In a luxurious brothel in Lannisport, the scent of wine mingled with the cloying smell of women's powder.
Tyrion Lannister, short and bare-chested, leaned against the velvet headboard, an empty silver goblet clutched between his fingers, a few drops of red wine still clinging to its sides, his cheeks flushed from drink.
A red-haired woman beside him, like a docile cat, lay lazily, her slender fingers drawing shapeless circles on his not-so-broad chest.
Tyrion's voice was hoarse from a night of hard-fought battles: "Alright, my dear."
"Tell me, besides me, is there anything else in this city that interests you beauties lately?"
"Don't tell me it's still those guards and their smelly feet."
The woman stopped moving her fingers, raised her head, her emerald eyes sparkling in the candlelight.
Her name was Daisy, one of the most expensive women in Lannisport, and she knew how to please a man, not just in bed.
She chuckled softly, her soft body rubbing against Tyrion's short arm: "Of course, my Lord."
"Every one of my friends is talking about your generosity."
"However!"
"Now they have new gossip."
Tyrion shook his empty goblet, perking up slightly: "Oh?"
Daisy's tone became mysterious, as if sharing a huge secret: "A lion, Lord Tyrion, a Black Lion."
"They all call him Black Lion Arthur."
Tyrion raised an eyebrow: "Another lion. My father won't like that title, as long as that lion isn't a Lannister."
Daisy became animated, propping herself up, the silk sheet sliding from her smooth shoulders: "He's certainly not a Lannister!!!"
"Everyone says he's even more formidable than your Lannister lions!!!"
"Haven't you heard, Lord Tyrion! The dock workers! The tavern maids! Even the merchant nobles who come to see me! Everyone is talking about him!"
She lowered her voice, her breath caressing Tyrion's earlobe: "The bards say! He alone! Held back an entire army of wildlings! In the Riverlands! He was like a god descending! Transformed into a Black Lion! Those monsters who ate raw meat and drank blood! All slaughtered!!!"
Tyrion let out a soft hmph, unable to discern if it was approval or disdain, then he laughed. This was clearly a story concocted by that noble to show off, the kind of story one could hear a hundred versions of in a tavern, with the protagonist being any noble wielding a sword.
He stroked the woman's back: "My dear, never praise a lion who isn't a Lannister in Lannisport; it will bring you trouble."
Daisy's eyes sparkled, full of admiration: "Of course, Lord Tyrion!"
"But the story doesn't stop there! He drove away the wildlings! Then turned around and attacked Willow Wood City! The House Ryger! You know them! Great nobles of the Riverlands! One night! Just one night! The castle was occupied!"
"And then he killed the House Ryger's lord in a Trial by combat!!"
She waved her arms as if she had witnessed it herself.
"Most importantly! He distributed all the money from the House Ryger's treasury to his soldiers and those poor refugees! Now everyone in the Riverlands is saying! Fighting with the Black Lion is more profitable than doing anything else!"
Tyrion finally put down his goblet. Distributing money to soldiers? That didn't sound like a noble's way of doing things. This was quite interesting.
Daisy noticed his interest and sat up straighter, excitement coloring her cheeks: "The climax of this story isn't here!"
"He challenged a Mull Family knight to a Trial by combat for a group of runaway serfs!"
She grabbed Tyrion's arm, her grip unusually strong.
"My Lord! Can you imagine! A man with noble blood! Dueling for a group of serfs whose status is lower than dirt! Risking his own life! He said! He would represent them!!!"
Tyrion's eyes widened. He had seen countless nobles duel for family honor, land, glory, and women, but he had never heard of anyone drawing a sword for the lives of a group of serfs.
Daisy's voice trembled.
"He won! He pierced Ser Qyburn's chest with one sword strike!!"
"Then! He went to the Mull Family's castle! Another Trial by combat!"
"He won again!!!"
"Next was the Wayne Family's castle!!"
"Three duels!! He killed three long-renowned knights!! And took back all the lands that originally belonged to his family!!!"
The room fell silent, with only the crackling of the burning candlelight.
Tyrion's voice was very soft: "Everyone agreed?"
Daisy pouted, her face full of disdain: "Only one family refused."
"A family called Enford. They hid in their castle like timid turtles, not daring to accept a Trial by combat, and stubbornly refused to hand over the land."
"The Enford Family…" Tyrion repeated the name, then let out his characteristic, rattling laugh.
The Frey vassals were exactly like their liege lords.
Daisy paused for a moment, then also burst into laughter, shaking with mirth as she collapsed back into Tyrion's arms: "My Lord, don't you think this is very interesting!"
"I really want to meet him!"
After she had laughed enough, she raised her head again, looking at Tyrion with a gaze that mixed teasing and seduction: "And, my Lord,"
She leaned close to his ear, her warm breath giving him goosebumps.
"The bards say that Arthur… that Black Lion renowned throughout the Seven Kingdoms…"
Her voice became a whisper.
"Is only sixteen, just like you."
The air in the room seemed to freeze for a moment.
The smile on Tyrion's face stiffened. He looked at his short, twisted, even uneven legs, then at the beautiful and complete woman beside him.
Sixteen, what a wonderful age. At that age, his brother Jaime had already become a Kingsguard, and he himself…
He spread his hands, an inexpressible self-mockery on his face, as if mocking the woman: "Oh? So he's a hero renowned throughout the Seven Kingdoms now."
He surveyed the luxurious bedroom, which was probably only so opulent thanks to his patronage.
"Then what am I? Lannisport's most famous drunkard and dwarf?"
Daisy giggled, gently tracing his chest with her fingers, her touch soft, like a feather brushing by.
"You are also a mighty lion, my Lord."
Her voice became low and seductive, full of innuendo.
"At least… in bed."
Tyrion was startled at first, then burst into deafening laughter, louder and more genuine than before, as if to laugh out all the pent-up frustrations in his chest.
He fumbled in the money pouch by the bedside, pulled out a heavy gold dragon, and tossed it onto the silk sheet: "Well said! Well said!"
The gold coin bounced once, making a crisp sound.
"For that remark, this gold dragon is yours."
Tyrion pushed Daisy away, put on a long robe that trailed on the floor, and walked barefoot to a table at the other end of the room. He poured himself a full glass of wine, the deep red liquid swirling in the crystal goblet.
He held the goblet and habitually walked to the window, pulling open the heavy brocade curtains.
With a crash, the goblet fell to the floor, wine spilling all over his feet.
The alarm bells rang.
But he heard nothing.
In the direction of the port, flames shot skyward.
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