Chapter 92: with translation of chapter title

Tyrion limped, carrying a box containing a head.

The head had been carefully cured by someone Mormont found, then lightly coated with tar and placed in the box. Mormont also thoughtfully attached a handle to the box so he could carry it easily.

This bastard!

He still remembered what it looked like when Varys's head flew through the air.

The head flew, blood spurting from its neck, and he felt the whole world mocking him:

The beheader Mormont had not a drop of blood on him; the beheaded Varys's spotless white face merely tapped the Saiheluzhen bluestone street, bounced and rolled aside, and upon picking it up they found only a speck of dust on his face, still spotless; but he, a tiny pitiful soul knocked to the ground, was actually drenched head to toe in blood spurted from the overturned corpse. He was the only one of the three who tasted blood, and possibly the only Lannister who had drunk someone else's blood.

Varys's blood was also somewhat sweet and greasy.

Varys died, killed by one of his little birds overseas. Because the little bird wanted to bring his head to the Dragon Queen so she would happily take him back. Moreover, he prepared another gift for the Dragon Queen: a kinslayer and kingslayer of the Lannister line, the one and only little demon.

I wonder if his Dragon Queen would vomit on the spot upon seeing such a deformed little monster?

Hey, whatever she likes. Young girls are always foolish; as they grow older they become vicious. Only his Tysha is both beautiful and kind.

Damn, what is he in Tysha's eyes? She would think every young man is absurd, and with age becomes cruel.

Foolishness pairs with absurdity, viciousness with cruelty. That's basically describing his older siblings.

Anyway, as long as the Dragon Queen doesn't throw him to a magic dragon to eat, it's fine. But if his fate is to end in Meilin, he'd actually look forward to a special death—being fed to a dragon would be among the most unique, at least he could die like Queen Rhaenyra.

Oh, did Queen Rhaenyra scream when she died? I hope the Dragon Queen's dragon is big enough to swallow him whole, without tearing him bloody.

"Ser Jorah, carrying your gift is already hard enough; could you kindly loosen my chains?" He almost pleaded, "If we keep going like this, I'm going to die."

This hairy northerner is stone‑cold, but if you sincerely beg he'll also show a bit of knightly spirit—offering water, bread, or other food—yet a Lannister's mouth seldom utters sweet words, and the little demon's lips have nothing to do with sweetness. Moreover, his misshapen legs can barely bear his own weight, let alone the hand‑cuffs, foot‑cuffs, and the box carrying Varys's head.

"If you die, I'll put your head in the box to keep him company." Even in this sweltering heat he still wore his black woolen leather armor, as if exposing his bare back would betray the gods and tarnish his knightly honor.

"Ser, I may be small, but my head is big; this box can't hold two big brains." Moreover, if you could loosen my chains, I could carry the box farther for you!" He no longer knew what words to use to persuade this hairy bear.

After being beaten many times, he knew what to say and what absolutely not to say. He felt the hairy bear also wanted to tame him this way, as if he were truly a little magic monkey.

He had thrown away the blood‑stained clothes, and of course wouldn't go back to the ship to steal his other "children's" clothes to wear. Now his top is a common long robe from Walantis, and his bottom is simple shorts. The robe on his short upper limbs makes him look like a little monkey in a costume.

He had seen nobles keep monkeys, dressing them in human clothes; if the records are true, there was one who not only dressed his monkey but also sought a noble girl as a mate for it.

Damn, he should have succeeded; otherwise, why would his father think he ought to at least marry a noble girl?

"I think two heads would fit if we squeezed them in." Ser Jorah replied like a demon.

"When you squeeze, be sure to let the back of my head face him." He said pitifully, "I've heard you northerners ask for a dying man's last words before you kill him—damn, this is mine." Ser Jorah gave no reply to his words; he resignedly said, "Letting Varys kiss my precious head instead of my mouth would also be a comfort."

He felt tears coming.

"I will remember." He answered quietly, eyes fixed ahead.

"Ser, couldn't you hire another wagon?" Tyrion followed him from Saiheluzhen by boat to Walantis, then walked alone up Waleiya Avenue.

When he asked why they didn't take the sea route to Meilin, the big black bear merely replied that he lacked both the money and the time to wait for a ship to Meilin.

Indeed, the whole world is at war; trade from Walantis to Slaver's Bay has almost completely ceased, and the few ships still afloat are either warships or pirate ships, no longer resembling the former prosperity of maritime trade. Thus the big black bear decisively chose to travel from Walantis to Meilin via Waleiya Avenue.

Tyrion thought him simply mad. Two lone people trying to reach Meilin on four legs, moreover having to traverse the legendary Demon Road, hoping to succeed—utterly fanciful. Besides, here only two legs are normal, and both belong to the same person.

