The evening in King's Landing was not gloomy. Under the light of the setting sun, the city was bathed in a faint blush.
King's Landing, Hook Alley.
At Gawen's signal, Samwell took out a key and, with a click, unlocked the gate.
Wasn't this supposed to be a key he had just "found sowhere"? Samwell froze for a mont, scratched his head, and looked toward Gawen.
Gawen only shrugged.
It was Lannister-style dry humor. Since arriving in King's Landing, Gawen had spent the most ti in contact with the Lannisters and was already well accustod to it.
Anything tied to the Golden Dragon—no matter how valuable—would always be downplayed as trivial by the Lannisters.
Entering the courtyard, Gawen looked up at the three-story white building and said to Jai beside him, "Ser Jai, it truly is a small house."
Jai Lannister laughed with easy charm, patting Gawen's arm.
"Ah-ha, isn't this our Baron Crabb? Long ti no see. The charms of the Reach didn't trap you there for good, did they? Ahem… welco to the new Crabb estate."
Tyrion Lannister strolled up as he spoke.
If not for his stature, Gawen thought Tyrion's manner of entrance had a certain flair.
"How did you get in here, Tyrion?" Jai asked, glancing toward the high walls of the estate.
Tyrion's eyes followed Jai's gaze before he said, "Jai, my dear brother, thank you for thinking so highly of —that's my dream."
"Did I leave you here?" Jai asked, puzzled.
Tyrion glanced at the unfamiliar Samwell, gave a slight nod, then walked up to Gawen and patted… his thigh.
"Ser Jai, thank you for so politely describing my sudden appearance here. The truth is, I found quite a number of books in the study of this house. I got absorbed in reading them and, when I finally ca to find you, discovered the door was locked. So, to be exact, I am the poor soul abandoned here by a Lannister."
Jai gave a helpless smile. "Apologies, I thought you had left first."
"My height makes it easy for people to overlook ," Tyrion grinned. "Perhaps I'm suited to being an assassin. Watch yourself, Kingsguard Jai—the Tyrion killer lurks everywhere."
Jai pulled a face and didn't respond.
Gawen had already noticed Samwell's restless excitent when he heard ntion of the study.
"Sam, go find out where the study is. From now on, it's yours to command," Gawen said with a smile.
Samwell nodded eagerly and strode off—only to halt a few steps later, scratch his head as if rembering sothing, and return to awkwardly bow to Jai and Tyrion before departing again.
Tyrion eyed Gawen suspiciously. "Gawen, your look tells you like him. Is he your lover from the Reach? Congratulations. And I promise never to get so drunk in front of you again."
Gawen couldn't help but laugh. "My lord Tyrion, rest assured—he's my future adviser. Like you, he loves books and has a mind full of knowledge."
"Ah-ha, in that case, I suddenly like him as well. Seems you've gained more than you expected—another brain at your side."
Gawen spread his hands. "Yes, one who'll tell that before drawing a sword, it's polite to give a greeting—it might achieve the sa result."
Tyrion chuckled, then abruptly lowered his voice and asked with sudden seriousness, "How is the Reach? You know what I'm asking."
Tyrion never stayed serious for more than three seconds, but his enthusiasm was infectious.
Playing along, Gawen paused deliberately. "The fields of Highgarden are awash with golden roses. The fruit is so ripe it bursts in your mouth…"
Tyrion's face showed open impatience.
Gawen smiled, tilting his head. "The weather in the Reach is so hot the ladies can't bear long gowns—only sleeveless bodices… and when it's truly sweltering, the riverbanks are a sea of bare white skin."
That earned an approving nod. "Now that is the Reach I rember."
Gawen gestured for Jai and Tyrion to enter the house.
He and Jai slowed their pace, letting Tyrion walk ahead.
Gawen t Jai's eyes: No chance to talk business today.
Jai's look replied: It can wait.
Without a word, they understood each other.
The waves of Shipbreaker Bay crashed endlessly against the rocks, leaving rings of white foam.
Stormlands, outskirts of Storm's End.
Brienne was the only surviving child of Lord Selwyn Tarth, who ruled Evenfall Hall on Tarth Island, beside the Narrow Sea and the Stormlands.
Her father had long sought a suitable marriage match for her—a difficult task—but nonetheless managed to find three suitors, each coveting her inheritance.
Brienne had been unusually tall and strong since childhood, as sturdy as any man. She loved swordplay, and as she grew, her dream was to beco a knight.
She was pure-hearted and straightforward, though sowhat willful and stubborn.
When her third betrothed left with three broken bones—courtesy of Brienne—Lord Selwyn abandoned the search for a husband and sent her to Storm's End to train under Ser Goodwin.
From him, Brienne learned to wield a longsword with greater skill and to fight in full plate armor. Those days were among her happiest.
But Ser Goodwin eventually died of illness.
"You have a man's strength, but a woman's heart," he had told her. "Training in the yard with a blunted sword is one thing; thrusting a foot of steel into a man's belly and watching the light fade from his eyes is another."
"On the battlefield, a mont decides a lifeti. I once saw a man draw a dagger and slip it into the gap of my friend's armor. All his strength, speed, courage, and years of training… worth less than a mumr's fart—because he hesitated when he should have killed."
Gawen, back when he was in the Kingsguard, had taken note of the beauty of Tarth. Most n in Westeros, and even many won, looked askance at a woman who took up the sword; Brienne surely endured worse than those he knew.
That was why Gawen had not brought any female warriors from the Crab Claw Peninsula to King's Landing—when his power was still growing, there was no need to stand out and invite trouble.
If House Crabb was to move beyond the Peninsula and shed its rough reputation, changing that perception was essential.
