King's Landing — The Queen's District
Inside a townhouse near the City Watch outpost, Layton, steward to Lord Gawen, was speaking with a well-built man.
"Captain Rattle, you and your men will stay here for now. Once Lord Gawen returns, there'll be new orders."
Twenty scouts from the Survey Corps had arrived in the capital, dispatched from Whispering Town after Gawen's raven reached them.
The man before Layton—Captain Rattle, around thirty years old—led the detachment.
Rattle gave a curt nod, eyes instinctively sweeping the surroundings. "Thanks for the welcome, Layton. What do you need from us in the meantime?"
Layton stepped closer and lowered his voice. "Lord Gawen wants you to get familiar with this place—every street, every alley, every house."
"I'll set to it at once."
Layton shook his head. "No rush. King's Landing is full of hidden eyes. You'll need to change your clothing first. We've got time. Best we plan this properly."
"Understood."
Layton gave a quiet grunt, then added, "Captain Rattle, did you happen to see my sister Carleia before leaving?"
"No. You know we've been stationed out in the old lands for a while. Once Ser Pell gave the redeployment order, he selected us himself. We didn't pass through Whispering Town—we sailed straight from Mermaid's Port."
Layton hadn't seen his sister in some time. The thought made him uneasy.
Rattle went on, "I've only heard secondhand, but Steward Herschel's swamped at Mermaid's Port. Your sister's taken on a fair share of the tasks meant for Whispering Town. Sounds like she's doing well—you needn't worry."
Layton nodded slightly. "That's good. My mother and I are both here in the capital, and I've never liked leaving her behind in the hold alone."
Rattle shrugged, not entirely grasping the sentiment, but showing his understanding all the same.
Southeast Crabb Lands — Thorn Legion Camp
Inside the command tent, Emparo sat at a desk, scribbling with a furrowed brow. His robe clung to his body in the stifling summer heat.
Raina burst in, her braided hair bouncing behind her. "Bloody weather—it's stifling! We're due for a storm."
She flung off her robe and tossed it aside.
Emparo looked up, catching a glimpse of her figure. His thick lips twitched, uncertain.
Raina noticed his gaze and shifted her hips, striking a playful pose. "Alright, alright. I know. I just need to cool off. I'll behave when others are around."
Emparo returned to his parchment, frowning.
Peering over his shoulder, Raina blinked. "Gods, Emparo!"
He set down his quill, cheeks tinged red.
She sighed. "You've been at it all morning and only written a few words?"
Emparo yanked the page aside, his voice irritated. "This was your idea, remember? I've just forgotten a lot of it. It's been too long."
By the end, he was mumbling more than protesting.
Raina nodded in sympathy. "True. We only learned letters when we were kids with the septas. I remember—you were the best at it. But that was ages ago."
She puffed her cheeks and threw up her hands. "Once we were older, it was all hunting and patrols. No time for ink and quills."
Exactly. I forgot for a reason.Emparo nodded at his own logic.
"Shame, really. I saw a few new short swords over at the Survey Corps camp. Good size for us. Blades were thickened too—look sturdy as hell."
Emparo wiped sweat from his forehead. "There aren't many of those. Ser Pell told me more are being forged."
"Exactly why I told you to write to the lord! Who knows if the next batch will be sent to our company?"
"Ser Pell is a fair knight, Raina."
"I know," she huffed. "Still doesn't mean you shouldn't write! Everyone's fighting—their weapons are breaking just as fast as ours. Don't think the others are waiting around. They're already moving."
She laid a hand on his shoulder. "Gods, you're soaked!"
She stepped behind him. "You look like a drenched leopard. Arms up—I'll help with the robe."
Emparo hesitated, then raised his arms and let her pull the robe away.
"Now," she said, "where were we? Mm... Anyway, just listen to me. Everyone's doing it!"
Emparo shifted. It was more comfortable now.
He covered his face. "This is harder than going to war... Raina, I can't even write half of what I want to say."
It wasn't the kind of thing one could easily ask help with.
Emparo made a quiet vow to himself: next time he passed through Whispering Town, he'd find a sister who could write properly.
Raina folded her arms and tapped a finger against her chin. "If you can't write it," she said suddenly, "just draw it!"
Emparo blinked. "Draw it?"
He thought it was a terrible idea. Drawing was even harder than writing. With her art, even the White Walkers wouldn't understand what she meant.
Still, seeing her face glow with pride at the "brilliant" idea gave him pause.
Maybe… it was worth a try?
The Kingswood – Day Before the Hunt's End
The day before the royal hunt concluded, Gawen quietly departed the Kingswood camp with his household guards.
In his absence, command of the escort fell to Jaime Lannister.
By midday, Gawen had reached Rose Avenue.
There, not far from the road, he spotted Steward Rossell and the others waiting to rendezvous.
Compared to their last meeting, Rossell looked considerably livelier.
"Good day, my lord," Rossell said with a bow. "Rossell offers you his respects."
Gawen gave a nod. "Rossell. What news on the pricing?"
"My lord, grain prices in King's Landing are easy to inquire about. After your orders, I compiled the data quickly. I also kept asking questions along the road as I came. But… I'm still a stranger here. Locals price differently depending on whether they know you or not. I can't say how trustworthy some of the numbers are."
"That's enough. That's exactly what I needed."
Gawen only wanted a general overview of price fluctuations from south to north.
He tugged his reins and called aloud: "Move out!"
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