Red Keep – Queen's Chambers
White curtains embroidered with gold thread swayed gently in the breeze.
Cersei Lannister reclined in a golden bathtub, her shoulders above the water, droplets clinging to her collarbone and sparkling under the sunlight.
Tap… tap… tap.
Jaime made no effort to mask his footsteps, walking openly into her view.
Cersei tossed her silk-like golden hair with practiced grace."So, have the brothers finally finished their heartwarming little talk?"
Jaime frowned slightly."Cersei, he's worried about you. You should be grateful."
He avoided speaking Tyrion's name, substituting he instead.
Cersei scoffed."I am the Old Lion's daughter. I am the Queen. You two think too highly of yourselves—I have my own judgment. I don't need anyone telling me what to do. You need only bow your heads and obey."
Splash.
She rose from the tub, chin tilted slightly as she met Jaime's gaze.
Jaime sighed inwardly; he had no wish to repeat the same arguments yet again. Taking up a wine-red robe, he stepped forward to drape it over her shoulders.
Only then did Cersei's lips curve in satisfaction. Barefoot, she crossed the room, picked up a goblet, and sipped her wine.
Holding the cup with elegance, her green eyes glinting, she asked,"That useless wretch—did he uncover anything of value?"
Jaime spread his hands."Not bad. Worth drawing closer."
Cersei gave a derisive laugh."For such meager scraps, you spoke with him for so long? I truly fear for the Lannisters' future. You're both far too slow. I already knew all of this from Baron Crabb's letters. You've wasted my time."
Jaime would sooner die than repeat Tyrion's actual words to Cersei—it would only make matters worse. Out of knightly honor, he refused to malign his brother; "not bad" was already the highest praise he would give.
He shrugged."Shall I arrange a meeting at once?"
Cersei's eyes flashed."Jaime!"
"All right, I haven't forgotten—everything must be done properly. I'll first see if there's a suitable position for him within the Red Keep."
"What should have been a simple audience, you meddled in after believing some fool's slander, and I was forced to change the whole approach. I'm only tolerating it because it's you, Jaime."
King's Landing – Hookport, Gawen's Study
It had been over a week since Gawen left Whisper City. Today, Herschel's raven brought the first report from the Crabb lands.
A thirty-man squad of the Thorn Legion, operating alone, had been ambushed at night by a small wildling force—twenty-three dead or wounded.
Setting the letter down, Gawen rubbed his temples.
He didn't need to handle every matter personally, but such losses were troubling. He trusted that the seasoned Ser Pell would make the necessary adjustments.
Not only the Thorn Legion, but all his longbowmen still lacked proper melee weapons due to the Crabb lands' shortage of resources.
His preference was for a short sword no longer than fifty centimeters in blade length, five centimeters in width—meant primarily for thrusting, with cutting as a secondary function.
Light and easy to carry, such a weapon wouldn't hinder an archer's draw or marching speed, yet would still be deadly in close quarters.
The problem was money.
The Crabb lands were killing wildlings and recruiting them in equal measure—growing through plunder, but without any other source of expansion. Development had reached its limit, like a longbow drawn to full, and could not be sustained indefinitely.
Meanwhile, the number of longbowmen was still increasing.
Revenue from Siren's Port was barely enough to keep the harbor running. Relying solely on normal income from his lands, it would take at least two years to equip every archer with a short sword without cutting other weapon budgets.
Sulana entered, bowed, and said,"My lord, this was just delivered from the Red Keep. You have been appointed as the Queen's Officer, and are commanded to report there tomorrow morning to take up your post."
Queen's Officer?For some reason, Gawen's mind leapt absurdly to the image of a eunuch.
He accepted the letter with a wry expression.
The appointment gave no detail as to the duties of this office, though the salary was listed—two hundred gold dragons a year.
He stroked his chin. Could I perhaps draw ten years' pay in advance?
.
.
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