Chapter 8: Ghostgrass

"With enough meat and a month's time, could you train a hundred dockworkers to this level?"

Faced with Todd's question, Carter hesitated, unable to give a confident answer.

He had experience training newly conscripted soldiers and knew how challenging it could be.

After a moment, however, Carter stiffened his neck and replied,

"So what? They're still weak! Give me six or seven men, and we could break this group of recruits with a single charge!"

Todd didn't bother to respond.

He clearly remembered how, when Samwell first recruited these men, Carter had sneered, claiming he could scatter all one hundred of them by himself.

Now, just a month later, he needed six or seven others to help him.

Todd wondered how many regular soldiers Carter would need to feel confident about breaking through this group once they reached the Red Mountains.

To be honest, Todd wanted to ask Samwell about his training methods but feared it might be a Tarly family secret. For now, he had to settle for quietly observing from the sidelines.

And while he was observing, Todd noticed something else.

Samwell's own physical abilities seemed to be improving at an astonishing rate.

When they left Highgarden, Samwell had been a hefty man who struggled to mount a horse. But after a month, though still large, he no longer seemed as sluggish.

In the beginning, Samwell had mostly directed the training sessions, occasionally participating, only to tire quickly. But now, he was able to complete the entire routine alongside his recruits—a shocking rate of improvement.

This only reinforced Todd's belief that Samwell's "worthless" reputation was an act, the result of deliberately gaining weight and now going through a "recovery" routine to shed it. That would explain his rapid progress.

With that thought, Todd's expression grew even darker.

The training continued until midday, following Samwell's "marching routine"—a system he'd established since their departure. The mornings were dedicated to training, followed by lunch and a two-hour rest, then a leisurely departure, setting up camp by nightfall. After a hearty meal, the troops would also engage in night drills.

As a result, after a month, they had completed barely half of the journey.

Todd had suggested several times that they speed up their march, but Samwell refused each time.

The "cautious" pioneer knight insisted that he wouldn't venture into the Red Mountains until these new recruits were trained to be proper soldiers.

"I think he's just stalling so he doesn't have to go on this expedition," Carter grumbled to Todd. "Once he runs out of money, he'll have an excuse to give up and return home. What a cowardly Tarly wastrel!"

Todd remained silent.

Encouraged by this, Carter added, "Sir Todd, are you really just going to watch him do this?"

Todd snapped back, "And what would you have me do? Hold a sword to his throat and force him?"

Carter lowered his voice. "Not exactly… but maybe we could scare him a little to keep him on track."

Todd turned, squinting at his squire.

Carter coughed and clarified,

"I mean, maybe a little scare would help him stay focused."

Todd looked away, saying nothing.

---

The scent of cooking meat filled the air as smoke rose from the campfires.

The recruits, exhausted from training, sat cross-legged on the ground, faces full of contentment.

After all, they were eating meat every day—what's not to be happy about?

Over the past month, this journey had felt almost unreal to the new recruits.

They'd expected the hardships of an expedition, but instead, this had become the happiest period of their lives.

The training was grueling, of course, but they were former dockworkers used to hard labor. And with daily meat rations, no amount of effort felt too much.

More and more, they felt that following Lord Caesar on this venture was the best decision they had ever made.

What they didn't know was that their Lord Caesar was facing a dilemma.

His concerns, however, weren't about money. Though his funds were indeed dwindling, Samwell was confident House Tyrell wouldn't let his expedition end prematurely.

After all, they'd already sent a hundred elite soldiers. Would they really hold back on a few more gold dragons?

Samwell's true worry lay with his attribute panel.

Over a month of training had brought significant changes to his stats:

Samwell Caesar

Title: Pioneer Knight

Land: None

Vassals: None

Strength: 1.22

Agility: 0.73

Spirit: 1.12

Both strength and agility had increased substantially, especially strength, thanks largely to his steady diet of golden-tail shrimp.

Of course, it hadn't been cheap.

The rapid depletion of his funds was partly due to feeding his recruits meat daily, but also because he hadn't held back on his own diet.

Golden-tail shrimp was a constant. As long as he found it, he bought it, regardless of the price.

In each town, he also sent Gavin to gather every unique food item he could find, hoping to discover something like the golden-tail shrimp that could boost his stats.

But so far, nothing.

Samwell had tried everything from exotic delicacies to outright strange dishes—snails, lizards, even silkworm pupae—but nothing made a difference.

Worse still, he noticed that once his strength reached 1.20, the golden-tail shrimp's effect had halved.

Yes, he remembered clearly that when he first ate a shrimp after reaching 1.20 strength, there was no response. Only after eating a second did his strength tick up to 1.21.

The remaining 0.01 increase had taken him three grueling days of training to achieve.

This shift frustrated him, and he suspected that as his strength continued to rise, the effect of the golden-tail shrimp would decrease further.

As for agility, while he hadn't found any foods to enhance it, it continued to rise at a good pace.

This likely owed to its low starting point, which made gains easier. Also, the increase in strength might have contributed indirectly—after all, logically, more strength should lead to greater speed.

With his recent weight loss, his movements had grown freer as well.

But as agility continued to increase, Samwell expected it would eventually plateau, just like strength.

As for spirit, it hadn't budged in over a month.

But Samwell wasn't too concerned. After all, Daenerys's dragons hadn't hatched yet, and the mystical side of this world remained dormant. Even if he raised his spirit, it likely wouldn't have any immediate benefits.

For now, raising strength and agility was more practical.

With that in mind, Samwell mentally repeated, "I am an unstoppable eating machine," as he numbly shoved the assortment of strange foods Gavin had brought back into his mouth.

With each odd taste flooding his senses, Samwell's face grew increasingly grim.

But suddenly, his eyes lit up!

"Gavin!"

"Yes, my lord?"

"What is this plant called?" Samwell held up a silver-white wild grass, his tone urgent.

Because after eating it, his spirit had increased by 0.01!

Though it wasn't the strength or agility he had hoped for, finding something that boosted his spirit was an opportunity he wouldn't pass up.

"My lord, that's called ghostgrass."

(End of Chapter)