Lyanna's pupils widened as she stared into Gawen's calm eyes, then shifted her gaze toward Sulana.
Sulana seemed to understand her worry and gave her a gentle, reassuring smile and a nod.
Herschel also stepped forward. "Lady Lyanna, do not trouble yourself with worry. Our lord will see that justice is done for the wrongs you have suffered. All who harmed you will pay the price."
Lyanna finally gave a clear answer. "Gawen, thank you. I have never hated anyone this much. I am certain of it—because I refused to divorce Usor, I could feel he was ready to kill me. Otherwise, I wouldn't have fled so quickly. If you can… please have him removed!"
Still, she hesitated. "If you kill him, will it bring trouble to the family? After all, the Vale's nobles have always been hostile toward us."
Gawen gently patted the back of her hand, then sat back in his chair. "If we do nothing, they will only mock House Crabb as weak. Everyone understands that a noble house must avenge its own."
He gave a short, cold laugh. "Someone might believe House Crabb will do no more than lodge a complaint at the Red Keep—that a small and friendless house, disliked by the Hand of the King, will end up with the Hand pacifying the Vale's delicate sensibilities by making Usor pay a few gold dragons. And then the matter will be considered settled."
"We're 'half-wildling' nobles, aren't we? Then let's prove them right. Our lady is wronged abroad; we grow furious, and though far away, we march across the Vale and wipe out an entire household. That is very wildling, indeed."
Lyanna couldn't help exclaiming, "Wouldn't the impact be too great? Aside from the maid I brought with me, there's no one there I care for… but will that old fox Jon come after us?"
"That will depend on the skill of our gracious queen."
On the surface, the matter could be framed simply: a noble lady married down to a merchant, suffered humiliation, and her family, enraged, took revenge on the merchant's household.
The vengeance might be excessive, but it could still be understood—after all, in Westeros, a noble's honor is inviolate.
From Cersei's perspective, Gawen's plan was positively gentle compared to her father Tywin Lannister's Rains of Castamere.
He was merely seizing the moment; small acts of trouble-making would only make Queen Cersei more confident in a house that had pledged itself to her.
Gawen had already decided: those sent to carry out the task would never show their ties to House Crabb, nor leave any clear evidence.
Those who knew the truth would understand it was Crabb vengeance, but without proof, Cersei could easily suppress any calls for retribution within the Red Keep, preserving her image of impartiality.
As for King Robert—he could be safely ignored. Disturbing his pleasures over what he would consider a trivial squabble would sooner earn someone a blow from his wine jug than a royal decree.
Back in his study, Gawen tapped his fingers on the desk, frowning slightly.
In Westerosi custom, such a hidden revenge—however ruthless—might still draw mockery, as if House Crabb had not dared to bear its banner, shaming their honor.
The rules of the game here could be maddening.
After a moment, Gawen's frown eased. I can do as Tywin Lannister did.
He personally selected a band of men from among the Crabb troops, and added to them several fine singers from his domain to travel with them.
Later that day, after dining with Lyanna, Gawen was still deep in work.
After conferring with Stewards Herschel and Sulana, he arranged for Sulana's eldest son, Leyton, to take a party ahead to King's Landing.
Leyton's task as acting steward was to purchase an estate outside the city walls.
Herschel had already inquired with traveling merchants: such estates generally cost between 80 and 200 gold dragons.
The impoverished Lord Gawen, stifling his pain, gave Leyton 300 gold dragons.
The key order was to find a location as close to King's Landing as possible, with the largest area the money could buy—though Leyton would feel the pressure with such a limited sum.
This future "Crabb Estate" outside the city was meant for Gawen's troops to garrison.
In the memories of his predecessor, there had been no ventures beyond the Peninsula; Gawen didn't know how many guards an estate outside the city could have before it stirred the Red Keep's nerves.
His thinking was simple: so long as it stayed within the Red Keep's tolerance, the more soldiers stationed there, the safer he would feel in King's Landing.
Siren's Port—clear skies, a pleasant breeze.
Gawen rode at the head of his guards, inspecting the area.
Thanks to the addition of over two hundred slave-labor captives, Phase One of Siren's Port was essentially complete and already functioning as a harbor.
This first phase had been designed to get the port operational quickly; the buildings were made mostly of wood—temporary structures.
Phase Two, planned to take six months, would use stone as the primary material, replicating the Phase One shops on the other side of the harbor. Once complete, these would fully replace the wooden buildings.
Phase Three had two goals, planned on a yearly schedule.
The first: build new port facilities as needed, expanding and improving Siren's Port.
The second: beautify the completed buildings, inside and out, with fine carvings as the main feature.
Gawen placed great importance on the port's defenses. He didn't want a few pirate raids to undo his hard work.
Strong defenses would also attract more visitors.
For now, the port's guard force consisted of just over a hundred former villagers from the fishing hamlet, trained and commanded by two veteran Crabb soldiers.
He did not neglect sanitation.
Gawen had no wish for his beautiful port to reek of filth; supervisors had already been appointed for public hygiene.
Standing at the shore, gazing at the endless blue, Gawen found little joy.
The Crabb long-range ballistae had yet to be built, and the port lacked shore-based weapons to defend against attacks from the sea.
At present, the only seaward defense was a few converted fishing boats from the old village.
They were unfit for deep-sea combat; even a modest swell could capsize them, and they wouldn't sail in foul weather.
The great ocean-going warships were far beyond the technical ability of his domain to construct.
Purchasing them elsewhere was out of the question; with prices starting at a thousand gold dragons, the poor Lord Gawen abandoned that dream for now.
For the time being, his voyages would be modest—paying for passage aboard merchant vessels, safe and uneventful.
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