A Half-Camp, Half-Farm

Borne Brune of Dyre Den had once served as a squire to Earl Alyn Stokeworth, who had been Hand of the King to Aegon I.

During the Battle of the Ruby Ford in the Usurper's War, House Crabb and House Brune of Crackclaw Point had fought side by side, shedding blood for Prince Rhaegar Targaryen.

They were both model loyalists of the Dragon House, trusted confidants among trusted confidants.

They were faring miserably under the new Baratheon Dynasty, the most wretched of the wretched.

Perched atop a towering cliff, Dyre Den's sturdy gates stood firmly shut. The castle looked to be over forty meters tall, so Gryn decisively abandoned his plan to storm and capture it.

Gryn felt that taking a well-defended castle by conventional siege methods would cost far too much. Sieges were unavoidable on the road to conquest, and without dragons, he needed to prepare more unconventional methods and means of attack.

Gryn wasn't prepared to besiege Dyre Den at the moment. If he got the chance, he'd grab a windfall; if not, he'd simply give up.

Gryn consoled himself: they were all poor lords. Why make things hard for the poor?

"When someone dares challenge you, you should answer them resolutely with iron and blood. When they kneel and submit, you must be the one to help them back up. Otherwise, no one will ever be willing to submit to you again."

Turning over those remembered words in his mind, he said to Ser Mason, "Mason, I'll leave the rest to you. Set the ransom for the Brune prisoners according to the usual rules. Since we once fought side by side for the Targaryens, spare them this time, but warn them there won't be a next time."

Mason nodded and accepted the order.

Gryn quietly instructed Ser Pell as well. "Have Amparo escort the prisoners. Leave your Survey Corps here to keep striking at the Wildling tribes, especially those friendly with House Brune. As before, destroy their settlements and relocate the people. Crabb's Lands need plenty of farmers."

Gryn's planned half-camp, half-farm settlements were about to be put into practice in the newly reclaimed Crabb's Lands under Ser Mason's supervision.

As time went on, these settlements would spread across all the arable land in the eastern part of Crackclaw Point.

"Yes, my lord."

Gryn nodded and continued, "We've already broken the main fighting strength of the Wildling tribes near Crabb's Lands. They won't put up fierce resistance, but I still want you to treat every battle with caution. Recruit any good hunters you come across into the Survey Corps. Recruiting while striking at the Wildlings is a rare opportunity to train our troops."

Pell said, "My lord, I'll follow your orders. As for House Brune..."

Gryn flicked the reins, and his horse moved off in another direction. Ser Pell rode after him.

Gryn and Pell rode side by side. "Pell, talking with you always puts me at ease. Yes, we've lost this time, but House Brune won't submit to me. For a while, there won't be any force in Crabb's Lands capable of threatening us, so we can take the time to properly consolidate our gains. And..."

"Besides the twenty warhorses I've selected to take back, I'll assign all the rest to you. The Survey Corps needs speed more."

Gryn glanced back at Dyre Den. "House Crabb can't afford to stop. We need to keep raiding to support the people in our old and new lands. We've expanded too quickly, and the farmland can't support so many people."

"The only nobles in eastern Crackclaw Point who can still cause us trouble are House Brune. I can't tolerate that. One lord of eastern Crackclaw Point is enough: House Crabb."

"Mason will stay behind to oversee development in the old lands. I'll order him to support your campaigns. Start with the Wildling tribes friendly with House Brune, and subdue them one by one. I want you to blockade House Brune and make it impossible for them to take a single step, until they either submit or disappear."

A smile touched Gryn's lips. He patted Pell on the shoulder. "I'm leaving for King's Landing soon, and I can't be in two places at once. I'll have to rely on you. It's fortunate to have you here. I've always had the utmost confidence in your loyalty and ability."

"Ser Pell, for the glory of House Crabb!"

Pell's expression turned solemn. He placed a hand on his chest and bowed. "My sword is always at your service!"

Mutton Waters carried a large round shield on his back, a warhammer at his waist, and was chewing on a smoked sausage.

Lena gave him a helpless look. "Mutton, will you ever get full? Why are you always eating?"

Mutton Waters replied with a simple-minded grin, "Ah, I'm afraid of going hungry. I used to never get enough to eat. Things are much better now. Ever since I joined my lord, I've never gone hungry again."

Lena rolled her pretty eyes at him. "You never had enough to eat, and you're still this fat!"

Mutton Waters scratched the back of his head. "Heh..."

A sly gleam flickered in Lena's eyes. "Mutton, if you keep eating like this... be careful, or the lord might punish you for eating too much."

Mutton's eyes, which seemed to lack any glimmer of intelligence, widened. "Th-this... I know I have a big appetite. Should I go confess to my lord myself?"

Lena snorted, then clutched her stomach and burst out laughing, leaving Mutton even more bewildered.

Fortunately, Gryn's voice came in time. "Mutton, Lena's just teasing you."

Gryn walked over and lightly tapped Lena on the head. "He'll take you seriously."

With a cry of pain, Lena clutched her head and crouched down. Gryn discreetly glanced at his palm.

Mutton suddenly shouted, "My lord! Lena isn't hurt! She's pretending! I saw her! She was laughing just now! I saw it!"

Mutton Waters had the instincts of a beast. On his first day in Gryn's ranks, he'd sensed that the military regulations were closely tied to his future.

To Mutton Waters, Gryn was the first person who hadn't looked down on him for his huge appetite, and the first who'd stopped him from going hungry.

Mutton Waters never stopped chewing as he ate, while he diligently committed the rules to memory, using his not-too-bright head to memorize them by rote.

He'd only been frightened for a moment by the crafty Lena. Now Mutton Waters had finally caught on: eating too much didn't violate the military regulations, so he naturally had to "get back at her."

Mutton Waters jumped up and exposed her without mercy, his huge belly wobbling like a wave of flesh.

How had this guy gotten clever all of a sudden?

Lena pleaded pitifully, "Lord Gryn, I beg your forgiveness... I..."

Mutton scratched his head. Had he taken his revenge too far?

Gryn waved a hand helplessly. "Go on, get Mutton something else to eat. He'll forgive you right away."

King's Landing, a corridor in the Red Keep.

Tyrion Lannister sat on the marble balustrade beside the corridor, his short legs swinging back and forth.

Tyrion held the wine cup that seemed forever attached to his hand. His face was flushed from drinking. "Brother, think about something pleasant. You worry too much. Sometimes I even wonder if your protectiveness toward our sister is normal."

Jaime Lannister still wasn't reassured. He glanced once more toward Cersei's chambers, let out a long sigh, and sat on the railing. Anger still lingered on his handsome face. "King Robert has forgotten what honor means. I've lost count of how many times he's laid hands on Cersei."

Tyrion scooted closer to Jaime and patted his arm. "You have to understand why I stopped you. If you got involved, things would only get worse."

Jaime rubbed his face with both hands, helplessly. "Tyrion, you're always so clever and levelheaded."

Tyrion's gaze was deep, and his tone was unusually serious. "Our sister always thinks she's Lord Tywin with tits, but she's nowhere near his equal. For one thing, Father has always been as cold and unfeeling as a glacier, while Cersei burns like wildfire whenever her emotions get the better of her. Our king and queen are like two raging fires. The slightest touch makes the flames roar higher."

Jaime sighed deeply again. "I just want Cersei to live happily."