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x “Surely you do not think I will stain my house by turning pirate with you?” “No.” Samwell shook his head, wearing the harmless smile that had served him well.
“That risk is for men like me, who have no road left behind them.
You need only take a stake in the venture.
If trouble ever comes, it will not touch you.” “A stake?” “Yes.” Samwell sipped his wine.
“House Tyrell has put in two hundred elite soldiers.
House Redwyne of the Arbor will put in ships and sailors.
Both expect to be well repaid.
My lord, do you wish to join them?
The two strongest houses in the Reach have already placed their wagers.
Chances like this do not come often.” Lord Martyn considered him.
“What do you want from me?” “Craftsmen,” Samwell said.
“I have men and, soon enough, ships.
What I lack are skilled hands to build a holdfast, docks, workshops, and everything a domain needs.
Send the craftsmen of Uplands with me for the first year, and I swear you will be repaid tenfold.
Perhaps a hundredfold.” He thought for a while.
“I can send ten craftsmen.” “Ten?” Samwell cut him off without politeness.
“My lord, I have risked my reputation by telling you the truth of this matter, and you offer alms.” The lord of Uplands swallowed his anger.
“How many do you want?” “All of them.” “All?” “Every craftsman in Uplands.” Samwell spread one hand as if the request were obvious.
“Loan them to me for one year.
When the year ends, I will pay ten times their hire.” “Impossible.” Lord Martyn rejected it at once.
“What if your settlement fails?
Where do I collect my coin then?
Worse, I may lose every craftsman I send.
Do you take me for a madman?” “Fail?” Samwell laughed.
“Do you truly believe this settlement will fail?” “Any venture can fail.
A settlement in the Red Mountains more than most.” “Then you have not understood its true purpose.
Do you think House Tyrell has gone to all this trouble merely to take a few Dornish merchant ships?” The lord held his patience.
“Does House Tyrell have some greater design?” “It does.
The Reach and Dorne have hated one another for a thousand years.
Prince Oberyn has only just crippled Willas Tyrell.
Do you imagine Highgarden will not look for a chance to answer?” “Dorne is not easy to invade.” “No,” Samwell said.
“But Daeron the Young Dragon conquered Dorne without dragons.
He gave himself all the glory, but clear-eyed men know what truly mattered.
Lord Alyn Velaryon took Planky Town with his fleet, controlled the Greenblood, and cut the Dornish domains apart from one another.” He leaned forward.
“Lady Olenna chose my land herself.
Near the mouth of the Torrentine.
Is that not very like Planky Town on the Greenblood?
Control the Torrentine’s mouth, and the Reach can threaten three important domains in western Dorne.” The lord fell silent.
Samwell pressed on.
“If House Tyrell has decided on this course, how does it fail?
Will scattered mountain clans defeat Tyrell soldiers?
Will Dorne see the danger and attack first?” He shook his head.
The mountain clans were dangerous, but not an army.
As for Dorne, if the Dornish struck first and began a war, Lord Mace might laugh himself breathless.
Dorne had fewer people, fewer resources, and fewer soldiers than the Reach.
The Red Mountains and the desert had protected it for centuries.
If the Dornish abandoned that advantage and marched out, they would be crushed in the open.
And the greatest obstacle to a settlement in the mountains, a source of coin, had already been answered by the reckless young knight standing before him.
The more he thought, the harder failure became to imagine.
Still, sending all the craftsmen of Uplands was no small decision.
Samwell saw the hesitation and did not push further.
He set down his cup.
“Think on it, my lord.
I will rest in Uplands for a few days and buy supplies before entering the mountains.
If you wish to take part, send to me.” With that, he left the room.
On the third day in Uplands, Samwell still had no answer from Lord Martyn.
The man was more cautious than Samwell had hoped, and not easily dazzled by a bright promise.
What did arrive was another letter from Margaery.
As expected, she scolded him for his spending and urged him to quicken his march.
This time, however, she had learned.
From now on, she would send only one hundred gold dragons each month for the settlement.
If Samwell wanted more, he would have to show results: buildings raised, people gathered, progress made.
The girl had cut off his easiest path to her purse.
Samwell was not surprised.
House Tyrell was not foolish enough to remain his bottomless coffer forever.
And that neat little system of reward and restraint almost certainly came from the Queen of Thorns, not the young rose herself.
He was not disappointed.
He had already taken plenty from Highgarden.
More importantly, he had borrowed enough of its name to raise a banner large enough to impress other backers.
A settlement was a venture.
A sensible man built it with other men’s coin.
The lord of Uplands, unfortunately, was proving difficult to lure.
Samwell decided to wait one final day.
If the lord of Uplands still gave no answer, he would leave and find another generous fool.
Elsewhere in the castle, Lord Martyn had found the messenger from Highgarden.
“Who wrote the letter you brought Samwell?” The messenger bowed.
“Forgive me, my lord.
I cannot say.” He pressed a gold dragon into the man’s hand.
The messenger became helpful at once.
“Lady Margaery, my lord.
The Lord of Highgarden’s daughter.
The letter came with three hundred gold dragons.” “Is that so?” He looked thoughtful.
“And what else?
I saw you speak with Todd Flowers.” “Lady Olenna sent a message to Ser Todd…” The man hesitated.
Another gold dragon appeared.
Highgarden’s loyal servant found his memory improved.
“Lady Olenna said Ser Todd is to obey Lord Greenhand in all things.” Lord Martyn went still.
For a long moment, he did not move.
CREATORS’ THOUGHTS TheDevotedReader I hope you enjoyed this chapter.