Chapter 112: Arrangements:

Eagle's Eyrie

The Lord's Cabin

A group of Lord Caesar's retainers sat around a round table, waiting. Since the lord hadn't arrived yet, everyone was casually chatting. A young maid moved briskly around, serving each person herbal tea.

Her face was flushed, as she noticed glances frequently drifting her way. She felt uneasy and a bit puzzled—her looks weren't particularly striking, and as a commoner from the Reach, she wasn't someone who should attract this much attention.

What she didn't realize was that Lord Caesar's retainers were eyeing her because of the astonishing fate of her predecessor. To everyone's disbelief, the previous maid had actually become the Countess of Starfall. It was like a fairytale come to life, and they still couldn't fully comprehend it. Naturally, then, they couldn't help but wonder about this maid's story—perhaps she, too, was the lost daughter of some noble family.

The door opened, and Samwell entered. All the retainers stood to greet him.

"Take your seats."

Samwell took the main seat and gestured for the maid to leave.

"This meeting is to inform you that in three days, I will set off for King's Landing to testify in the trial concerning Lord Jon Arryn's death."

Samwell sipped his tea, allowing the group a moment to absorb this, before he continued, "While I'm away, Gavin will handle the daily affairs of Eagle's Nest."

"Yes, my lord," Gavin responded, standing respectfully.

The former dockworker now carried himself with a bit of a steward's authority, and he managed the territory well. Samwell offered him a nod of approval, then turned to address Vidor, the head of construction:

"Master Vidor, you're still in charge of overseeing the castle's construction. I hope that when I return from King's Landing, I'll finally be able to move in."

"Yes, my lord. If all goes smoothly, the entire castle will be completed within a month and a half."

"Excellent." Samwell then turned to the head blacksmith, Buso. "Buso, I want you to continue overseeing the minting of the silver stags."

"Yes, my lord."

The secret silver stag project was an ongoing arrangement tied to Samwell's clandestine deal with Petyr Baelish, or "Littlefinger." It required someone Samwell could fully trust. Buso now met that requirement, especially since his son was in Samwell's guard and had married one of the wildlings women.

Samwell then continued assigning responsibilities to each member present. Finally, he turned to Chiman, speaking with a commanding tone:

"Chiman, I'm giving you one hundred elite soldiers, and you may also recruit five hundred wildlings. Eagle's Nest will provide the necessary food and weapons. I want you to do one thing: keep expanding our territory."

"Whenever you encounter a wildling tribe, use my name to demand their submission. If they refuse, make them submit with steel. Do you understand?"

A fierce grin spread across Chiman's face. "I understand, Lord Caesar."

The room seemed to chill as everyone imagined the bloody chaos about to sweep through the Red Mountains.

Samwell had previously hesitated to release Chiman, knowing he could be like an unchained beast. But with Jon Arryn's death, the upheaval across the Seven Kingdoms was bound to accelerate, leaving Samwell with little time for hesitation. Even if unleashing Chiman meant taking risks, he needed to build his power quickly.

Fortunately, Samwell's position at Eagle's Nest was now secure; his power and influence were absolute. Chiman, no matter his ambitions, wouldn't dare openly defy him.

"Remember, if possible, avoid unnecessary bloodshed," Samwell cautioned. "If you must kill, target only the tribe's leaders and those leading the opposition. The rest of the wildlings should be brought back to Eagle's Nest to serve me. Is that clear?"

"Perfectly clear." Chiman nodded, adding, "I don't relish killing our wildling kin either."

At this, the other retainers couldn't help but exchange bemused glances, as if they'd just heard something absurdly ironic.

Samwell's lips twitched, and he briefly considered appointing a second-in-command for Chiman but ultimately decided against it. Since he'd resolved to use Chiman's ruthlessness, why bother restraining him?

If things went too far, Samwell could always rein him back in. After all, Chiman's forces relied on Eagle's Nest for supplies, so any disloyalty would be futile.

With responsibilities assigned, Samwell concluded the meeting.

When everyone else had left, he sat alone in the room, lost in thought. This journey to King's Landing was nominally to testify in the investigation of Jon Arryn's death, yet he couldn't shake the feeling that it wouldn't be so straightforward. King's Landing was the heart of the realm's power, a nest of schemers and intrigue.

Samwell felt an urge to strengthen himself before this trip.

However, his strength attribute had plateaued, requiring a substantial amount of gold or silver to make any noticeable gains. As for agility, he still hadn't found a way to increase it quickly. But his mental strength… that, he'd been contemplating.

Currently, his mental attribute was at 2.19, thanks entirely to Ghost Grass. But its effects had waned; it now took fifty stalks of the plant to raise his mental strength by just 0.01. He needed a new "mental food source."

He suspected that mental strength might be linked to the Old Gods and had once toyed with the idea of trying to consume a weirwood tree. However, concerned about the potential repercussions, he had held off on the idea—until now.

He made his way to his bedroom, lay down on his bed, and rolled his eyes back. When he opened them again, he was seeing through the eyes of a falcon, soaring in the sky.

Following his mental map, Samwell flew over the sea and dove into the forest, eventually finding the weirwood he had visited in his first "falcon dream."

It was unchanged, with massive branches sprawling like a crown, shadowing the forest beneath. The face carved into the trunk stared out, appearing almost alive as it watched over everything around it.

Guiding the falcon to a perch on the tree, Samwell seized a small branch in its talons before flying back to Eagle's Eyrie.

The branch now lay on the table as Samwell sat up, ending his vision. Taking the weirwood branch in his hands, he brought it to his mouth and bit down.

A blood-red sap oozed out, leaving Samwell with an unsettling taste in his mouth. The twig was tough, bitter, and sour, with a strange tang that made his throat burn as he forced it down. Yet, even after chewing and swallowing, his mental strength showed no increase.

Thinking he hadn't eaten enough, he tried a few more bites. Still, nothing changed.

So weirwood doesn't work? Samwell mused, feeling puzzled.

Had he misinterpreted the link between mental strength and the Old Gods?

(End of Chapter)