Chapter 4: The Banquet

By the time Samwell entered the banquet hall, the evening sun's glow had nearly faded.

Thousands of scented candles illuminated the hall as though it were daylight, and thick woolen carpets covered the floor, soft and plush underfoot, like walking on clouds.

In the spacious hall, long wooden tables were set up, each draped with navy-blue velvet cloth and adorned with fresh roses of various colors.

A gentle fragrance filled the air, refreshing and soothing.

An elegantly dressed attendant led Samwell to his seat and poured him a glass of golden Arbor wine.

Although the banquet had not yet officially started, a considerable number of guests had already arrived, chatting softly in small groups.

Lord Randyll and his younger brother, Dickon, were also present, though their seats were not arranged near Samwell.

Lord Randyll seemed not to notice his eldest son's arrival, sipping his wine in silence. Dickon, however, waved at his brother, looking like he wanted to come over to talk. But after glancing at his stern-faced father, he didn't dare move.

Before long, the host of the castle finally appeared.

The Duke of Highgarden looked to be in his fifties, his curly brown hair—a trait of House Tyrell—streaked with gray. Broad-shouldered and stout, he'd earned the mocking nickname "Lord Fat Flower" behind closed doors.

Yet "Lord Fat Flower" looked healthy, his face ruddy, voice strong, and stride confident, showing no signs of "illness."

He didn't even bother to fake it?

Samwell muttered internally, though he rose along with everyone else to greet the duke.

As Duke Mace took his place at the head of the table, the banquet began in earnest.

Graceful young maidens glided between the tables like butterflies, serving delicious dishes one after another.

Salmon salad, roasted venison leg, seared lamprey, creamy chestnut soup, honeyed pine nut cake, freshly picked strawberries, and even a rare dish of golden-tail shrimp—Samwell's appetite was thoroughly stirred.

This banquet was ostensibly held to celebrate Samwell's new title as Pioneer Knight. However, Duke Mace barely concealed his disdain for House Tarly's "worthless" eldest son. After a cursory introduction, he quickly shifted the topic.

Everyone knew Samwell's title was merely a formality—an excuse for Lord Randyll to replace his heir. No one believed this infamous fool of the Reach would actually conquer new land.

Some even whispered, chuckling over tales of the "knight knighted by a woman."

Samwell ignored the gossip and focused on the feast.

When he peeled the shell off a golden-tail shrimp and bit into the tender, juicy meat, he suddenly froze.

His strength attribute had increased by 0.01!

Could eating increase attributes?

Samwell was thrilled and quickly devoured the rest of his food.

However, his attributes didn't change further.

After taking a sip of wine and mulling it over, he formed a hypothesis.

He called over a nearby maid and asked:

"Could you please bring me another serving of golden-tail shrimp?"

The maid looked at the plump knight before her, suppressing a smile as she nodded.

"Of course, sir, just a moment."

When the second plate of golden-tail shrimp arrived, Samwell eagerly dug in.

Sure enough!

His strength increased by another 0.01!

It really was the golden-tail shrimp that was increasing his strength.

Elated, Samwell called for the maid again, ignoring the disapproving glances from around him, and ordered another portion.

He knew that golden-tail shrimp was an extremely rare delicacy; once he left the duke's residence, getting his hands on more would be expensive and difficult.

So, what need was there to worry about noble manners or etiquette?

Besides, he had little dignity left to preserve in the eyes of the nobles of the Reach.

However, after Samwell finished his third golden-tail shrimp and seemed ready to order a fourth, even Duke Mace couldn't hold back, chuckling as he asked:

"Samwell, are the golden-tail shrimp that delicious?"

Unfazed, Samwell wiped his mouth with a napkin, stood, and respectfully replied, "Yes, Your Grace. This is the finest dish I've ever tasted. I apologize for my poor restraint."

Faced with Samwell's shamelessness and flattery, Duke Mace was at a loss for words. To say more might make him seem a stingy host.

"Well then, eat your fill—but don't eat so much that you can't mount a horse tomorrow! Hahaha…"

Pleased with his own jest, Duke Mace laughed heartily, his expression as pleased as a pumpkin at harvest.

The other guests laughed along, filling the hall with an air of merriment.

Samwell ignored their laughter and loudly thanked the duke for his generosity, before turning back to the maid and saying:

"Another plate of golden-tail shrimp, please!"

If they were already laughing at him, why not make the most of it?

But just then, the steward approached, looking apologetic:

"My sincerest apologies, Ser, but the golden-tail shrimp is all gone."

Samwell suspected the man was simply unwilling to serve him more, but he could only sigh and drop the matter.

Duke Mace suddenly chuckled again.

"Samwell, the kitchen still has plenty of venison. Care for some?"

Who wants venison?

Samwell was about to decline when the duke's mother, the "Queen of Thorns," Lady Olenna Redwyne, suddenly spoke up:

"I've never been fond of seafood with shells. Samwell, if you don't mind, you may have my portion."

Samwell glanced at the petite, silver-haired lady, surprised. He wondered why the famously sharp-tongued "Queen of Thorns" was being so gracious toward him.

He was hardly a promising young knight, and he had nothing she could possibly want.

Outwardly, though, Samwell put on a look of honor and smiled as he bowed:

"Lady Olenna's gift—I would never refuse."

"Good, good," Olenna smiled. "A fine knight must have a fine appetite. Take it, then."

The maid was about to serve Olenna's shrimp to Samwell, but Olenna signaled to her granddaughter Margaery instead.

Margaery immediately understood, personally lifting the plate and walking it over to Samwell.

She, too, was puzzled as to why her grandmother was being so courteous to Samwell, but as a shrewd young woman, she kept her curiosity hidden, following Olenna's lead in this show of favor.

Samwell, deeply honored, stood and expressed his gratitude.

"You are a knight of my own making. There's no need for such formality." Margaery set the silver plate before him with a gentle smile, graceful as ever.

This evening, the duke's daughter was dressed in a pure white satin gown that hugged her figure, showcasing every alluring curve. Her elaborate gold headpiece, sapphire necklace, and tiered silk chiffon skirt radiated opulence unique to the upper nobility.

One look, and the gap in social rank was clear, leaving one feeling utterly unworthy.

But here was the most beautiful Rose of Highgarden, personally serving a supposed "buffoon."

This sight left everyone in the hall stunned.

The young men, in particular, shot seething glares that could have roasted Samwell.

Yet, while Margaery's approach delighted Samwell on the surface, he couldn't help but feel wary.

Naturally, he played the part of a timid young man, looking awestruck yet bashfully thrilled by the attention of a noble lady.

Watching Samwell's awkwardness in the face of her granddaughter's charms, Olenna's lips curved with amusement.

"Samwell, where will you begin your expansion? Do you have a target in mind?"

"Honored Lady Olenna, I… I haven't decided yet."

"Since you don't yet have a plan, I have a suggestion."

Samwell's guard shot up.

People say all gifts from fate are priced in advance, and it was clear that the "Queen of Thorns" wasn't offering her favor for free.

Still, he'd already accepted her golden-tail shrimp, and he was on her turf, so rejecting her wasn't an option. He said:

"Please, go ahead."

Olenna only shook her head, teasingly withholding her idea. "This isn't the place for such talk. Come find me tomorrow, and we'll discuss it in detail."

"Certainly, my lady."

(End of Chapter)