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x Morning light slowly pierced the clouds and spilled pale gold across the mountains.
In the blood-red earth, nameless grasses drank greedily from what the dead had left behind, reaching upward as if the slaughter had fed them.
Vultures circled overhead, impatient for their feast.
Samwell had not slept, yet he felt almost bright with wakefulness as he directed the cleanup of the battlefield and the handling of prisoners.
They had won.
More than won.
This was the kind of victory men remembered.
Samwell understood what it meant for him.
First, the recruits he had gathered were no longer an empty frame dressed in armor.
Blood had turned them into a force he could trust.
Second, the victory had given him standing.
Before, he had been the famous waste of the Reach.
Aside from the men he had recruited, no one had truly respected him.
Now even the looks from Todd’s Tyrell soldiers had changed.
Awe and respect had begun to replace doubt.
They were starting to see him as a lord who could carve land from the mountains.
Most important of all, the new domain would no longer need to fear constant raids, at least not from tribes near this valley.
No mountain clan close enough to threaten him still had the courage or strength to do so.
Todd approached and bowed.
“My lord, the first count is ready.” After this victory, the Tyrell knight’s manner had grown noticeably more respectful.
“How bad?” “Twenty-one of our fighting men dead.
More than thirty seriously wounded.
But we killed more than two hundred and thirty wild men and captured nearly a thousand.” Even Todd, who had seen many battles, sounded almost disbelieving.
He had never witnessed such a lopsided result.
And he knew the men Samwell had led were recruits on their first battlefield.
Their enemies had been poorly armed and badly organized, but even so, the victory was enough to place the young chartered knight among the better commanders of the Reach.
House Tarly truly did breed commanders.
In that moment, Todd could no longer connect Samwell with the word useless.
Either the old rumors had been wrong, or something rotten lay hidden inside House Tarly.
“See to the wounded properly,” Samwell said.
“The dead receive the compensation I promised their families.
Ask Gavin for the coin.” “Yes, my lord.” “Did we capture the leaders?” “We did.
The attack was led by a nearby tribe called Shadowcat Fang.
The chieftain’s three sons organized it.
All three are prisoners.” “Good.
Bring them.” When the three brothers were dragged before him, Samwell recognized one at once.
The huge warrior from the night before.
The one who had nearly killed him.
“We meet again.” Samwell smiled.
“Your name?” “Keka.” The word came through clenched teeth.
His red eyes fixed on Samwell as if he would gladly tear out his throat.
Samwell did not fear a defeated man bound hand and foot.
“Keka, we had no quarrel.
I had harmed no one of Shadowcat Fang.
Why attack us?” Keka snorted.
“Wherever you Reachmen go, you claim land, build walls, cut forests, hunt beasts.
Those are gifts the gods gave us.
You destroy them and ask why we fight?” “No mark on a forest says it belongs to you alone.
Why must the gifts of the gods be hoarded by one tribe?
Why not share and build?” “You won.” Keka’s voice was bitter.
“So the mountains are yours.
Why waste words?
Kill us.
No warrior of Shadowcat Fang fears death.” “Is that so?” Samwell looked at the three brothers and felt an idea take shape.
“I never said I meant to kill you.” Keka frowned.
“Then you mean to make us slaves?” “Slavery is an offense to the Seven, and the laws of the realm forbid it.” “Then you will let us go?” Kemu, the second brother, asked before he could stop himself.
Samwell nodded.
Keka did not seem to believe him.
“You are that kind?” “I never meant to be the enemy of the mountain tribes,” Samwell said with open sincerity.
“You gave me no chance to show goodwill.
As I said, the gifts of the mountains need not belong to one people alone.
We could trade, cooperate, even become kin.” “Reach lords always speak prettily,” Keka said.
“In the end, you want us to bow.” Samwell smiled.
“Is bowing to strength not the law of your own tribes?” For a moment, Keka had no answer.
The mountain tribes did respect strength above all things.
Then he said, “Only the chieftain of Shadowcat Fang, our father, can decide whether we bow.” “Then I wish to meet him.” “Release us first.
Release our people.” Samwell shook his head.
“Your attack cost me dearly.
There must be compensation.” “What compensation?” “The prisoners we took will remain and help build my castle.
When the work is finished, they may leave.” “That is slavery in another name!” Keka snapped.
“You speak of law and gods, but you are a false lord like the rest.” Samwell ignored the accusation.
“And you three must pay a price as well.
You began this fight.
More than a hundred men died because of it.
One death must answer for many.” Keka laughed.
“So you mean to kill us anyway.” “No.
I will kill one of you.
The other two will go free, as proof that I am willing to make peace with Shadowcat Fang.” All three brothers froze.
Then, almost together, they asked, “Which one?” Samwell’s smile turned faint and unreadable.
“You will decide that among yourselves.” The air around them changed.
CREATORS’ THOUGHTS TheDevotedReader I hope you enjoyed this chapter.