Kapitel 47: Chapter 47: Sacrifice and Gain
Upon hearing the squire's words, Lynd felt a hunch in his heart about the purpose behind the Lord of House Tyrell's summons. Without delay, he headed straight for the main camp.
As Lynd approached, he noticed the Lord's Guards stationed vigilantly around the area. Upon spotting him, they all bowed respectfully but stepped forward to block his path, gesturing toward Glory at his side. One of them spoke in a deferential tone, "Lord Lynd, your pet cannot…"
Lynd regarded the two guards calmly. "It's even more dangerous to leave it outside. Keeping it with me ensures I can control it," he explained.
One guard hesitated, then suggested, "Can't you use a leash…"
Lynd's voice turned firm. "Do not forget, the night before last, it chewed through an iron cage. What kind of leash do you think would hold it?"
"This…" The guards exchanged uncertain glances, unsure how to respond.
"Let him pass," came a commanding voice. Ser Roger, leading another knight, had evidently overheard the exchange. He strode closer and addressed the guards sternly, "If the Lord blames us because you forced Bear Hunter to remain outside, you'll be in trouble."
Reluctantly, the guards stepped aside. Lynd nodded his thanks to Ser Roger, bowing slightly. "Ser Roger."
"Lynd—no, Ser Tarran," corrected Ser Roger, formally addressing him. His gaze flicked to Glory at Lynd's side. "You should still consider finding a chain for it. You'll regret it if it causes trouble."
Lynd responded evenly, "Don't worry, my lord. Glory no longer bites people."
Ser Roger's expression remained grave. "I've heard unsettling rumors about it. Things that defy reason are often terrifying. Many in the camp are uneasy, afraid their souls might be taken in their sleep."
"My lord, surely you don't believe such absurd tales?" Lynd asked, his tone measured.
"It's not about what I believe," Ser Roger began, then stopped, shaking his head. "Never mind. It's pointless to discuss. In any case, you won't be with us much longer."
Though Lynd had an inkling of what this meant, he sought confirmation. "What does my lord mean?"
Ser Roger waved a hand dismissively. "Wait and see. Come with me."
Without elaborating further, he led Lynd and the other knight toward the main tent. Inside, the tent was already crowded with knights and a few young nobles. Standing taller than most, Lynd drew immediate attention upon entering. The crowd parted instinctively, allowing him and Ser Roger to move to the front with ease.
Lord Tyrell's eyes narrowed slightly when he noticed Glory, but he chose not to comment. Instead, he scanned the room and asked, "Is everyone here?"
Ser Roger replied, "Brynden, Gary, and Pym are likely drinking in a tavern brothel on Silk Street. Shall I fetch them?"
"No," Lord Tyrell said, shaking his head. He turned to Maester Moras. "Begin, Maester."
"Yes, my lord." Maester Mollos stepped forward and addressed the assembly.
As the Maester outlined the terms of the matter at hand, the atmosphere in the tent grew heavy. Audible intakes of breath echoed throughout the space as the gathered knights grasped the gravity of what was being proposed. Even the seasoned among them struggled to maintain composure at the prospect of the rewards being offered. For many younger knights, the allure of the opportunity rendered their emotions visibly uncontrollable.
Lynd, however, remained composed. It wasn't that he was unmoved by the offer, but it diverged from his expectations. Based on Vortimer's earlier hints, Lynd had assumed that Tumbleton would be the focal point of Lord Tyrell's plans. But the proposal instead suggested otherwise. It appeared that Lord Tyrell had no intention of rebuilding Tumbleton; his priority seemed solely to secure The Roseroad.
Moreover, Tyrell's plan was clear in its design—one that cost him little. He had no intention of deploying his own troops or funding a military effort. Instead, he sought a knight willing to assemble their own forces and bear the expenses. Success would yield a reward of land, while failure posed no risk to the Lord. It was a gamble—one where the house stood to gain everything while risking nothing.
Still, the offer of becoming a landed knight was a potent lure. For most knights, such a reward represented a lifelong ambition. To hold land, to wield authority—this was the dream that defined many. Indeed, to become a landed knight was to step into the realm of minor lords.
"My lord, I hope to take on this important position," a middle-aged knight said eagerly, stepping forward before the others could react.
"Ser Russell, I admire your courage," Lord Tyrell responded, though his tone betrayed no pleasure. His voice turned stern as he continued, "But courage alone won't suffice. Tell me, how do you plan to recruit enough soldiers? Where will you find the funds to finance an army? And how do you intend to eliminate the bandits north of Bitterbridge?"
The knight froze, unable to respond. His earlier eagerness gave way to visible discomfort as silence stretched out.
The situation in the tent grew tense as the other knights exchanged uneasy looks. Nearly half were mercenary knights who earned a modest weekly wage. After supporting their families and maintaining appearances, they could barely save anything, let alone hire and equip a fighting force. The remaining knights were second or third sons of lords, who might have access to some resources but were unlikely to muster the substantial funds required for such an endeavor without their family's support.
Realizing the near impossibility of the task, the knights fell silent. Their earlier enthusiasm cooled rapidly, leaving the air heavy with resignation.
It was then that some began glancing toward Lynd. One by one, more knights followed suit until every gaze in the tent rested on him. It was no secret that Lynd possessed the champion's prize of 20,000 golden dragons, a sum that could easily fund the formation of an army. While further investment might still be required, an early victory could lead to additional resources, making the task seem achievable—if one had the means to start.
Despite their interest in Lynd's wealth, none dared ask for it. Their relationships with him were too superficial, and they knew their chances of borrowing such a sum were slim. Moreover, Lynd himself was now a knight, equally eligible to undertake the mission.
