Chapter 99

Translation: "Sir, I thought only I knew about this little thing!" Tyrion chuckled; it wasn't uncommon for this Mereen person to understand Westerosi affairs, and knowing it wasn't surprising.

Translation: "Sir, I thought only I knew about this trivial matter!" Tyrion chuckled; this Myrish person could understand Westerosi affairs, though uncommon, knowing it wasn't surprising.

Note translation: We need to keep tone. Use "Sir" for "my lord". Keep punctuation.

We must not add extra. Let's produce: "Sir, I thought only I knew about this trivial matter!" Tyrion chuckled; this Myrish person could understand Westerosi affairs, though uncommon, knowing it wasn't surprising.

Check: we kept all content.

Translation: "The renowned Duke Tywin died in the privy at his son's hand—this is a rare event in Westeros, eh."

Translation: "The renowned Duke Tywin died on the toilet at his son's hand—this is a rare event in Westeros!"

Note translation: We need to keep the meaning "renowned". So "The renowned Duke Tywin". Good.

Translation: "But the Andals' voices are too loud; everyone knows about the patricide, eh." He curled his lips, "To me, patricide and kin-slaying are fresh words in Westerosi speech—once heard, you never forget, eh."

Translation: "But the Andals' voices are too loud; everyone knows about the patricide." He curled his lips, "To me, patricide and kin-slaying are fresh words in Westerosi speech—once heard, you never forget."

Note translation: "... everyone knows about the patricide, eh." He curled his lips, "To me, patricide and kin-slaying are fresh words in Westerosi speech—once heard, you never forget, eh."

We'll produce.

Translation: "Sir, just go to a brothel in Westeros and you'll surely hear fresh words every day." Tyrion didn't think much of it.

Translation: "Sir, just go to a brothel in Westeros and you'll surely hear fresh words every day." Tyrion didn't care.

Note translation: Tyrion didn't think much of it.

Translation: "Hehe, I think most are the same words. However, Westerosi, do I still have a chance to go there?" Ptolemy gave a wry smile, "Being a mercenary, you never know when you'll die. I guess the captain never imagined he'd die by a dragon."

Translation: "Hehe, I believe most are the same words. However, Westeros—do I still have a chance to go there?" Ptolemy gave a wry smile, "Being a mercenary, you never know when you'll die. I bet the regiment leader never imagined in his dreams that one day he'd die by a dragon."

Note translation: We need to keep "Hehe" as "Hehe". "gave a wry smile" as "gave a wry smile". "ah" as exclamation. We'll keep.

Translation: "This isn't a good start to a conversation. If he lacks confidence in living long, he's probably not interested in promises that can be fulfilled in the long run, and this is the only thing Tyrion can offer."

Translation: "This isn't a good start to a conversation. If he lacks confidence in living long, he's probably not interested in promises redeemable in the long term, and this is the only thing Tyrion can offer."

Note translation: We need to translate the colloquial phrase meaning "and this". Keep meaning.

Translation: "If we picnic correctly, we can picnic forever." He had to encourage, "And dragons! Aren't all the world's dragons the Queen's? We are a mercenary company, not the Unsullied who lack... we always have a choice, you say, regiment leader?"

Translation: "If we picnic correctly, we can picnic forever." He had to encourage, "And dragons! Aren't all the world's dragons the Queen's? We are a mercenary company, not the Unsullied who lack... we always have a choice, you say, regiment leader?"

Note translation: We need to translate "lacking" as "who lack". Also "the" as "the". We'll produce: "If we picnic correctly, we can picnic forever." He had to encourage, "And dragons! Aren't all the world's dragons the Queen's? We are a mercenary company, not the Unsullied who lack... we always have a choice, you say, regiment leader?"

Translation: "I'm not the captain." He laughed at Tyrion's teasing, "The election will be held tomorrow morning. I heard you're interested in the position of master of coin?"

Translation: "I'm not the regiment leader." He was made to laugh by Tyrion, "The election will be held tomorrow morning. I heard you're interested in the Master of Coin position?"

He heard? Tyrion is about to write the words "I am the chief financial officer" right in front of him!

Translation: "Has he heard? Tyrion was about to write the words about being Master of Coin directly in front of him!"

Translation: "Hey, sir, you underestimate me—I clearly intend to take the captain's position!" Seeing Ptolemy smile, Tyrion continued enthusiastically, "But I know, you know, the mercenaries won't choose a dwarf as captain, even if he's handsome, charming, smart, good at math and finance, and eager to improve the mercenaries' welfare."

Translation: "Hey, sir, you underestimate me—I clearly intend to take the regiment leader's position!" Tyrion saw Ptolemy smile and continued enthusiastically, "But I know the mercenaries won't choose a dwarf as regiment leader, even if that dwarf is handsome, charming, smart, good at math and finance, and eager to increase the mercenaries' welfare."