"I don't have that much money. Now there's an extra mouth to feed, so we must save expenses." Jorah answered plainly.

"Gods!" Tyrion wailed, "I really shouldn't blame Illyrio and Varys for arranging my trip on the Rhoyne; although it's tough, at least there are pretty nuns to look at and excitable young men to tease."

Here there is only a bear that beats people.

The big and small griffins have at least not yet chained him, he thought.

"Ser Jorah, ser," he felt he really couldn't go on; if he kept moving forward his legs would give out, and he'd rather have Jorah bring his head to see that legendary queen. Having his head cut off, his legs at least wouldn't have to walk under the weight of a big head, "You are a Westerosi, I am also a Westerosi; though our homes are far apart, at least let us obey Westerosi law."

Ser Jorah still said nothing. He's always like that: if he hasn't heard the question, he won't respond at all; but if you anger him, he'll only throw punches.

Damn northerner.

"Our Westerosi law forbids slavery; your queen, I hear, is also abolishing slavery—how can you treat me as a slave?"

I have killed my kin, and been falsely accused of regicide, but I am noble.

"You're not a slave, you're a prisoner." He said calmly, not glancing at Tyrion even once. All his attention was on the distance, all around, unwilling to miss the slightest detail.

Given his caution, he could survive this dangerous road, but at this pace he will surely die.

He might be the only Lannister to die of exhaustion from walking.

"Well, I admit I'm a prisoner, ser; please take me back to King's Landing—I'm willing to stand trial, I'm willing to plead guilty!" He wailed, "I'd rather have my older sister cut off my head and hang it on Casterly Rock than keep going like this—damn, is this road a thousand miles long?"

"We're not going to King's Landing. The legitimate ruler of the Seven Kingdoms is not the little king of the Iron Throne, but the Dragon Queen Daenerys Targaryen; you will only face her judgment."

Then followed another period of silence.

Finally, Jorah Mormont seemed to see his suffering, and so spoke the words that made Tyrion feel happiest all day: "We'll spend the night on the hill ahead."

"Damn, thanks to the gods!" Tyrion said, lifting his head.

A wave of dizziness hit; he felt he could no longer stand and fainted. Before losing consciousness he seemed to glimpse Varys's black head rolling away down the road.

Damn.

When he woke again, the sky was pitch black; he opened his eyes to see the stars filling the heavens. The fire had dwindled to embers, only some scarlet coals glowing, and the fire still held a few strings of char‑black roasted meat.

He looked around; everywhere was bald stone, with no sign of Ser Jorah.

He wouldn't have abandoned him here and run off, would he?

He hurried to rise, but his legs ached too much to move, so he sat back down and massaged them with his hands to ease the pain. Feeling a bit better he stood, but as soon as he rose a wave of dizziness hit, forcing him to lean on the nearby stone and breathe carefully.

After a while he felt recovered, and his eyes had grown accustomed to the dark, only then realizing he was inside a small cave.

The box holding Varys's head still lay beside him.

Tyrion both breathed a sigh of relief and silently cursed his bad luck.

The big black bear could not possibly abandon his loot and leave on his own.

He reached out, took the roasted meat from the fire, didn't care how badly it was cooked, and swallowed it whole.

He struggled out of the cave and walked outside.

The stars in the night sky grew denser. Tyrion felt as if he had never seen such a clear constellation.

He saw Qiao La Mo Er Meng sitting on a large rock, gazing at the starry sky, his long black shadow almost covering everything.

He really wanted to know what this big black bear was thinking again.

He felt helpless.

What was he thinking? Thinking of Wa Li Si? Thinking of Zhan Mu? Thinking of those completely uncertain fates?

Nothing.

His fate was to play clown after clown.

Let's see, just how bad and ugly can it get! Even if eaten by a dragon, it's better than rotting away in this cave.

A piercing chill wind blew, and he suddenly felt much clearer, clutching tightly the huge robe he wore.

This was originally clothing for ordinary people, but even just keeping out the cold counts as a bit of extra value.

Not sure if it made a sound, Sir Qiao La stood up and walked toward him.

"Tomorrow, we head north." Qiao La said to him.

"Yes, Master!" he said resentfully.

"Very well," he said, "When we meet the Duo Si La Ke Ren, you shall address me like this."

"Are you going to become a barbarian?" Xiao E Mo said with a smile.

"Only with me, we cannot cross the entire Wa Lei Li Ya Da Dao to reach Mi Lin." he said.

"Oh, a good Sir finally realizes this thorny problem." Ti Li Ang exclaimed in surprise, "I thought I was the only one here who didn't get it!"

"Stop messing around." he said menacingly, "Otherwise, I'll consider whether to act according to your last words."

Ti Li Ang thought it best not to, so he took a sip of water and crawled into the innermost part of the cave to sleep.