After shedding his battered armor, washing away the dust of the tourney grounds, and changing into fresh clothes, William followed Samwell Tarly toward the banquet hall.
Garlan Tyrell had already departed ahead of them.
The corridors of Horn Hill stretched endlessly into the distance.
Lifelike marble reliefs lined the walls on either side, while the gardens beyond were filled with carefully manicured flowers and shrubs.
Bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun, the entire castle seemed dusted with gold.
House Tarly was one of the oldest noble houses in the Reach and had long been among Highgarden’s most trusted bannermen.
Over centuries, Horn Hill had been expanded and renovated time and again.
Both its scale and splendor were enough to leave visitors speechless.
Walking along the stone pathways, William leisurely admired the ancient yet vibrant fortress.
Several times, Sam seemed as though he wanted to say something.
Each time, he hesitated.
And remained silent.
People always say Horn Hill’s lands aren’t especially rich, which is why House Tarly isn’t considered one of the Reach’s great powers.
But looking at this place, they certainly don’t seem short on gold…
William was wondering whether Lord Randyll had some secret source of income when Sam suddenly stopped walking.
William halted as well and turned toward him.
Sam’s round face still carried traces of nervousness, but there was determination in his eyes.
His voice trembled slightly.
“S-Ser William, I heard that besides training under Ser Garth Hightower, you’re also studying at the Citadel as an acolyte?” William blinked in surprise.
Samwell Tarly was the first major figure from the future story that he had encountered since arriving in Westeros.
The reason he hadn’t actively tried to befriend him was simple.
He worried about changing Sam’s future.
William had assumed that timid Sam would remain quiet throughout the entire walk, that they would simply arrive at the feast and then go their separate ways.
He hadn’t expected Sam to gather enough courage to break the silence first.
“How do you know I’m studying at the Citadel?
Am I famous in Horn Hill too?” Sam shrugged.
“Ever since you won yesterday’s melee, people have been talking about you everywhere.
I overheard servants gossiping.
They even mentioned your nickname.” “Oh?” “The Magic Knight.” William almost laughed.
There really is no such thing as a wrong nickname.
The funny part is that everyone uses it to mock my interest in magic and mysticism…
and it’s actually true.
Since the conversation had already begun, he relaxed.
Stretching his arms, he nodded.
“That’s right.
I’ve been studying at the Citadel for six years now.
I’ve already earned two links.” Sam’s eyes lit up.
“What’s the Citadel like?
Could you tell me about it?” William raised an eyebrow.
“The maester who treated me after the joust was your family’s maester, wasn’t he?
Why not ask him?” “Maester Daedalos?
Yes, but Father strictly forbade me from asking about the Citadel.
Because of that, the maester never teaches me anything about it.
Not during lessons, and not in private either.” To William’s surprise, Sam even looked mildly annoyed while saying it.
That caught his attention.
The famously timid Samwell Tarly dared to defy Lord Randyll’s wishes?
Perhaps the boy had more courage than people realized.
At the same time, William felt puzzled.
By this point in history, Randyll should already have pinned all his hopes on his younger son, Dickon.
Wasn’t this supposed to be the relatively peaceful period before Sam was sent to the Wall?
Why was Randyll still restricting him?
Still, the Citadel wasn’t some great secret.
Sharing a few stories wouldn’t alter history too much.
So William began recounting his experiences.
He told Sam about the Citadel’s immense libraries, where countless books filled towering shelves.
He described the bustling stalls near the Scribe’s Hearth, the ancient weirwood growing on Ravens’ Isle, and the peculiar habits of various maesters and acolytes.
Every so often he slipped in a joke at the expense of apprentice scholars.
Sam listened with complete fascination.
His eyes sparkled.
The more William talked, the more engaged Sam became.
And William quickly discovered that Sam was an excellent listener.
He paid close attention.
He asked thoughtful questions.
Sometimes he offered surprisingly insightful observations.
Before long, both boys found themselves speaking as though they had known each other for years.
After William finished telling a ridiculous story about an acolyte attempting to fish for stars with a fishing rod, the two burst into laughter once again.
When the laughter finally subsided, Sam sighed wistfully.
“That sounds like such an incredible place.” His voice softened.
“I think I would really belong there.” William hesitated.
If Sam never goes to the Wall…
Forget dragonglass and the Others.
Who stops Jon Snow from deserting the Night’s Watch?
Wouldn’t that change the entire story?
He glanced at the chubby boy beside him.
But Sam really is talented.
He’s well-read, quick-witted, and has an excellent memory.
Besides, I never planned to get involved in Northern affairs anyway.
If history changes, that’s someone else’s headache.
The thought settled his conscience.
Giving Sam an encouraging smile, William said, “Then go.” Sam stared.
“What?” “If that’s where you want to be, then go.
Honestly, I think you have the makings of a maester.” William’s tone became firm.
“Not just a maester.
A great maester.” Sam’s eyes widened.
“A great maester?” His voice jumped an octave.
“You really think so?” “I do.” William nodded decisively.
“I’ve met a lot of maesters.
When I look at you, I see the same qualities.” Sam seemed completely convinced.
