Mocked mercilessly by a foolish dragon, Tyrion's stiffened face was unable to thaw its icy frost.
The nobles believed he was furious over their rout on the battlefield, and none of them dared to touch his temper. They kept quiet, consciously keeping their distance while privately licking their wounds.
Yet even as they licked those wounds, they could not hide the excitement in their hearts.
Everyone had witnessed Robert's display of overwhelming might outside Lannisport earlier. Faced with a dragon capable of annihilating an entire army on its own, these people naturally understood what that meant.
So, while they took malicious pleasure in those Westerlands nobles who still had not submitted themselves to the respected and great King Kal Baratheon, His Majesty, they had already begun to fantasize about a beautiful future.
Merit earned through the dragon—had it really fallen into their hands just like that?
What, you say I'm useless? The only battle I fought, I nearly lost and even tried to flee as a deserter?
What nonsense are you talking about?
I have rendered service to the kingdom. I have shed blood for His Majesty. I want to see His Majesty. I want to see His Majesty!
With a sour expression on his face, Tyrion gazed toward the harbor of Lannisport. One warship after another was sailing in from the sea, being organized and docking within the harbor.
From this, it was clear that House Redwyne's assault on Lannisport had been carried out with every ounce of strength they could muster.
Because they had just finished tallying the ships they had seized from the Redwyne fleet—and there were an astonishing one hundred and eighty vessels in total.
Although the Redwyne fleet was the largest fleet in Westeros, and it was said that Lord Paxter Redwyne alone possessed as many as two hundred warships, when attacking a Lannisport that had already lost its own fleet, House Redwyne still committed more than ninety percent of its strength.
From this, it was evident that, whether it was Lannisport itself or this battle initiated by Kal, House Redwyne was determined to win at all costs.
"Lord Tyrion…"
Just as Tyrion was silently thinking while looking at these fleets, a voice sounded.
He gathered his thoughts and turned to look, only to find that it was Hall—who should have been defending Casterly Rock—and beside him, Kossi was also present.
"I saw His Majesty Kal's dragon at Casterly Rock… it was truly shocking."
Seeing Tyrion look over, traces of shock still lingered on Hall's face.
Standing high afforded a far view. Positioned at Casterly Rock, a super VIP golden vantage point that overlooked the entirety of Lannisport, he could be said to have watched the entire war from beginning to end.
When that lazy dragon of Kal's was around, they had seen it quite often. After seeing it so many times, they had grown accustomed to it and no longer found it strange.
Yet who would have thought that after Kal departed, and this little fellow disappeared along with him for a period of time, upon returning, the very first thing it did was not to wreck the place, but instead to accomplish such a tremendous deed at the most critical moment.
Setting aside the matter of victory in the war.
Just looking at the Redwyne fleet's warships that had already filled the entirety of Lannisport, Hall could no longer even calculate how much those ships were worth.
Perhaps their current trouble was no longer a matter of being poor, but rather how to learn to spend money after suddenly becoming immensely wealthy.
"Robert rendered great service. To be honest, I never imagined it could accomplish so much."
In response to Hall's words, Tyrion wore an expression of deep agreement as well.
No matter how one looked at it, in this war, Kal's fat dragon unquestionably deserved the greatest credit.
Without it, setting aside whether Lannisport would still be in their hands, the fact that he himself could still be standing here in one piece would already have been considered fortunate.
What was more, as far as the eye could see along the entire coastline of Lannisport, countless fragments of shattered ships and the corpses of the dead were still floating on the surface of the sea.
These things drifted with the waves, a sight that could only be described as horrifying.
And it was not only these urgent matters that required handling. Mixed among them were also soldiers of House Redwyne who, after being driven into the sea by Robert earlier, had somehow survived by sheer luck.
Each of these matters, one by one, required manpower to deal with.
One torrential rain and one war had directly turned the commercially prosperous Lannisport into a wretched scene.
