The warm scene only stirred Grim’s heart for a fleeting moment.
There were some things Grim simply couldn’t adapt to in such a short time.
In Grim’s memory, Kaleia’s image was stuck at over a year ago—a timid little girl trailing after Surana.
First, he marveled at the rapid growth rate of people in this world.
What was Grim thinking about at this exact moment?
Actually, Grim’s main focus was that the castle’s security measures needed a serious upgrade.
No matter how high his vigilance or how much he trusted his own martial prowess, relying on personal alertness to guard against thieves 24/7 made no sense.
*It’s stupid, and I’d die of exhaustion.* Important personnel and key locations within the territory all needed enhanced protection.
He had to be wary of his fragile neck; a dagger could slash across it at any moment.
*Once I have the funds, I need to buy some Unsullied to act as guards.* *The Unsullied are reliable.* *I’ll keep two Unsullied on guard outside my door at all times.* The daydreams of a broke lord.
A faint smile appeared on Grim’s face.
“Kaleia, it has been a while.
Has Lady Surana begun assigning you duties?” “I wish to be your handmaid, my lord, but Mother feels I am not yet mature enough.
She says I need more training, and only when she is satisfied will she place me at your side.” “But I could not wait, so I came to you directly.
Please forgive my presumption.” It was a reasonable enough explanation.
Surana was doing her duty, and Kaleia’s seemingly rash behavior was born of a desire to serve her lord.
As the family of the lord’s trusted aide, she wouldn’t be blamed for it.
Grim had soaked long enough.
With Kaleia’s assistance, he donned his nightrobe.
Grim took the red wine Kaleia offered, took a sip, and his brow naturally furrowed.
Sour red, one of the specialties of the Crabb lands.
He had no idea how they brewed it to be this sour.
*An issue with the grape variety?* Good-tasting red wine had to be imported, which was too expensive.
*Gotta make do.* Well, upon deeper tasting, the flavor was actually passable…
Grim didn’t want to drink anymore and set the goblet down.
Grim had just found another reason to fight for supremacy.
The night passed without further incident.
Grim first arranged for Kaleia to shadow Maester Aehl.
Maester Aehl was too old, his steps trembling and unsteady.
Grim was full of worry for the maester’s remaining lifespan.
If a lord’s maester passed away, the Citadel would immediately arrange for a new one to fill the vacancy.
But the Citadel was too far away; the gap would be at least three months, and in the Whispers, only Maester Aehl knew how to dispatch the ravens.
This included the daily feeding and management of the ravens.
Ravens were the most important means of communication, and Grim valued them highly.
All of the above were things Kaleia needed to learn and master.
Grim had too much to do and a severe shortage of talent on hand.
A literate girl like Kaleia was a rare find.
Most importantly, Kaleia was reliable and trustworthy.
Ser Mason finally returned.
According to the census, there were thirteen blacksmiths in the entire territory, and slightly more carpenters at thirty-two.
Apprentices needed to be assigned at the same time.
The manufacturing process would be divided; at first, they would only learn a single step, which would allow for rapid progress.
The foundational framework for a factory was barely sufficient.
Answering their lord’s summons, these artisans would bring their families and relocate here, household by household.
Herschel, the chief steward of the Whispers, was responsible for their settlement.
The Whispers, the lord’s study.
Lord Grim, Ser Pell, Ser Mason, and Maester Aehl—the four of them convened a military council regarding the mountain wildlings.
Grim’s original plan was to exhaust the enemy and use fire attacks, striving to deal with the wildlings without taking any casualties.
There was plenty of dry grassland around, perfect for setting ablaze.
The areas close to water sources could even be reclaimed for farming afterward.
As for the details of warfare, Grim’s memories mostly consisted of leading a group of men to slaughter those who slipped through the net, all under his mother’s command.
After listening to their reports, Grim summarized it to himself: he didn’t know about other places yet, but fighting a war here was a bit like an arranged street brawl.
The Whispers would send someone to negotiate.
If war was unavoidable, they would set a time and place.
At the agreed-upon time and place, the two gangs would hack at each other.
*It’s literally an arranged brawl!* Grim tapped the table lightly, drawing the eyes of everyone present.
“Ser Pell, I will have Herschel prepare shields, longswords, and bows for you, along with ten of our household guard.
You are to conscript another ninety men, focusing primarily on veteran hunters.” “Once completed, you will have a hundred men under your command.” “…They shall be named the Survey Corps, and you will be its first commander.” “Find men familiar with the terrain.
While Mason and I are engaging the mountain wildlings in battle, I expect you to already be guests in their homes.” “I have long had my fill of these wildling raids.
This time, I intend to wipe them out.” “I need a vast number of captives.
The development of our lands requires a large population.
The more captives you take, the greater your merit.” It was slightly more complex than their traditional way of war, but not difficult to understand.
Ser Pell grasped the concept quickly.
Ser Pell solemnly accepted the command.
Maester Aehl spoke, his voice trembling.
“Lord Grim, I have a map in my chambers.
In my idle time, I have always kept an ear out for news of the wildlings, compiling and recording it over the years.
Their areas of activity and the locations of their lairs are marked upon it.
There may be some discrepancies, but it should be broadly accurate.
I hope it will be of use to you.” Grim placed a hand over his heart and said solemnly, “I thank you for your contribution, Maester Aehl.
House Crabb shall never forget your service.” King’s Landing, the Red Keep.
Cersei Lannister clutched a letter in her hand, greedily enjoying the caresses of Jaime Lannister.
After a long while, Cersei Lannister rose and snatched up a red robe nearby, draping it over herself.
In her thirties, Cersei Lannister remained magnificently beautiful.
Cersei Lannister picked up a flagon and poured herself a full cup, taking a large swallow of red wine to soothe her dry throat.
Watching Cersei Lannister pick up the letter to read again, Jaime Lannister revealed a doting smile.
Jaime Lannister’s smile always carried a certain dashing arrogance.
“The boy is nothing but a sycophant.” The corners of Cersei Lannister’s mouth curled up.
As she spoke, she habitually tilted up her sharp, elegant chin.
“Jaime, you do not understand me.
He does.” *”Courage and beauty embodied in one.* I like this opening.” Jaime said helplessly, “The boy is not honest in the slightest.” Cersei walked up to Jaime, caressing his handsome face, and laughed.
“Jaime, don’t tell me you are jealous of a child.
You truly ought to be the one wearing my skirts.” Jaime Lannister disdained to answer the question of whether he was jealous.
“Do you plan to bring him along on this hunt?” “He’s quite sweet, isn’t he?”