The Art of Balance

Early spring came sooner to Crab Claw Peninsula than to King's Landing. Morning dew froze on the fences of the Crabb Lands, dyed into scattered gold by the rising sun. The air carried the scent of burnt grass and wood ash from dying campfires, mingled with the briny stink of the distant shore.

Daemon stood at the edge of the square, watching the soldiers reinforce the fences. Rayford Rosby was directing several young followers as they piled up stones, while Mys Rivers, the Mooton Household's bastard, crouched nearby sharpening a spear. His profile looked especially calm in the morning light, utterly lacking the rawness he had shown on yesterday's battlefield.

"Your Highness." Rupert Crabb's voice interrupted his thoughts. The boy held a neatly folded cloak in his hands. "Father said it would be windy today and told me to bring this to you."

Daemon took the cloak, feeling the thick wool through his fingertips. "How is your father?"

"Much better." A faint smile appeared on Rupert's face. "The maester says he should be able to get out of bed in a few days." He paused and looked toward the entrance to the town. "I heard the royal envoy is arriving today?"

Daemon nodded. Just as he was about to say something, a steady rhythm of hoofbeats suddenly sounded in the distance. Several royal guards escorted a Kingsguard in white armor and a white cloak, slowly riding along the coastal road. The breastplate of that Kingsguard bore House Crabb's marsh marigold.

"It's Ser Clymon!" someone from the Crabb Lands shouted. Daemon narrowed his eyes. The upright knight at the front of the procession was indeed Clymon Clegane of the Kingsguard.

He was younger than his elder brother, Baron Kleb, and more imposing as well. His silver armor gleamed coldly beneath the sun, and sapphires adorned the scabbard at his waist—the mark of the Kingsguard.

The party stopped in the middle of the square. Clymon dismounted with feline grace, then removed his helmet, revealing the same hooked nose as Baron Kleb. But his gaze was sharper, like a blade tempered in ice.

"Prince Daemon," he said, bowing deeply, his voice ringing like a bell. "By the command of His Grace the King and the Small Council, I have come to proclaim a royal decree."

Baron Kleb approached with a cane, supported by Raynavor, while Berna Blount followed close behind.

The young Blount heir wore a brand-new suit of black armor, with the sigil of House Blount embroidered across his chest in silver thread. Yet the exhaustion and grief on his face could not be hidden.

"Please read it, Ser." Baron Kleb's voice was still somewhat weak, but it carried unquestionable solemnity.

Clymon drew a scroll of parchment from his robe. Its wax seal bore the royal three-headed dragon. He unrolled it, cleared his throat, and began to read in that uniquely even, emotionless tone: "In the name of the Seven, We, Jaehaerys Targaryen the First, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, do hereby proclaim to all:

"In recognition of the courage and loyalty of House Blount, especially the outstanding service rendered by the late Count Bren in quelling the Wildling rebellion on Crab Claw Peninsula, We hereby invest his eldest son, Berna Blount, as Count of Dyre Den, to inherit all lands and titles of House Blount in perpetuity. May he uphold his father's will, preserve the peace of Crab Claw Peninsula, and remain loyal to the Crown until death.

"In recognition of House Crabb's generations of service to the royal family as the 'Queen's Guard,' having produced many Kingsguard since the days of the Conqueror, with loyalty and valor renowned throughout the Seven Kingdoms, We hereby invest Baron Kleb as Count of Whispering Castle, granting him the ancestral fortress of Whispering Castle and the surrounding unclaimed lands under his governance. May he restore the ancient castle, soothe the people of his lands, and rule Crab Claw Peninsula in unity with the Count of Dyre Den.

"Furthermore, the funds required to restore Whispering Castle shall be raised by the new Count of Whispering Castle himself. The Crown shall provide no subsidy. This is both a trial and an honor—let the Seven Kingdoms witness that the hands of House Crabb can wield not only swords, but rebuild a homeland as well."

"Thus decreed." Clymon's voice echoed across the square. When the final syllable faded into the wind, everyone fell silent.

Daemon watched Berna Blount's tense profile, then the complicated emotions flickering in Baron Kleb's eyes. Suddenly, he understood the deeper meaning behind his "grandfather's" decree—this was no investiture at all. It was a carefully constructed balance of power.

Berna had only just inherited his title and lacked authority. The Iron Throne's decree would serve as his strongest backing, allowing him to take command of Dyre Den with full legitimacy.

House Crabb stood below House Blount in rank, yet it had been elevated by the glory of the "Queen's Guard" and the Kingsguard, leaping in status to become the Counts of Whispering Castle, equal in rank to Berna.

Yet the clause requiring them to "raise the funds themselves" was like an invisible shackle, forcing House Crabb to devote its energy to restoring Whispering Castle, leaving them no time to vie for power on Crab Claw Peninsula. It quietly gave Berna time to build his strength.

What a masterful use of leverage and balance. And the key was that both men would have to be grateful to the Crown... Daemon marveled inwardly. No wonder he was called the Conciliator. His ruthless, seasoned political skill truly lived up to its reputation.

"Berna Blount." Clymon turned his gaze toward the young heir. "Will you accept the Crown's investiture and swear fealty?"

Berna drew a deep breath and dropped to one knee. "I will. I, Berna Blount, swear in the name of the Seven that I shall forever remain loyal to King Jaehaerys, loyal to the Targaryen Lineage, defend Crab Claw Peninsula, and never harbor a second loyalty."

