Game of Thrones: Paladin of Old Gods

Chapter 112: ' Deception & Distraction '

POV: The Laughing Lion;

Lord's Solarium, Casterly Rock.

About forty minutes after a scolded Dog carried out the Great Lion's orders...

Gerion knew like the back of his hand the two hundred and eight steps that separated his rooms from the Lord's Solarium of Casterly Rock. Because of this, it was not difficult for him to do the climb by taking two steps at a time.

He was no longer the child with boundless energy he once was, the boy who enjoyed challenging his older Brother Tygett to a contest over who could reach their father Tytos first. Still, his thirty-four years and ceremonial armour were no more of an obstacle than he thought.

Gerion outsmarted the two assistant keepers of the Casterly Rock archives assigned to help him transport all the documents requested by his Brother Tywin. The joy and excitement of the adventure pushed him to be at his best.

It was literally an adventure that awaited him. But, behind those doors was a treasure waiting to be opened.

The Smiling Lion's capable mind could only imagine one reason why his brother, the no-longer-smiling Old Lion, the watchful, cynical, and adverse Tywin Fucking Lannister, had him urgently summoned by Ser Gregor Clegane himself to join them in his Solarium along with the most sensitive and confidential documents of Casterly Rock.

'The Boy has succeeded! He has succeeded in convincing my Brother!' Thought Gerion for the umpteenth time, straining to regain his demeanour before entering the Solarium.

"My Lord, Lord Duncan..." said Gerion bowing, barely eyeing the interior.

"Gerion... It's about time. Have the papers laid out on my table, and then take a seat." So ordered Tywin at the head of the long table on the right side of the Solarium.

The white-haired eleven-year-old gave him a concealed wink, giving yet another test of the Smiling Lion's expectations, who cast an equally concealed slight grin in response.

Rarely did his Brother allows the direct Non-Lannisters of the Tytos branch to eat with him at the large meeting table.

Three silver plates sat on it, along with golden cups and forks. In the centre of the table were dozens of delicacies: golden potatoes stuffed with ham, suckling pigs on beds of fresh vegetables, red lobster dressed with butter and lemons, white caster bread cut into perfectly symmetrical slices, caviar, and many other courses that could have fed a hundred other mouths.

Gerion quickly snapped his fingers and instructed his men to fulfil their duties and take their leave as soon as possible.

The Old Lion and Bloody Snow resumed their interrupted conversation.

"So you met him in person!" said the boy.

"Of course, I have met him. I served as a page and Royal cupbearer to King Aegon V for four years before I was elevated to a squire. Ser Duncan was almost always at the King's side." Tywin replied with a hint of pride.

Gerion sat down, not wanting to create more interludes to tell the story.

"What was he like? Was he really the best Knight of his time?" the boy asked with exaltation.

"He wasn't the best fighter that ever existed in the Seven Kingdoms if that's what you're wondering, but he certainly was the best Royal Guard.

Perhaps even superior to the Dragonknight.

The man was Aegon's most trusted advisor, but more importantly, his most excellent shield. He was an individual who had no qualms of pride about seeking advice from anyone he felt was more capable than he was.

If he was unaware of a subject that might be a problem for his King, he would beg the Grand Maester or any other expert to instruct him.

Ser Duncan never neglected his sword training and instruction, even at his ripe old age. On the contrary, he gave his best effort in everything he did...

He was the quintessential example of true Chivalry. Duty, Honor and Understanding were the firm pillars of that man.

In my opinion, Ser Duncan The Tall was not the best warrior that ever lived, but the greatest Knight in the history of the Seven Kingdoms." Gerion interjected, unable to contain himself.

"Not to mention that Ser Duncan and Aegon V were the only individuals ever to exist who managed to slap Aerys Targaryen and Tywin Lannister on the ears without subsequently losing a hand. Puhahaha!" The boy sent a piece of pork sideways, choking on a cough, and Tywin glared at him.

"I beg your pardon, my lord. My exit was disrespectful and inappropriate..." The enraged Lion did not seem satisfied with the weak apology offered.

Fortunately, a valuable ally came to his rescue.

"Coff... Umr... emm, Lord Tywin, speaking of cupbearers and pages, I would like to take this opportunity to propose possible future arrangements after the tournament.

It would be the honour of my father, Ser Helman, to be able to welcome your nephew Lancel to Torrhen's Square as his page and possible future squire.

And perhaps, if you will grant us the same honour, allow my brother Benfred to take up service here at Casterly Rock under Ser Kevan." Tywin's attention was caught.

Both Houses were highly advantageous to exchanging protgs-hostages to solidify an alliance. Lancel was the possible betrothed of Eddara Tallhart. If his nephew served in Torrhen's Square, he could spend time with the child.

