The Crab Claw Peninsula had long honored its own legendary hero—Clarence Crabb, a warrior whose name still carried weight in whispered tales.
During the reign of Jaehaerys I, a knight of the Kingsguard bore the family's name: Ser Clement Crabb, grandson of Aegon the Conqueror himself.
Centuries later, during the Battle of the Trident in the Usurper's War, the great houses of the Crab Claw Peninsula remained loyal to Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, fighting at his side until the bitter end.
Even after the dragon fell, the people of the Crab Claw Peninsula prided themselves on being true subjects of House Targaryen.
But Robert Baratheon emerged victorious. The peninsula, already sparse in numbers, suffered greatly. House Kleb, once strong, was reduced to a single male heir—Green Kleb, still in his mother's womb at the time.
Qingyu City – The Seat of House Kleb
Qingyu City was a fortress carved into the mountains, its walls curved along the rock face, its towers jutting into the sky. Scattered along the base, modest houses clustered like barnacles against the fortress walls.
Within the Lord's Hall of Whispering City, a young noble sat at a long wooden table, his back straight, his gaze unreadable.
Behind the table, Green Kleb remained composed, though the weight of his ancestors pressed upon him. Two figures stood at his left and right—Hershel, the great steward, and Sulana, the lady steward.
Hershel, a man of forty, bald and portly, wore a blue round-collared robe. His counterpart, Sulana, a woman in her thirties, stood tall with long, curled brown hair, dressed in a flowing blue gown with a low-slit neckline.
At that moment, an old farmer knelt in the center of the hall, his voice thick with respect:
"Yes, my lord, I swear it... Every morning at dawn, I set off to my fields. But my neighbor, Ma Ti... he comes to my home. And my wife, she... she entertains him… many times, my lord."
The hall fell silent.
Green Kleb's expression did not change, save for the slight pursing of his lips.
Hershel, ever the intermediary, cleared his throat. "Old Pierre, I hear you caught them in the act. And yet, you did nothing?"
The old farmer hesitated before answering. "I was furious, my lord. But I am old. Ma Ti is younger, stronger. I could not best him."
"And your wife?"
Pierre sighed, defeated. "Her neither."
A chuckle rippled through the room. The women of the Crab Claw Peninsula were known to be formidable indeed.
But law and order had to be upheld. The weak needed protection. Loyalty was cultivated through justice.
Green Kleb, at fifteen years old, understood this well. His voice was still touched with youth as he spoke:
"Old Pierre, your lord has heard your grievance. I will send two swordsmen to you."
His gray eyes flicked to a tall, iron-clad knight standing in the shadows. "Ser Pell, select two sharp-minded men. If Ma Ti resists, arrest him."
Then, turning to Hershel, he asked, "Where do we currently lack men? Any dangerous work?"
Hershel, as always, had an answer prepared. "We are in need of laborers, my lord. But might I suggest arming him instead? The mountain clans have stirred again. We need men who can fight."
Ah. A fitting punishment.
So, Ma Ti is young and strong, is he? Quick to steal another man's wife? Full of energy?
Good.
Let him put that strength to use against the mountain savages. If he survives, perhaps he'll learn a lesson in loyalty.
With a nod, Green Kleb waved his hand, dismissing the matter.
The old farmer bowed deeply, his eyes red with gratitude. As he left the hall, he felt... different. A new strength filled his chest. He would till the land harder, bring in a better harvest. The lord was too thin. It must be because he had not eaten enough. Next season, Pierre swore, he would deliver more wheat than ever before.
The Morning Petitions
The petitioners came one after another.
"My lord, my plow has broken—"
"My lord, my son's belly pains him—"
"My lord, the mountain clans stole my kill—"
"My lord, the savages grow bolder! The villagers are afraid—"
"Yes, we never leave alone anymore. Five or six men at a time, at least."
The morning passed in a blur of grievances and demands. Finally, the last petitioner left, and Green Kleb stretched, rising from his wooden chair.
Seven hells. How do the lords of great houses sit like statues all day?
He turned to Sulana. "Prepare hot water in my study. Bring my lunch there. Also, tell Maester Al to ready a raven—I'll have a letter for him shortly."
A Letter to the Queen
Within the castle study, Green Kleb finished his meal and picked up his quill. This was his third letter today.
This one, however, was addressed to a queen.
Cersei Lannister.
Fifteen years had passed since the Reaver's War. The Kleb family, once loyal to the dragons, had been crushed. Only the mercy of Eddard Stark had spared them from complete annihilation. Green Kleb's mother, still carrying him in her belly, had been pardoned by King Robert Baratheon, though Jon Arryn had spent the next decade ensuring House Kleb never regained its former strength.
But now, Jon Arryn was old. His time was nearly up.
And Green Kleb was ready to claim his place in the great game.
If he wanted to survive the coming war, he needed to strengthen ties with King's Landing.
He put quill to parchment.
To Her Grace, the Queen, as bold as she is beautiful—
Out of admiration, I send you my most sincere greetings, and I beg pardon for this intrusion.
Fifteen years have passed since the war. At the time, I was yet unborn, resting within my mother's womb, unaware of the world I would enter.
Since childhood, I have been grateful to the crown for sparing my family, allowing House Kleb to endure.
Now, I am fifteen—old enough to bear a sword, to ride to war.
I have never forgotten the words of my house: "Strength in unity."
But loyalty is a strange thing, Your Grace. For years, House Kleb was loyal to dragons, and we perished for it. Now, we serve the stag, yet we are distrusted.
House Kleb has no place in this world.
And yet, perhaps we could… if Your Grace were willing.
I have heard whispers that His Highness prepares for a hunt.
House Kleb would be honored to bring him glory.
Signed,
Green Kleb, Lord of Qingyu City
Green Kleb set down his quill.
He had taken his first step.
The Queen or the Dragon Mother—one of them would be his path forward.