章 54: Chapter 54: Temptation
'Not in the slightest', Samwell thought to himself.
While Desmera was certainly beautiful and from a high enough family that marrying her would be a leap in status for him, Samwell didn't for a moment believe that Lord Paxter Redwyne's intentions were that straightforward.
Every favor comes with a hidden price tag. Before accepting, one must pause and consider carefully if it will eventually empty one's own purse—or demand a lifetime of repayment.
Outwardly, however, Samwell maintained an expression of pleasant surprise. "Who could possibly resist Lady Desmera's charm? I only… worry that I might be unworthy of your daughter, my lord."
"As things stand, indeed you aren't. My daughter could hardly be married off to a barren, remote place like Eagle's eyrie. But if I were to help you reclaim your original family name, then surely Tarly lands would be a fitting place for her."
At last, Samwell fully understood Lord Paxter's scheme.
He had to admit, it was well-calculated.
"But, my lord, I've already taken on the name Caesar. The inheritance of Horn Hill has nothing to do with me anymore."
"That's nonsense," Lord Paxter replied smoothly. "As long as Tarly blood runs through your veins, your claim to Horn Hill remains intact. Don't worry about Lord Randyll's opinion; once you marry my daughter, I'll handle any other obstacles for you."
Even knowing this was clearly a trap, Samwell's heart still beat a little faster.
It was undeniably tempting.
It seemed as if all he had to do was nod, and beauty, wealth, and lands would all fall into his lap.
But Samwell knew this offer was like a poisoned apple.
If he accepted, then the brandy recipe, the silver mine awaiting development, and Eagle's Eyrie—a barren but strategically valuable land—would all quickly become part of the Redwyne family's holdings.
Even he himself would become a pawn in the Redwynes' schemes for the inheritance of Horn Hill.
Still, Samwell didn't actually believe that the Redwyne family had any real chance of claiming that inheritance.
Lord Paxter's promises sounded grand: "As long as you marry my daughter, I'll solve all the problems for you."
'What a load of bull'.
For Samwell to reclaim the Tarly name would depend entirely on whether Lord Randyll agreed.
On the surface, having the support of the Redwyne family might make it seem easier to sway his father, to make him reconsider Samwell as his heir, but in reality, it would do quite the opposite.
Randyll Tarly was not one to be swayed so easily.
In the original story, Randyll had arranged for his younger son, Dickon, to marry the eldest daughter of House Mooton in Maidenpool.
At the time, the Mooton family, after backing the wrong side in the War of the Five Kings, was struggling to rebuild its former strength.
Randyll's plan to marry his son to Lord William Mooton's daughter showed his clear intent to gain influence over Maidenpool.
A powerful lord like Randyll, always scheming to expand his own influence, would never permit another family to meddle in his own lands.
So, if Samwell were to marry Desmera, Randyll would be even less likely to name him as his heir.
Otherwise, in the future, the real question would be: who would ultimately control Horn Hill—the Tarlys, or the far wealthier Redwynes?
"I deeply apologize, my lord, but I swore to my father that I would never return to Horn Hill," Samwell replied smoothly, using his oath as an excuse.
Lord Paxter's face didn't change; he seemed entirely undeterred by this response.
"No matter," replied the lord of the Arbor. "Your child with Desmera could still go back to Horn Hill."
Samwell's mouth twitched.
He knew full well that Lord Paxter's seemingly casual response carried a veiled implication of bloodshed.
Under what circumstances would his and Desmera's child inherit Horn Hill?
Clearly, it would be if his brother Dickon's entire line were dead.
Samwell couldn't help but marvel—did all the Great House of Westeros truly have a hearts of stone?
"My lord, may I have some time to think this over?" Samwell looked at the garden, where Desmera was laughing and chatting with Daven, as an idea began to take shape in his mind.
In dealing with such scheming and ruthless Lords, Samwell realized he couldn't afford to be overly naive. A few harmless tricks here and there wouldn't be remiss; otherwise, he would eventually find himself chewed up and swallowed whole.
"Very well, but I'd appreciate a prompt reply." Lord Paxter drained his wine. "Otherwise, I might just accept the Lannister family's offer."
'As if', Samwell thought, casting a glance at Daven, who had conveniently been presented as his "competition." He put on an anxious expression and replied, "Alright, my lord. I'll get back to you as soon as possible."
With that, Lord Paxter ended the meeting and left the room in haste.
A waiting butler escorted Samwell to his quarters.
After tidying himself up, Samwell left the room and walked toward the garden he had seen earlier.
Since Lord Paxter was so eager to marry off his daughter to him, Samwell figured he might as well do his part as Desmera's "potential fiancé."
If he was going to play along, he might as well put on a convincing performance.
"Samwell!" As soon as he entered the garden, Desmera waved enthusiastically, calling out to him. "Are you finished speaking with my father?"
"Yes, Lady Desmera," Samwell replied politely. "I hope my presence hasn't disrupted your gathering."
"Of course not. Please, come and sit with us."
As soon as Daven Lannister spotted Samwell, his expression darkened.
The instincts of any male could pick up on a rival.
Especially when Desmera called Samwell by his first name, her warmth quickly turned Daven's wariness into open hostility.
Still, he maintained his composure and asked, "Lady Desmera, who might this gentleman be?"
"Ser Daven, let me introduce you." Desmera smiled sweetly. "This is Samwell Caesar, the eldest son of Lord Randyll Tarly and a Pioneering knight under Lord Mace Tyrell. Samwell, this is Ser Daven Lannister, of House Lannister."
Samwell immediately caught the subtle difference in Desmera's tone when addressing him and Daven. He mused that this young lady was indeed a "master manipulator," practically begging him and Daven to clash.
Well, that was fine by him. Without Desmera's encouragement, Samwell might not have had such an easy time riling up this young lion.
"A pioneering knight?" Daven sneered, barely hiding the enmity in his gaze. "And where is Ser Caesar's pioneering domain?"
"Eagle's Eyrie, deep in the barren Red Mountains. Certainly no match for the grandeur of Casterly Rock," Samwell replied humbly as he seated himself at the small table.
"Eagle's isle doesn't sound too bad," Desmera said, pouring Samwell a cup of floral tea herself. "I heard you even discovered a silver mine there, didn't you, Samwell?"
Daven watched Desmera practically leaning into Samwell, his gaze sharp enough to burn.
"A silver mine, huh? Not bad," Daven said coolly. "But compared to the gold of Casterly Rock, it's still lacking."
"It truly can't compare," Samwell replied, downing the tea in one gulp, "I hear that among the Lannisters, even their excrement is made of gold."
Bam!
Daven slammed his fist on the table, springing to his feet, his eyes blazing like an enraged lion.
"Samwell Caesar, do you dare meet me in the training yard for a duel?"
(End of Chapter)
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