Bab 214: Chapter 215: The Stag(Horse?) Hunt
From the knowing look in his uncle's eyes, Samwell quickly understood that House Peake had already been swayed to their side.
"Lord Titus," he greeted respectfully.
"Samwell, you must visit Starpike sometime," replied Lord Titus Peake, his tone unmistakably warm. "Perhaps you could teach a few lessons to my good-for-nothing sons—they could use a dose of reality."
"It would be my honor," Samwell replied.
The hunt was more than a simple outing; it was also an important occasion for noble networking. As Ser Alekyne Florent organized the field, dividing the game among the participants, the nobles took off their helmets, gathering to chat and reinforce their connections.
Unexpectedly, for a minor lord of no great standing, Samwell found himself surrounded by a crowd of Reach nobility—Peakes, Rowans, Hightowers, Cuys, Fossoways, and Webbers all engaged him in conversation.
Margaery, clinging to Samwell's arm with a delighted smile, watched him hold his own in the company of prominent Reach lords with admiration and pride. Just two and a half years ago, he had been the "useless Tarly heir," a chubby, timid figure driven from his home. Now, he was Samwell Caesar, a name known across the Seven Kingdoms, almost legendary.
Margaery could hardly believe it herself. Watching him command the attention of so many influential figures, she thought her father's influence in the Reach might not surpass Samwell's much longer. Although a hint of worry crept into her mind, she quickly pushed it aside. Surely, her father would come to understand her choice—she was doing this for House Tyrell's future.
At some point, Cleopatra returned from her hunt, drawing more attention and interest from the gathered lords. Samwell's circle of admirers grew even larger as the nobles were drawn by the young dragon.
By noon, servants had kindled a bonfire, preparing lunch for the group.
With the wild boars they had hunted earlier, there was enough to share.
Before they could begin eating, however, another horn sounded in the distance.
It seemed that another hunting party had encountered large game. But with most of the nobles eager to enjoy their meal, only a few knights responded and rode off in the direction of the horn.
Samwell remained seated, slicing pieces of raw meat for Cleopatra. She roasted each piece with a burst of dragonfire, savoring the meal with a satisfied hiss.
Watching Cleopatra cook her food, Margaery asked curiously, "Sam, what does dragonfire-roasted meat taste like?"
"Not much different. Try it yourself." Samwell placed a piece of the dragon-cooked meat on her plate.
"Thank you!" Margaery's eyes sparkled with delight.
Cleopatra, however, was not pleased to see her food taken away and voiced her discontent with an irritated hiss. Samwell quickly sliced another piece of meat to appease the little dragon.
Seeing this, Uncle Alekyne joined in, asking to try a piece of dragon-roasted meat himself. Soon, more nobles came over, eager for a taste, and Cleopatra was put to work roasting meat for them all.
Amused by the spectacle, the nobles laughed as they drifted back to their seats, allowing Cleopatra to rest.
Samwell was just soothing his annoyed dragon when a rider galloped up and announced, "A red deer has been spotted to the northeast! A red deer to the northeast!"
In Westeros, deer were considered the noblest game in the forest and the prized catch of any hunting event. No noble wanted to miss a stag hunt.
The nobles quickly put aside their food, mounting their horses and setting off in pursuit.
Soon, the air filled with the sounds of hooves and clouds of dust as the hunt resumed.
Samwell joined the chase, riding northeast for about ten minutes until he reached the gathering of nobles, where the red deer had already been surrounded.
The creature was magnificent, its coat a rich red with a ring of white around its neck, standing nearly five feet tall with a crown of impressive antlers.
"Pull back the hounds! Pull back the hounds!" shouted Lord Mathis Rowan. "If any dog injures that stag, I'll have its owner whipped!"
Red stags symbolized nobility, and a white-ringed stag was a symbol of royal authority. It was out of the question to let mere hounds maul such a creature.
To honor the noble animal, the hunt had to be conducted without hounds or weapons.
The most respected way to capture a stag was to do so bare-handed, a task usually reserved for the king or the highest-ranking noble present.
The stag was trapped against a swift river, hemmed in on all sides. Realizing its plight, it threw its head back and let out a mournful cry, its call echoing through the forest.
"Is the Puff Fish here yet?" Lord Mathis asked, using the unflattering nickname for Lord Mace Tyrell, loud enough for everyone to hear. Samwell suspected it was intentional, especially given Mathis's volume.
"Mace has never captured a stag before," Ser Alekyne Florent said dryly.
"Then what are we waiting for?" Lord Mathis sneered, glancing pointedly at Samwell. "Samwell, it's yours!"
Samwell hesitated for a moment before noticing that all eyes had turned to him. Some gazes were surprised, some skeptical, some filled with amusement, and others encouraging. In that moment, this young lord became the center of attention.
"Alright," Samwell replied with a slight smile, dismounting and handing his spear to a squire. He walked toward the stag, surrounded by murmurs from the crowd but without a word of protest.
In truth, the most difficult part of hunting a stag was tracking and cornering it. Stags, unlike boars or bears, were not especially dangerous.
As Samwell approached, the stag, sensing his threat, took a few steps back. With the river at its back, it had nowhere to retreat. It pawed the ground nervously, its breath coming in heavy snorts, as if preparing to charge.
The antlers were indeed intimidating.
But at that moment, Cleopatra swooped down, letting out a hiss tinged with the smell of sulfur.