And if the spark was struck, the marriage pact would be sealed by both Houses.

"Mmm...is the boy capable?" Tywin asked bluntly.

"Benfred is diligent and obedient. But unfortunately, he's getting too used to the safety of the North, and our mother is slightly too protective of the twins.

Also, I wish for Benfred and Eddara to be separated for at least a few years before marriageable age." The other party replied just as bluntly.

"Lancel will be able to leave with your retinue on the return trip.

Benfred will serve here as my personal page and cupbearer. And if the boy proves himself worthy and the day of such merit comes, I will elevate him as my squire." Gerion was shocked by his brother's initiative.

Tywin Lannister refused all requests from possible candidates for the rank of his personal squire. It was a title coveted by every son or kin of Lord Highlanders of the West...

"House Tallhart is immensely grateful for such an offer. It would be an honour and privilege for my brother to receive the opportunity to serve and learn under your guidance, Lord Tywin." His brother accepted the praise of gratitude with an imperceptible nod of assent.

"Eddara may serve for a time in King's Landing as a handmaiden to the Queen." Then, Tywin launched his second catapult shot.

"An offer much appreciated...but I'm afraid I've made prior arrangements with Prince Doran for Eddara to serve as handmaiden and Lady-in-Waiting to Princess Arianne." Gerion's blood froze.

'No! No! Are you mad, boy? Do you refuse the proposal with such a gesture of defiance? To Dorne! House Martell is sworn enemy of House Lannister!!!' Shrieked Gerion between his thoughts.

And the actual rusty iron gloved slap lashed out at Gerion's cheek seconds later, stunning him on the spot.

"I see... if arrangements have already been made between House Martell and House Tallhart, the Crown will understand." Tywin replied after careful consideration.

'Seven, protect me! In the name of the Seven hells... What the fuck happened within these walls?!' Thought the Stunned Lion.

End POV.

-------------------------------

POV: Duncan;

Lord's Solarium, Casterly Rock.

About twenty minutes after a Lion was Stunned...

Drinks and food were served, Lord Gerion was updated on the Triumvirate offered, and finally, the long-awaited moment came...

A nicely detailed map of Westeros and Essos was laid out on Tywin's desk.

"Now we can begin...

Before I continue, it will be a crucial matter that, for the moment, only you and Lord Gerion know what I am about to reveal.

The enemy must never suspect, let alone learn that House Lannister is not only aware of the threat but is sharpening its claws and forging alliances to deal with it.

Never, and I stress, NEVER, shall our common enemy join forces with the Iron Bank and march full force against us.

If such a union comes before the next three years, not even an army of dragons will save us from this calamity. We would create a second Valyrian disaster that would fall full force upon the entire Known World. And it will have to be at least six years, barring unforeseen events, before we can act freely." The attention towards me was at an all-time high.

Tywin nodded, jumping his feline eyes between me and the map. The Smiling Lion also lowered his smirk to show complete seriousness on the subject.

"Let's start with the mixed list of the top Eight Great Forces among the top of the Known World..."

***

About forty minutes of shocking revelations and hidden truths later...

Gerion's gaze was lost in emptiness, and his face as pale as milk.

Tywin withstood the blow with more tenacity, but his eyes still exuded shock, anger, and surprise.

The Great Lion kept looking past me for over two minutes. He wasn't staring at the door or any presence behind it but at some place hundreds of miles south of there... The True Enemy of Westeros.

Gerion shot out a question.

"Why House Lannister? Why do House Hightower, the Faith, and the Citadel want to destroy us? Most importantly...if they really have this kind of power, why do we still exist?" It was more than a fair question but one that I could not give a valid answer too.

"I have taken an unbreakable oath that will not allow me to fully answer this question.

All I can tell you is that Oldtown does not yet have the means or the ability to destroy House Lannister. House Hightower cannot act directly against the Lions of Casterly Rock; it will be war if they do.

They will first have to bring down the powers that safeguard the dynasty of Lann 'the Clever' to act freely.

An ancient Enchanted City, a Race, and a millenary Dynasty, as long as these entities exist, it will be almost impossible for Oldtown to completely annihilate House Lannister.

And if an enemy cannot be killed..." Tywin took the floor.

"That enemy won't even have to be hurt... Or at least, not directly by Oldtown."

"Precisely," I said, nodding.

At that point, Tywin asked, "How long have you known about this?"

"In such detail? Less than a year. However, I had been suspicious of Oldtown for much longer than that. Since just before the 'tragic' disappearance of your cousin Golbarth to be exact.

When I was three, I got my hands on the quarterly reports of the former maester of Torrhen's Square to be secretly sent to the Citadel.

I don't need to tell you how much more detailed and thorough those documents were than what your dear cousin used to send to you.