- note translation.

Translation: "So you think the master of coin could just pick a handsome, charming dwarf, even if he's really good at math and finance?" Ptolemy laughed.

Translation: "Then you think the Master of Coin can be a handsome, charming dwarf, even if that dwarf truly excels at math and finance?" Ptolemy laughed.

- note translation? Actually 【57】 is a line with garbled text. We need to translate.

"Of course not, unless he gives a lot." Tyrion spread his hands and laughed.

Translation: "Of course not, unless he pays a lot." Tyrion spread his hands and laughed.

- line.

Translation: "He burst out laughing. This made Tyrion feel amused."

- line.

Translation: "But I just heard you say the money to buy slaves is borrowed." Ptolemy stopped smiling, wearing a playful expression.

- line.

Translation: "This doesn't faze him; he's been prepared for a while."

- line.

- note? Actually 【75】 is a note: "Let's break:..." It contains Chinese inside quotes. We need to translate per note.

Translation: "The gold coins in my hand are few." Tyrion laughed and said, "But I have plenty in Westeros—not to mention the largest gold mine in the entire Westeros," hearing Duke Tywin say the gold mine is exhausted, but who knows if that's true? "The most luxurious castle," besides Highgarden, "the largest army." Besides Oldtown, and not counting the Gold Cloaks of King's Landing.

We need to keep the quotes and commas. We'll produce a single line.

Let's craft: "The gold coins in my hand are few." Tyrion laughed and said, "But I have plenty in Westeros—not to mention the largest gold mine in the entire Westeros," hearing Duke Tywin say the gold mine is exhausted, but who knows if that's true? "The most luxurious castle," besides Highgarden, "the largest army." Besides Oldtown, and not counting the Gold Cloaks of King's Landing.

Check we kept all.

- line.

Translation: "But what you said isn't here." He lay down on a simple chair, "Moreover, since the day I met you, I've known you're a big talker."

- line.

Translation: "Sir, you wrong me—I never spoke big talk!" Tyrion laughed and said, "My words are every sentence true, every word sincere—damn it, I guarantee it with the name of Hugoxishan!"

- note.

- line.

Translation: "He burst out laughing again, constantly stroking his beard."

- line.

Translation: "Hugoxishan doesn't have the largest gold mine or the most luxurious castle. So, Hu Ge, why not reveal your real name?" He stared at Tyrion.

- line.

Translation: "I thought you already knew, sir." Tyrion laughed loudly.

- line.

Translation: "Maybe I know, but I've understood since childhood that being exposed and voluntarily admitting are two different things." He smiled faintly.

- line.

Translation: "Tyrion Lannister." Tyrion stopped smiling, "I actually think this name is not bad for the first time."

- line.

Translation: "Indeed not bad." He had no surprise.

- line.

Translation: "Isn't that so? Tyrion is the name of many wise kings of the Casterly Rock Kingdom, such as 'the Weak' Tyrion, 'the Cruel' Tyrion, and 'the Tormentor' Tyrion—too many to count." Now there's also "the kinslayer" Tyrion.

We need to keep quotes around the epithets. We'll keep single quotes.

- line.

Translation: "At least they were all kings. They indeed had gold mines and castles. Don't you think the gold mines and castles of Casterly Rock still belong to you?" Ptolemy asked.

- line.

Translation: "What's the problem? I am Duke Tywin's son, and I inherently have the right to inherit Casterly Rock."

- line.

Translation: "You have brothers and sisters."

- line.

Translation: "My reckless brother—hard to say if he's a fool; anyway, he's born more like a warrior than a ruler. Alas, in his youth he unfortunately became obsessed with honor or lust, actually voluntarily giving up Casterly Rock to join the Imperial Iron Guard. Hey, sir, you should know what the Imperial Iron Guard is, right?" Seeing Ptolemy nod, Tyrion laughed, "So, the only one left in my way is my older sister."

- note.

- line.

Translation: "I heard she had three children." He spread his hands, "When it's your turn, you're far behind. Moreover, I've never heard of a patricide being able to inherit his father's estate."

- line.

Translation: "Inheritance? No, inheritance isn't my style; taking Casterly Rock from Tywin's hands is also my disgrace. Since he won't let me inherit, I'll instead seize it from his heirs, hey, I'll even personally stab her to death." Tyrion made a smug look, "Damn it, the second most satisfying thing I can think of is this."

- line.

Translation: "The first is killing your father, Duke Tywin?"

- line.

Translation: "Sir, you're completely wrong—that's the first regret. Damn it, I no longer have the chance to seize the castle while he's alive! If he saw the little devil urinating in his ancestors' hall, that would be his first satisfaction."

- note.

- line.

