37 -37- The invitation
Lancel's incessant babbling annoyed everyone.
Tyrion couldn't bear it any longer and called for Lancel's attendants to carry him away, making the world peaceful and quiet once more.
Tyrion tossed a few chunks of wood into the fire, saying, "Cersei may ask you to oversee the hunting in two days."
Gallen leaned back in his chair, looking relaxed.
Taking a sip of summer wine, Gallen's gaze shifted to Tyrion.
Tyrion shrugged, "My sister's emotions run strong, whether it's love or hate. When she likes you, she will give you everything."
Tyrion's expression turned serious, "But if she hates you, she'll want nothing more than to see you dead, the more cruelly, the better."
Pouring himself a drink, Tyrion continued, "You'll be busy in the comming days, my dear sister..... Yes, she currently favors you more than anyone else in King's Landing."
Tyrion was serious for only three seconds before turning playful again.
Gallen lightly curved his lips, "Lord Tyrion, I'll do my best not to make mistakes and make sure it stays this way. I sincerely thank you for your advice."
Tyrion grinned, "Yes, prolong it as much as possible, make it last, like the cock in my si... um, I almost made a joke about my sister. If she hears this, she'll definitely have my tongue pulled out."
Raising his glass towards the direction of the Red Keep, Tyrion said, "Forgive me, my dearest sister!"
Gallen couldn't help but smile.
---
Mordin and Anguy, one tall and one broad, sat around another campfire in the backyard.
Anguy happily drank his malt beer, keeping his attention on Gallen's direction not far away.
Mordin chewed on a fist-sized piece of roasted beef for a while before swallowing, "Anguy, don't just drink. The smoked meat today tastes great."
Anguy reached into the plate and tore off a piece of meat, popping it into his mouth, "True, but I still prefer the malt beer."
Mordin grinned, "The malt beer here is average. Marigold Malt tastes better."
Anguy was puzzled, "Is it famous? Why haven't I heard of it? Marigold... Could it be?"
Mordin nodded his big head, "It's the malt beer from our territory. It used to have several names, but I heard that Steward Hershel improved the process and gave it a new name. Unfortunately, you won't be able to taste it for now."
Anguy glanced around periodically.
Anguy stretched lazily, shifting his gaze. Even though it was dark, Anguy's eyes still shone.
After finishing his stretch, Anguy spoke, "Thank the Seven, thank Lord Gallen. Although I haven't been there yet, I finally have a home. I love Whispers."
Anguy took a big gulp of malt beer, wiping the corners of his mouth with the back of his hand, "When I go back, I want to find a wife, have a son, and teach him archery... in the past, I didn't dare to think about these things."
Mordin chuckled, "Kill more people, earn more merits, and Lord Gallen will reward you with an estate."
Anguy nodded heavily, then suddenly said, "I wonder if the girls in Whispers will like me!"
Mordin thought for a moment and said with a grin, "The women in Whispers fight like men. You're quite handsome. You have to be careful. If they take a liking to you, they'll carry you off. If you can't beat them, you'll be theirs from then on."
Why would I want to resist!
Is there such a wonderful place in the world!
"Actually, I quite like being passive."
After saying that, Anguy's smile became somewhat weird.
Mordin understood Anguy's smile and chuckled along.
The two laughing men suddenly stopped, their gaze simultaneously fixed on the same spot.
Petyr's attendant, led by Gallen's attendant, had just entered the backyard. Instinctively, his back tensed, his steps froze, afraid to move.
He felt like he was suddenly being stared down by two or maybe several fierce beasts, as if one more movement would result in his neck being snapped by those beasts.
---
The feeling of being in danger disappeared, but Petyr's attendant's back was already drenched in cold sweat.
He dared not lift his head, and with another reminder from Gallen's attendant, he slowly moved his feet, subconsciously slowing his breath.
Petyr's attendant finally reached Gallen, bowing respectfully.
He assured them that he was even more submissive now than when facing Petyr, genuinely so.
Tyrion observed the attendant he had met a few times before.
Petyr's attendant almost bent himself into a V shape, with both hands still raised holding the folded invitation letter.
Gallen commented that Petyr's attendants were too polite, overly so.
Gallen signaled for his attendant to take the invitation letter.
After Petyr's attendant left, Tyrion finally couldn't help but burst into laughter, clutching his stomach.
Gallen watched Tyrion, who was on the verge of suffocating, with a hint of amusement in his eyes. "I'm also surprised at Petyr's attendants being overly polite. Do you seem to already know something?"
Tyrion waved his hand, wiping away the tears from his eyes before saying, "You're a beast tamer, already used to the fierce beasts around you. If it weren't for my encounter with the Mountain, your guards would have scared me to death."
[Gregor Clegane, a knight sworn to House Lannister, known as the Mountain, is extremely tall and cruel, bloodthirsty, and enjoys killing.]
Tyrion used himself as an example, not minding poking fun at himself.
At this point, Gallen finished reading the contents of the invitation letter and furrowed his brow slightly, "It's Lord Arryn who wants to see me."
Tyrion's eyes flickered as he reached for the letter in Gallen's hand.
Tyrion read it carefully, "This is ghostwritten, overly polite in tone!"
Tyrion slapped his thigh, continuing, "Look at this, obviously the work of that little finger."
Tyrion stroked his chin, murmuring, "Not to underestimate you, after all, you're just a little lord, the Hand of the King invites, the Master of Coin acts as a messenger, it's too excessive, abnormal."
Gallen nodded slightly, "They don't plan on giving me the opportunity to refuse."
Tyrion agreed, "That's correct."
Tyrion pondered, his eyes wandering.
Gallen suddenly said, "Has Petyr Baelish always been this bold?"
Why ask if Petyr has always been this bold? Tyrion looked puzzled, "He's a person who elegantly arms himself tightly, very cautious..."
As Tyrion spoke, he seemed to pause as if realizing something, meeting Gallen's steady gaze, "It seems like he's already floated to the surface, but actually..."
"Hidden in plain sight, appearing conspicuous in the crowd, yet standing in the most easily overlooked place."
Tyrion chimed in, "Urgent timing, high-profile invitation, the Hand of the King... little finger is truly cunning!"
Gallen looked a bit puzzled, is he being underestimated or...
