Chapter 60: The Plan
"Oh? Well then—how did it go, dear Lord Tyrion?"
"Did your lovely queen regent sister give you a hard time?"
In the Hand's solar, Podrick had already been waiting. He was sprawled lazily on a horsehide sofa, casually sipping from Tyrion's own red wine.
The moment Tyrion stepped inside, Podrick raised his right hand at an angle in greeting, grinning broadly.
"Sometimes," Tyrion said dryly, shutting the door behind him,
"I truly wish you were my master instead—so you could enjoy my beautiful sister's saliva firsthand. Or perhaps taste one of her slaps."
Podrick froze for a heartbeat, then broke into a strange, thoughtful smile.
"That sounds… richly immersive."
He took a small sip of wine, smacking his lips as though savoring something profound.
Tyrion let out a helpless sigh.
This really did prove one of Podrick's favorite sayings:
When water is too pure, there are no fish; when a person is shameless enough, they're unbeatable.
Fortunately—or unfortunately—after months together, Tyrion had more or less grown used to the boy's occasional bizarre remarks and inexplicable gestures.
Like that strange angled-hand greeting, the origins of which Tyrion had long since given up trying to trace.
Shaking his head and forcibly clearing such thoughts away, Tyrion loosened his sleeves as he walked over. He removed the crimson-and-gold wool cloak from his shoulders and hung it on the wall rack before finally getting to the point.
"Cersei's reaction was… acceptable. More or less what I expected."
"Of course she wasn't pleased—there was never any doubt about that. But aside from sending furious letters to our dear father in Harrenhal, there's very little she can actually do."
As he spoke, Tyrion reached for a goblet. Podrick, ever attentive, lifted the wine jug and filled it for him without being asked.
While pouring, Tyrion looked up at Podrick, his expression turning serious.
"Podrick—are you absolutely certain you can deliver on what you promised me?"
"You understand what we're carrying on our shoulders now."
There was weight in the dwarf's voice.
Today's Small Council meeting hadn't merely been about power plays and verbal sparring.
What truly mattered to Tyrion was whether King's Landing could actually be made better—or at least kept from collapsing entirely.
This was the core issue.
If things couldn't be done properly, then no amount of fine words mattered.
Having a capable, trustworthy person at his side was a blessing—but Tyrion had no desire to pin his hopes on a leaky oak barrel, only to discover that the long-awaited surprise was nothing but emptiness.
At Tyrion's concern, Podrick smiled faintly. He gave the wine jug a small shake, letting the last few drops fall neatly into the dwarf's cup before setting it down.
"What you're worried about isn't really a problem," Podrick said calmly.
"And beyond that, what we need to do is quite simple—make people understand what they're supposed to do, what they'll get if they do it, why they're doing it, and why things must be done this way."
"Of course," he added with an easy grin, pointing lightly at both himself and Tyrion,
"the same applies to us."
Tyrion had just raised his cup when he froze.
At first he hadn't thought much of it—but as the words sank in, something clicked.
His eyes lit up, as though struck by sudden insight.
Then his brow furrowed again.
"So you're saying," Tyrion said slowly,
"that as long as I give you money and grain, you can guarantee the Gold Cloaks' combat effectiveness and loyalty—and that I won't have to worry about law and order in King's Landing?"
"Before we deal with enemies outside the city, we stabilize the inside. If the riot problem within the walls is solved, you'll have far more confidence dealing with threats beyond them."
Seeing Podrick avoid naming the source of that principle—and even look faintly cautious while doing so—Tyrion shot him a suspicious glance, then decided not to press the point.
Compared to that, what mattered more was the promise Podrick was making.
Cradling his cup, Tyrion climbed back into his chair and spoke again.
"Money is one thing—but grain?"
"What do you need that for?"
"And how can you be so sure you can actually solve all of this? Over the years, countless kings and Hands haven't dared make promises like that."
The request puzzled him. Money he understood. But grain? Podrick wasn't fighting a war—what use did he have for it? Surely the court wasn't about to let him starve.
As for the claim of fixing King's Landing's internal problems—Tyrion simply didn't believe it.
Podrick knew he wouldn't.
If their positions were reversed, he wouldn't have believed it either.
So he merely shrugged, unconcerned.
"Someone always manages it," he said lightly.
"It's just a question of how."
Watching Podrick's composed, confident expression, Tyrion swirled the wine in his cup—and decided to give him a chance.
"…Go on," he said. "What's your plan?"
"Plans?" Podrick replied. "Two of them. I intend to run them in parallel."
The way he said it made Tyrion feel like a merchant waiting for a proposal pitch. Podrick rose from the sofa, set down his wine, dragged over a stool, and sat directly across from him.
Tyrion narrowed his eyes and lifted his chin slightly.
"First," Podrick said, raising a finger, his gaze sharpening,
"in chaotic times, you rule with harsh laws."
"I don't recommend granting the populace too much freedom right now—not even freedom of speech. We need control. Curfews. Heavy penalties. High pressure."
"With decisive, near-absolute force, we suppress the situation while all these problems are still in their early stages."
Tyrion's brow knitted tighter—but Podrick didn't give him a chance to interrupt.
"I know what you're worried about, my lord."
"That's exactly why I'm telling you this. Trust me—I can make it work."
Tyrion, of course, wasn't about to take such assurances at face value. A cold smile tugged at his lips.
"And have you considered," he said,
"that even if you do all this, we don't have enough manpower?"
"Do you have any idea how many people live in King's Landing—and how many men we can actually deploy?"
"See? You're rushing again," Podrick waved a hand.
"Of course I know. Over half a million—likely more."
"But if I say this, it's because I have confidence."
"And that brings me to what I wanted to say next—my second plan."
---