Chaos Is the Ladder

The Whispers, banquet hall.

Long tables were arranged in the center and along both sides of the hall.

Tables were laden with glistening roasted meats, fresh fruits, and a variety of wines.

Watching the young, inexperienced maids bustling back and forth across the hall, Gryn found his thoughts drifting elsewhere.

The maids were dressed in blue, round-necked dresses that fell below the knee.

Traditionally, the dresses of the maids at The Whispers were very long, which made one worry about them tripping or being stepped on, leading to a fall at any moment, not to mention how easily they stirred up dust; Gryn had privately dubbed them Mop Skirts.

With the maids swaying before his eyes every day, Gryn, unable to stand it any longer, had used Kalaia's name to arrange for the modification of the maids' dress lengths amidst his many busy affairs, shortening them to below the knee and equipping each of them with brown, mid-calf soft leather shoes.

With the addition of a headscarf, the Crabb Maid Outfit was born.

After the changes, Gryn finally felt the sight of the maids was pleasing to the eye.

The reason he borrowed Kalaia's name was that Gryn feared if he used his own, and news of the dress modification spread, he would—given the customs of Westeros—end up with a shameful title like the Skirt Baron.

Dragon Mother: "Descendant 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, Mother of Dragons!"

Gryn: "..., Skirt Baron!"

Refused. Absolutely not admitting to it.

The credit belonged to the naturally clever Kalaia.

Amidst various bursts of laughter, everyone kept raising their wine cups high, and the atmosphere in the hall grew even more fervent.

Gryn sat alone at the long table reserved for the lord, with only Kalaia, holding a wine flagon, serving him at his side.

According to custom, the only people permitted to sit at the lord's long table were the lord's family or honored guests.

Gryn: "Kalaia, leave the flagon here. You go join the banquet too; look over there, your little friends are all at that table."

Kalaia's small face was quite hesitant.

Gryn smiled and reached out to take the flagon from Kalaia: "Go on, I will call you if I need anything."

"Then... I'll go take a look, I'll be back soon!"

Not long after Kalaia left, a pair of slender, soft hands appeared within Gryn's field of vision, taking the flagon and pouring wine for him: "My master, you will spoil Kalaia."

"Lady Surana, you always appear just when I need you."

"I am grateful for your recognition, though I would be even more grateful if you could appropriately reduce my workload."

For some time now, Herschel and Surana had been spinning in circles, caught up in one task after another assigned by Gryn.

"Have you encountered a difficult problem?"

"They call themselves healers, but do healers not need to trim their nails? I am certain they have never trimmed them since birth. And there is that stench that never leaves them; I have had no appetite since yesterday. The few physicians at The Whispers have strong opinions about them; gathering them together is a disaster in itself. I have even thought of a dagger I haven't used in a long time."

Gryn understood: "It seems the healers lack the self-awareness of being captives."

After a pause, Gryn continued: "Surana, we must admit that they possess unique skills in treating external wounds and using herbs. The Crabb soldiers need more physicians. With more physicians and good medicine, we can save many soldiers."

"Veteran soldiers are our precious wealth."

"You are far-sighted. I understand, my master. I just couldn't help but want to draw my sword to frighten those who won't listen."

Gryn nodded: "Hmm, as I said just now, their status is that of captives, so you have already found the correct approach. Arrange for people to do it. Whether it's nails or using a brush to scrub them clean, first have soldiers hold swords to their necks, and you will find it much easier."

"Thank you for your help, my master."

Having said this, Surana looked toward the other side, frowning imperceptibly.

Kalaia's slender hands were holding a wine cup, happily chatting with the maids of her own age.

Gryn followed Surana's gaze and looked at the flushed-faced Kalaia: "Kalaia learns everything quickly. As a mother, she is something to be proud of."

"You possess a kind heart."

"Seedlings need a process of growth, Lady Surana."

Within the Thorn Legion, the only ones qualified to attend the banquet were Amparo and Lena.

Attending a banquet hosted by the lord for the first time, Amparo and Lena were both very reserved at the start, but after a few cups, caught up in the intense atmosphere of the banquet, the two began to speak loudly and drink deeply.

Glancing at Amparo, Surana blinked and said: "I heard you are very satisfied with her figure."

Maester Al... Gryn chuckled softly: "Amparo is a straightforward warrior."

Somewhere in King's Landing, in a dim room.

Petyr Baelish had a pair of grey-green eyes, hair tinged with grey, a thin build, and wore a dark grey robe that was neat and tidy, much like a septon.

Petyr Baelish looked up, an elegant smile blooming on his lips: "Lord Gryn Crabb, a very unfamiliar name."

"Yes, my lord, Her Grace the Queen seems quite interested in him. I've checked; he's fifteen, a half-wild noble from Crackclaw Point."

"A model loyalist of the Targaryens..."

Petyr Baelish's lips maintained a pleasant curve, his gaze calm. "One cannot rely on what floats on the surface. Anything unverified is no longer credible. The magic of King's Landing draws ambitious footsteps every moment."

"My lord, forgive my dullness, but should I arrange for someone to investigate further?"

Petyr Baelish shook his head slightly before saying, "No need for special arrangements. Since our Queen has taken an interest, the little fellow will soon appear in King's Landing. The Red Keep has no secrets."

Petyr Baelish whispered, "Chaos is a ladder."

A month later.