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x Compared with Highgarden’s splendor, the castle of House Mullendore was a hard, cramped place.
Thick walls, narrow windows, and dim candlelight made the feast hall feel close and a little grim.
The meal was not lavish: roast meat, boiled roots, brown bread, and a bowl of greens.
Samwell made no complaint.
He ate with good appetite and spoke with Mark Mullendore about the clever little monkey perched on the man’s shoulder.
When he learned the animal came from the Summer Isles, his interest sharpened.
He asked question after question: where the islands lay, what ships sailed there, what goods they traded, what sort of people lived there, what customs they kept.
Mark rarely met a knight who cared about the Summer Isles, and soon he spoke with the delight of a man who had finally found someone willing to listen.
Lord Martyn watched his son grow friendly with Samwell far too quickly and frowned to himself.
His gaze shifted to Todd Flowers, who was eating quietly.
“Ser Todd, are you a knight of House Tyrell?” Todd set down his knife and fork.
“Yes, my lord.” He nodded, thoughtful, and was about to ask another question when Samwell spoke first.
“Indeed.
Ser Todd is a noble bastard of the Arbor, sent by Lady Olenna herself to lead men with me into the Red Mountains.” So it truly was a Tyrell force.
The lord of Uplands was startled.
He did not know Samwell had deliberately blurred the difference between Todd’s Tyrell soldiers and the recruits from the docks.
To him, all two hundred men had just become Highgarden’s elite.
“I had not realized Lord Mace valued you so highly,” he said.
“To send such a force with you.” Samwell laughed and shook his head.
“Then you have misunderstood, my lord.” “Have I?” “What do I have that Lord Mace should value?
The true reason he sent men is that House Tyrell is determined to see this new domain taken.” “I see.” That, he believed far more readily.
The fat castoff before him did not seem worth such support.
The land itself might be.
Yet that raised another question.
If Lord Mace valued the new lands so much, why send Samwell?
House Tyrell lacked no knights.
He could not ask that without insulting his guest.
Samwell saved him the trouble.
“You are wondering why Lord Mace would send me.” Lord Martyn smiled smoothly.
“House Tarly has always produced fine commanders.
No doubt Lord Mace saw your talent for leading men.” The compliment was so false that several people at the table looked embarrassed for him.
Even the monkey waved its arms and chattered, as if offended by the lie.
Samwell gave a bitter smile.
“My lord, I have no great talent for command.
If I did, my father would not have cast me out and stripped me of the inheritance.
Lord Mace sent me because I am willing to do what others will not.” The lord leaned forward despite himself.
“And what is that?” Samwell smiled, looked around the hall, and said nothing.
The lord of Uplands understood at once.
Curiosity won.
He set down his cutlery, wiped his mouth with a cloth, and said, “I keep a few bottles of Arbor wine worth tasting.
Sam, would you care to judge them?” “It would be my honor.” Samwell rose and followed him out of the hall into a small side room.
His host took a bottle from a rack and poured two cups.
The bright scent of wine soon filled the chamber.
Samwell accepted his cup with thanks and took a sip.
Cool, bright, and fine.
But neither man had come here for wine.
“My lord,” Samwell said, “you want to know why Lord Mace sent me into the Red Mountains.” The lord turned the silver cup in his hand and waited.
“Uplands stands at the foot of the mountains.
You know what lies farther southwest.
Poor soil.
Beasts.
Wild clans that raid and vanish into stone.
Even if a man takes a valley, how does he make it prosper?” Samwell paused.
“That is why most knights of the Reach want no part of settling there.” “And you are different?” “I am a waste my family threw away.
I have no road back.
That makes me willing to gamble.
More importantly, I have a way to make the new domain grow quickly.” He lowered his voice.
“Raiding.” His host had been listening with breath held.
At that word, he laughed.
“Sam, you cannot mean to raid the mountain clans.
The richest thing on most of them is likely the hide on their backs.” Samwell shook his head.
“You misunderstand.
My new domain will stand on the north coast of the Summer Sea, near the mouth of the Torrentine.
Why would I bother robbing penniless wild men when rich merchant ships pass close by?” The lord’s eyes narrowed.
He studied the young chartered knight again.
“Ser Greenhand, I trust I do not need to remind you of the punishment the Reach gives pirates.” “I know it well.” Samwell’s tone was light.
“But you seem to have forgotten that House Tyrell has sent more than two hundred elite soldiers with me.
Their commander is a man of the Arbor.” The lord’s face grew grave, though disbelief lingered in his eyes.
Samwell continued.
“Lady Olenna does not mean for me to strike every merchantman that passes.
Dornish ships only.” “Even so, if this is exposed, your name will be ruined.
You may hang for it.” Samwell laughed.
“What good name do I have now?
And without such measures, how would I build a domain in that corner of the Red Mountains?” His host looked at him for a long moment.
“You are nothing like the rumors.” “Rumors are unreliable, my lord.” The lord of Uplands smiled despite himself.
“Then I wish your settlement success.” Samwell stepped closer.
“Would you like to profit from it?” Lord Martyn’s smile faded into caution.
CREATORS’ THOUGHTS TheDevotedReader I hope you enjoyed this chapter.