The Red Keep, the Queen’s chambers.
Curtains embroidered with gold thread on a white background swayed in the breeze.
Cersei Lannister lay in a golden bathtub, her shoulders exposed above the water, the droplets on her collarbone glistening in the sunlight.
Footsteps echoed.
Jaime made no effort to hide his approach, appearing openly in Cersei’s line of sight.
Queen Cersei tossed her silken golden hair, the very picture of allure.
“The older brother and the younger brother…
have you two finally deigned to end your heartwarming chat?” Jaime frowned slightly.
“Cersei, he worries for you as well.
You should be grateful to him.” Jaime avoided saying Tyrion’s name in front of Cersei, helplessly using “he” instead.
Cersei scoffed.
“I am the Old Lion’s daughter, I am the Queen!” she mocked.
“You two are full of yourselves.
I have my own judgment.
I do not need others telling me what to do; you need only bow your heads and obey!” Cersei rose from the bathtub, lifting her chin slightly to stare at Jaime.
Jaime sighed inwardly, not wanting to repeat an argument they had had countless times before.
He reached for a burgundy robe and walked over to drape it over her shoulders.
Only then did Cersei curl her lips in satisfaction.
She walked barefoot to the side, picked up a goblet, and took a sip of red wine.
Cersei held the goblet elegantly, her beautiful eyes gleaming.
“Did that useless creature manage to pry out anything of value?” Jaime spread his hands.
“Not bad.
He is worth winning over.” Cersei sneered again.
“Hmph.
You talked for so long just for that scrap of intelligence?
I truly fear for the future of House Lannister.
You are too slow.
I already knew as much from Baron Grim’s letter, yet you wasted so much of my time.” Jaime wouldn’t relay Tyrion’s exact words to Cersei even if it killed him; it would only make things worse.
Out of knightly honor, Jaime also had no desire to maliciously slander another.
In this moment, saying “not bad” was the highest praise he could offer.
Jaime shrugged.
“Shall I arrange a meeting immediately?” Cersei snapped, “Jaime!” “Alright, I haven’t forgotten.
I remember.
You reminded me, everything must be done properly and with good reason.
I will first see if there is a suitable position for him in the Red Keep.” “It was supposed to be a very simple audience, but you listened to a certain someone’s slander and insisted on interfering.
Now I have to go through the trouble of changing it to another kind of meeting.
I am only tolerating this because of you, Jaime!” King’s Landing, the Hook, Grim’s study.
More than a week had passed since Grim left the Whispers.
Today, Herschel’s raven delivered the first briefing from the Crabb lands.
A thirty-man squad from the Thorn Company had been ambushed by a small band of wildlings during an independent night mission, suffering twenty-three casualties.
Setting the letter down, Grim rubbed his temples.
Grim didn’t need to micromanage everything.
Even with casualties like this, he trusted that the veteran Ser Pell would make timely adjustments.
It wasn’t just the Thorn Company; all the longbowmen lacked melee weapons because House Crabb was short on resources and couldn’t equip them in time.
Grim’s ideal choice was a shortsword with a blade no longer than fifty centimeters and no wider than five centimeters, designed primarily for thrusting and secondarily for slashing.
Such shortswords were lightweight, barely affecting the longbowmen’s shooting or marching, yet still packed enough punch in close combat to effectively counter melee threats.
*Short on cash.* Right now, House Crabb was simultaneously killing mountain wildlings and absorbing them, sustaining its development by plundering them.
With no other areas of growth, House Crabb’s pace of development was like a fully drawn longbow—pushed to its absolute limit, running on borrowed time, and completely unsustainable.
The number of longbowmen was also increasing in tandem.
In the short term, the income from Mermaid Port was barely enough to keep the port operational.
Relying solely on the territory’s regular revenue, without compromising the provision of other weapons, it would take at least two years to scrape together enough to equip every longbowman with a shortsword.
Surana pushed the door open and entered, bowing to Grim.
“My master, this was just delivered by someone from the Red Keep.
You have been appointed as a secretary of the Queen’s household, and are ordered to report to the Red Keep tomorrow morning to assume your duties.” *A secretary of the Queen’s household?* *For some reason, the title made Grim think of a eunuch.* With a strange expression, Grim took the letter of appointment Surana handed him.
*What exactly is a secretary of the Queen’s household supposed to do?* The appointment letter didn’t specify, but Grim did notice the salary: two hundred golden dragons a year.
Grim stroked his chin.
*Can I get a ten-year advance on my salary for emergencies?*