Another royal decree arrived at the Red Keep, drawing gasps from the court: Jaime Lannister had been named Warden of the East.
In theory, the Warden of the East was the highest military commander responsible for the defense of the Vale, the Crownlands, and the eastern coastline of the Stormlands—though still subordinate to the realm's overall military command.
By tradition, the title of Warden of the East was a hereditary honor of House Arryn of the Vale. Yet, following Jon Arryn's death, King Robert had appointed Jaime to take the post.
First came the appointment of the new Hand and the announcement of the tourney—now this. Today would be a day of endless surprises.
Robert's choice seemed both heartless and unexpected.
Was this truly the Westerosi way of "out of sight, out of mind"?
…
Gawen dismissed the thought. Robert might dislike governing, but he understood well enough how to balance competing powers to keep the Iron Throne secure.
At the same time, Robert's political methods were often blunt to the point of cruelty, with no thought to soothing bruised egos.
The clearest example: his own brother, Stannis Baratheon, whom he treated more like an adversary than kin.
Robert knew balance, but lacked long-term political foresight. The Vale had been one of the Baratheon dynasty's staunchest supporters—yet here he was, striking them across the face.
As a man out of place and time, Gawen remembered that in the original course of events, Robert's decision had enraged the Vale lords. An indignant Lysa Tully would demand that her son be addressed as the true Warden of the East.
Descending the steps of Maegor's Holdfast, Gawen froze for a moment as a thought struck him: Princess Myrcella.
Jaime might be a Kingsguard, but most assumed the Kingslayer would one day return to the Westerlands to inherit Casterly Rock.
If that happened, would Jaime then hold both the Wardenship of the West and the Wardenship of the East?
Robert Arryn and Myrcella Baratheon were of similar age… Could it be that this ancient Arryn title was now being held in "uncle's safekeeping" as part of a future dowry for the princess?
Hm… perhaps the fat king had more foresight than people gave him credit for.
The maneuver felt familiar to Gawen—like the debts House Crabb had been saddled with under the pretense of "aid" after the Usurper's War. The process was much the same.
…
When Gawen met Queen Cersei, she already knew of Jaime's new title. To her, Jaime becoming Warden of the East meant she was Warden of the East.
Her happiness was disarmingly simple.
Petyr Baelish's request was handled without difficulty. Gawen barely needed to speak—Cersei only gave him a sidelong glance before agreeing to the loan for the tourney.
From that glance, he could almost hear her fondly saying: You really do leave me no choice.
If not for knowing her secret plans for the team melee at the tourney, the ever-earnest Lord Gawen might have been moved to tears.
It was, in truth, perfect timing. Now Cersei could interfere in the tourney more openly, her patience with Robert nearly at an end.
…
Standing at the doors of Maegor's Holdfast, Gawen rubbed his chin, wondering whether to send Jaime a cloak embroidered with Warden of the East as a congratulatory gift.
His ears caught a distant chuckle—the voice of Prince Joffrey. Turning toward the sound, he saw the prince approaching with Sandor Clegane, both laughing.
Rumor had it the Hound's cold humor never failed to amuse the prince.
Gawen's thoughts stirred, and he moved to intercept them.
"Good day, Your Grace," he greeted.
Joffrey lifted his chin. "Good day."
Looking him over, the prince said, "I heard you knocked out the Knight of Flowers in one blow?"
Gawen shrugged. "Yes, Your Grace. That rumor is quite reliable."
A flicker of doubt crossed Joffrey's face. "Then why do some say he just slipped and fell?"
"Perhaps he hadn't eaten enough," Gawen replied.
"Delicate flowers bruise easily," Sandor added.
Joffrey stared for a moment before bursting into laughter.
Gawen glanced at the burn-scarred face beside the prince. "The Hound?"
Most called him that, one of the sources being House Clegane's sigil of three dogs.
With one ear burnt away and his face twisted with scars, Sandor's gray eyes met Gawen's. "My lord, you're no delicate flower."
Gawen arched a brow. "Yet your description suits the Knight of Flowers rather well."
Sandor glanced about theatrically. "Let's hope no one heard that. His family's quite rich."
Joffrey, barely finished laughing, started again.
Sandor fell silent, perhaps worried he might make the prince laugh himself sick.
When Joffrey finally regained composure, a trace of his usual contempt returned. "Lord Gawen, do you know where Jaime is?"
"I suppose you've also heard he's been made Warden of the East," Gawen replied. "The announcement was sudden—I imagine he's at the White Sword Tower, working out how to handle the future."
"Handle what?" Joffrey asked.
"The title has always belonged to the Arryns of the Vale," Gawen explained patiently. "They might see Ser Jaime as taking what's theirs. And since the Warden must rely on the Vale lords to defend the coast, he'll need to find a way to appease them."
"Would the Vale dare defy my father's orders? I'll have their heads!" Joffrey snapped.
"The Hand has only just died," Gawen soothed. "They're not used to the change. In time, they'll see that Young Lord Robert Arryn is no Jon Arryn, and then they'll obey."
"If they don't," Joffrey sneered, "I'll have Robert brought here… and if he repents, I'll give him a sword and the honor of facing me in fair combat."
Gawen blinked. So even if he repents, you'll still thrash him.
Fair enough—twelve-year-old Joffrey against six-year-old, sickly Robert Arryn was a well-chosen match.
"My prince, your swordsmanship is unmatched," Gawen said solemnly. "The Lord of the Eyrie couldn't withstand a single blow. Terrified Vale lords will kneel at your feet, begging for mercy. Your valor will be sung across the Seven Kingdoms, your deeds remembered for generations."
Joffrey's breath quickened, his cheeks flushing.
He turned to Sandor, shouting, "My dog, I command you—bring me the Lord of the Eyrie at once! Now!"
Seven hells… did I lay it on too thick?
House Crabb and the Vale were natural rivals; Gawen could hardly feign praise for them without seeming false. And Lord Gawen was an honorable knight—he could not stoop to that!
Sandor gave Gawen a sidelong look, then said evenly, "My prince, my back's not well. I can't travel far."
Joffrey kicked at him, cursing, "Dog, you dare disobey me?!"
Gawen was tempted to volunteer, but knew this was no time for such play.
He said instead, "Your Grace, I must remind you—the Vale is filled with lords fiercely loyal to House Arryn. Without enough men, even the Hound might return empty-handed."
For now, Lord Gawen was only planting the seeds. This was merely the opening move in the greater game of thrones.
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