Chapter 40: Viscount Brandon

Sunhouse was the seat of House Cuy.

It's said they were of Andal descent, granted these lands over four thousand years ago by House Gardener. House Cuy's sigil, six yellow roses on a blue field, bore a resemblance to House Tyrell's emblem, but in fact, they served as bannermen to House Hightower of Oldtown.

The current lord of Sunhouse was Viscount Brandon Cuy.

A tall, middle-aged man with well-groomed, slightly graying black hair and a refined wardrobe, Lord Brandon sat with a serious expression on his face in the main hall.

"Ser Caesar, you're not quite as I imagined."

Samwell took a sip of his wine and smiled, "And what did you imagine I'd be like, my lord?"

Viscount Brandon returned the smile, setting aside his formal demeanor. "I'd heard you were... quite hefty."

Samwell shrugged with a wry smile. "A grueling campaign is the best kind of diet."

In the months since his arrival, Samwell had indeed slimmed down considerably. His once-bulky frame was now lean, muscular, and brimming with vitality. With his slender brows and deep-set eyes that seemed as calm as a storm-ready sea, he exuded a confident, composed aura.

Brandon had seen many men in his lifetime, but he couldn't quite read this young knight, not yet twenty. He found himself remembering the younger Samwell, the once-laughingstock of the Reach's noble circles, whom many had assumed would flee the Red Mountains to become a wandering knight. But now, seeing Samwell before him, Brandon sensed something different—like a sheathed steel blade, quiet and restrained but radiating an unmistakable edge.

This air of confidence and battle-won calm was something he'd seen in only a few seasoned warriors, including none other than Randyll Tarly.

Brandon had fought in Robert's Rebellion, and he would never forget the unstoppable, towering presence of Lord Randyll on the battlefield. Even Robert Baratheon's boldness paled in comparison. And here, now, in the son of Randyll Tarly, he saw glimpses of that same presence.

How could Randyll Tarly bear to drive away a son like this?

The Viscount took a sip of wine, snapping back from his thoughts. "How goes the campaign, then? I hear the wildlings in the Red Mountains are a challenge."

"Indeed, the wildlings are a handful," Samwell replied with a thoughtful frown. "In fact, I've captured so many prisoners that I'm struggling to find a place for them."

"Ahem!" Brandon almost choked at Samwell's casually triumphant remark. Regaining his composure, he asked, "How many prisoners are we talking about?"

"A bit over ten thousand."

"How many?" Brandon thought he'd misheard.

"Around twelve thousand or so. Last month, I fought two battles against the wildlings, and by the Seven's grace, both were decisive victories. Fourteen nearby clans have sworn allegiance, and their people are now my subjects."

Brandon's expression grew tense. He suspected Samwell might be exaggerating, and his opinion of the young knight slipped a bit. But he pressed on with another question: "How many soldiers did you bring for this campaign?"

"House Tyrell supplied one hundred trained men, and I raised just over a hundred new recruits myself. And this behind me is Ser Todd Flowers, one of my knights and a key contributor to our campaign."

Standing behind Samwell, Ser Todd gave Lord Brandon a polite nod.

Initially, upon hearing Samwell had only a couple hundred soldiers, half of them new recruits, Brandon was more convinced than ever that Samwell had to be bluffing. But then he took in the sight of Todd Flowers and grew uncertain. He had heard of Todd Flowers, the Tyrell-loyal knight and bastard of Greenshade Isle.

A knight with connections to House Tyrell would have little reason to back Samwell's wild claims if they weren't true.

Could the young knight truly be as capable as he seemed?

Could the Reach have birthed another Randyll Tarly?

Samwell seemed to notice the doubt in the Viscount's eyes and gave Chiman a nod.

Understanding, Chiman stepped forward with a wooden box in his hands, placing it on the table in front of Lord Brandon.

"What's this?"

"A small gift for you, my lord."

Brandon opened the box, his eyes widening at the sight within.

Inside lay a human head.

"That's the head of the Tige Fang Clan's chieftain," Samwell explained.

Given Sunhouse's proximity to the Red Mountains, Viscount Brandon knew of the Tiger Fang Clan, the most formidable clan in the region. Seeing the distinctive tusked necklace beside the head, he found himself believing Samwell's earlier claim a bit more.

"So, it seems you've done an admirable job disciplining these wildlings! I quite like this gift," he said with a smile, thinking that Samwell's efforts would reduce the frequency of wildling raids into his own lands.

Realizing Brandon hadn't fully understood his intent, Samwell added with a knowing smile, "My lord, you may recall that this Tiger Fang chieftain killed a member of House Hightower several years ago."

"Oh?" Brandon's eyes widened as he remembered the old incident. "That's right! I even led two hundred of my family's soldiers, joining Lord Leyton in the Red Mountains to track down this wildling chieftain who dared spill Hightower blood. We never caught him, though—he slipped through our fingers like a rat, hiding in the shadows. But now, you've done it!"

Samwell smiled. "Since I'm en route to Greenshade Isle, I thought perhaps I might ask you to deliver this to Oldtown for me, and to Lord Hightower."

Though he planned to visit Oldtown himself soon, Samwell knew it would mean more coming from Brandon, the Hightower bannerman who had once joined the search. By doing so, he'd offer one gift and collect favors from two houses.

Both House Cuy and House Hightower would owe him gratitude.

"Consider it done!" Viscount Brandon's tone warmed further as he looked at Samwell with growing approval.

A sensible young man, Brandon thought.

Brave, skilled in battle, and level-headed—why did everyone think Samwell Tarly was useless?

Are they all blind?

The more Brandon observed Samwell, the more he found himself liking him. He suddenly recalled his unmarried daughter and couldn't help but consider an idea.

"Ser Caesar, you must be weary from your journey. Why not rest a while? I've already arranged a banquet, and I'd be honored if you joined us this evening."

Noting Brandon's welcoming smile, Samwell thought that his "gift" had hit the mark. Securing investment would be smooth sailing from here.

He stood, bowing slightly. "I'd be delighted!"

(End of Chapter)