Translation: "Retake the castle? You plan to convince the members with just that mouth? That won't do." He stood up, "The Picnic Regiment isn't the Golden Regiment; it lacks the strength to take Casterly Rock, so your promises are utterly unconvincing. I even doubt whether you're sincere, or whether you think becoming a raven on the banner is that simple."

- note.

- line.

Translation: "Do you think I'd be foolish enough to let the Picnic Regiment help me attack Casterly Rock?" Tyrion laughed, "Casterly Rock isn't something you can take just with an army. At least you need ten times the manpower plus a dragon. Sir, tell me, where in the world would one go to find a dragon?"

- line.

Translation: "Hehe, Xiao Emo, at least for now we're still serving Valyris." He showed a mocking expression.

- line.

Translation: "Wanting to be a tycoon requires far-sighted planning. Our Picnic Regiment has a history of nearly a hundred years—shouldn't we understand these principles? Moreover, eh, I see you're willing to keep Ser Jorah; that might not be leaving a back door, right? If so, why not be more frank?"

- note.

- line.

Translation: "Tyrion had long sensed that Ptolemy had other ideas, and even if not, could he avoid making preparations?"

- line.

Translation: "Even without preparations, seeing a real dragon, couldn't one have a bit of extra thought? He thought the dragon was too weak, eh?"

- line.

Translation: "Damn it, the Queen should have sent all three of her dragons!"

- line.

Translation: "As you said, defecting to the Dragon Queen—are you the Master of Coin? Isn't there a difference between serving the Dragon Queen and gaining her trust?" He paced back and forth in his tent, eyes fixed on Tyrion.

- line.

Translation: "Tyrion felt he failed to persuade this handsome Myrish person entirely because the other party wasn't greedy enough."

"Of course it's different!" Tyrion took the wine jug from Ptolemy's desk, filled the two tin cups beside him to the brim, and gulped a big mouthful. "Would you let someone—well, as you can see, a little dwarf—stand at your side and offer counsel? Damn, what a generous person that would have to be? I admit I can get away with off-color jokes, but if she's as timid and easily frightened as the rumors I heard in Westeros, or as cruel, vicious, and brutal as the rumors I heard in Volantis… Damn, ordinary folk only ever get one chance with someone like her; if she doesn't like off-color jokes, what then? Blow that one chance and it's all over. Sure, I have the honorific title of kingslayer and kinslayer, but I don't think that would win her over. So, to get close to her, I need to be a high officer of the legion and see her often alongside you!"

He opened his mouth again and swallowed half of what remained in his wine cup. Seeing Ptolemy stay silent, he refilled his own cup to the brim.

"Lannister, that's a useful surname, but you need to keep reviewing it. When she one day recalls my surname, I'll give her the best advice. Just as—if I could become one of those crows on the banner," he pointed at the standard, "I would find the finest corpse for the picnic troop. Westeros is the corpse the Dragon Queen has designated, and I'll teach her how to cook it, how to eat it with pleasure and ease—that's my ability. Now, my lord, please tell me, for the position of Chief Financial Officer, what would you like to take from this corpse of Casterly Rock?"

Tyrion saw Ptolemy smile.

Damn, if he refuses again, he'll go help Jorah vie for the post of Chief Quartermaster.

Heh, I really do want a bite, and I'd like to sell that giant head for a good price—though I have no cash now, maybe there really will be? Besides, hearing you say you've got a good head on your shoulders? When we set up camp, the squad leaders came to my tent, each leaving behind a piece of parchment. Hey, sign them up, and perhaps I'll help you convince the remaining squad leaders." He took a thick stack of parchment from the box beside him.

"Damn, I've said all this just to get a 'perhaps'?" Tyrion complained, then took another gulp of wine.

Of course it's a 'perhaps'; I'm not nearly as sure as you that I could be elected commander by these over a hundred mercenaries—they've got all sorts of ulterior motives! I can sway the captains, but captains don't have that much control over the mercenaries—according to the bylaws, the first vote goes to the commander, the second to the Chief Quartermaster, and the third to the Chief Financial Officer. Little demon, if you don't get elected, the promises on paper still count, of course; and if you don't get elected, I suggest you become an aide to the newly appointed Chief Financial Officer.

Tyrion took a pen from his desk, the tent was somewhat dim, he glanced casually at the amounts, found it a bit amusing, and, eyes closed, signed sheet after sheet.

One cup for one document—fair enough?

He slowly examined each ridiculous document, meanwhile slowly signing his name with the pen beside him. After he signed the last one, preparing to drink the final cup of wine, he suddenly heard a more terrifying dragon roar coming from outside.

Tyrion staggered to his feet, feeling only bored.

The dragon's first appearance was a tragedy, a shock; the second time it appeared it was just a farce piled on boredom.

He grabbed his wine cup and rushed out of the tent with Ptolemy. If the dragon breathed fire, he at least wanted to watch the flames; if it sprayed toward him, even better—anyway, he couldn't let ordinary fire consume him inside the tent.

