He's very cute, isn't he?

The warm-toned scene only stirred Gryn's heart for a fleeting moment.

There were some things Gryn could not immediately adapt to in such a short time.

In Gryn's memory, Kalaia's appearance was frozen from over a year ago, as a timid little girl trailing behind Surana.

First, he marveled at the growth rate of this world.

What was Gryn thinking about at this moment?

In truth, Gryn's focus was on the fact that the castle's security measures needed strengthening. No matter how high his vigilance was, or how much he trusted his own martial prowess, there was no logic in relying on personal alertness to guard against thieves a thousand days in a row; it was foolish and would exhaust him to death.

Important personnel and locations within the territory should all have their security reinforced.

Beware of the fragile neck, where a dagger might suddenly slice across.

When he had the spare resources, he would have to purchase some Unsullied to serve as guards.

The Unsullied were reliable.

Keep two Unsullied on duty outside the door at all times.

The daydreams of a destitute lord.

A trace of a smile appeared on Gryn's face: "Kalaia, long time no see. Has Lady Surana started assigning you tasks yet?"

"I wanted to be your handmaiden, my lord, but Mother felt I wasn't mature enough yet. She said I need to train for a while longer, and once she is satisfied, she will arrange for me to be by your side."

"But I couldn't wait, so I came directly to you. Please forgive my recklessness."

It was reasonable and well-founded; Surana was dutiful, and Kalaia's seemingly reckless behavior was also for the sake of pledging loyalty to the lord. As the family of a trusted subordinate, she would not be blamed.

Gryn had soaked long enough, and with Kalaia's assistance, he put on his robe.

Gryn took the red wine Kalaia handed him and took a sip, his brow furrowing naturally.

Sour red wine, one of the specialties of the Crabb Territory.

He didn't know how they brewed it to be this sour.

Was it the grape variety?

Red wine with a good palate needed to be imported, which was too expensive, so he would just make do.

Hmm, upon deeper tasting, the flavor was actually alright... Gryn didn't want to drink any more and set the glass down.

Gryn had gained one more reason to conquer the world.

The night passed without incident.

Gryn first arranged for Kalaia to follow Maester Al.

Maester Al was too old, his gait shaky and trembling; Gryn was full of concern for the Maester's life.

If the lord's maester passed away, the Citadel would immediately arrange for a new one to fill the vacancy. The Citadel was too far away, and there would be a gap of at least three months, yet only Maester Al knew how to send ravens in Whispers.

This included the daily feeding and management of the ravens.

Raven post was the most important means of communication, and Gryn valued it highly.

All of the above were parts that Kalaia needed to learn and master.

Gryn had too many things to handle and a shortage of talent on hand; Kalaia, who was literate, was a rare find.

Most importantly, Kalaia was reliable and could be trusted.

Knight Mason finally returned.

According to the statistics, there were 13 blacksmiths in the territory, and a larger number of carpenters, totaling 32.

Apprentices were to be arranged simultaneously, with work processes separated; by learning only one step at a time, their progress would be rapid.

The framework for the workshops was barely sufficient.

Responding to the lord's summons, these craftsmen would bring their families and move over one by one.

Herschel, the steward of Whispers, was responsible for their resettlement.

Whispers, the lord's study.

Lord Gryn, Knight Pell, Knight Mason, and Maester Al held a military council regarding the Mountain Wildlings.

Gryn's original plan was to exhaust the enemy and use fire to resolve the Mountain Wildlings issue without sustaining any casualties.

There was plenty of withered grass in the surrounding area, perfect for setting a fire, and the land near the water source could even be reclaimed afterward.

Regarding the details of warfare, Gryn's memories were primarily of him leading a group to cut down stragglers under his mother's command.

After listening to their accounts, Gryn summarized it for himself: while he didn't know about other places, fighting here felt a bit like a scheduled brawl.

The Whispers would send men to negotiate, and if war was unavoidable, they would set a time and place.

At the appointed time and place, the two sides would then slaughter each other.

It was just a scheduled brawl!

Gryn tapped the table a few times, drawing the attention of everyone present.

"Ser Pell, I will have Herschel prepare shields, longswords, bows, and ten house soldiers for you. You are to recruit another ninety men, focusing on veteran hunters."

"Once completed, you will have a total of 100 men under your command."

"...Name it the Survey Corps, and you shall be its first commander."

"Find people who are familiar with the terrain. When Mason and I engage the Mountain Wildlings, I want you to already be guests in their homes."

"I have had enough of the wildlings' harassment. This time, I am going to wipe them out."

"I need a large number of captives; the development of the territory requires a massive population. The more captives you bring back, the greater your merit."

It was slightly more complex than the usual way of fighting, but it was not difficult to understand, and Ser Pell grasped it quickly.

Ser Pell accepted the order solemnly.

Maester Al spoke with a trembling voice: "Lord Gryn, I have a map. In my spare time, I have always kept an eye on news of the wildlings, and I have been organizing and recording it for years. The wildlings' activity zones and the locations of their lairs are marked on the map. There might be some discrepancies, but it should be largely accurate. I hope it can be of help to you."

Gryn placed his palm over his chest and said solemnly: "I thank you for your contribution, Maester Al. House Crabb will never forget your service."

King's Landing, the Red Keep.

Cersei Lannister clutched a letter in her hand, greedily enjoying the caresses of Jaime Lannister.

After a long while, Cersei Lannister rose and grabbed a red robe from the side, draping it over her body.

At over thirty years old, Cersei Lannister remained magnificently beautiful.

Cersei Lannister picked up a flagon and poured a full cup, taking a large gulp of red wine to soothe her parched throat.

Watching Cersei Lannister pick up the letter to read again, Jaime Lannister revealed an indulgent smile.

Jaime Lannister's smile always carried a sense of high-spirited confidence.

"That boy is nothing but a sycophant."

Cersei Lannister's lips curled upward, her sharp, delicate chin habitually lifting as she spoke.

"Jaime, you don't understand me, but he does."

Courage and beauty combined in one; I like this opening.

Jaime said helplessly: "That boy is not honest at all."

Cersei walked up to Jaime, stroked his handsome face, and smiled: "Jaime, you aren't jealous of a little boy, are you? Perhaps my dress would look better on you."

Jaime Lannister disdained to answer the question of whether he was jealous or not.

"Are you planning to take him with you on this hunt?"

"He is very cute, isn't he?"