As for the handling of these prisoners and ships, Tyrion left his own men behind to guard the captives and supplies, arranging for them to do relatively lighter work.
As for those nobles who had made no contributions during the war, along with their armies, he assigned all of them to do the dirty and exhausting work.
Anything from transporting corpses, clearing refuse, digging pits, to burning—those tasks were all theirs.
Included among them were fishermen, civilians, sailors, and others who, even after the war had ended, were summoned back and forcibly conscripted. Only by putting all of them to work together could they barely manage to clean up the situation before them.
This time, the Redwyne fleet had arrived with a total of one hundred and eighty warships. Even if each warship carried only one hundred men, that would still amount to as many as eighteen thousand people.
What was more, Tyrion knew very clearly that House Redwyne had certainly not come to attack them with merely this number of men.
Although earlier the curtain of rain had prevented him from clearly seeing how many enemies there were, he had seen with his own eyes the densely packed landing boats spread across the nearshore waters. Otherwise, Robert's dragonfire would not have caused such a tremendous commotion.
And as for why they had exerted such enormous effort merely to attack Lannisport—a city that essentially possessed no real defensive capability—the clever Tyrion naturally understood the reason behind it.
Because the true objective of House Redwyne's actions was not simply Lannisport itself, but the Kal standing behind it, and even, beyond that, the lands of the Westerlands to come.
This was also why, after Tyrion had counted the warships drifting on the sea and learned that House Redwyne had brought so many men, his expression became extremely grim.
It was not as if he would become angry simply because a foolish dragon had mocked him.
Yet from a glimpse of one corner, one can know the whole picture. With House Redwyne stirring up such a display at present, it was not difficult for Tyrion to understand exactly what House Redwyne was trying to do.
Hall did not know that the dwarf before him had already let so many thoughts run through his mind.
He was still shocked that this war could actually be fought to such an extent—and that it had ended in such a manner.
This made him understand with profound clarity what a dragon was, and why the former House Targaryen had been able to unify the Seven Kingdoms and rule for more than two hundred years.
So after exclaiming in amazement, he looked around to the left and right, yet did not see what he was hoping to see.
"Where is Robert? Is it not here?" Hall asked instinctively.
"It left just now. I don't know where it went," Tyrion shrugged casually, offering a perfunctory reply, then turned his gaze toward Kossi, the castellan of Casterly Rock, who was following behind Hall and was also looking around with a troubled expression.
"Kossi, has the maester arrived?"
Kossi, who was worrying about how much work would follow in the aftermath of this victory, nodded upon hearing Tyrion's question. "The maester will certainly come. He needs to record this war. Back at Casterly Rock, he could hardly wait to bring his apprentices along."
Tyrion did not see the maester. Lannisport was already in complete chaos, yet they still lacked sufficient manpower.
Coupled with the suspicions in his mind, this inevitably made him feel somewhat irritable. "Have someone go find Maester and tell him I have matters that require his attention."
Watching a guard depart, Kossi stepped forward. "Is there something important?"
"This time, House Redwyne's movements are very strange. I am somewhat worried…" As Tyrion spoke, he glanced at the soldiers of the various houses busily at work, then let out a long sigh.
"I am concerned that there may be other reasons behind this, so we must report what has happened here to His Majesty Kal as soon as possible."
Hearing his words, Kossi, Hall, and the others all grew solemn. Both were intelligent men and immediately understood what Tyrion meant.
However, before either of them could say anything, Tyrion read their intentions from their expressions.
He immediately interrupted them, lowered his voice, and said in a deep tone, "Perhaps it has nothing to do with them. Even if it does, it is no longer important now. We do not need to concern ourselves with this matter anymore."
"Because Robert's dragonfire is capable of sobering more than just House Redwyne."
Upon hearing this, Kossi and Hall instinctively exchanged a glance, then quietly let out a breath of relief.
Both knew very clearly that even if matters were truly as Tyrion suspected, at present they were neither able to pursue the issue nor in a position to investigate it.