What met his eyes was no longer a black dragon, but a red dragon at least half again larger than Outstanding Bright, which was landing before the stone rampart, spewing fire onto the piled-up corpses of the ghost cavalry, the flames themselves appearing red.

"Jorah!" Tyrion shouted with a slight drunken slur, "Don't let the dragon hurt us, haha!"

No one paid him any heed, but he was certain that half the company had heard his shout.

"Jorah," Tyrion, trying to find Jorah amidst the panicked mercenary band, asked, "What's its name?"

He saw Qiao La running toward him, and he flung away the wine cup in his hand, "Shut up!"

"Why? Isn't it your good friend? You showed up when we were protecting our mercenary band!" Tirion continued shouting.

After the mercenary band's first experience, no one dared to hurl weapons at the dragon recklessly.

The Red Dragon, as if it hadn't seen them at all, ferociously gulped down the corpses of the ghost cavalry.

It ate faster and more.

"Damn, it's about to leave," Tirion shoved Qiao La's hand away, "Let's go say hello!" He stepped forward two paces and shouted loudly, "Hey, your friend Sir Qiao La and the little imp want to talk to you!"

He felt the Red Dragon sweep a glance over him.

Qiao La stepped forward and grabbed him back with such force that he felt he might fall over.

"Is something wrong with your brain?" Sir Qiao La asked in a lowered voice.

"What problem? No, we just sealed a big deal, drank a bit too much."

"Hey! Come over and see an old friend!" Tirion shouted.

The Red Dragon ignored him; it appeared quickly and left just as fast, as if everything just now had been a hallucination from his drunkenness.

He carefully examined the surrounding mercenaries and the stunned Valyrian soldiers.

"A bunch of clueless brats!" Tirion looked at the Valyrian soldiers outside the camp and loudly said to the mercenaries on either side.

"What's its name, Qiao La?" Tirion turned his head to look at Sir Qiao La, but he had a solemn expression and said nothing. "Damn, it's prettier than that black dragon Zergeng! Look, its form is so beautiful! Damn, even as a dragon, it's a gorgeous female dragon! Hey, we could preserve these demons and ghost cavalry corpses; I think we could use them as bait to fish for dragons! Oh, this can't be said, shhh..."

"You drunk?" Qiao La said.

Tirion wasn't sure whether that was a statement or a question. He admitted he'd drunk a bit heavily, but he was still far from drunk! Still, what could be better than shouting at a dragon while drunk?

"Sir Qiao La, what's its name?" Tirion asked again. He saw the mercenaries around him also directing their gazes toward him, as if he were the focus of everyone, so he shouted loudly, "Long live the Red Dragon! Long live the Red Queen!"

"Long live the Red Dragon!"

"Long live the Red Queen!"

He seemed to hear the hired soldiers begin to shout in unison!

Tirion, laughing drunkenly, looked toward Qiao La, who remained standing frozen in place, silent, watching the direction where the Red Dragon disappeared.

As the stars hung in the sky, Tirion followed the reveling mercenaries back to their tents, glancing outward; he saw Sir Qiao La still holding the same pose, as if frozen by the human miracle that had just appeared, stark as a sword planted in the desolate Valyrian boulevard.

Damn, what is he thinking?

Early the next morning, Tirion rose early, but his head throbbed. Usually, drinking inferior red wine causes this, but he might have simply drunk too much.

After he had hastily finished breakfast in the camp, Sir Qiao La slowly crawled out of his tent, his expression even graver than the night before. Yet he was fully armored, properly equipped, his armor polished to a shine, even the hair on his face trimmed neat and clean, making him look like the legendary great knight—if he weren't bald.

As the sun rose from the distant, dense black lake and rolled over the layers of black hills, for Tirion the crucial moment had arrived.

Each candidate went on stage for a self-introduction. There was Jogo, who had a grudge against him; the strong Hota; the divine archer Treg; the strongman Cass; the tall Paro; the wildfire Tibello; and even Jorah Mormont. Tirion, along with his old comrade Tibeck and the treasurer Tollem, went on stage last as the final three.

There was no impassioned speech.

What matters most here is that each candidate must present well the symbol representing himself in the election, and every mercenary with voting rights can, on the small piece of hide allotted to them, sketch the corresponding supporter's symbol with a charcoal stick.

Tirion drew a circle, which he thought was a good sign. To prepare for this, he rose early and practiced Valyrian several times, confident he could explain this little point clearly; moreover, he himself painted a big circle on a piece of robe with ink.

The vote count was conducted by the blacksmith and the little fellow Les; as the tally neared its end, the blacksmith and little Les actually grew excited, and when they finally finished counting, the two began to jump and dance.

"Jorah Mormont!" the blacksmith bellowed, "Our new captain!"

"Jorah Mormont!" Les added in Valyrian.