The dragon's aura rippled through the air, and any trace of resistance the stag might have held vanished. It froze, then lowered its head.
Samwell placed his hand on the stag's head and pressed down. With a final, plaintive cry, the stag's legs buckled, and it knelt.
The nobles erupted in cheers.
Hovering above him, Cleopatra flapped her wings rapidly, clearly intrigued by the captured stag.
Just then, the sound of galloping hooves filled the air.
"Where is it? I heard there was a red deer!" Lord Mace Tyrell's booming voice rang out.
The crowd parted to make way as Mace rode in on a black horse, flanked by Paxtor Redwyne, Leyton Hightower, and other prominent lords.
When Mace saw Samwell had already subdued the stag, his face flushed with anger.
"Caesar! Who are you, a mere vassal, to hunt a stag?" he bellowed.
Samwell calmly released the stag, allowing it to stand, then grasped its antlers and led it slowly toward Lord Mace.
"Samwell Caesar! Answer me!" Mace roared again.
The clearing fell silent as everyone waited to see how Samwell would respond to his liege lord.
Samwell's face held an impeccable smile, as if he hadn't heard Mace's question at all. As he drew closer, he finally spoke.
"Lord Mace, you're mistaken. This is no stag; it's clearly a wild horse."
Mace blinked, momentarily thrown off by the absurdity of the statement. Then his face darkened, and he shouted, "Are you blind? This is obviously a stag!"
"It's a horse," Samwell replied calmly. "Ask anyone here if you doubt me."
"Do I need to ask…?" Mace's voice trailed off as a cold voice interrupted him from behind.
"It's a horse."
Mace turned, bewildered, to find Randyll Tarly's unwavering gaze fixed on him.
Furious, Mace raised his riding crop and pointed it at Randyll. "So, Tarly! You're conspiring with your son to deceive me?"
"Lord Mace," Lord Mathis Rowan interjected, "Randyll and Caesar are right. It's a horse. No need to get so upset."
"Absurd!" Mace's face grew redder by the second. "You're all…!"
"It's a horse, Lord Mace," Ser Alekyne Florent cut in bluntly.
"It's a stag!" declared Lord Paxtor Redwyne, sensing the tension and rushing to support Mace. "Don't let them deceive you, my lord."
"Exactly! It's a stag!" Mace shouted, encouraged by Paxtor's support.
"It's a horse, my lord," replied Lord Titus Peake with a mocking grin.
"It's a stag!" declared Lady Arwyn Oakheart, her furious gaze fixed on Samwell, the one who had killed her son.
"It's a horse," Lord Reynauld Webber countered.
"It's a stag!" called out Lord Guncer Grimm of Greyshield, though his voice was quickly drowned out by a chorus of "It's a horse!" from the crowd.
As the voices rose, Mace's face drained of color. He began to realize the situation was spiraling beyond his control.
Those voices, each insisting it was a horse, felt like slaps landing one after another on his face, each "It's a horse!" battering Mace Tyrell's composure.
He staggered slightly, turning his eyes toward Lord Leyton Hightower, who had remained silent through the exchange. Desperation entered his gaze as he asked, almost pleadingly, "Leyton, surely you can see this is a stag, yes?"
Leyton glanced between the visibly sweating Mace Tyrell and the resolute Samwell, who stood beside the kneeling stag with Cleopatra hovering overhead. Leyton sighed inwardly, knowing all too well the shift that had taken place among the Reach lords today.
Turning his gaze to Samwell and his dragon, Leyton finally replied, "Lord Mace, perhaps you should take a closer look."
Mace's mouth fell open, as if struck by a thunderbolt. He gaped in silence, clearly lost for words.
And with Leyton's subtle declaration, the remaining nobles who hadn't yet spoken began to voice their support in quick succession—lords from House Cuy, House Mullendore, House Beesbury, and House Bulwer all proclaimed in unison:
"It's a horse!"
"It's a horse!"
"It's a horse!"
This cascade of declarations, spurred by the support of House Hightower, swept across the gathered nobles. The sheer weight of their voices marked a decisive shift in loyalty—a signal that Mace Tyrell, for all his power, was rapidly losing control over his own vassals.
Mace Tyrell's face paled, his entire body beginning to tremble.
Samwell turned to him, his smile triumphant but polite. "Lord Mace, may I offer you this fine wild horse as a gift?"
Mace swayed slightly in his saddle, his eyes unfocused. The image of the stag blurred before him, merging with a haunting vision of his visit to Skyreach, where he'd seen Samwell kill a king without a second thought.
For the first time, Mace Tyrell truly grasped the ruthlessness of his opponent—the man standing before him was someone who dared to kill Kings.
Would he dare to kill me, too?
A wave of fear washed over Mace, his shoulders drooping in submission. With a shudder, he forced a weak smile, his gaze unable to meet Samwell's steady eyes.
"Yes… yes, I… I'm grateful… for the horse you've given me…" he stammered, voice quivering as he tried to sound gracious.
With that final, fractured sentence, Mace Tyrell's authority collapsed in the eyes of his bannermen.
(End of Chapter)
TL: Fun fact this is actually a real peace of history where in ancient china there was a man named Zhao Gao, Zhao Gao was a man who was hungry for power. After declaring Huhai Qin Er Shi, the second emperor of the Qin Dynasty, he decided to control the entire government. The man brought a deer to a meeting. He showed that deer to the emperor and the officials, and said it was a great horse.
Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
stone