Before I could answer her, Pate burst into the pavilion. If he was uncomfortable earlier with Arianne, then he looked down right distraught now. He was covered in sweat, face red, his hands moving about like he was trying to grasp something in the air that would come and save him.
"Milord, iss' the Lannisters, milord. Ser Lannister," he corrected himself, though that didn't help me at all. "He's here to see you, milord. I told him about the king and interrupting you, I told him as much, but he insisted, and he's got other men with him, many men, around the tent."
The words spilled out of him like a leaky faucet. I lifted up a hand to stop him.
"It's fine, Pate," I said. "Calm down a moment, take a breath, then go let him in."
I looked to the side to check on Arianne, but she was already composing herself like a proper little lady, swiping at her tear-stained face and fixing up her hair. It would not be enough to hide that she was crying just now, but she was young enough that a little crying wouldn't be seen as a big faux pas.
A minute later, a handsome blond-haired man walked into the tent, flanked by two red-liveried guards. I recognized him instantly, and with a small grunt of effort, rose to meet him.
"Ser Gerion." I nodded at him. "To what do I owe the honor?"
I had not met the man himself before, of course, but having seen the other brothers, Ser Tygett on the field and Ser Kevan distantly on the practice yard, it could only be him. Dressed as he was too, in fine embroidered silks and a cloth-of-gold cape resting easily on his shoulders, any half-learned hedge knight could peg him as a Lannister.
"Ah, our mystery man," he said, green eyes filled with mirth. "You have a spirited squire, I'll say. I was starting to think I would need to bring siege engines to have the chance to speak with you."
He wore a smirk I would've thought fitting on an older Jamie Lannister's face. It made him look dashing instead of just a rich ponce.
"Come inside, Ser. And please, do forgive Pate. I told him no one should bother me except the king himself. His overeagerness is on me."
He dismissed the issue with a laugh. "It's quite fine. I have not crowned myself just yet, even if it has grown tempting as of late."
Bold words to say outloud. Tywin had not been the only one whose ego was injured by King Aerys' words. A Lannister's pride runs in the family as much as the blond hair, it seemed.
"I take it this is not a social visit," I prompted.
"Would that it were," he said, striding further into the room. "Who wouldn't want to meet the fifteen year old boy who dared enter Lord Tywin's tourney. I'm jealous, truly. I have done some audacious things in my own youth, but none quite so grandiose as this."
I shrugged. "Only doing what I think is best for my house, ser." Then, knowing his personality was not a copy of his older brother's, I let a smirk of my own curve my lips. "The thrill of riding down a kingsguard as the crowd roars is not half bad either."
"Hah, I like you boy." He turned to the girl standing beside me. "And this must be…"
"My sister, the Lady Arianne Tarth." She dipped into an appropriate gesture.
"A pleasure, little lady." With a quick glance over his shoulder, the two men that had come in with him turned on their heels and left the pavilion. He shot me another smile. "They and another dozen men will make sure we're undisturbed for now, Ser Sapphire, and so that your own identity isn't discovered before the right time if the wrong person were to stumble upon your tent."
I nodded. "You have my thanks, ser."
"Now, will the little lady stay to hear our words?" He raised a golden eyebrow at her.
"She has my confidence."
Beside me, Arianne seemed thrilled by my response. I refrained from rolling my eyes at her. She had just admitted to possibly seeing people's emotions, why wouldn't I want her in a meeting?
Shrugging, Ser Gerion Lannister started with his spiel, and given even the tone of his voice shifted, I expected the words were coming straight out of Tywin's mouth.
In the end, the deal offered was better than I expected, yet not as outstanding as I had dared to dream.
Two carracks and four cogs for the bargain price of ten thousand gold dragons. Three thousand for the carracks, one for each cog.
One of the carracks would even be a newly built one too, as a treat, and Lannister hands would sail all the ships to Tarth free of charge instead of myself having to pay for men to crew them.
Not bad. Were I to shop for ships in Braavos or the Arbor, even used ones, ten thousand gold would not see six ships to my name.
Perhaps the two carracks and two of the cogs, or one and three. And a new carrack would serve me well as my temporary flag ship.
I was glad they were not trying to cheat me on this deal.
Usually, noble houses operated mostly on the honor system when it came to trade. Screwing a fellow noble house meant having your name dragged through courtly mud, and that was worse than any financial hit a house could take.
Especially for big houses like the Lannisters, keeping a clean name was more important than scrimping out for a bit more coin.
But this was a behind the doors deal with no written contracts or signed promises. If they tried to trick me, I could not go around claiming malfeasance. Not when the deal involved unhorsing the crown prince or a kingsguard to repay the humiliation House Lannister suffered at the hands of the king.
It was no great treasonous collusion, sure, but anything involving the Targaryens was a lot more sensitive.
It was why Tywin never outright agreed to any terms. I had even said I could use a red ribbon around my arm instead of the blue one for the finals, to signal Cersei's favor when I won. But he was firmly against it. He did not voice why, but I understood.
Plausible deniability was a tenuous thing. Smart move by him.
No doubt, he was waiting to see if I would make it to the finals to finally make the offer and sweeten the deal for me. He wanted me as motivated as possible to ride down Prince Rhagear as he could make it.
There was another reason he felt comfortable making me wait for his final decision on the deal too, of course. It was him throwing around his weight in our budding relationship.
He had most of the leverage in this trade of favors. I was offering an objectively useless title for his daughter—the tourney's Queen of Love and Beauty—while asking for trade agreements and thousands of dragons worth of discounts for his ships.
It just so happened that I knew he held the Lannister's name far above any matters of gold.
In a distant future, he would've gone to war for his hated, crippled son. Now, Cersei had been loudly spurned by the king in front of all the high nobility of the realm.
And here I was just a few days later, offering him a chance of retribution, small as it was, and also in front of the entire realm. All for some scraps of coin he had to spare.
But that had been the main reason to come to the Lannisters for this, of course. Tywin's ego and the fact that, in the end, Lannisters always pay their debts. As long as I played my part, Tywin would see his end of the deal fulfilled, of that I was sure.
It took a few more minutes for Ser Gerion to hash out the details with me.
Along with the ships and the left over five thousand gold dragons, the trade agreements involved several shipments of Tarth's marble for the construction of a new palace the Lannister's of Lannisport were building, a small share of their buying market for ink and wool as long as our prices remained competitive, and a slight reduction in berthing and dock fees for ships bearing the Tarth flag for the next five years.
Nothing spectacular, as it was mostly just a promise to buy some of our goods at a fair market price, but it would still be a boost for our fledgling economy.
"We have ourselves an understanding, then." Ser Gerion Lannister put his hand out for me to shake, and I did so with only a slight wince of pain. He was quick to notice. "Your shoulder, eh?"
I nodded.
"I'll have the maester come see you at once, then. Wouldn't want our Sapphire Knight to try and outride the Prince or the Bold with but one working arm."
Once he was gone, I sat back on the bench with a tired sigh, raking my good hand through my hair. Fuck me. A small flicker of satisfaction passed through my face and I let myself luxuriate in the moment.
The deal was secured. Now I only had to topple one of the best jousters in the land, be it Ser Barristan or Prince Rhaegar, with a dislocated shoulder. How hard could that be?
xxx
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