Queen's Chamberlain

In the Queen's Ballroom of the Red Keep, curtains embroidered with gold thread on a white background swayed in the breeze.

Cersei Lannister lay in a golden bathtub, her shoulders exposed above the water, droplets on her collarbone shimmering under the sunlight.

Tap, tap, tap.

Jaime did not hide his footsteps, appearing openly within Cersei's line of sight.

Queen Cersei brushed back her silk-like blonde hair, radiating charm. "Has the heartwarming chat between the older brother and the younger brother finally come to an end?"

Jaime frowned slightly. "Cersei, he was worried about you. You should be grateful to him."

Jaime did not utter the name Tyrion in front of Cersei, helplessly using "he" as a substitute.

Cersei let out a scoff, mocking, "I am the daughter of the Old Lion, I am the Queen! You are all self-righteous. I have my own judgment; I don't need others to tell me what to do. You only need to bow and obey!"

Cersei rose from the tub, gazing at Jaime with her chin slightly lifted.

Jaime sighed inwardly, not wanting to continue the argument that had already been repeated countless times. He reached out to pick up a wine-red robe and walked over to drape it over Cersei.

Only then did Cersei satisfy herself by curling her lips, walking barefoot to the side, and taking a sip of red wine from a goblet.

Cersei held the glass elegantly, her beautiful eyes seemingly glowing. "Did that waste of space find out anything of value?"

Jaime spread his hands. "Not bad. Worth winning over."

Cersei sneered again. "Humph, you talked for so long just for this bit of intelligence? I truly worry for the future of the Lannisters. You are too slow; I had already learned of such matters through letters from Lord Gryn, and you have wasted so much of my time."

Jaime would rather die than relay Tyrion's original words to Cersei; things would only get worse.

Out of knightly honor, Jaime did not want to maliciously misrepresent others, so saying "not bad" was already the highest praise he could give at this moment.

Jaime shrugged. "Shall I arrange a meeting immediately?"

Cersei said, somewhat angrily, "Jaime!"

"Fine, I haven't forgotten. I haven't forgotten. You reminded me that everything must be done in a legitimate manner. I will go check if the Red Keep has a suitable position for him first."

"It was originally just a simple audience, but you listened to someone's slander and insisted on interfering, so I had to go to the trouble of changing the method of the meeting. I am only tolerating this because of you, Jaime!"

King's Landing, Hook Harbor, Gryn's study.

It had been over a week since Gryn left the Whispers, and today, a raven from Herschel arrived with the first briefing from the Crabb Territory.

A 30-man squad of the Thorn Legion had been ambushed by a small group of wildlings during a night mission, resulting in 23 casualties.

Setting down the letter, Gryn rubbed his temples.

Gryn did not have to worry about every single thing, yet such casualties had occurred. He trusted that the experienced Knight Pell would make adjustments in time.

It wasn't just the Thorn Legion; all the longbowmen lacked melee weapons because Crabb Territory lacked resources.

What Gryn favored most were short swords with a blade length of no more than 50cm and a width of no more than 5cm, designed primarily for stabbing and secondarily for slashing.

Such short swords were lightweight, did not significantly hinder the longbowmen's archery or marching, and were quite effective in close combat, capable of dealing with melee threats.

He lacked money.

The current Crabb Territory was killing Mountain Wildlings while simultaneously absorbing them, maintaining development through the plunder of the wildlings.

Without other growth points, the development speed of Crabb was like a fully drawn longbow—at its limit, under a time constraint, and unsustainable.

The number of longbowmen was increasing in tandem.

The income from Mermaid Harbor was barely enough to maintain the port's operations in the short term. Relying solely on the territory's normal income, it would take at least two years to equip every longbowman with a short sword without affecting the procurement of other weapons.

Surana pushed the door open and bowed to Gryn. "My master, this was just delivered by someone from the Red Keep. You have been appointed as the Queen's Chamberlain, and you are ordered to report for duty at the Red Keep tomorrow morning."

Queen's Chamberlain?

For some reason, Gryn associated the title with a eunuch.

With a strange expression on his face, Gryn picked up the appointment letter Surana handed to him.

What exactly was the Queen's Chamberlain responsible for? The appointment letter did not specify, but Gryn did notice the salary: 200 Gold Dragons per year.

Gryn stroked his chin. Could he draw 10 years of salary in advance for an emergency?