But at least for now, it seemed that this crisis had already passed in silence.
"Indeed. No matter what, the good news that we have obtained warships must be reported to His Majesty as well—although at present, we do not have enough manpower to crew these vessels."
Hall gave a bitter laugh or two. Looking at the warships spread throughout the harbor before him, he also felt a slight headache.
As the one responsible for Casterly Rock's defense, as well as part of the command work for the army, what Hall could see was only this much.
However, this small worry of his was not worth mentioning to Kossi.
Hall's words reminded him.
So, looking at these warships before them, Kossi could not help but clutch at his own hair.
"Should we recruit sailors?"
"If we start preparing now, then in only two or three months we can have a fleet that is more or less usable…"
"It is just that I must have a piece of bad news to tell you. We have no money left now."
Although his face was full of misery, Kossi still did his duty and said whatever needed to be said.
The war they had won did indeed look glorious on the surface—splendid and dazzling.
But only they knew that if they wanted to put these assets to use instead of letting them pile up there and rot, then they had to find a way to bring these things to life.
But those nobles were absolutely unusable.
As for the captives of House Redwyne, there was no need to even think about it.
So now, if they truly wanted to expand their forces and build a fleet that belonged to King Kal Baratheon, the only thing they could do was recruit manpower themselves and train them into sailors themselves.
But this process was not something that could be accomplished in a year or two.
Even if all they needed was to get these warships moving, taking advantage of the convenience of a port city to recruit skilled fishermen or sailors and the like, it would still require at least more than three months before they could barely form any fighting strength.
Rather than muddling through and sailing the fleet out of the harbor, only to have it promptly destroy itself due to all manner of accidents.
Yet more problems followed immediately.
Setting aside whether they even had enough time, the treasury alone—so empty that it would clatter at the slightest breeze—was enough to drive them to despair.
It was true that the Westerlands were wealthy, but that was under the condition that House Lannister had developed them over several hundred years.
At present, the former House Lannister had fled with their wealth, leaving behind nothing but an empty shell and a rotten mess, and the entire Westerlands had yet to recover from the previous war.
What was more, the Westerlands were currently still facing no small difficulties even in collecting taxes.
The few gold mines they had needed to be mined first, while other gold mines were located elsewhere.
Just thinking about these matters was enough to give one a headache.
As soon as Kossi said this, the small group currently holding things together at Casterly Rock fell into silence.
Faced with the victory before them, not a single person could manage a smile.
This naturally included Tyrion. With his back to the others, he was already on the verge of bursting into tears.
Fortunately, this silence did not last long, because at that moment, Timett and Chella unexpectedly came over, escorting someone with them.
Before the three even drew close, Tyrion had already recognized who the person being brought in was.
The man before them had his hands bound, his shoulders slumped, his body thin and scrawny. His bald head bore only a few tufts of orange-yellow hair. He was soaked from head to toe, his eyes dull and unfocused, his lips bluish-white with a purplish tinge.
It was none other than the Lord of the Arbor and the lord of House Redwyne—Paxter Redwyne.
Tyrion could be said to be quite familiar with this distinctive-looking lord of the Arbor, because his uncle, Ser Stafford Lannister, had once discussed arranging a marriage between his son Daven Lannister and Desmera Redwyne.
However, the two sides failed to reach an agreement at the time, and the matter ultimately came to nothing.
During the War of the Usurper, he had remained loyal to House Targaryen.
Later, in the Siege of Storm's End, his fleet completely blockaded the castle from the sea, joining his liege lord, Lord Mace Tyrell, in besieging Storm's End.
It was not until House Targaryen fell and Eddard Stark led forces to relieve the siege of Storm's End that Lord Tyrell and Paxter finally bowed their heads in submission to Robert Baratheon.
"Lord Paxter Redwyne, I am very pleased to meet you in such a manner."
