Chapter 225: The Hiltless Sword

"Lord Samwell, give my proposal some more thought."

Despite already being rejected, Prince Doran of Dorne made one last attempt to persuade Samwell before his departure.

Looking at the determined Dornish prince, Samwell smiled. "How about we start with a smaller collaboration? Something to build mutual trust."

Doran raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What sort of collaboration?"

"Customs tariffs," Samwell replied. "To strengthen trade between the Reach and Dorne, I propose we eliminate tariffs altogether."

Doran's tone was amused. "Are you in a position to make such a promise on behalf of the Reach?"

Samwell smiled cryptically. "That's my concern. So, what do you think, Prince Doran? Would you be willing to try this small step toward trust?"

Doran studied Samwell's face for a moment before responding, "Waiving tariffs completely is a bit much. Let's say we cut them in half."

"Half?" Samwell reluctantly agreed. "Alright, but the rate shouldn't go any higher."

"Agreed." Prince Doran nodded with a smile. "I'll send an envoy to Highgarden to formalize this agreement. Let this be the beginning of peace between Dorne and the Reach."

"May friendship between the Reach and Dorne last forever."

"Forever."

Prince Doran closed the carriage curtain, and his carriage slowly rolled out of Starfall.

Samwell didn't linger in Starfall either. That afternoon, he and Margaery boarded a ship, leaving behind Nathalie's reluctant gaze.

They also brought along three knights and a thousand soldiers, newly recruited from Starfall. Although House Dayne's military strength had been weakened by previous defeats, Samwell was careful not to drain Starfall of all its defenses. He still needed House Dayne as a buffer on the eastern side of Eagle's Nest, in case some Dornish lords decided to launch a raid on his territory.

After leaving Starfall, he didn't immediately return to Highgarden but made a detour to Eagle's Nest.

The lord's return sparked fervent celebrations throughout the land.

When the people heard that Samwell was now officially betrothed to Lady Margaery Tyrell, their joy and excitement soared even higher.

Samwell toured the territory with Margaery, making a show of connecting with the people before returning to the castle and summoning his household for a council.

Chiman TigerFang had returned from his campaign and joined the council. Seeing Samwell, he was unusually subdued, refraining from his usual antics.But a fierce aura clung to him, indicating the bloodshed he'd seen on his latest venture.

Samwell chose not to scold him this time. After all, Chiman had indeed contributed greatly to Eagle Nest's growth. Most of the population increase had come from Chiman's efforts to subdue the wildling clans of the Red Mountains.

According to Steward Gavin's estimates, the territory's population was nearing the A Hundred thousand mark—a significant figure even by the Reach's standards.

Eagle's Nest's valley could no longer hold everyone, so some people had to settle in nearby villages and hamlets.

The previously obsolete position of village head was reintroduced to manage these expanding settlements.

Additionally, Samwell made a decision to reward Gavin, his trusted steward, by granting him the title of baron and bestowing upon him the largest village, Bluehide.

Bluehide was originally the gathering place for the Blue Skin clan. Now, with a nearby silver mine fueling various industries, the village had developed into a thriving town. Samwell granted it to Gavin in recognition of his diligent service.

Of course, the silver mine itself was excluded from the grant, as it was a key revenue source for Eagle Nest, and Samwell had no intention of parting with it.

When Gavin requested a surname from his lord, Samwell thought for a moment before saying, "I found you by the Mander River, so take Mander as your name."

"Yes!" Gavin replied with excitement, "I, Gavin Mander, pledge unyielding loyalty to the noble Lord Samwell Caesar. May the Seven bear witness that the House of Mander shall serve House Caesar for all time!"

Samwell sheathed his sword and helped Gavin to his feet. "You will remain as steward of Eagle's Nest. As for your own lands, appoint someone to manage them on your behalf. And for a castle, have Vito oversee the construction."

"Yes, my lord."

After the council, Samwell summoned Melisandre privately.

