Crab Claw Peninsula – Whispers City
Samwell's broad, plump frame was hunched over the desk, a goose quill moving ceaselessly in his fat fingers.
Since coming here, his days had been full—assisting Maester Arl with the affairs of the domain by day, and poring over the maester's collection of books by night.
Setting the quill aside, Samwell let out a slow breath.
Maester Arl's voice was low and trembling. "Sam, you may rest a while. Have another cup of marigold malt."
Samwell wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, offering a shy smile. "Thank you for your kindness, Maester Arl. I am rather thirsty."
He clumsily rose from his chair, taking up the wine jug and cup.
Glug, glug—he drained the marigold malt in one long swallow, letting out an involuntary sound of satisfaction.
Samwell was not skilled at expressing his emotions, but he felt as if a fire was burning in his chest.
He had found his place in the lands of House Crabb! The thought filled him with boundless energy.
As Lord Gawen had once said, his life had entered a new chapter.
The people of the Crabb lands were simple and honest, and they treated him kindly. In his heart, Samwell already thought of this as his new home.
All was well—except for the local girls, who sometimes left him a little nervous… and, secretly, a little pleased.
Should I marry sooner rather than later? Samwell's eyes darted away, as if afraid someone might read his thoughts.
"A fine lad—there's a scent of romance about you," Maester Arl said with gentle amusement.
Samwell's cheeks burned at once, and he scratched the back of his head in embarrassment.
The maester let him off from further teasing. "Sam, the army's westward campaign has begun. This month we must put the domain's laws in order."
Samwell quickly smoothed his smile into seriousness. "Maester Arl, I've already read through the old laws and the newly added ones in detail. We'll have them ready in time."
"Oh?"
Arl looked slightly surprised, then praised him. "You are a diligent lad! If you encounter any problems, you may always come to me."
Samwell scratched his head again. "Maester, I… I've noticed something…"
He hesitated, searching for the right words.
Arl set down his book. "It's all right. It's just the two of us here. A maester must learn to discuss matters openly."
Samwell nodded gratefully. "Maester, I found that the old laws are much the same as in the rest of Westeros. But the new laws… they feel more like military regulations."
He paused before adding, "When Lord Gawen told us to compile the domain's laws, he said that, in future, these would become the laws of the Crab Claw Peninsula."
Arl smiled warmly. "You're wondering why the laws for common folk are nearly the same as the army's, aren't you?"
Samwell nodded.
The maester's clouded eyes seemed to drift back to memories long past.
"At that time, I remember, Lord Gawen had only just inherited the lands of House Crabb."
Arl bared the few teeth he had left in a grin. "It was an evening with a light rain outside, when Lord Gawen first confided to me… that he meant to turn the entire domain into a Crabb army camp."
Samwell's eyes widened. "Turn the domain into an army camp?"
Arl smiled and nodded. "Yes, lad. I was surprised at first too, but I soon understood. What he meant was the whole Crab Claw Peninsula. He intended to end centuries of chaos here."
The maester's expression softened with pride. "Lord Gawen told me… King's Landing has the City Watch, the Wall has the Night's Watch—and we, the Crabb Legion, will hold the Crab Claw Peninsula."
King's Landing – Crabb Estate
In the study, Gawen Crabb sat at his desk, leaning one arm against the chair's armrest, chin resting on his hand as he stared at the map of Westeros on the wall.
His gaze swept past Raven's Rest, lingered for a moment at Maidenpool, and finally settled on Gulltown in the Vale.
That book, The Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms… Gawen's brown eyes flickered slightly as he rubbed his thumb against his forefinger.
Today, he had learned from Varys that Lord Eddard Stark had yet to leave Winterfell.
As things stood, until Eddard reached King's Landing, King Robert would not name a new Hand.
That meant roughly a month's time. Would Robert take on the governance of the realm himself?
The realm could not be left idle for long; Gawen guessed that, knowing Robert's habits, he would choose someone to serve as acting Hand.
Duke Mace, Duke Stannis, Duke Renly… Robert was no fool—choosing any of the three would be unwise.
The man Gawen suspected would be chosen was the pliable Grand Maester Pycelle.
Gawen sighed inwardly. If only he sat on the Small Council now—a month would be enough time to purge the Vale lords from King's Landing. The Crab Claw Peninsula and the Vale were sworn enemies.
Knock, knock. After the sound at the door, the butler Sulana appeared.
"My lord, Ser Tyrion Lannister is here to see you."
In the rear garden of the Crabb Estate, a lovely arrangement of hedges and shaped trees surrounded the grounds.
Within the pavilion, Tyrion took a sip of summerwine and grinned. "Gawen, how's Pentos?"
Gawen understood at once what he meant. "The nightlife there is even livelier than here. If you went, you'd never want to leave."
Tyrion leaned so far forward he was nearly sprawled over the little round table. "Details?"
Gawen sipped his wine. "The colors are vivid and hard to put into words—you'd have to see it for yourself."
Tyrion, clever as ever, seemed to imagine plenty from that vague reply, chuckling to himself.
His lewd expression made Gawen tilt his head back and laugh.
Tyrion stopped laughing abruptly. "We should take a trip to the North sometime—see the legendary Wall with our own eyes."
Gawen arched a brow. "Tyrion, that's quite the leap in topics. One moment you're rhapsodizing about Pentos, the next you're talking about the Wall. Should I worry your next plan is to join the Night's Watch?"
Tyrion barked a laugh. "Hah! No, I've no wish to die a celibate. Every woman in the Seven Kingdoms would protest!"
He chuckled a bit longer, then added, "All I really want is to climb the Wall and piss off the edge of the world."
Gawen shrugged. "Not a bad plan. You might as well join the rangers for a bit of fighting while you're there."
Tyrion eyed him. "What, you think I could make the wildlings laugh themselves to death? Would that count as a military victory?"
Gawen smirked and winked. "Not laughter—imagine it. A dwarf with a great shield. Their archers would be beside themselves."
Tyrion roared with laughter. "The black brothers would love it! Gods, you almost make me want to try. Damn you—you deserve to be carried off by the Others!"
Then he added with malicious glee, "Gawen, I hear you knocked out the Knight of Flowers in the Great Sept of Baelor. Half the women in the realm want him in their bed! You've just made yourself the sworn enemy of every lady in King's Landing. Soon, all of Westeros will know, and you'll be the most hated man among the fairer sex!"
Gawen covered his face with one hand and looked up at the sky. "I'm doomed. As if it wasn't hard enough for a half-wild baron to find a wife."
Tyrion clutched his belly with laughter. "Hah! I should pity you—but not today!"
After a while, Gawen sighed. "All right, I can tell you why, my lord Tyrion."
Tyrion grinned. "You always know just how to please me, my dear Gawen. I could kiss you!"
Gawen spread his hands. "His Grace took a swing. The queen was furious. Ser Jaime and I went to cause trouble for Lord Renly instead."
Tyrion's eyes gleamed. "Can't hit the king, so you hit his brother? Lucky my brother Jaime has more sense."
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