Whispers Castle, the Great Hall.
Long tables were arranged down the center and along the sides of the hall.
They were heaped with glistening roasted meats, fresh fruit, and an endless array of wine and ale.
Watching the young handmaidens hurry back and forth across the hall, Green found his thoughts drifting elsewhere.
The maidens wore blue crew-neck dresses that fell below the knee.
Traditionally, the skirts worn by maidens in Whispers Keep were so long that one constantly worried they would step on their own hem or have someone else step on it, sending them tumbling to the floor.
They swept up endless dust from the stone floors, earning them the silent moniker of “floor-sweepers” in Green’s mind.
Unable to stand watching them sway around every day, Green had taken time out of his packed schedule to order the hemline shortened to just below the knee, using Callaia’s maidservant duties as a pretext.
He had also provided each of them with mid-calf soft brown leather boots.
Adding a simple headscarf to complete the look, the House Crabb maid uniform was born.
With the changes in place, Green finally felt the sight was pleasant to the eye.
The reason he had invoked Callaia’s name was simple: he feared that if word got out that he had personally redesigned women’s dresses, Westeros culture would inevitably grant him some embarrassing moniker like “the Skirt Baron.” *Daenerys: “Blood of Old Valyria, Queen of the First Men and the Andals, Ruler of Westeros and Protector of the Realm, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, Queen of Meereen, Breaker of Chains, and Mother of Dragons!”* *Green: “…the Skirt Baron!”* Refused.
Absolutely not.
All credit belonged to the naturally clever Callaia.
Amid bursts of laughter, men and women raised their goblets high, sending the hall’s festive energy soaring higher.
Green sat alone at the lord’s high table, with only Callaia attending him, holding a wine flagon.
By custom, only the lord’s family or esteemed guests were permitted to sit at the high table beside him.
“Callaia, set the flagon down here,” Green said.
“Go join the feast.
Look over there—your friends are all at that table.” Callaia’s small face showed hesitation.
Green smiled and gently took the flagon from her hands.
“Go on.
I’ll call you if I need anything.” “Then…
I’ll just pop over for a moment and come right back!” Not long after Callaia left, a pair of slender, soft hands entered Green’s view and picked up the wine flagon.
Surana poured Green’s wine.
“My lord, you are going to spoil Callaia.” “Lady Surana, you always appear right when I need you.” “I am grateful for your praise, my lord.
Though I would be even more grateful if you could lessen my workload a bit.” Lately, Hershel and Surana had been run off their feet by the endless stream of tasks Green assigned them.
“Have you run into a problem?” “They call themselves witch doctors.
Do witch doctors not trim their fingernails?
I swear they haven’t clipped them since birth.
And the stench on them never washes off—I haven’t had an appetite since yesterday.
The maesters and healers of Whispers Castle are furious with them.
Gathering them all in one place was a disaster in itself.
I was even tempted to draw the dagger I haven’t used in ages.” Green nodded in understanding.
“It seems the witch doctors lack the self-awareness of captives.” He paused before continuing, “Surana, we must admit they possess unique skills in treating trauma and using herbs.
House Crabb’s soldiers need more healers.
With more healers and good wound salves, we can save many of our men.” “Battle-hardened veterans are our most valuable asset.” “Your vision is far-reaching.
I understand, my lord.
I was merely tempted to draw a sword to frighten those who refuse to obey.” Green nodded.
“Well, as I said, their status is that of captives, so you already have the right idea.
Have people handle it.
Whether it’s trimming their nails or scrubbing them raw with stiff brushes, just have the soldiers put steel to their throats first.
You’ll find things get much easier.” “Thank you for your guidance, my lord.” With that, Surana turned her gaze across the room, her brow furrowing almost imperceptibly.
Callaia was holding a cup, chatting happily with the other maidens her age.
Green followed Surana’s gaze to Callaia, whose face was flushed with joy.
“Callaia learns everything quickly.
As her mother, you should be proud of her.” “You possess a merciful heart, my lord.” “A young sapling needs time to grow, Lady Surana.” Within the Thorn Corps, only Emparo and Raina were qualified to attend the banquet.
Attending a lord’s feast for the first time, both Emparo and Raina had been stiff and reserved at first.
But after a few cups, swept up in the lively atmosphere, they began talking boisterously and drinking freely.
Glancing at Emparo, Surana blinked mischievously.
“I heard you are quite satisfied with her figure.” *Maester Al…* Green chuckled softly.
“Emparo is an upright, straightforward warrior.” *** Somewhere in King’s Landing, inside a dimly lit room.
Littlefinger, Petyr Baelish, had gray-green eyes, hair touched with gray, and a slender frame.
He wore neat, dark gray robes, looking very much like a septon.
Petyr Baelish looked up, an elegant smile touching his lips.
“Baron Green Crabb…
a unfamiliar name.” “Yes, my lord.
Her Grace the Queen seems quite interested in him.
I looked into it—he is fifteen years old, a semi-wildling noble from Crackclaw Point.” “A loyal subject of the Targaryens…” Petyr Baelish kept a pleasing arch on his lips, his eyes placid.
“Never rely on surface appearances.
Anything unverified is untrustworthy.
Yet the magic of King’s Landing draws the footsteps of ambitious men every second of every day.” “My lord, forgive my dullness—should I arrange for someone to travel there and investigate further?” Petyr Baelish shook his head slightly before speaking.
“No need for special arrangements.
Now that Her Grace has taken an interest, the young fellow will soon make his appearance in King’s Landing.
And the Red Keep has no secrets.” Petyr Baelish murmured softly, “Chaos is a ladder.” *** One month later.