It might have been a trick of the light, but the Red Priestess appeared even younger than the last time he'd seen her. Her fiery eyes seemed to penetrate his very thoughts, making him feel as though his every secret was laid bare.

Avoiding her gaze, Samwell asked, "How many followers of the Lord of Light are in the territory now?"

"About three or four thousand."

"That many?" Samwell was a bit startled. The Lord of Light had no significant following in Westeros; yet in less than two months, Melisandre had gathered thousands of converts on Eagle's Nest.

"It's the power of the true god," Melisandre said reverently. "The Long Night is coming. Your people already feel the chill. They instinctively gather around the flame, seeking warmth, seeking light, seeking salvation."

Samwell gave a faint smile but chose not to press further. Instead, he changed the topic. "You remember my brother, Dickon Tarly? At Skyreach, you attempted to revive him with your magic, but it didn't work. Yet later, he did come back to life."

Melisandre didn't seem surprised. "The Lord of Light answers all sincere prayers."

"But Dickon's memory is affected," Samwell continued, meeting her fiery gaze. "He's lost many of his own memories and has gained others that don't belong to him. Do you know why?"

"Whatever changes have come over him are by the will of the true god."

Unhappy with her evasiveness, Samwell pressed, "Answer me directly, Lady Melisandre. Is this a side effect of your resurrection spell, or the Lord of Light's design? And if it's his design, what is his purpose?"

"No mortal can comprehend the true god's purpose." Melisandre pointed to the flames dancing in the fireplace. "Like shadows cast by fire, ever shifting, never still."

Samwell's expression darkened.

Melisandre stepped closer, her tone gentle yet resolute. "I'm not evading your questions, Lord Caesar. Sorcery is like a hiltless sword—wielding it comes at a price. And even if mortals manage to grasp it, their fragile flesh can never truly control it."

"Of all the magic I know, resurrection is the most dangerous, the sharpest of hiltless swords. Every time I wield it, I pray for the true god's guidance, never daring to wield it recklessly."

Samwell frowned deeply.

Melisandre, seeing his troubled expression, offered, "Lord Caesar, there's no need to worry. Your brother has been blessed by the Lord of Light. His path is already set by divine will. It's an honor beyond measure."

"Dickon is my brother," Samwell replied harshly. "He's not the Lord of Light's tool."

"We are all tools of the true god," Melisandre murmured piously.

"I am no one's tool," Samwell said firmly, "not of any person, nor of any god. And neither is my brother."

Melisandre looked at him, her face as calm as a still sea. "Mortals cannot resist the true god's will. Fighting it is futile. It's far better to accept his guidance."

"Lady Melisandre, do you truly wish to be nothing more than a tool of your god?"

"In this moment, that is exactly what I am."

"No. You still have your own will and your own emotions… I believe you still do. But if one day you lose both, what will you be but a walking corpse?"

"The will of mortals often leads to folly. And emotions…" Melisandre's fiery eyes were devoid of any flicker. "They are nothing but a burden and a weakness."

"But also the source of happiness," Samwell said, studying her closely. "Lady Melisandre, have you never loved anyone?"

For once, Melisandre fell silent.

"Melira…" A distant voice echoed in her mind, filled with sorrow and yearning, calling to her across flames and ash.

"Number Seven!" A cold, metallic voice shattered the memory.

She snapped back to reality, her fiery lips parting slightly, but she remained silent.

Seeing he wouldn't get any more answers, Samwell left the room.

Outside, he summoned Gavin Mander and asked, "How many soldiers do we have in the territory?"

"One thousand five hundred, my lord," Gavin replied instantly, then added, "Another five hundred have completed training but lack weapons and armor…"

"Don't worry about equipment," Samwell said confidently, feeling the weight of his new alliances. "Gather eighteen hundred soldiers. Tomorrow at dawn, we march for Highgarden."

"Yes, my lord," Gavin replied. "Who are we preparing to fight?"

Samwell took a deep breath, his gaze turning eastward as though he could see across the Red Mountains to the vast lands beyond.

"Stormlands."

(End of Chapter)