Chapter 55: Chapter 55: The Deal
"So you're really going to duel Samwell Caesar tomorrow?" Steffon looked at his son with astonishment.
"Yes, Father," Daven replied, still fuming. "That fool had the nerve to insult the Lannister family. Of course, I have to teach him a lesson!"
Steffon sighed, seeing right through his son. "Don't give me that, this is really all to impress Lady Desmera, isn't it?"
"Fine, yes," Daven admitted.
Shaking his head, Steffon replied, "Well, I was about to speak to you about this. We've been on the Arbor for days, and Lord Paxter still hasn't given us a straight answer. It's obvious by now—he doesn't intend for you to marry his daughter."
"What? Why?" Daven's eyes went wide, his voice suddenly rising. "Does he think I'm not good enough for her? Or… wait, does he have someone better in mind—"
He paused, then suddenly stopped in his tracks, realization flashing across his face. The next moment, the young Lannister sprang from his chair, shouting with such force the doors and windows rattled.
"It's that blasted Reach knight, isn't it? He wants to marry her off to that damn pioneering knight instead of me, doesn't he?"
Steffon gave a resigned nod. "That's my guess…"
"Why!" Daven was so furious he started pacing the room, as if ready to draw his sword and storm out. "How am I inferior to him? How am I not enough! No! I won't stand for this! Tomorrow, I'll best him in the duel! I'll make Lord Paxter and Lady Desmera see who the true knight really is!"
"And what good will that do?" Steffon shot back, exasperated. "Do you think Desmera is some trophy to be awarded to the winner?"
Daven froze, seething, his chest heaving with anger.
Sighing, Steffon tried to comfort his son. "Look, the problem isn't you, alright? It's clear that Paxter has his own plans. I did some digging on Samwell Caesar, and I'll admit, his story is a bit peculiar."
"He's the eldest son of House Tarly, yet he gave up his birthright to take on that barren land in the Red Mountains. And somehow, he's actually made it work. He's even got over ten thousand wildlings under his rule now. My guess is that House Tyrell has their eye on him for something… it's no wonder Paxter would want to marry his daughter to him."
Daven's face was stony. "So, we're just supposed to give up?"
"Yes. We'll speak to Lord Paxter tomorrow and take our leave. And as for your duel with Samwell, let's call that off too. No point wasting your energy on it."
"No! I don't care—I'm going to fight him, one way or another!"
Looking at his son's defiant stance, Steffon frowned. He hadn't expected his usually calm and clever son to become so irrational over a woman.
Was he truly so taken with her? Or was this just youthful passion clouding his judgment?
Before Steffon could say more, there was a knock at the door.
"Who is it?"
"Samwell Caesar, here to see Ser Steffon."
At the sound of his voice, Daven whipped around, his bloodshot eyes flaring as his fists clenched tightly.
Steffon immediately got to his feet, snapping at his son, "Sit down! And mind your temper!"
Then he opened the door.
"Ser Caesar, what brings you here at this hour?"
Samwell gave a polite smile. "I thought I might have a word with you, if you're available."
Steffon took a long, hard look at the young knight before stepping aside. "Come in."
Once inside, Samwell saw Daven glowering at him, his eyes blazing with barely restrained fury.
"Good evening, Ser Daven," Samwell said, smiling as he sat down opposite him.
Daven didn't answer, only glared at Samwell, as though hoping his stare alone could kill him.
Steffon took a seat between them, clearly worried that his son might lose control. "Well, Ser Caesar, let's hear it. What brings you here tonight?"
"It's simple. I understand why you're here on the Arbor, but to save you some trouble, I should tell you—Lord Paxter has already decided that Lady Desmera will marry me."
The news nearly sent Daven out of his seat again, and it was only his father's firm hand that kept him down.
Steffon's gaze darkened as he looked at Samwell. "So you came to gloat?"
"Not at all," Samwell replied, shaking his head. "I just don't want you wasting your time. So, why don't we call off the duel for tomorrow?"
"Oh, so you're scared?" Daven sneered, finally breaking his silence.
"It's not fear. I just think it's pointless. Whether I win or lose, Lady Desmera is still going to marry me."
"Then I'll just beat you bloody, to make a point!"
Samwell sighed, as if resigned. "Is it really worth it, Ser Daven? Picking a fight with me—and by extension, with Lord Paxter—just to save your pride? Look, I'll make you an offer: ten gold dragons if you call off the duel."
Both Steffon and Daven burst out laughing.
When they'd finished, Daven jeered, "Ten gold dragons? Are you trying to insult us?"
Steffon added, "House Lannister doesn't take bribes, Ser Caesar. We're the ones who hand them out."
Samwell shrugged. "Everything has a price, Ser Steffon. So, name it."
Shaking his head, Steffon replied, "Some things can't be bought with gold, like honor. If I offered you a hundred gold dragons to throw the duel tomorrow, would you take it?"
Before Samwell could respond, Daven interjected, "Father, I don't need your money. I can beat him with my own strength!"
Steffon held up a hand to silence him, his eyes fixed on Samwell, who seemed to hesitate, as if considering the offer.
"Well… I might be open to it," Samwell finally said. "As I said, Lady Desmera will marry me regardless, so what harm would it do to let you win?"
Daven scoffed, "You're a disgrace to knighthood. You don't deserve the title!"
Shrugging again, Samwell said, "You don't understand. My land desperately needs funding. Sometimes one has to compromise. So, Ser Steffon, are you serious about the hundred dragons?"
A gleam of understanding crossed Steffon's face. "I'll give you a thousand."
"Father!" Daven looked at his father, aghast, but Steffon raised his hand to stop him.
"One thousand gold dragons, to renounce your claim on Lady Desmera entirely."
"Impossible!" Samwell protested. "Do you really think I'd give up on Lady Desmera for a bit of money?"
"Two thousand gold dragons," Steffon continued, his tone steely. "You said everything has a price. Let this be yours."
"Still no," Samwell replied firmly. "My feelings for Lady Desmera are steadfast."
Despite the rejection, Steffon spotted a flicker of hesitation in Samwell's eyes.
A confident smile played on his lips. "Three thousand."
As one of Westeros's most powerful families, the Lannisters knew better than anyone how to use wealth to get what they wanted.
"Please, don't belittle my feelings for Lady Desmera," Samwell protested.
"Four thousand," Steffon offered.
Samwell looked more tempted now, the hesitation growing on his face.
"Five thousand." Steffon moved closer, his voice low and persuasive. "That's enough to fund a small army for your land."
Finally, after what appeared to be an intense inner struggle, Samwell replied, "Fine. I'll withdraw, but I need ten thousand gold dragons."
"No chance," Steffon said with a smirk. "Even if Lady Desmera were made of gold, she wouldn't be worth that much."
"Alright, how about we compromise at eight thousand?"
"Five thousand."
"Alright, I'll settle for seven thousand?"
"Five thousand," Steffon repeated firmly.
Realizing he wouldn't get more, Samwell feigned a defeated sigh and, after a moment's thought, nodded. "Deal."
Daven blinked, still struggling to process what had just happened. A duel had somehow turned into a transaction, and he could hardly believe it.
But he couldn't deny the satisfaction spreading across his face, knowing he might finally win Desmera's hand after all—even if it came at the steep price of five thousand dragons.
(End of Chapter)
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