The Peninsula's harsh environnt had given rise to the all-female Thorn Legion, and Gawen suspected that stage would greatly appeal to Brienne.
He hoped the strong, straightforward, loyal Brienne might one day join the Thorn Legion and, at the right mont, march forth with them to win the renown she deserved.
But he knew that now she was a young woman in love, secretly devoted to her liege lord, Lord Renly Baratheon of Storm's End.
Until the ti was right, Brienne would never leave the Stormlands.
Samwell's sudden addition to Gawen's retinue had altered so of his plans.
He later learned that Samwell had been dragged along by Talla and Dickon to watch the tournant Gawen hosted.
That coincidence led to their acquaintance—and kept Samwell from being forced by his father to don the black and join the Night's Watch. Instead, he had chosen to leave Horn Hill and join Gawen.
On the way back to King's Landing, Gawen made arrangents in advance, sending the silver-tongued Anguy to make contact with Brienne.
…
Anguy was thrilled to be entrusted with such an important task—one he felt brought him closer to being knighted.
Ard with intelligence from Gawen and his own experience as a sellsword, Anguy quickly found where Brienne could be found once he reached Storm's End.
Brienne was exceptionally tall, with a broad, strong build. Her face was round and coarse, speckled with freckles, her teeth uneven, her mouth overly wide, her lips thick… her golden hair more like dirty straw, brittle and dry.
This was Anguy's first impression of her.
Brienne lived most of her life under ridicule, the best she could hope for being a touch of pity. For the sake of Renly, she had once tried to dress herself as a noble lady, but her lack of beauty and her awkward attire only drew louder laughter.
She soon abandoned such efforts, returning to her familiar warrior's garb—and the constant scorn and dismissal that ca with it.
Because of this, she seed clumsy not just in appearance but in deanor.
Anguy didn't approach her imdiately, instead observing and waiting for the right mont.
He saw Brienne challenge a swordsman who had spoken ill of the late Ser Goodwin. Her sword strokes were wide and forceful, lacking finesse but brimming with raw power.
Her style reminded Anguy of House Crabb's own fighting approach—strike to kill in a single blow.
The usually stolid Brienne transford in battle, shining with confidence.
Anguy thought of Mondon Waters, normally gentle but a beast once the fighting began.
Brienne was a born warrior.
…
The fight ended swiftly with Brienne's victory. The crowd jeered and dispersed, leaving the beaten swordsman cursing on the ground.
Anguy seized the mont, knocking the man unconscious with a kick before greeting her politely: "Good day, Lady Brienne."
She hesitated briefly, then ignored him and strode off.
Undeterred, Anguy followed at a patient distance.
At last, she stopped and turned. "What's your na?" Her voice was low and hoarse, like a man's.
Bowing, Anguy said, "I am Anguy, personal guard to Baron Crabb."
Her grip on her sword shifted. "You seem skilled…"
Is she about to challenge ? Anguy wondered.
"…but I don't want to get married," she said flatly.
That froze him in place.
A gust of wind tossed her hair.
"Please don't misunderstand," Anguy said after a cough. "I'm here on my lord's orders."
"Baron Crabb?" she asked.
"Yes, my lady. Our lands are ho to an all-female legion called the Thorn Legion. Our lord heard of you in the Kingswood."
Her expression remained unreadable.
"If ever you wish to see the wider world," Anguy continued, "Lord Gawen Crabb sincerely invites you to join the Thorn Legion."
She was silent for a mont before nodding. "I understand. Please thank Lord Crabb for ."
She turned to go, but Anguy called after her: "Lady Brienne! The commander of the Thorn Legion is nad Emparo. She'll soon be knighted, and you'll be invited to the ceremony!"
Brienne glanced back, her lips and chin giving the faintest nod before she walked on.
Anguy finally breathed a sigh of relief.
Night, Crabb mansion in Hook Alley.
Knock, knock, knock.
Receiving permission to enter, Mondon Waters stepped into the study with a basin piled high with roasted at.
"Good evening, Ser Samwell."
Samwell Tarly looked up from his book with a smile. "Evening, Mondon—and you can just call Sam."
Mondon grinned, setting the at down gently. "Sam, I brought you sothing to eat."
Samwell thanked him and took a bite.
Mondon watched him expectantly until Samwell, swallowing, asked, "Was there sothing you wanted to talk about?"
Mondon nodded, then chuckled. "Sam, I wanted to ask… how does one be a good legion commander?"
His instincts told him Samwell knew things others didn't.
During their travels, there'd been no chance to ask. Tonight, he'd brought his most precious gift—a basin of roast mutton—to show sincerity.
Though Samwell didn't wield a sword himself, he had studied every military text at Horn Hill in hopes of winning his father's approval.
After so thought, Samwell said, "A commander's first duty is to lead his troops to victory. I think you could take a page from King Robert. His warhamr is the army's greatest assurance of victory."
Lowering his voice, Samwell added, "At the Battle of the Trident, King Robert slew Prince Rhaegar with his hamr, securing the decisive victory."
Mondon frowned. "So you an if I take down the enemy's leader, we win?"
"Exactly. I think that suits you well."
"That's already how I fight," Mondon said with a grin. "I always go for the enemy commander—if they can't escape, they can't stop ."
Samwell blinked. "You're that formidable?"
He quickly clarified, "Not that I doubted you—I've seen how strong you are…"
"No offense taken. Maybe I should let you see in battle soti?" Mondon suggested.
"That would be best," Samwell agreed. "Then I can study it and advise you further."
"Alright, Sam—eat your at… and tell , what else should a commander know besides fighting?"
.
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🔥 The Throne's Last Fla — A Song Forged in Ice and Wrath 🔥
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