"My lord, this is an important matter. May I have some time to consider it?" Lynd asked after a moment of reflection, his tone calm and measured.
"Of course," Maester Mollos replied. "Anyone interested should see me before leaving for Highgarden tomorrow. Naturally, I expect those who approach me to have a feasible plan for suppressing the bandits, not just empty enthusiasm."
With this, the meeting concluded. The knights dispersed in small groups, their earlier excitement tempered by the daunting reality of the task.
As Lynd was about to leave the tent, Vortimer stopped him and led him to his quarters. There, Vortimer turned to him directly and asked, "What do you think?"
Lynd considered the question carefully before replying, "This proposal is different from what I expected. The task will take considerable time and demand a substantial investment of golden dragons. I'll need to weigh my options carefully."
Vortimer nodded approvingly. "It's good that you're being cautious," he said. "But tell me, do you recall what I told you about Tumbleton?"
"I've read about Tumbleton in Maester Hawley's books," Lynd replied, a note of curiosity in his voice. "When you first mentioned it, was the Lord planning to rebuild it?"
"Yes," Vortimer admitted. "Maester Mollos originally proposed using Tumbleton as a strategic stronghold to launch operations against the bandits. The plan was to later develop it into an important trading hub linking The Reach to the northern territories."
"Why wasn't the plan implemented?" Lynd asked, his curiosity deepening.
Vortimer sighed. "Because House Footly of Tumbleton refused the territorial exchange proposed by the Lord. They were willing to defend the ruins at all costs, even unto death."
"Couldn't the Lord have used other methods to achieve his goal?" Lynd pressed. "House Tyrell surely has ways to handle a declining house like Footly."
Vortimer's gaze sharpened as he looked at Lynd. "The Maesters have taught you well, but you must use that knowledge wisely. Some actions may seem expedient, but they carry hidden consequences. Small houses may resort to schemes to gain an advantage, but for great houses like Tyrell, such tactics only tarnish their reputation. A ruined reputation is difficult to restore."
He paused, his voice turning serious. "Tumbleton's location is uniquely sensitive. It's not just us watching—it's the Westerlands, the Crownlands, and the Stormlands as well. Any misstep here would be magnified tenfold. That's why the Lord chose to set aside the best proposal rather than risk reckless action against Tumbleton."
Lynd was puzzled and asked, "If Tumbleton's proposal has already been shelved, why are you bringing it up now?"
Vortimer's expression turned serious, as though he was about to share something of great importance. "The Lord may have set aside the proposal, but that doesn't mean others must follow suit," he began. "The current Lady of Tumbleton is Lady Nymeria Footly. She's nineteen, strong-willed, and highly skilled in martial arts. There are even rumors she's the bastard daughter of Prince Lewyn, the former Kingsguard. Her mother, the previous Lady of Tumbleton, was Prince Lewyn's paramour. After his death in battle, his entourage gifted his armor and weapons to the Lady."
Lynd listened in silence, stunned by the sudden and unexpected introduction of Tumbleton's Lady. His confusion was evident as he tried to piece together Vortimer's intentions.
Seeing Lynd's expression, Vortimer sighed. "The Lady is still single."
The implication struck Lynd like a thunderbolt. His eyes widened as he grasped Vortimer's meaning, surprised that someone like Vortimer would suggest such a thing. "This was your idea? A political alliance?" he asked, incredulous.
"No," Vortimer admitted, looking slightly sheepish. "It was Maester Mollos's idea—a remedy of sorts. But the Lord didn't approve. You see, Mollos's proposal was for Lord Garlan to marry the Lady, with the hope that a rebuilt Tumbleton would one day become his territory."
"Lord Garlan?" Lynd echoed in surprise. Although Garlan often carried himself with maturity and spoke with wisdom beyond his years, he was still only ten years old. The idea of him marrying the nineteen-year-old Countess seemed outlandish at first glance.
Then Lynd reconsidered. This is a medieval world, he reminded himself. Age disparities were commonplace in noble marriages. If Lord Jon Arryn could wed Lysa Tully—a woman young enough to be his granddaughter—a ten-year gap was hardly unusual.
"Why didn't the Lord agree?" Lynd asked, still perplexed. In his mind, such a marriage seemed like an advantageous arrangement for House Tyrell—a mutually beneficial alliance.
"Because the Lady has Dornish blood," Vortimer explained simply.
Lynd's expression shifted as understanding dawned. The deep-seated animosity between Dorne and The Reach was no secret. For centuries, the two regions had clashed, dating back to the time of House Gardener. Even under Targaryen rule, while open warfare had subsided, skirmishes and raids continued to plague the borderlands.
The fertile lands of The Reach stood in stark contrast to Dorne's harsh, arid deserts. Dornish raiders frequently crossed the borders to pillage and plunder, leaving many Reach families mourning lost loved ones. As a result, hatred for the Dornish was deeply ingrained in the people of The Reach. While not everyone despised them with fervor, a significant portion viewed the Dornish as enemies, and few harbored favorable opinions.
For an ordinary noble to take a Dornish wife was one thing. But for House Tyrell—the leading house of The Reach—to allow Dornish blood into their line could have far-reaching consequences. It would give their detractors among The Reach's lords ample opportunity to sow discord and undermine Tyrell authority. Even though the Lady was only half Dornish, Mace Tyrell's refusal to entertain the marriage proposal was understandable.
Vortimer leaned forward slightly, his tone deliberate. "While this proposal may not suit the Tyrells, it's perfect for you. It's an opportunity."
Lynd chuckled, his tone light but skeptical. "Do you really think a Lady like that would consider me?"
"Others, perhaps not," Vortimer replied with a knowing smile. "But you? She just might."
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
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Rangliste 
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Stein