Chapter 15: Persuasion (Part 1)

Compared to the grandeur of Highgarden, the Mullendore family's castle was humble indeed. Heavy walls, small windows, and dim candlelight gave the banquet hall a cramped, even eerie feel.

The dinner was far from luxurious—just roasted meat, sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, and a simple vegetable salad. But Samwell, with no complaints, tucked in heartily, chatting with Mark about his charming monkey. Hearing that the monkey was from the Summer Isles, Samwell grew excited and began asking many questions—such as the location of the Summer Isles, whether there were trading routes, and about the people, culture, and goods of the island.

Mark, thrilled to find a fellow enthusiast of the Summer Isles, began sharing everything he knew, hardly pausing for breath.

Watching his son quickly warm up to Samwell, Lord Martin Mullendore couldn't help but frown. Glancing over at Todd Flowers, who was quietly eating, he asked, "Ser Todd, are you a knight of House Tyrell?"

Setting down his knife and fork, Todd replied, "Yes, my lord."

The viscount nodded thoughtfully, about to ask another question, when Samwell suddenly interjected, "Indeed, my lord. Ser Todd is a noble bastard from the Arbor, sent by Lady Olenna herself to lead Tyrell troops as I go to settle in the Red Mountains."

Viscount Mullendore was secretly shocked, unaware that Samwell had deliberately blurred the lines between Tyrell's soldiers and the newly recruited men. To him, it now seemed that all two hundred men in Samwell's retinue were Tyrell's elite soldiers.

"I never would've thought the Duke himself held you in such high regard, sending an army like this to accompany you," he remarked.

Samwell chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm afraid you're mistaken, my lord."

"Oh? How so?"

"Well, the Duke has no reason to care about me. The real reason he sent soldiers is that he has his eyes on a new territory in the Red Mountains."

"I see." The viscount clearly believed him. After all, he couldn't imagine this wastrel was important enough to warrant so many soldiers from Mace Tyrell.

But then a new question arose: if Duke Mace valued the new land so much, why would he send someone like Samwell to establish it? Surely House Tyrell had no shortage of knights for the task. However, it would be rude to ask such a question outright, no matter how little Viscount Mullendore thought of Samwell.

Yet, before he could even consider asking, Samwell unexpectedly offered, "My lord, are you wondering why Duke Mace chose me?"

Smiling politely, Lord Mullendore flattered, "The Tarlys have always produced fine soldiers. Perhaps the Duke is counting on your skills in leadership."

This made everyone feel a little embarrassed—even the black-and-white monkey screeched, waving its arms as if it couldn't handle the insincerity.

Shaking his head, Samwell chuckled bitterly. "I assure you, my lord, I have no such talents. Otherwise, my father wouldn't have driven me out and stripped me of my inheritance. The Duke chose me because I'm willing to do what others wouldn't dare."

"Oh? And what might that be?" asked the viscount, intrigued.

But Samwell merely smiled and glanced around the hall, clearly unwilling to speak further in front of others.

Taking the hint, Lord Mullendore paused before setting down his fork, wiping his mouth with a napkin, and said to samwell, "I have some Arbor wine in my collection. Would you care to sample some with me, See Samwell?"

"It would be my pleasure."

Samwell followed the viscount out of the hall and into a smaller room. Lord Mullendore took a bottle from a shelf and poured two glasses, the crisp aroma of the wine quickly filling the space.

Taking a glass, Samwell thanked him, savoring a sip of the cool, refreshing drink. But, of course, they hadn't come here to drink.

"My lord," Samwell began, " I'll go straight to the point, the reason why Duke Mace would send me to the Red Mountains is because..."

Lord Mullendore swirled his glass, saying nothing, only waiting for Samwell to continue.

"Your city stands at the foot of the Red Mountains, so you surely know what awaits beyond—barren lands, prowling beasts, and wild tribes who raid at will. Even if one stakes a claim, survival, let alone prosperity, is nearly impossible. That's why most Reach knights won't come here to settle. But I'm different. As an outcast, I have nothing to lose and would rather risk everything."

He leaned in, whispering, "And I have a clever trick to help my territory grow fast—raiding."

The viscount chuckled at this, shaking his head. "Ser Samwell, surely you're not thinking of raiding the wildlings, are you? I should warn you, the most valuable thing they have might be their poorly made leather garments."

Samwell grinned, leaning forward. "Oh, my lord, you misunderstand me. My new lands are on the northern shores of the Summer Sea, near the mouth of the Torrentine. Now, tell me, would I waste time raiding poor wildlings with so many wealthy merchant ships passing by?"

The viscount narrowed his eyes at Samwell, studying him before finally replying, "Ser Samwell, do I need to remind you of the Reach's laws on piracy?"

"I'm quite aware," Samwell replied nonchalantly. "But, my lord, have you forgotten that House Tyrell has sent over two hundred of their best soldiers with me, led by someone from the Arbor?"

The viscount's expression turned wary, tinged with disbelief.

"Indeed," Samwell continued, "Lady Olenna has instructed me to raid Dornish ships only, never targeting others."

"Even so, if this comes to light, your name would be ruined, and you could even face the gallows."

Samwell burst out laughing. "My name? What name do I have left? And besides, without such actions, how could I establish anything in a place like the Red Mountains?"

The viscount looked at Samwell thoughtfully. "Ser Samwell, you're nothing like the rumors."

Smiling, Samwell swirled his wine, "Rumors are deceiving, my lord."

The viscount returned the smile. "In that case, I wish you success in your endeavor."

Samwell suddenly leaned in closer. "Now, m' lord, what if I told you, that you, too, could profit from this "endeavor"?"

Lord Mullendore's gaze immediately turned guarded.

(End of chapter)