"Baron Kleb." Clymon looked toward the baron again. "Will you accept this investiture?"

Leaning on his cane, Baron Kleb slowly knelt. Though his movements were sluggish, they were exceptionally firm. "I will. I, Kleb, swear upon the honor of my house that I shall restore Whispering Castle, soothe the people of my lands, rule the peninsula alongside Count Berna, and never betray His Grace's trust."

Clymon rolled up the decree, and at last a trace of gentleness appeared on his face. "His Grace also said," he added, "that the peace of Crab Claw Peninsula requires not only swords, but wisdom. He hopes both counts understand the care behind his intentions."

After the ceremony, Count Kleb suddenly walked up to Berna and opened his arms to embrace him. "It's all right, child." The old count's voice was hoarse. "From now on, I will treat you as I treat Raynavor and Rupert."

Berna's body stiffened for a moment, then relaxed. His eyes reddened as he returned the embrace. "Thank you... Uncle."

Standing nearby, Daemon watched the scene and suddenly felt warmth rise in his chest. The game of power might be filled with schemes and balances, but beneath those cold rules, sincere emotion never seemed to be absent.

House Crabb and House Blount had fought each other for a lifetime, yet in the end they could set aside their grudges. Perhaps such openheartedness was the brightest light of human nature.

"Your Highness." Rupert's voice suddenly rang out again. The boy held a sword in both hands and knelt before Daemon on one knee. "I, Rupert Crabb, offer you my sword. I am willing to follow at your side, in life or death."

Daemon looked at the boy. In his previous life, he had faced scenes like this many times, but this boy before him reminded him of an old friend—Gwayne Corbray...

But sadly, that old friend had chosen to pledge himself to Daemon's elder brother, Daeron, back then...

Returning from his thoughts, Daemon firmly grasped the sword hilt and helped Rupert to his feet. "I accept your fealty. I swear that there will always be a place for you beside my hearth. You shall drink wine and eat meat at the same table as I do. I swear I will never command you to commit any injustice. I swear it by Blackfyre, the sword in my hand, and by the Old and New Gods."

Just then, Berna Blount stepped forward as well. He unfastened the sword at his waist and offered it with both hands, his movements even more solemn than Rupert's. "I, Berna Blount, Count of Dyre Den, am willing to lead every member of House Blount in following Prince Daemon Blackfyre Targaryen forever. From this day onward, Your Highness's enemies shall be our enemies, and Your Highness's glory shall be our glory."

Clymon was about to say that this was improper, but Count Kleb stopped him with a look. The old count gently shook his head, signaling him not to speak further.

Daemon looked into Berna's determined eyes, then at Clymon's hesitant expression, and suddenly smiled.

He accepted Berna's sword. The sigil of House Blount on its hilt still carried the boy's warmth.

"I accept your fealty, and I am willing to swear the same." His voice carried clearly across the square. "But remember this: you do not follow me for the name Daemon Blackfyre. You follow me to protect the land beneath your feet, and the family you hold dear."

Berna nodded heavily. "Yes, Your Highness."

By evening, Crab Claw Peninsula had been dyed gold and crimson by the setting sun. Daemon's party assembled in the square of the Crabb Lands. Gael and Mysaria had already mounted Dreamfyre, while Glutton circled above the cliffs. The black dragon's shadow fell across the ground like an enormous stain of ink.

Berna Blount and Count Kleb came to see them off with the people of their lands. Rupert and Raynavor stood at the front, holding the provisions prepared for Daemon.

"Travel safely, Your Highness." Berna's voice caught slightly. "The 'Sea Snake' of High Tide... is not easy to deal with."

Daemon patted his shoulder and smiled. "I know. But no matter how difficult the 'Sea Snake' is, I still have the 'Queen' watching over me. Govern this place well. When I return, I hope to see a different Crab Claw Peninsula."

He mounted his warhorse, with Rayford Rosby and Mys Rivers following close behind. The Mooton bastard was far steadier than when Daemon had first met him. The longsword at his waist had been polished bright, and there was less timidity in his eyes, more resolve.

"Move out!" Daemon commanded, and the party slowly rode out of the Crabb Lands.

Hearing Berna and the people calling out behind him, Daemon looked back. In the fading sunlight, the fences and houses of the Crabb Lands gradually shrank into the distance, while Berna and Count Kleb remained where they were, waving farewell.

He suddenly thought of Jaehaerys's decree, Count Bren's last words, and the light in the eyes of those young followers. His heart abruptly became clear.

Power might be alluring, and balance might be exquisite, but perhaps what truly sustained this land had never been cold rules. It was the people willing to stand forth for their homes and their beliefs.

The party traveled along the coastal road, while Glutton's roar echoed through the sky.

Daemon knew the "Sea Snake" at High Tide was waiting for him. The road of his tour through the Seven Kingdoms was still long, but his heart had never been so resolute.

Night deepened, and stars and moon rose overhead. The party made camp in a sheltered bay. As the campfires rose, Daemon watched the dancing flames and suddenly thought of Gael's smile, Mysaria's timidity, and all the faces he had encountered in Rosby, Maidenpool, and Crab Claw Peninsula. He drew Blackfyre. The blade glimmered darkly in the firelight, reflecting the flames in his eyes.

"Tomorrow will be another new beginning," he murmured, as though swearing to himself and to this sleeping land.

In the distance, waves crashed against the reefs with a deep, low sound, like an ancient ballad playing the prelude to the road ahead for this party bound for High Tide.