Nothing escapes, or rather, 'escaped' the great eye of the High Tower." I answered with sincerity.

"One must not make any rash moves; if your most affectionate Maester Volarick should 'gently' pass away in his sleep or 'accidentally fall' a few days after I visit Casterly Rock, Oldtown would be alarmed. Not even Grand Maester Pycelle will have to be 'recalled by the Seven' in the short term..." He admonished, unleashing a snarl of contempt from Tywin's lips.

"How on earth are we supposed to deal with such an enemy? How can we win a war of such magnitude? We don't even know what weapons Oldtown hides besides those monstrous armies..." Gerion asked, still in shock.

Tywin snapped in response.

"Get out to catch your breath or solace one of your silly laughs, Gerion. It doesn't matter to me. What matters is that you clear your head and return to us with a whortwhile mind.

Don't you dare utter another sigh of surrender or look of despair in this hall.

You're a Lannister! And Lions don't bleat in fear. They roar!" thundered the Great Lion, clearing the Smiling Lion's mind.

Gerion lowered his head, crinkling his eyes with both hands for a few moments. Then he raised his face again, curling the end of one whisker with his fingertips.

"Aye, brother. I apologize to you for my unseemly behaviour. You are right...

A Lannister roars to the last even in certain death!" Roared Gerion with a toothy grin.

"Always," Tywin retorted.

"You two are all nuts... I'd have had my britches greased by now if I were you.

Let's face it, Hightower House is, metaphorically and literally speaking, taller and older than The Wall. It has taken me more than eight years to gauge the extent of the danger of this enemy.

Every year that I thought I had spotted the top, yet another cloud would dissipate, revealing another floor of the Tower! Ahahah!"

And not only that. The Hightowers were the 'Micheal Jordan of Sons of Bitches'. Every time I managed to uncover a vile deed committed throughout history by that household, I thought [Fuck! They really crossed the line here! Can you get any more disgusting than this?] And then, another one would pop up and smash all the previous records.

But I felt that wasn't the most appropriate metaphor to add at that moment...

"Pfff... Coff!... Cough! I don't find such a metaphor appropriate at such a serious time, Lord Duncan." So said that slimy traitor Gerion Lannister, abandoning me alone in the middle of the trench machine-gunned by the Great Lion's angry stares.

"I am sure that 'The Hero of the North' and great strategist such as 'Bloody Snow' has long since devised appropriate countermeasures to deal with this impending war." promulgated a deep voice no longer in the mood for jokes.

"Certainly, my lord. Ermm, emm... I should take a sip first... never mind.

Now that we have come to a mutual understanding of the clear and incontrovertible need for the Rhoynar, First Men, Valyrians and Magicians to form a resolute alliance against the common enemy, I will present to you the course of action that I believe to be most valuable in fighting this war.

We still survive because of a subtle and fragile balance between the main Seven Great Forces of the World that cannot yet be broken..." Gerion interrupted me.

"But you said earlier that the North, or more precisely, 'House Tallhart,' has noticeably shaken that balance by inserting itself into the Eighth."

"Indeed, yes... Depending on one's point of view, we could say that due to the fault or merit of House Tallhart, the North quickly rose to Eighth Place, thus breaking this fragile balance and triggering an inevitable future World Conflict.

The bards have already begun to sing, the musicians to play, and the first dances... Whether we want it, all of Westeros and Essos will soon be forced to take to the floor.

As mentioned earlier, 'Time' is what we need the most.

We must buy as much time as possible to study the words, rhythm, and notes of the ballads that will follow, but most importantly, practice the 'dance', my lords.

We cannot allow our enemy to move in the immediate future directly against us. Not before the next three years at least..." it was Tywin's turn to take the floor.

"Three and six years; what is the difference in those short time frames?"

"According to our humble estimates, if we can gain three years to grow and strengthen undisturbed in that time, the North, West and Dorne alliance will have achieved enough power to face one of the top two World Powers on equal terms: the Titan or the Lighthouse.

We certainly won't make it out in one piece if, in the worst-case scenario, Braavos and Oldtown decide to put up a united front. Not even if Carcosa came from the East and The Watcher chose to openly support us...

However, if we could extend that interval by another three precious years, we might even be able to hold our own against both.

It would essentially be a coin flip.

If we were able to extend that interval to eight/nine years by some miracle, or good fortune, our victory would be very likely.

Trust me when I tell you that if I had ten years at my disposal without hassle, I could raise the North to the top of the World." For once in a while, I allowed myself a bit of healthy and well-deserved peacocking.

Tywin and Gerion made no comment, though their looks were somewhat dubious...

"As I was saying... Time.

A key and vital element we need. And the best weapons at our disposal to obtain it are two:

{Deception & Distraction}"

*****

End Chapter.

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