Chapter 181: Barter
A smile played on Glyn's lips. "Princess Myrcella Baratheon," he said.
Tyrion Lannister covered his face. "By the Seven..."
After a moment, he leaned back against the chair and said wearily, "Glyn, how did you guess?"
"Tyrion, it wasn't difficult to guess."
Tyrion's eyes flickered. "Everyone knows the Prince of Dorne is a man of deep feeling. To this day, the Dornishmen have not forgotten their hatred for the Lannisters."
Glyn shook his head slightly. "The Prince of Dorne is the leader of Dorne. His personal feelings will not override Dorne's interests. Everyone knows the current situation in the Seven Kingdoms is very advantageous for them."
Tyrion sat up straight. "Glyn, the Prince of Dorne is a proud man. How could he so easily let go of such a deep-seated grudge?!"
He seemed to be answering his own question as he continued, "First, use the Mountain's head to slightly soothe the pride of the Dornishmen..."
Glyn shrugged. "Easy to guess, isn't it?"
Tyrion said nothing. He picked up the pitcher and filled an empty cup with wine, pushing it toward Glyn.
He stared at Glyn and said seriously, "Glyn, will you help me?"
Glyn raised an eyebrow. "Tyrion, that sounds like you want me to betray Queen Cersei."
Tyrion picked up his cup and swirled the wine gently. "My dear sister Cersei. She is as gentle as poisoned wine, as selfless as the Feckless King Aenys, and she possesses the wisdom of the Mad King Aerys."
"She is vengeful over the slightest grievance, whether it's a real offense or something she's imagined. Her judgments spring from her own perceived cleverness."
"She can't distinguish between caution and cowardice, and she turns a deaf ear to harsh truths. Most frightening of all... she is fatally greedy for power and glory."
He stared at Glyn and added, "She will appoint you Commander of the Gold Cloaks because she trusts you, but she will also easily waver in that trust precisely because you *are* the Commander of the Gold Cloaks."
After hearing Tyrion's words, Glyn remained unmoved. "I like Queen Cersei's simplicity and directness. Besides, establishing loyalty with someone new... is too tiring."
Tyrion took a sip from his cup, his gaze never leaving Glyn. "Hmm, my sister Cersei is indeed easy to deal with at times."
After a pause, he set down his cup and said, "Glyn, for three hundred years, Crackclaw Point has upheld the tradition of direct loyalty to the queen. Joffrey will soon have a new queen... Surely you wouldn't abandon your family's craft?"
Glyn's tone was very calm. "Tyrion, have you found a candidate for his queen?"
Tyrion froze for a moment, then sighed. "Lady Sansa is actually an excellent choice. If Joffrey married her, we could gain the support of the North, the Riverlands, and the Vale all at once. It's just a pity that my dear nephew's methods for winning a lady's heart are so... unusual."
The smile on Glyn's face gradually faded. "Lord Hand, King Joffrey is only thirteen. You can wait until he has a new queen before discussing the traditions of Crackclaw Point with me."
Hearing Glyn's reply, Tyrion wanted to facepalm. He needed this *now*.
Glyn spoke again. "What did you say to Queen Cersei?"
"My dear sister was boasting to her dear brother about how she has all of King's Landing firmly in her grasp. For a moment, my mouth moved faster than my brain..."
Tyrion grimaced. "I asked her... if she controlled this city with the weapon between her legs."
Glyn's pupils trembled slightly. Hearing such words, Cersei, with her way of thinking, would certainly doubt his loyalty. After all, she could never fully trust a courtier who hadn't been to her bed.
Was Tyrion telling the truth? Was it really just a case of his mouth outrunning his brain?
Glyn reined in his thoughts, his fingers tracing the body of the wine cup. He said slowly, "Tyrion, I'm not interested in pledging myself to anyone else."
Tyrion's eyes moved slightly. He said with a grin, "Glyn, I'm very curious. What are you interested in right now?"
"The Vale."
Tyrion was stunned. "You have your eye on Lady Lysa?!"
After a pause, as if trying to convince himself, he added, "For the days to come... if you close your eyes and get the business done quickly, it's not an unbearable match."
Glyn: "..."
Tyrion laughed. "Glyn, relax a little. Your stern face is making me a bit nervous."
Though he was smiling, Tyrion's mind was racing with calculations. He had specifically studied the enmity between the Vale and Crackclaw Point. To be precise, it was a one-sided hatred from the people of the Point toward the people of the Vale.
Was Glyn planning to trade his position as Commander of the Gold Cloaks for the Red Keep's support of a retaliatory campaign by Crackclaw Point?
Cersei's Red Keep could barely protect itself; they couldn't possibly send reinforcements. Did he mean to attack while the Vale was in the throes of internal strife? If that was the case... what kind of war of vengeance would that be? Giving two feuding factions a common enemy... that would be tantamount to helping the Vale end its civil war!
Tyrion glanced at Glyn. How could the man before him not have thought of that?!
Tyrion probed with a smile, "Glyn, until the new king's two uncles are dealt with, the Red Keep's support will be limited. You're aware of that, aren't you?"
Glyn nodded slightly.
Tyrion continued to test the waters. "You're actually willing to trade 6,000 Gold Cloaks for the Red Keep's drumbeat? To be honest, my sister enjoys making that kind of deal too."
Glyn stopped his hand's movement, his brown eyes looking directly at Tyrion. "That is the second path..."
He continued with a faint smile, "Tyrion, I believe your wisdom can save us from the current crisis."
He paused for a moment, then added, "The premise is that you can bypass Queen Cersei and take control of King's Landing for yourself."
Tyrion stared at Glyn for a while before speaking. "Lord Glyn, can you give me control of the 6,000 swords of the Gold Cloaks?"
Glyn pointed at Tyrion's hands. "Not the Gold Cloaks. I can deliver King's Landing into your hands."
"Haha..." Tyrion used laughter to cover up his inner excitement, as well as his distrust of Glyn.
Tyrion raised his cup in a toast to Glyn. He enjoyed Glyn's praise, and Glyn's proposal was very tempting, but he suspected Glyn's true motives.
Tyrion took a light sip, the fine red wine sliding slowly down his throat. Would Glyn harm him? Could today's actions have been instigated by his ever-so-loving sister?
But if Glyn really had a way to help him control King's Landing... The thought, Tyrion had to admit, was incredibly alluring.
Tyrion raised a finger and scratched his cheek. He seemed to quite enjoy the thought of seeing his sister defeated; she would surely look even more captivating that way.
Glyn stood up. "Lord Hand, please take your time to consider."
Glyn paused by Tyrion's chair. He reached out and patted Tyrion's small shoulder. "If you don't want to be thrown into the Black Cells, I suggest you contact the Lord of Casterly Rock as soon as possible. You need to at least make Queen Cersei temporarily believe that the Hand of the King is merely his father's dutiful errand boy."
Tyrion grabbed Glyn. "Heh, my friend, you could stay. We can talk some more."
Glyn was already almost at the door. He turned his head sideways and said, "I refuse insincere invitations."
With that, his blue cloak, embroidered with the golden marsh marigold, swirled, and he left the tavern directly.
(end of chapter)