Tyrion looked at Tywin, his kindly Old Lion still hale, his stern expression even showing a hint of heroism.
He casually surveyed the furnishings in the room, which used to be… his Prime Ministers study.
Tywin's voice rang out, "Sit down."
"As you command."
Tyrion shrugged, limped to the chair, and clumsily climbed onto it. Tywin watched his Dwarf son comically settle into the chair, and he frowned.
Tyrion shifted in the chair, pursing his lips into a smile. "My legs are too short, I apologize for keeping you waiting."
Tywin ignored Tyrion's jest and said, "Tyrion, as the Master of Coin on the Small Council, you should be in the Hall of Office next door, handling the backlog of state affairs."
With that, he pulled out a blank piece of parchment, spread it on the table in front of him, and picked up a quill, dipping it in ink.
"I have several important letters to write," he said, his quill already moving.
Tyrion understood his father's meaning perfectly: if there was nothing else, the Dwarf son could leave. If it were Jaime… even if he had nothing to do, he could play freely in his father's Prime Ministers study, as it had always been since childhood.
As a child, he had once imitated Jaime's actions, but… at this thought, a sadness welled up in Tyrion's eyes, but he quickly suppressed it.
Swish, swish, swish, swish. In the quiet Prime Ministers study, there was only the faint sound of the quill scratching on paper.
His father was still the same: a solid golden beard concealed his jaw, framing a severe face, a bald head, and a tightly closed mouth.
His gaze shifted slightly, glancing at the Hand's chain hanging around his father's neck, that glittering golden object that had once belonged to him.
Tyrion spoke, "That chain looks good on you."
Tywin's quill did not stop. He replied, "Hmm, it looks as good on me as it did on me."
His kindly father still ignored him. Tyrion paused, then grinned. "Lord Tywin, do you like your new position?"
Swish, swish, swish. Tywin looked up and glanced at Tyrion, then continued writing, calmly asking, "Like it?"
"Yes."
Tyrion spread his hands. "Back then, I was so happy I couldn't sleep."
Tywin scoffed lightly. "So happy? So you used the Hand's position to keep a whore?"
Hearing this, Tyrion's expression stiffened for a moment. He said in a sincere tone, "How can the wise Lord of Casterly Rock so easily believe Cersei's slander (Chapter 240)?"
A smirk played on his lips. "Don't believe Cersei's tongue. I used the gold dragons in my purse."
Tywin's quill paused slightly. He looked up at the smiling Tyrion, then continued writing as he spoke. "I gave you the honor of assisting the King. I also gave you real power, but you chose to be the same as before… infatuated with whores?"
Infatuated? Tyrion's eyes trembled imperceptibly. He suspected Tywin might have already known something.
He scratched his face, as if unconcerned, and quipped, "I only occasionally have a drink with them… hmm, after I've finished my official duties."
Tywin frowned. "Tell me, what is the purpose of your visit?"
Tyrion spread his hands. "A dutiful son (Chapter 258) who was sent to Riverrun right after waking up from the war… he finally returned to King's Landing with great difficulty. Shouldn't he first greet his dear father?"
"I have received your greeting." Tywin put down his quill and lowered his head to check the contents of the written letter.
Tyrion shifted in his chair. "I also wanted to… by the way, ask why you put me in the Master of Coin's chair? You should know that I am good at enjoying wealth, not managing it."
After placing the written letter aside, Tywin leaned back in his chair. He gazed at Tyrion for a moment. "This is my reward to you."
"Hah…"
Tyrion leaned forward. "This is a reward? I don't have the ability to solve the royal debt of several million gold dragons. Are you planning to sell a Dwarf to pay off the debt?"
Since Tyrion entered, Tywin's voice seemed to have no emotional fluctuations. "You are a Lannister. Also, this is the Prime Ministers study; don't make bad jokes."
Tyrion also leaned back in his chair, his short legs crossed. "I heard good news last night. My good cousin… Lancel was named Lord of Darry."
Tyrion's posture was too casual, and a look of displeasure flashed across Tywin's face.
He asked, "Are you envious of him? Very well, what do you want from me? Land? A castle?"
What he wanted… Tyrion secretly took a breath, forcing a smile. "Lord, a simple 'thank you' would be a good start."
Tywin stared at Tyrion unblinkingly. "Monkeys and jesters need applause from others, and so did Aerys II. You are a Lannister. Do you think I should demand applause from you every time I contribute to the Lannister?"
After a pause, he continued, "You commanded well during the battle against Stannis. I acknowledge your contribution, and no one denies the role you played."
"The role I played?"
Tywin's choice of words infuriated Tyrion. "In my opinion, I alone saved this damned King's Landing."
"Incorrect."
Tywin's tone remained calm. "It is generally acknowledged that my surprise attack on Stannis's army turned the tide of the battle, and the House Tyrell army also fought excellently. I heard that the Wildfire that destroyed the Baratheon fleet was information you obtained from Cersei."
Tyrion's voice carried an uncontrollable anger. "Hah, all I did was trim nose hairs, right?"
