Tears streaked Jefferies's face as he choked out, "Thank you... Thank you so much... I will forever be grateful for your kindness..."
Five-year-old Darius had only ever seen his father cry. His little mouth puckered, and he was about to start crying too, but the thin, dark-skinned middle-aged man beside him quickly soothed him in a low voice.
The thin, dark-skinned man was worried that Darius might leave Lord Gryn with the bad impression that he was a coward.
Gryn glanced sideways at Martier. "Martier, be quick about it. Come look after your little brother."
At last, Gryn's voice brought Martier out of his troubled thoughts.
His father had gained another adopted son. Sooner or later, his father would hear what had happened today, and there was no hiding his own poor performance.
Martier worried that his usually strict father might use this as an excuse to force him to have another son. He'd had enough of being locked up; it had left a shadow in his heart!
But then Martier thought of something. He was now Lord Gryn's retainer, so even his father couldn't control him. Heh!
Gryn watched the many expressions flit across Martier's face and didn't know what to make of his new retainer.
His face expressionless, Gryn inwardly rolled his eyes in exasperation.
Seeing that Jefferies had begun to calm down, Gryn spoke. "Your house, its furnishings and curtains, and every Gold Dragon you've saved—I'll have people look after them all. When your son is a little older... let's say fifteen."
"That's old enough. I'll return everything to your son, Darius, piece by piece."
Wasn't this too generous? Jefferies was rocked by a storm of emotion. He opened his mouth, but no words came.
After more than twenty years in business, Jefferies had long understood one thing: when listening to someone, what mattered wasn't what they said, but what they left unsaid.
At that moment, Jefferies's mind suddenly cleared. He thought of his trading company.
Thinking of that, Jefferies felt reassured. Before, he'd heard only of Lord Gryn's generosity—generosity so great it had terrified him.
Jefferies spoke weakly. "Russell..."
At that, the thin, dark-skinned middle-aged man who had been holding Darius's little hand walked to the carriage door and bowed to Jefferies.
Summoning his strength, Jefferies turned to Gryn. "My lord, Russell is the steward I rely on most in my trading company. He's always handled most of its affairs... Cough, cough..."
After coughing several times, Jefferies took a deep breath and endured his discomfort before continuing. "I have no way to repay your kindness. I beg you to protect the trading company I'm offering you."
Gryn's brown eyes shifted to the chubby little boy who was hugging one of Martier's legs tightly with his little arms and hands. He let out a soft sigh.
Jefferies also noticed how close his youngest son was to Martier, and a glimmer of relief passed through his eyes.
"Russell, this is my final request. From now on, you will have only one master: Lord Gryn."
Having said that, Jefferies seemed to have used up all his strength. He slowly closed his eyes, his breathing faint.
The dark-skinned Russell couldn't help crying out, "My lord!"
Jefferies, slumped against the carriage seat, opened one eye a crack and gave a faint shake of his head.
Russell first wiped the tears from the corner of his eye with the back of his hand, then straightened his clothes as best he could.
Russell stepped up in front of Gryn and bowed. "My lord, your loyal servant Russell is at your service."
Gryn gave a slight nod.
Hook Alley, Gryn's study.
Jefferies's situation had only been dealt with for the moment; plenty of matters remained. Gryn handed the four Crabb Clan Soldiers over to Russell and put him in charge of handling the arrangements that followed.
Once he reached his study, Gryn first wrote an order to deploy twenty Survey Corps soldiers. He sent a servant to the Red Keep to give it to his "old friend" Jaime and ask him to send out a raven.
After the servant left the study with the letter, Gryn received Foley and Leyton, who had come from the Queens Quarter.
Gryn hadn't forgotten that the day after tomorrow, Queen Cersei's Kingswood Hunt would pass through the Queens Quarter in the morning.
Gryn was a workaholic; he would see every shift through.
Leyton spoke first. "My lord, as you instructed, the Security Office has recruited two hundred temporary constables. Around a thousand people will gather along the roads in the Queens Quarter where Her Majesty will pass.
"They're all relatives of our constables and temporary constables. The constables maintaining order will wear uniforms, while the temporary constables scattered among the crowd will dress in ordinary clothes. Those in ordinary clothes will discreetly keep the crowd in order."
Gryn nodded, then turned his gaze to Foley.
Foley spoke in a very gruff voice. "Lord Gryn, as you ordered, starting tomorrow afternoon our men and the Lannisters' Red Cloaks will seal off the area Her Majesty will pass through. Apart from the people Leyton has arranged, no one else will be allowed in."
Gryn gave a quiet "Mm" and turned to Leyton. "Leyton, don't skimp on compensation for the people who already live in that area. I want them to look forward to another occasion because of the compensation. That will benefit our governance in the future. You know the area, so decide on an appropriate amount."
Leyton nodded. "Yes, my lord. Excessive generosity can breed greed, which isn't what you intend. I'll make sure the compensation is kept at the right level."
Gryn's gaze shifted back to Foley. "Once Queen Cersei has passed through the Iron Gate, lift the blockade. Gather the clan soldiers and the Lannister Red Cloaks, then have them follow the hunting party from behind."
Foley opened his mouth as if to say something, but in the end he shut it and simply nodded in acceptance.
A smile appeared in Gryn's eyes as he looked at Foley. "Foley, haven't you gotten used to your job as Constable yet?"
Foley chuckled and rubbed his hands together. "Lord Gryn, things were fine at first. There was a fight every day. It's been a while since any trouble broke out, and Leyton's the only one who's been busy. I'm not sure what to do. Did we hit them too hard? Are they all too scared to come out now?"
Little Steward Leyton was indeed worthy of being Surana's eldest son. He had plenty of potential, and Gryn found him more and more useful.
Gryn thought of Kalaia, far away in Whispers. He wondered how she was getting on with Maester Al's lessons.
As his power grew step by step, Gryn felt more keenly how thin his pool of talent was.
Gryn stopped his train of thought. "While I'm away from King's Landing, use your free time to teach the constables swordsmanship. You can arrange the training yourself. If you do a good job, I'll find someone to replace you when I return, and you can go back to being my head of guards."
Foley's talk about being bored was just an excuse. Seeing the Queens Quarter gradually settle down, he simply wanted to return to serving as Gryn's head of guards.
Though Foley was a warrior who loved battle, he also had his own little schemes. Unless circumstances demanded it, he couldn't stay away from his lord for long. His future depended on it.
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