His face turned bright red with excitement.
For several glorious seconds, he grinned like a fool.
Then reality returned.
The smile faded and his shoulders slumped.
“But my father doesn’t think so.” He lowered his head and his voice grew quieter.
“I understand Father’s expectations.
I understand what keeps House Tarly respected.
Oldtown has knowledge and wealth.
The Arbor has wine and fleets.
Horn Hill only has warriors and generals.
Whenever the Reach goes to war, House Tarly leads the vanguard.” He swallowed hard.
“Our words are ‘First in Battle.’ That’s who we are.” William listened silently.
So he understands everything.
Before Dickon’s birth, Randyll Tarly had spent years trying to mold Sam into the warrior he wanted.
And Sam knew it.
“Back then…” Sam’s hands clenched.
“If I had just cooperated a little…
even a little…
maybe a lot of things wouldn’t have happened.” His voice cracked.
“But I really…” His breathing became ragged.
“I really don’t want to be a knight.” The final words emerged with all the strength he possessed.
William knew exactly what those words concealed.
The beatings.
The insults.
The starvation.
The humiliation.
Between the lines, William could almost see a frightened child trembling beneath his father’s furious shouting.
A small boy crying beneath the sting of a rod.
A lonely child enduring cold and hunger through endless nights.
For a young child, home was their entire world and yet somehow Sam had continued resisting.
What kind of strength did that require?
If Dickon had never been born, would Sam have endured forever?
And if their positions were reversed…
could I have done the same?
For some reason, William suddenly thought of Jon Snow.
Friendship could not survive on pity alone.
The reason Jon would eventually respect Sam was not because he felt sorry for him.
It was because Sam possessed a different kind of courage.
The sort that shook people to their core.
Looking at the boy standing beside him with his head lowered, William opened his mouth.
He wanted to say something profound.
Something inspiring.
In the end, he simply reached out and patted Sam’s shoulder.
Sam looked up.
Their eyes met.
A grateful smile appeared on his face.
After a moment, Sam sniffed and continued.
“When Dickon got older, I thought things would finally change.” He laughed weakly.
“And they did.
Father stopped yelling at me.
I didn’t have to train anymore.
I could read all the books I wanted.
I could enjoy music.
I could enjoy the food.” His expression became confused.
“But for some reason, Father still won’t let me spend time with maesters.” “He won’t let me go to the Citadel either.” He shook his head.
“I don’t know where my future is anymore.” William frowned.
The whole situation seemed strange.
In Westeros, it was common for one son to inherit while younger sons sought different paths.
Some became maesters.
Others joined the Faith.
Others took the black.
What difference did it make?
If Randyll Tarly were standing here right now, I could solve the problem in thirty seconds.
Just treat Dickon like the eldest son and Sam like the second son.
Send Sam to the Citadel.
Done.
I guarantee he’d happily call Dickon big brother for the rest of his life.
Giving up on trying to understand Randyll’s logic, William placed both hands firmly on Sam’s shoulders.
He looked directly into his eyes.
“Sometimes the darkest point of fate is also where the greatest opportunity for change begins.” His voice was calm.
“But whatever happens, keep going.
Your moment will come.” Sam smiled.
This time the smile looked genuine.
He nodded vigorously.
“Thank you, Ser William.” William groaned.
“You know I’m not actually a knight yet.
Just call me William.” “All right, William.” Sam agreed immediately.
Not even a hint of hesitation.
William burst out laughing.
Wrapping an arm around Sam’s shoulders, he pulled him along as they resumed walking.
Being older, taller, and considerably stronger, he practically tucked Sam beneath one arm.
Lowering his voice conspiratorially, he asked, “Do you remember those two warlocks from Qarth?” Sam immediately grimaced.
His hand flew to his chest.
“I think I’ll remember them for the rest of my life.
The slime.
The smell.” He shuddered dramatically.
“Trust me, you do not want to experience that.” William laughed.
“Then you’ve probably heard that I hired them afterward.” “Of course I heard.” Sam nodded.
“People talk about it all the time.” “They say you’re foolish for believing a pair of frauds.” He paused.
“Even Lady Margaery thinks so.” William snorted.
“And how exactly would you know what Lady Margaery thinks?” Sam grinned.
A surprisingly mischievous grin.
“Lady Margaery is friends with my sister Talla.” He gave William a meaningful look.
“You know.” William surrendered.
“Fine.
Let’s say she did say that.
Just because she’s beautiful doesn’t mean she’s smarter than me.” He pointed at himself.
“Do I look foolish to you, Sam?” Sam considered the question.
Then he smiled slyly.
“I don’t know.” “But those warlocks certainly didn’t make me any braver.” William stared at him.
Then laughed.
That’s because you’re already braver than you realize, my friend.
He said nothing.
Only smiled with the satisfied expression of someone who knew a secret the other person had yet to discover.
The two boys continued down the corridor together as the golden light of sunset spilled across the ancient stones of Horn Hill.
For the first time, Samwell Tarly felt as though someone truly understood him.
And for the first time, William Whent realized that one of the most important men in the future of Westeros might also be one of the strongest.
Just not in the way most people measured strength.