Tywin shook his head slightly. "The chain across the Blackwater was a good idea; it secured our victory. Is that all you want to hear me say? Also, I should also thank you for rescuing Ser Jaime…?"
When Jaime's name was mentioned, his fist on the armrest of the chair tightened slightly.
Tyrion finally heard thanks from his father, but it sounded more like mockery.
A sudden, inexplicable sense of grievance welled up in his heart, and his eyes involuntarily felt hot.
Tywin's voice rang out, "And another thank you: you sent the Mountain's head to Sunspear, laying the foundation for the Lannister alliance with the Martell?"
Tyrion sniffed his golden nose, still reminding his father, "Besides the marriage alliance, a seat on the Small Council is very appealing to Prince Martell."
Tywin nodded slightly. "Indeed, I will consider it carefully. So, if there's nothing else…"
Tyrion exhaled. "Yes, you told me you had several important letters to write."
He climbed down from the chair, bowed slightly, took a step towards the door, but then stopped.
Tyrion closed his eyes, took a moment, and turned to his father.
He spoke, "You just asked me… what I wanted? Very well, I'll tell you. I want my legal rights. I want Casterly Rock."
Tywin's eyes left the letter and looked at Tyrion, a hint of disgust flashing in his eyes.
After a pause, he asked, "What about your brother?"
Tyrion replied, "Jaime is your eldest son and your heir, but he became a Kingsguard, forbidden to marry and inherit. Jaime renounced his claim to Casterly Rock the day he donned the white cloak, but you have never admitted it. Let's not dwell on the past. Now I want you to declare me the heir to Casterly Rock in front of the lords of the Westerlands."
"You want Casterly Rock?" The golden pupils in Tywin's pale green eyes seemed to melt and glow, yet without a trace of emotion.
Tyrion's hands involuntarily clenched as he replied, "Father, I am also your son. According to the succession laws of the Seven Kingdoms, I am the legitimate heir."
After gazing at the Dwarf for a moment, Tywin's voice was laced with suppressed anger. "I will find you a more suitable residence, as another reward for your excellent contributions. When the time is right, you will receive a position that can better serve the Lannister. And, if you can serve the Lannister faithfully, you will be granted a wife worthy of your status."
His chest rose and fell slightly, and he coldly declared, "Even if my corpse is consumed by maggots, I will not let you inherit Casterly Rock."
His father's words… sharp and full of venom. Perhaps, he knew the answer before he even spoke.
Knowing he wouldn't like his father's reply, Tyrion forced himself to ask, "Why?"
Tywin's voice suddenly rose. "Why? You dare to ask why?"
He roared, "Your birth killed your mother! You are a shameful freak!"
"Your heart is filled with jealousy, brimming with malice. You are consumed by lust, always playing petty tricks."
"The laws of the Seven Kingdoms force you to bear my name, wear my clothes, because I cannot prove you are not my seed."
"To teach me humility, the gods forced me to witness you swaggering about, emblazoned with the Lion sigil—my father's sigil, my grandfather's sigil, the Lannister sigil!"
Finally, Tywin gnashed his teeth and said, "But neither the gods nor the law can force me to hand Casterly Rock over to you, to become your brothel, to shame the Lannister!"
After a heavy silence, Tyrion turned his head and wiped the corner of his eye.
"You may leave."
Tywin stood up from his chair, looking down at his Dwarf son from above. "Do not mention the inheritance of Casterly Rock again."
Tyrion glanced at Tywin, then limped towards the door.
"Oh, and one more thing…"
Tywin suddenly called out to him. Although Tyrion wanted to escape from there as quickly as possible, he had no choice but to stop.
"Cersei told me you threatened her for a whore (Chapter 240)."
The Old Lion's voice was like ice. "Tell me, was she lying?"
His good sister had not lied. Tyrion could not deny this, but for Shae's safety, he could not admit it… If he did, Lord Tywin would never let her go, just like Tysha back then…
He forced himself, not allowing a hint of a whimper in his voice. "You taught me that a successful threat is more effective than a direct strike. During my time as acting Hand, your good daughter… was simply too disobedient. I had no choice but to do it."
After a pause, he grinned. "Perhaps, you also understand my predicament."
Not long after Tyrion left, Kevan Lannister entered the Prime Ministers study.
Ser Kevan approached the table, just about to report on important state affairs, when Tywin pointed to the chair Tyrion had sat in earlier, interrupting him. "Kevan, sit down first."
Ser Kevan looked at his brother in confusion. After sitting down, he said, "Lord Tywin, I saw Tyrion on the stairs. He didn't seem to be in good spirits."
Tywin completely ignored the Dwarf son mentioned by Ser Kevan. "I want to talk to you about Jaime, Kevan."
Ser Kevan sat there respectfully. Tywin tapped the armrest of the chair and continued, "Never mind, let's deal with state affairs first. Kevan, tell me first…"
A sharp glint flashed in the Old Lion's eyes. Tyrion… inheritance… did Jaime think Casterly Rock had no shortage of heirs?
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