Bab 384: Chapter 385: Mercy
The knock on the door by a servant reminding them of the upcoming banquet finally drew Samwell and Daenerys from their bath.
Samwell dressed quickly and turned to his wife, who was busy fixing her hair.
"I'll go check on Margaery."
"Alright," Daenerys replied with a smile.
Samwell left the room, his footsteps echoing through the hallways. After a short walk, he arrived at Margaery's chambers.
Opening the door, he saw five people engaged in conversation.
Margaery sat at the head of the room, next to her baby's cradle. To her left were Mace Tyrell and Leyton Hightower. On her right sat a middle-aged man with orange hair and dark eyes, alongside his wife. The man, clearly in his forties, was Desmond Redwyne, cousin to Paxter Redwyne of the Arbor.
Upon seeing Samwell enter, Desmond immediately stood and bowed respectfully. The others followed suit, rising to greet him.
Samwell returned their bows with a nod, his gaze briefly lingering on Mace and Leyton before focusing on Desmond.
"Ser Desmond," Samwell said as he took a seat beside Margaery. "Couldn't Paxter attend the council himself?"
"My lord cousin is unwell," Desmond explained with a polite smile. "He sent me to represent him. As for the unfortunate incident in the Dornish Sea last month, he deeply regrets it. The Arbor has no intention of standing against you."
Samwell's cold laugh interrupted him.
"Enough with the false pleasantries. It was the Arbor fleet that initiated the attack on mine, wasn't it? Let's not pretend the Redwynes don't hate me with every fiber of their being."
Desmond hastily replied:
"That was in the past, Your Grace. Now, the Redwyne family is ready to reconcile."
Leyton Hightower joined in, his tone conciliatory:
"Indeed, Your Grace. We've been discussing this matter, and Paxter is willing to make amends. His proposal is quite sincere."
Mace Tyrell seemed ready to speak, but a warning look from Margaery stopped him. Remembering her earlier advice, he held his tongue.
Samwell smiled faintly.
"Oh? And what exactly is Paxter proposing?"
Desmond answered:
"Lord Paxter is prepared to kneel and swear fealty to you…"
"That's it?" Samwell asked, unimpressed.
"We can also help you eliminate the threat of the Iron Fleet."
"And how exactly do you plan to do that?" Samwell's tone turned mocking. "If I recall correctly, most of the Arbor fleet now lies at the bottom of the Dornish Sea. Do you still have the strength to confront Euron Greyjoy?"
Desmond looked embarrassed but pressed on:
"Not in open battle, perhaps. But there are other ways. Before news of our allegiance to you spreads, Paxter will invite Euron to the Arbor to discuss an alliance for revenge. And then…"
Desmond made a slashing gesture across his throat, leaving no doubt about his meaning.
Samwell smirked.
"You're confident Euron will fall for such a trap?"
"I believe he will," Leyton Hightower chimed in. "The Arbor's fleet is nearly destroyed, and combined with the loss of Lady Olenna, Euron will see the Redwynes' hatred for you as genuine. He won't suspect Paxter has already surrendered."
Samwell chuckled.
"But the truth is, you have surrendered, haven't you?"
Desmond hurriedly replied:
"Your Grace, the Redwynes hold no grudge that cannot be forgiven. Please, show mercy. Let us prove our loyalty by offering you Euron's head."
"And perhaps even return Queen Daenerys's golden dragon, which Euron stole," Leyton added smoothly.
Samwell felt extremely annoyed when he saw the father-in-law and son-in-law singing the same tune.
But Samwell's outward expression remained unreadable. Though he despised the Redwynes, he knew Leyton Hightower carried significant weight in the Reach. Ignoring him entirely would not be wise.
After a pause, Leyton tried again:
"Your Grace, a king must show mercy when appropriate. Otherwise, no one will ever consider surrendering to you again."
At this, Samwell's cold laugh returned.
"Have I not been merciful before?" His voice cut through the room like a blade. "After the Stag Faction's rebellion, I extended an olive branch. Did Paxter Redwyne not hear my terms clearly when I sent envoys to the Arbor?"
Desmond fidgeted uncomfortably. He remembered well that envoys from Highgarden had come to the Arbor after Lady Olenna's death, urging Paxter to surrender. But Paxter, blinded by rage and emboldened by the Arbor's fleet, had stubbornly refused.
The tables had since turned, and Desmond knew it.
"Your Grace…" Desmond tried to defend his lord cousin, but Samwell cut him off sharply:
"I gave Paxter Redwyne a chance, but he spurned my mercy. Now, only the thunderous hammer of justice awaits the Arbor. Perhaps that will teach others not to squander my clemency."
Samwell's gaze shifted to Leyton.
"Don't you agree, Lord Hightower?"
Leyton sighed quietly, knowing further persuasion was futile.
"Your Grace, the Redwynes were wrong, but winter is coming. You've said yourself that unity is vital to face the threats from the North. If that's the case, why not give them one last chance?"
Desmond seized the moment:
"Yes, Your Grace! Let us eliminate the Iron Fleet for you. If we fail, then punish us as you see fit."
Samwell leaned back in his chair, feigning thoughtfulness, then smiled.
"Very well. I'll give you one last chance."
Desmond's face lit up with relief.
"Thank you, Your Grace! The Redwyne family will forever remember your benevolence."
"Not so fast." Samwell raised a hand, cutting off Desmond's celebration. "To help you deal with Euron—and to ensure he doesn't grow suspicious—I'll provide you with a small gift."
"A gift?" Desmond asked cautiously. "Your Grace, if Euron sees any sign of collusion between us, he'll grow wary…"
"You won't think that once you see the gift."
With that, Samwell left the room.
When he returned moments later, he carried a wooden box.
"Here," Samwell said, offering it to Desmond.
The knight hesitated, catching the faint scent of blood wafting from the box. Swallowing nervously, he asked:
"Your Grace… what's in here?"
"Open it."
Desmond obeyed, his trembling hands lifting the lid.
Inside was the severed, blood-soaked head of Horas Redwyne, the Arbor's heir.
Samwell's voice turned glacial.
"Now Euron won't doubt the sincerity of your invitation."
Desmond froze in place, trembling violently. Whether from fear or fury, it was impossible to tell.
"Your Grace… this…"
"This is justice," Samwell declared coldly. "It's punishment for rejecting my earlier mercy. Now, the choice is yours—accept my terms or reject them. But know this: you won't get another chance."
Desmond stared at the box in silence, his face pale as stone.
Leyton Hightower sighed heavily, offering no further argument.
(End of Chapter)
Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
stone