Game of Thrones: My Weekend Trips to Earth Chapter 29 29

After ssing around enough, the two stood side by side in the center of the courtyard, looking around.

To show the presence of the "Jacknien family," Luke had his guards plant more than thirty brand-new banners on the walls surrounding the estate. They fluttered proudly in the wind.

The design of the banners was sothing no one in Westeros had ever seen: a blood-red background with a ferocious, powerful black dragon embroidered on it. The dragon's head was raised high, its eyes majestic, claws sharp and nacing, but…

It had no wings.

"Hey, Luke," Bronn pointed at the fluttering banners with his wooden sword and asked curiously, "what the hell is that thing on your flag? A long wriggly… snake? Or a lizard with legs?"

"That's a dragon."

Luke's tone was calm but carried absolute certainty.

"Dragon?"

Bronn frowned, even more confused. "I've seen drawings of dragons. The Targaryens' Balerion the Black Dread and all those legendary dragons had wings! They breathe fire and fly! Yours… it's bald, looks like a giant loach."

Luke glanced at him and said in a declarative tone: "Having wings and being able to fly — what kind of ability is that? A true divine dragon soars through the clouds and roams the nine heavens. Why would it need wings?"

"Being able to fly without wings — that's what makes it a real dragon!"

Bronn was rendered speechless by this "profound statent." He rolled his eyes and muttered, "Fine, fine, you're the Heavenly Dragon, whatever you say…"

While the two were casually bickering, a guard responsible for front-yard security walked in quickly, bowed, and reported: "My lord, soone is requesting an audience outside. He claims to be from the Lannister family — a dwarf lord."

Luke and Bronn exchanged a glance, both seeing surprise in each other's eyes.

"The Imp?" Luke said softly.

Tyrion Lannister?

Why would he co here?

"Interesting." Bronn licked his lips, excitent gleaming in his eyes as if he was about to watch a good show.

Luke straightened his slightly sweat-dampened clothes and told the guard: "I'll greet him personally."

Bronn naturally followed behind him.

When they reached the estate's main gate, the afterglow of the sunset had dyed the stone path in front of the door golden.

A figure with an abnormally short stature but extrely luxurious clothing embroidered with a golden-and-crimson roaring lion stood there.

He had his hands behind his back, looking sowhat bored as he examined the estate walls and the red banners with black dragons.

Two attendants in Westerlands-style leather armor, swords at their waists, stood beside him with vigilant expressions.

Hearing the gate open, the man turned around.

What t Luke's eyes was the iconic dwarf figure:

Short, deford legs, an oversized head, a protruding forehead — his appearance would be considered ugly by ordinary standards.

But his hair was a near-platinum pale gold, neatly combed, and he had a short beard of mixed brown and gold.

The most striking feature was his eyes — one as black as ink, the other as green as the sumr sea. Right now, they carried his usual mix of self-mockery, sharpness, and cynicism as he appraised the approaching Luke.

Tyrion Lannister, known as "the Imp."

Seeing Luke co out, Tyrion casually spread his hands and showed an ugly but无奈 and slightly provocative smile:

"Well then, Mr. Jacknien? Were you admiring a deford lion? I hope I didn't frighten the ladies of your house."

His voice was clear, carrying the slightly lazy but precise Lannister accent. His tone was humorous, yet cleverly probing for a reaction.

Instead of showing any disgust or surprise, Luke laughed heartily. His gaze shifted slightly downward to Tyrion's feet as he said loudly:

"Lord Tyrion, you misunderstand. I wasn't admiring the shape of a lion, but rather… the majestic figure cast by the dwarf under the sunset! Look, the light is perfect."

Tyrion subconsciously looked down. Sure enough, under the orange-red sunset, his short body cast an unusually long shadow on the ground — almost the sa as a normal person's.

He was slightly stunned, then a flash of genuine surprise and… a very faint trace of pleasure at being cleverly flattered appeared in his eyes.

He looked up. His green eye shone a little brighter:

"An interesting perspective. Unfortunately, a shadow is still just a shadow, isn't it? So, Mr. Jacknien, won't you invite this 'little lion' from House Lannister in for a drink? I've heard you have quite a few… novel good things here."

The mont Tyrion finished speaking, a system prompt quietly appeared in Luke's vision:

[Free Attribute Points: 3]

Three points!

One more than when he t Petyr Baelish!

It seed the "importance" of key plot characters in the original story was indeed extraordinary.

Could it be that attribute points were gained by interacting with major canon figures?

Luke's heart surged with joy. His smile grew even warr, carrying the enthusiasm of eting an old friend in a strange land. He used a slightly adapted ancient saying from Blue Star:

"Haha! When a friend cos from afar, is it not a joy? Lord Tyrion, please co in! My humble ho is simple, but I hope the wine and tea will suit your taste."

Tyrion was slightly surprised by Luke's overly warm and sowhat literary response, but didn't think much of it. He simply took it as this mysterious rchant's unique way of being hospitable.

