down.
"Whether you are here to meet me as a Lord or as the Hand is irrelevant. Only a fool would think a man can disentangle his own interests from his official position. That I'm the Lord of Lannister is the only reason I'm the Hand of the King, and I'm only the Hand because I wish to improve my house's standing."
He gave a small, almost imperceptible pause.
"Whose interests, of course, align with those of the crown."
I made as if to speak, but the second most powerful man in Westeros was not done talking.
"And whether you intended to come here as your own person or as a representative of your house is also, naturally, irrelevant," Tywin said.
"Everything you do reflects on your house, as your house's standing reflects on you. And you, still a boy, coming here on your own to meet with the Hand of the King speaks of your house and your father's leadership."
His lips curled up into a sneer.
"Or lack thereof. Don't ever delude yourself into thinking otherwise, or House Tarth will never survive your lordship. Take that as my first and only advice to you, Galladon Tarth. You may go now."
xxx
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