The Red Keep, the Queen’s apartments.
White curtains embroidered with gold thread fluttered in the gentle breeze.
Cersei Lannister lay in a gilded bathtub, her shoulders above the water.
Droplets of water on her collarbones glistened in the sunlight.
Tap, tap, tap.
Jaime did not hide his footsteps, appearing openly in Cersei’s line of sight.
Queen Cersei brushed back her satin-like golden hair, displaying her full charm.
“Is the warm brotherly chat finally over?” Jaime frowned slightly.
“Cersei, he is also worried about you.
You should be grateful to him.” Jaime did not utter Tyrion’s name in front of Cersei, helplessly using “he” instead.
Cersei sneered, mockingly saying, “I am the daughter of the Old Lion, and I am the Queen!
You two are self-righteous.
I have my own judgment, and I don’t need anyone to tell me what to do.
You only need to bow your heads and obey!” *Splash.* Cersei rose from the tub, her chin slightly raised as she gazed at Jaime.
Jaime sighed inwardly, unwilling to repeat the argument they had had countless times.
He reached out to pick up a wine-red robe, walked over, and draped it over her.
Cersei finally curled her lips in satisfaction, walked barefoot to the side, and took a sip of red wine from a goblet.
Cersei elegantly held her wine glass, her beautiful eyes gleaming.
“Did that useless thing dig up anything of value?” Jaime spread his hands.
“He’s not bad.
Worth winning over.” Cersei mocked again, “Hmph, you two talked for so long just for this bit of intelligence?
I really worry for the future of House Lannister.
You are too slow.
I already learned about these things through Baron Green’s letters, yet you wasted so much of my time.” Not even on pain of death would Jaime pass Tyrion’s original words to Cersei.
It would only make things worse.
Out of a knight’s honor, Jaime also did not want to maliciously slander others.
Saying “he’s not bad” at this moment was already his greatest praise.
Jaime shrugged.
“Shall I arrange a meeting immediately?” Cersei said with slight irritation, “Jaime!” “Fine, I haven’t forgotten.
I haven’t forgotten what you reminded me of: everything must be proper and official.
I’ll go check first if there’s a suitable position for him in the Red Keep.” “It was supposed to be a very simple audience.
You listened to someone’s slander and insisted on interfering, which is why I have to go through the trouble of changing it to another format.
I only tolerated this because of you, Jaime!” *** King’s Landing, Hook Harbor, Green’s study.
More than a week had passed since Green left Whispers Castle.
Hershel’s raven brought the first brief report from the Crabb territory today.
A thirty-man squad of the Thorn Corps was ambushed at night by a small group of Wildlings during a solo mission, suffering twenty-three casualties.
Putting down the letter, Green rubbed his temples.
Though Green didn’t have to worry about every single detail, since such casualties had occurred, he believed the experienced Ser Pere would make timely adjustments.
Not just the Thorn Corps, but all the longbowmen lacked melee weapons because Crackclaw Point was short on resources.
What Green favored most was a short sword with a blade length of no more than 50 cm and a width of no more than 5 cm, designed mainly for thrusting, supplemented by slashing.
This kind of short sword was lightweight, would not significantly affect the longbowmen’s archery and marching, and was potent enough in close combat to effectively counter melee threats.
They lacked money.
Currently, House Crabb was killing mountain Wildlings on one hand while absorbing them on the other, sustaining their development by plundering the clans.
With no other sources of growth, the pace of House Crabb’s development was like a fully drawn longbow—it had reached its limit, was time-constrained, and was ultimately unsustainable.
The number of longbowmen was also increasing simultaneously.
In the short term, the income from Mermaid Harbor was barely enough to maintain the harbor’s operations.
Relying solely on the normal income of the territory, and without affecting the procurement of other armaments, it would take at least two years to barely equip each longbowman with a short sword.
*** Surana pushed the door open and entered, bowing to Green.
“My lord, this was just delivered by a messenger from the Red Keep.
You have been appointed as the Queen’s Steward, and you are ordered to report to the Red Keep tomorrow morning to assume office.” *Queen’s Steward?* For some reason, the title made Green think of eunuchs.
Green picked up the appointment letter Surana handed him with a strange expression.
What exactly was a Queen’s Steward responsible for?
The appointment letter didn’t specify, but Green did notice the salary: two hundred Gold Dragons a year.
Green stroked his chin.