The King of Winters

Chapter-97

Tyrion

Mounted on his great black stallion, Oberyn Martell towered high above him, his paramour beside him. A baseborn woman she was, still she looked like a lady in a ruddy brown gown that shimmered like bronze. "Prince Oberyn," he called out to Oberyn Martell. "Seems like I have caught you leaving somewhere this morning."

"Dwarf." Oberyn Martell smiled sharply that cut like a knife. "You look quite well this morning. Taking a ride?" Tyrion had worn his riding clothes that morning, a crimson jerkin with ornate scrollwork done on the front with golden thread. Prince Oberyn was not so different as well. He had worn a soft robe of Martell orange, pinned up by a bronze pin shaped in the likeness of a spear. His retinue sat their mounts behind him: All of them dornishmen. Tyrion knew some of them from the time spent with Oberyn. Lord Wyl, wearing his armour and his favorite scowl; Archibald Yronwood, hammer slung from his gold-inlay saddle; Lord Dagos Manwoody, his sons Mors and Dickon; Ser Arron Qorgyle of Sandstone; and the most dangerous of them all, the Ullers. Lord Harmen Uller, the father of Ellaria Sand sat proudly upon his horse, his face hard and hostile. His brother Ser Ulwyck was ever by his side. Twenty guardsmen rode escort with them.

"Where are you bound this day, Prince Oberyn?" Tyrion asked.

"I'm making a round of the gates to inspect the new scorpions and spitfires. And also to take a look at these newest reinforcements from the east who has come to the city's defense at the call of our King." Oberyn fixed him with those burning black eyes of his, always hiding something from everyone around him, never recoiling, daring and challenging. "I am informed that the rebels have marched from Riverrun. Andrew Stark is making his down the Riverlands, with all his strength behind him."

"I heard the same reports as well."

"He could be here by the full moon, the people of King's Landing say."

Aye, to feed hope to their children and to themselves, telling stories of how the brave King Andrew was riding to King's Landing even now just to save them from the cruelty of the Targaryens. It was hardly the truth though. At least they could find peace in that, believing that someone was coming to save them. "The people of King's Landing say a lot of things," Tyrion told him. "Not all of them are true."

Oberyn Martell chuckled. "You seem rather unfazed of the Dragonslayer, dwarf," he said. "Perhaps we should send you to fight the rebel in our King's name. Would you fancy that? Fighting in a struggle against a rebel for your King? High commander of the royal armies. It ought to make the enemies of the King shake in their boots."

"Andrew Stark is nothing to me," Tyrion said. "I would sooner struggle with his mother in my bed. She was said to be a beautiful queen, the poor woman. Gods rest her soul."

"Careful dwarf," Oberyn warned. "You talk too much."

"Why that's the reason the gods have given me my tongue?" Tyrion smiled as Bronn helped him get on his horse. "Well, that and to please a woman. I hope you don't mind the both of us tagging along with your party, Prince Oberyn. I can promise you that you won't even feel our presence at all."

Oberyn Martell looked at him curiosly for a short moment and then nodded. "If you must."

As they rode out through the gates of the Red Keep, Tyrion nudged his mount forward over to Oberyn Martell. Even mounted on a warhorse he made a far less impressive sight beside the Red Viper. "So what news have you heard of the war?"

"I have already told you that," Oberyn Martell said.

"All you gave me was rumours and fishwives tales," Tyrion said. "I want to know the truth."