Ser Jaime withdrew his gaze, smiled, and also raised his cup, saying, "Queen Regent Cersei, I await your command."
Greene soon "finished tidying up." He came to the long table, and as he sat down, he said, "I'm very sorry, I have a war council tomorrow morning, so… um… it's…"
Lord Greene's nimble tongue was now slightly clumsy.
After a pause, he first took a large gulp of summer red, then continued, "After all, Crabclaw Point and Dragonstone are neighbors."
Ser Jaime asked Greene, "You plan to attack Dragonstone."
Greene took another sip of wine and said, "To be precise, it's to prepare for war in advance, so if a good opportunity arises, it's easy to seize it…"
He paused, then suddenly said, "This is a secret. Please keep it confidential for me, especially from the Small Council."
Ser Jaime seemed a little surprised: "A secret? Don't the Gold Cloaks already know?"
"Not all Gold Cloaks know about this. Only the Gold Cloaks' Steel Gate captain knows."
Greene slowly explained, "When I was the Commander of the Gold Cloaks, I trusted him quite a bit, so I asked him to help me gather some intelligence on Dragonstone. Everyone knows… the Gold Cloaks have many sources of information. He himself guessed some…"
He spread his hands: "Plus, he's always craved military achievements, so he's been coming to me frequently lately to inquire. He knows it needs to be kept secret and is also worried about causing unnecessary misunderstandings. He usually comes after sunset, either himself or his subordinates."
As his voice faded, Queen Regent Cersei's voice rang out: "Greene, why did you mention the Small Council just now?"
"Or it could be called a war council inviting many great nobles."
Greene put down his wine glass and said, "Hand of the King Tywin wanted to convene it before, but it was delayed due to Lord Mace's poor health. I hear Lord Mace has been recovering very well lately, so… I think this meeting will be reconvened very soon."
He smiled: "I'm making this presumptuous request to you two so that the Lord Hand doesn't misunderstand my intentions."
After listening, Cersei snorted coldly and said, "The Old Lion can't order…"
"Cersei." Ser Jaime frowned, interrupting her words.
After a moment of silence, Greene's gaze swept over the two, whose atmosphere had grown stiff, and he said, "Queen Regent Cersei, I just sensed your…"
He paused, then continued, "Could you tell me what happened?"
Queen Regent Cersei's emerald eyes looked at Ser Jaime, her gaze signaling: You tell him.
Ser Jaime sighed inwardly and said, "Tonight, our father called me, Cersei, and Tyrion. He told us about the deal between you and him."
"A deal?"
Muttering, Greene mused, "Is it about Queen Regent Cersei's matter? At the time… the condition he agreed to was that I was not to be involved in Lannister's private affairs anymore."
Ser Jaime nodded slightly towards Greene.
Leaning back in his chair, Greene tapped the armrest with his fingers and sighed, "This is an unspoken understanding among the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms, and also a tradition. I had no reason to refuse, and besides… I was eager to relieve Queen Regent Cersei of her troubles."
He placed a hand apologetically over his chest towards the Lioness and said, "Yesterday and today, many unexpected things happened. My original plan was to find a good way to tell you later, Queen Regent Cersei."
Queen Regent Cersei lifted her chin and said, "No need to think of any way. My son is the King, and I am the Queen Regent. My affairs, even the gods cannot distinguish which are affairs of state and which are Lannister family matters."
Just as he knew it would be, Ser Jaime looked up, his head aching as he stared at the ceiling of House Crabb.
...
...
Three days later, in the early morning, dawn broke across the sky, casting faint light on the Blackwater River Dock.
Tyrion stood on a wooden crate, wearing a crimson velvet tunic embroidered with the Lannister sigil on the chest, and a black cloak fastened with a lion's head brooch.
Around him were Ser Adam, Ser Bronn, and his squire, Pod.
Ser Adam and the dozens of Gold Cloaks he brought were responsible for the safety of the Dorne Envoy during the negotiations; Tyrion's squire was today's Royal Standard Bearer, holding King Joffrey's stag-lion banner; Ser Bronn was Tyrion's standard bearer, holding the Lannister's roaring lion banner.
While waiting, Ser Bronn suddenly said to Tyrion, "My Lord, last night while drinking at the tavern, I heard a joke about Dornishmen from a Riverlands man."
A bored Tyrion was interested: "Tell me."
The others' gazes also shifted over.
Ser Bronn's face broke into a lewd grin: "How many Dornishmen does it take to shoe a horse? No more, no less, exactly nine. One to do the work, eight to hold the horse."
Tyrion chuckled. He thought… such words must not be spoken within earshot of the Dorne Envoy.
After a pause, low laughter could be heard from the crowd.
After a while, a Gold Cloaks ran up, reporting, "Lord Lannister, the Dornish ships have arrived."
Hearing this, Ser Bronn looked up, narrowing his eyes, and said, "The banner… an orange field with a red sun, pierced by a spear."
Tyrion, with his hands behind his back, bounced on his toes and said, "Bronn, anything else? How many house banners can you see?"
Ser Bronn observed carefully and said, "Eight… no, nine banners."
Tyrion looked at his squire, dressed in purple, white, and gold, and said, "Pod, which house sigil was Bronn just describing?"
At Tyrion's request, Pod had recently studied the Dornish sigil genealogies thoroughly.
He scratched his head and replied, "My Lord, it's House Martell, House House Martell of Sunspear."
Tyrion grinned: "Very good, you're not too stupid, though even my horse knows that sigil."
He stared seriously at his squire and said, "Bronn describes one, and you have to tell me which house's sigil it is. Pod, this is very important, don't disappoint me."
Podrick was so nervous he could barely hold Joffrey's banner steady: "Yes… yes… As you command!"
Tyrion turned his head, chuckled to himself, cleared his throat, and said, "Bronn, continue, choose another."
After a pause, Ser Bronn's voice rang out: "A purple field with a pile of yellow balls."
"Yellow balls… are they lemons? Lemons on a purple field? This might be… House Dalt of Lemonwood." The squire's voice was filled with uncertainty.
Tyrion had his back to Podrick, his small shoulders trembling.
"Is that so? Are you sure?"
Pod asked Tyrion hopefully, "My Lord, did I guess correctly?"
"Cough, lucky guess. Bronn, next one."
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