On the walls of the Red Keep, two figures—one tall, one short—stood side by side, looking down at the bustling construction site below.
Several craftsmen were hammering around the frame of a massive carriage that was slowly taking shape.
Calling it a carriage was generous. It was more like a small palace mounted on wheels.
The oak chassis was thick and polished, reinforced with gold-edged metal framing. It stretched over ten meters long, nearly as wide as the Kingsroad would allow.
Tyrion leaned against the battlement, standing on an oak stool so his head could just barely clear the stone.
His mismatched eyes—one green, one black—glimmered with amusement.
"My dear sister truly plans to ride that glittering beast all the way to the North?" he drawled.
"Seven save us, and the king actually agreed."
Joffrey rested his arms on the cold stone and copied Cersei's tone perfectly.
"This is a necessary display of royal and Lannister prestige."
Tyrion nearly choked laughing.
He had arrived only yesterday, riding hard along the Gold Road with two attendants to join the royal procession north.
When Tyrion finally stopped laughing, Joffrey snorted.
"Mother made the Lannisters pay for it. Not a single coin from the royal treasury."
"So Father had no reason to refuse."
"'You Lannisters'?" Tyrion arched a brow. "My dear nephew, that sounds rather distant."
"Lord Tywin greets you more warmly than he greets his own son. If someone didn't know better, they'd think you were the heir he truly favored."
He paused, his smile sharpening.
"Though I suspect that warmth has cooled considerably."
"That little speech of yours in the Small Council? Pycelle sent every word straight back to Casterly Rock."
"I've never seen our father so... expressive."
Below them, workers hauled more prefabricated pieces toward the wheelhouse, adding to its already ridiculous bulk.
Joffrey kept his gaze on the scene for a moment before asking calmly, "Is Grandfather very angry?"
"Angry?" Tyrion spread his hands dramatically. "He's furious."
"Your grandfather has dreamed for years of returning to King's Landing. Of reminding everyone who truly keeps the realm running."
"Jon Arryn dies, and he packs his bags, waiting for the king's summons."
"And what does he receive instead?
His most promising grandson calmly dismantling the idea in front of the entire council."
Tyrion laughed again, nearly tipping off his stool.
Joffrey didn't respond.
After a moment, Tyrion steadied himself and gave Joffrey a light pat on the back. "That said, you weren't entirely wrong."
"Why else would I ride all the way here?"
Joffrey turned slightly, resting his back against the battlement.
Below, the golden framework of the monstrous carriage gleamed under a dull gray sky.
Beyond the Mud Gate, ships crowded the harbor.
"Grandfather sent you," Joffrey said with certainty.
"Suggested I come," Tyrion corrected, rubbing his fingers together. "He believes a twelve-year-old, even a clever one, should have a more experienced Lannister nearby."
"Someone who understands family interests....Rather than letting my foolish sister spoil you."
Joffrey met Tyrion's measuring gaze.
Tyrion lowered his voice.
"Your grandfather is angry, yes. But he understands your reasoning. At least partly. You were trying to avoid turning House Lannister into an obvious target."
"But Tywin Lannister hates one thing above all else.
He hates when someone makes decisions for him. Especially when that someone is a child he expects to control."
He grinned again.
"Your uncle Jaime already caused him enough trouble. If you keep this up, you might give the old lion a stroke."
Joffrey remained silent, though his thoughts were far from calm.
Tywin's anger had been expected.
But sending Tyrion here felt like more than a warning. It was an investment.
The three main Lannister heirs had all been dispatched to King's Landing. Or two and a half, depending on how one counted.
And the half was specifically here to keep an eye on him.
At that moment, a servant hurried up the steps onto the wall. He bowed to Joffrey and then to Tyrion.
"Your Highness, the smith Tobho Mott has sent word. The item you commissioned is finished."
Joffrey raised a brow.
That fast?
Faster than the deadline he had set. Money truly did speed things up.
Tyrion's ears perked immediately.
"Oh? Our young prince has been making secret purchases?"
"Just a sword," Joffrey replied casually, gesturing for the servant to fetch it.
Soon the man returned, carrying a long wooden box wrapped in dark velvet.
After dismissing him again, Joffrey lifted the lid.
Inside lay a finely crafted hand-and-a-half sword resting on gray wool.
The blade was matte dark steel, with a clean, deep fuller. The crossguard was simple and straight. The grip was wrapped in dark brown leather.
At the pommel, however, was the real detail.
A wolf's head, expertly forged in steel, its eyes set with small pieces of onyx. Not overly luxurious, but fierce and dignified.
Tyrion leaned in and ran a finger along the blade.
"Well now," he whistled softly. "This doesn't look like your style."
"Let me guess. A gift for one of the Stark pups?"
Joffrey didn't answer directly.
He picked up the sword, tested its balance with two smooth swings. The blade cut through the air with a low hum.
Tyrion stepped back.
"Careful. That's not a blunted practice blade."
Joffrey returned it to the box and closed the lid.
Winterfell was far away. Poor and cold. He had no interest in it. But securing an ally there would save him trouble later.
"I've heard the Starks value practical, sincere gifts over gold and display," Joffrey said calmly.
"And one more friend is always better than one more enemy. Especially in the North."
He glanced at Tyrion.
"What do you think, Uncle?"
Tyrion studied him for several long seconds, then burst out laughing.
"If your grandfather hadn't turned back halfway to Casterly Rock, but came to see you himself, he might have saved himself some anger."
He nudged the stool into place.
"It seems you've been planning this northern trip carefully. And since I am apparently your assigned advisor..."
He smirked.
"Care to share a little of your strategy?"
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