While the boorish King Robert still kept Queen Cersei under his thumb, Grim Crabb needed to find himself a ladder to climb.
If he sought a direct audience, the haughty Cersei Lannister would most likely look down on House Crabb, a family widely dismissed as “half-wildlings.” The raven was merely laying the groundwork.
The key was seizing the opportunity to showcase his competence and strength.
* * * The lands of Crackclaw Point were mostly barren and desolate, comprised primarily of bogs, pine barrens, and deep valleys.
Every dark valley on Crackclaw Point had its own lord, and neither these lords nor their smallfolk trusted outsiders.
The people of Crackclaw Point were mostly descendants of the First Men.
When the Andals tried to conquer the peninsula, they were repelled at every turn.
When the inhabitants of Crackclaw Point were not fighting foreign invaders, they slaughtered one another.
Their blood feuds were as black and deep as the mountain bogs.
Occasionally, a hero would bring temporary peace to the peninsula—such as House Crabb’s legendary hero, Clarence Crabb—but once he died, everything would revert to how it was.
During the War of Conquest, Aegon sent his sister Visenya Targaryen to Crackclaw Point to accept their peaceful surrender, taking them as direct vassals.
Ever since, Crackclaw Point had remained fiercely loyal to House Targaryen.
* * * Grim Crabb handed the finished letter to Steward Herschel.
After a moment of silence, Grim ran his long fingers through his dark, wavy, shoulder-length hair.
About a hundred miles east of the Whispers, slightly to the north, lay a large tract of land that was relatively arable by Crackclaw Point standards.
This land had once belonged to the sphere of influence of House Crabb’s ancestral seat—the old Whispers.
According to Chief Steward Herschel, that land had once allowed House Crabb to supply a thousand elite men-at-arms, maintaining the family’s absolute dominance over the surrounding region.
After the War of the Usurper, under pressure from both within and without, Grim’s mother had taken their remaining retainers and relocated to a relatively safe military fort, renaming it—the Whispers.
Over a decade had passed.
The ancestral keep was now a ruin, and House Crabb had long since lost its dominion over those lands.
* * * “Surana, my mother…
it must have been incredibly difficult for her back then.” “My little lord, even now, looking back makes me tremble.
In the beginning, my lady had to sleep with two swords under her pillow.
The longsword was for the mountain clansmen who might attack at any moment, and the dagger was for herself.” Grim chuckled softly.
“She was truly formidable.” A faint smile touched Surana’s habitually stoic face.
“My lady passed away in peace, my lord.
You were her greatest pride.” * * * After chatting a while longer with his household steward, Surana took her leave.
Grim sat back, mulling over her final, veiled words.
The harvest season was approaching, and the neighboring mountain clan lords had tacitly set their sights on House Crabb, which had just lost Lady Crabb.
Everyone was poor, but by comparison, the Crabb farms had always drawn envious eyes.
It was the perfect opportunity.
Right now, the master of the Crabb lands was merely a young boy who had long been sheltered under his mother’s wing.
The mountain clansmen had united for once.
*Who better to rob?
The advantage is ours!* Surana wasn’t actually worried about the defense of the Crabb lands.
House Crabb had two hereditary household knights: Pell Pyle and Marsen Beck.
Cultivated over centuries since the birth of House Crabb, they were the most reliable retainers in the world.
Under the perilous conditions of Crackclaw Point, the Crabbs maintained a standing force of over two hundred men, every one a seasoned veteran.
Twenty of them wore full plate armor.
Against unarmored mountain clansmen, each was worth ten men.
Surana herself had followed Grim’s mother into battle many times.
She was agile, and rumor had it that with a dagger in hand, she had few equals.
What Surana truly feared was Grim’s youthful arrogance.
This would be his first time leading troops alone.
She worried the blood would rush to his head, he’d charge the front lines, and accidentally get himself killed out there.
House Crabb was down to its last heir.
If anything happened to Grim, everything sheltered beneath the Crabb banners would collapse in short order, and House Crabb would become history.
Grim actually wanted to tell Surana straight up: *I’m all about playing it safe, I won’t do anything reckless.* But for the sake of a lord’s majesty, he had to project courage at all times, so he couldn’t say it out loud.
Ever since his transmigration and the complete fusion of his memories, Grim could feel his physical fitness noticeably improving in every aspect each time he woke up.