Seeing who it was—and recalling what this man had done—Tyrion immediately put away the miserable, overburdened expression he had worn earlier. Instead, he looked at the lord of the Arbor with open mockery.
This bastard had come looking for trouble with him, had nearly cost him his life, and now had left behind such a pile of messes. Tyrion already felt the urge to strike someone.
Paxter, who had been dragged along and restrained, still wore a dazed, hollow expression with no excess emotion. Yet upon hearing those mocking words, his eyes gradually regained focus as he looked toward the dwarf before him.
At the same time, with just a single glance, he recognized who the dwarf before him was.
"I never imagined that I would still see a member of House Lannister in Lannisport… heh. I thought all the Lannisters had been sent to the Black Cells."
Facing the dwarf's mockery, Paxter retorted stiffly.
Then he glanced again at the several people present, an even more disdainful expression appearing on his face.
"So, I am also pleased to see you here—though it would have been better if the manner were different."
As for his counterattack, Tyrion replied lightly, "Unfortunately, the gods did not hear your prayers, Lord Paxter Redwyne."
"Because the gods stand on my side—no, they should be said to stand on the side of His Majesty King Kal Baratheon, not some Renly Baratheon. That point is worth some reflection."
Tyrion understood deeply that the purpose of an argument was not to win over one's opponent, but to provoke them with words—or anger them to death.
In response to Tyrion's words, Paxter could only glare in fury, yet had no way to strike back.
Thus, he could only struggle and curse this disgrace of House Lannister.
"Damn you, dwarf! If not for the dragon, I would hang you from the mast of the Queen of the Arbor! I swear it!"
Seeing that this old bastard still dared to speak insolently at a time like this, the Timett who had brought him shoved a fierce punch into his stomach.
It made this high-born great noble lord's eyes bulge slightly; clear saliva flowed uncontrollably from his mouth as he curled up on the ground, unable to say a single word.
Watching Paxter get beaten, Tyrion shrugged and said calmly.
"But unfortunately, the dragon belongs to His Majesty King Kal, and the victory belongs to me."
"But speaking of it, did they only catch you? I don't believe you would come alone to lead the fleet to attack us."
Tyrion suddenly thought of this question and turned his head to look at Timett and Chella, the two who had brought Paxter Redwyne.
Regarding this question, Chella raised an eyebrow.
"A sailor whose leg was snapped by Robert and who fell into the sea but was lucky enough to live told me that this man's two twin sons have already been burned to flying ash by dragonfire."
"Mm. I heard it was done right under his nose."
Hearing Chella say this, Tyrion was slightly taken aback, and the expression on his face was no longer mocking.
Tyrion likewise knew that Paxter Redwyne had a pair of twin sons, and he also knew the two of them.
At the thought that Paxter's own sons had died right before his very eyes, Tyrion also lost the desire to mock him.
"Take him away and lock him up. Don't let him die. Perhaps we will still need him later."
The fact that Paxter had not died and had instead been captured alive was good news for Tyrion, because no matter what, a living man was more useful than a dead one.
Moreover, Tyrion also intended to probe Paxter regarding his earlier suspicions, to verify his conjectures and eliminate certain unfavorable factors concerning the Westerlands.
After roughly dealing with these matters, Tyrion immediately shifted his attention back to the endless governmental affairs before him.
Then, when Hall suddenly brought a beautiful woman to report to him, Tyrion could not help but frown. He lifted his head from the desk, his gaze toward the two filled with confusion.
"Margaery Tyrell?"
"And you just told me that Robert drove a Redwyne force over from the Ocean Road?"
"And that it's a force of at least five thousand men?"
Margaery Tyrell, who had been brought to see Tyrion alone, had no chance to speak.
However, faced with Tyrion's expression that plainly said you're not trying to deceive me, are you, Hall himself also looked puzzled. Staring blankly at Tyrion, he answered honestly, "Yes, Lord Tyrion. Robert drove a group of House Redwyne's troops here like herding sheep. They are currently just outside the city."
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