He walked with sowhat clumsy but steady steps, leading his attendants into Luke's estate.

As soon as he entered, his gaze was imdiately drawn to the red-and-black dragon banners fluttering around the courtyard.

He stopped, tilted his large head, carefully studied the pattern on the flags, frowned, and showed clear confusion:

"Forgive my rudeness, Mr. Jacknien… what creature is on your banner? So kind of… long serpent with legs? Or a wingless lizard from Valyrian legends? I've traveled to many places and have never seen such a sigil."

Luke walked ahead to lead the way. Without turning his head, he replied calmly but firmly: "That is a dragon. The sigil of House Jacknien — the Divine Dragon."

"Dragon?"

Tyrion almost laughed. He quickened his steps to catch up and walked beside Luke. His green eye sparkled with mischievous light.

"Seven Hells! Forgive my bluntness, Mr. Jacknien. As far as I know, whether it's the Targaryen's three-headed dragon, the ancient dragons of Valyria, or even the dragons in the murals of the Free Cities across the Narrow Sea — they all have wings."

"Your 'dragon'… could it be so kind of… um, special variety caused by in-family marriage? Like… a scaled deford child?"

His words were double-edged — mocking Luke's "dragon" sigil while subtly jabbing at his own infamous "incestuous" origins.

Luke, however, seed completely unconcerned by the barbed remark. He answered frankly: "For now, I am rely a lucky rchant with so small achievents. As for knighthood or noble titles?"

He paused, turned his head to look at Tyrion, his eyes carrying a strange confidence: "With the noble blood flowing in my veins, I believe my future achievents will naturally earn matching honors — perhaps… enough to shock everyone."

Tyrion blinked his black eye. A complex look flashed through his green one.

Soone actually dared to speak so frankly — even arrogantly — about "bloodline" and "future achievents" in front of him, the son of Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West?

This was either the ignorance of the fearless, or… he truly had sothing to back it up.

He didn't pursue the topic further. After all, it was their first eting — probing should have limits.

Luke led Tyrion to the newly tidied reception hall.

Here, simple-style sofas brought from Blue Star were placed — quite novel in Westeros — along with thick Northern wolf-pelt carpets.

Annie and Emma Waters, who had already been instructed, were now wearing clean and neat maid uniforms. They gracefully served tea to Luke, Tyrion, and the accompanying Bronn.

Tyrion's eyes were imdiately drawn to the tea set in the sisters' hands.

The elegantly shaped white porcelain teapot, the paper-thin, warm-glazed teacups, and their slightly clumsy but ritualistic way of brewing tea.

"So this is the 'tea' and 'tea ceremony' that has recently begun circulating in so 'high-class' circles of King's Landing?"

Tyrion watched with great interest, his voice filled with undisguised amazent.

"Truly exquisite beyond belief. These porcelain pieces… even the maesters of Oldtown would go mad for them."

He explained the reason for his sudden visit:

"To be honest, Mr. Jacknien, those novel goods that have appeared on the market lately — salt, sugar, perfus, and now this tea — every single one has opened my eyes."

"I've visited every tavern and brothel in King's Landing, hoping to chance upon their mysterious owner. Unfortunately, I had no luck, so I had to visit unannounced. I hope to see with my own eyes what kind of person has brought so many… pleasant surprises."

Luke picked up the teacup in front of him, gently blew on the nonexistent steam, and said calmly with a hint of pride: "Lord Tyrion flatters . They are rely so local specialties from my holand — nothing more than small tricks. In front of the most illustrious House Lannister of the Seven Kingdoms, they are truly insignificant. Compared to your fa as 'the Imp' that echoes across the realm, I still have a long way to go."

Tyrion mimicked Luke and picked up his own teacup.

He first carefully observed the clear golden tea liquid, sniffed the elegant yet slightly bitter aroma, then cautiously took a small sip.

He let the tea linger in his mouth for a mont before slowly swallowing.

After a long pause, Tyrion put down the cup. His green eye shone with genuine admiration:

"Wonderful! Truly wonderful! Slightly bitter on entry, with an indescribable plant-like freshness. After swallowing… a rich, sweet aftertaste surges in the throat! It feels like my entire mind has beco clearer. Refreshing to the heart and soul."

He looked at Luke, his tone becoming eager.

"Mr. Jacknien, I dare bet that if my father Lord Tywin tasted this, he would be willing to spend a great deal of gold dragons to purchase it and make it one of the highest honors for entertaining distinguished guests at Casterly Rock!"

"It seems my trip here was truly worthwhile!"

In the reception hall, the fragrance of tea lingered.

One side was King's Landing's newly risen mysterious rich rchant, carrying the secrets of the System and two worlds, with budding ambition.

The other side was the wise dwarf of House Lannister — widely traveled, sharp-minded, backed by the imnse wealth and power of the Westerlands.

Their first formal eting had quietly begun over this cup of tea from Blue Star.