*My sword has been thirsting for blood.* But with his mature mental age, Grim constantly warned himself: *That’s just one of the top ten illusions caused by a physical buff.* *You’re the lord, you have troops.
Hold the line, don’t overextend!* * * * Aside from a cousin three years his senior who had been married off four years ago, House Crabb was down to just him.
For a noble house with a long lineage, this was incredibly dangerous.
The Crabb lands were not a peaceful place.
The lord had to frequently lead his men in battles big and small.
Lady Crabb was gone.
As a lord of Crackclaw Point, Grim Crabb’s future life would be just like his ancestors’: fighting, fighting, and more fighting.
Being a lord on Crackclaw Point was a high-risk profession.
What if the last Crabb met with an accident?
Anyone with half a brain would feel the impending crisis.
Morale would waver.
House Crabb’s title was a hereditary barony.
Matching House Crabb’s current awkward standing in the realm, Grim’s marriage prospects were indeed a problem—too low for the highborn, too high for the lowborn.
Normally, a fifteen-year-old Grim should at least have a betrothed.
Surana understood that a lord’s marriage was not simply about romance.
The causes and consequences of the War of the Usurper served as a constant warning to the nobility not to let love go to their heads.
Therefore, Surana felt that even a bastard would do; Grim needed to leave an heir, regardless of noble traditions and laws.
It wasn’t a curse upon Grim, but a necessity to secure the loyalty of his people.
Only with an heir secured could a lord navigate the marriage market with ease.
Surana had a son and a daughter.
Her eldest son, sixteen and already married, was currently apprenticing under Chief Steward Herschel.
Her youngest daughter, Kaleia, was thirteen and had seen her first blood a month ago.
She was healthy, exceptionally pretty, and most importantly, reliable.
Surana had watched Grim grow up and knew he was not a callous or ungrateful man.
Although bearing a bastard was hardly glorious, for the Crabb lands at this moment, it would be a great service.
The child wouldn’t be able to inherit the Crabb name and would have to use the bastard surname Waters, but they would carry Crabb blood.
As things stood, giving birth to a child with Crabb blood would earn her at least a farmstead, ensuring a life free from want.
She would live better than most women.
For a lifetime, that was enough.
Everyone would benefit.
* * * When in Rome, do as the Romans do.
Grim was just glad he had fully integrated the original body’s memories.
With those memories, his daily words and actions wouldn’t be too out of character.
He could change gradually, letting things take their natural course.
As a former loyalist to the House of the Dragon, he couldn’t afford to leave any glaring vulnerabilities.
Under the Faith of the Seven, acting too bizarrely could easily get him branded a heretic, and followers of the Seven were everywhere in Westeros.
*Thirteen years old…* Grim leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling for a long time.
*The clash with my modern morals is too huge.
Let’s table this for now.* * * * After a few days of quiet tallying, Grim found that his direct subjects numbered just over two thousand, relying primarily on farming and hunting.
About a thousand people were gathered near the Whispers, with the rest scattered across ten villages of varying sizes.
One of these villages, located south of the Whispers by the sea, had a population of over two hundred and survived by fishing.
It was called Fishing Village.
*Terrible name.
Needs a rebrand.* *At the very least, “Village” needs to be upgraded to “Port.”* *Once this busy spell is over, I’ll have to go there myself for a field inspection before making any plans.* *This lord is broke.
I need lots and lots of golden dragons.* * * * Household knight Marsen Beck, who had set out three days ago, was currently following Grim’s orders to inspect and tally all the blacksmiths, carpenters, and other artisans in the territory.
Chief Steward Herschel had already begun assigning people to clear out empty rooms.
He was pooling all the territory’s resources to centralize production, divide labor, and train mechanics, laying the groundwork for a cold-weapon factory.
The Crabb lands boasted numerous groves of excellent yew.
*If I can train the whole population into longbowmen ASAP, the advantage is mine.* Elite longbowmen required more than just archery skills; they needed iron discipline.
Grim knew all this would take time to build.
Grim’s first priority was to maximize total mobilization based on the territory’s current strength, pool all resources to mass-produce troops, and steamroll the neighboring mountain clansmen to secure a relatively stable environment for development.
But the main issue was still poverty.
Grim planned to temporarily change his house words to: *”We Do Not Sow.”* *I’ll change them back once I’m rich.*