章節 52: Chapter 52: Departure
Walking along the cobbled path beside the Honeywine River with Qyburn at his side, Samwell felt rather pleased. His newly acquired personal advisor was unquestionably skilled, though his moral compass might be a bit questionable. That flaw, however, had led to Qyburn's expulsion from the Citadel, leaving him free for Samwell to recruit.
As long as he kept a watchful eye on Qyburn and ensured he didn't dabble in those "live experiments" again, he figured things would be fine.
"Qyburn, here's a book on silver mining and refining that Lady Moroa prepared for me," Samwell said, handing the book over.
To his surprise, Qyburn didn't even reach for it, replying instead with a touch of pride, "My lord, my maester's chain bore three links forged from white steel. I'm more than well-versed in silver mining and refining."
Samwell understood. The maester's chain—crafted from various metals, each symbolizing mastery over a particular field—was awarded link by link as each skill was mastered. The number of links for each metal denoted the depth of expertise.
White steel symbolized expertise in metallurgy.
Relieved at not having to pore over the dense, headache-inducing book, Samwell stowed it away and, with a grin, asked, "Then, Qyburn, which link was the most prominent on your chain?"
"Silver," Qyburn replied.
Silver represented medical knowledge.
However, Qyburn let out a sigh and added, "In truth, I should have received many more links in Valyrian steel. But in the Citadel today, none are left who can truly understand my advancements in the mystic arts."
Valyrian steel signified expertise in the arcane and the mysterious.
Samwell's curiosity was piqued. "Because magic has disappeared?"
"Magic never vanished," Qyburn shook his head, a smug smile forming on his lips. "My lord, did you know that on the eve of each acolyte's final vow to become a maester, they must sit vigil in a locked chamber? There is no source of light, only a glass candle. If they cannot light the candle, they must sit alone in darkness for the whole night."
"It's been more than a hundred years since anyone has lit that glass candle…except me."
Samwell raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "You actually managed to light it?"
"Yes, though it only shone for a brief moment," Qyburn said, his voice tinged with scorn. "Of course, those 'gray sheep' dismissed it as hallucination."
Samwell chuckled at Qyburn's use of "gray sheep" to describe the maesters. And he had little reason to doubt Qyburn's boast. After all, this was the man who'd later create the "undead knight" in the original story—he undoubtedly understood magic.
During this low-magic era, such arts may have been akin to mere parlor tricks. But with the coming of the red comet and the tides of magic surging once again, the world would soon see the return of dragons, White Walkers, and even the revival of the dead.
Engrossed in their conversation, the two of them reached the base of the Hightower before they knew it.
Suddenly, a figure darted out from the shadows, startling Samwell. He assumed a defensive stance, only to hear the person exclaim, "Samwell! I've finally found you!"
It was Horas Redwyne, eldest son of the Redwyne family from the Arbor.
"Horas, what's got you so flustered?" Samwell asked.
Horas, his face flushed with exertion, orange hair drenched in sweat, took a moment to catch his breath and compose himself. "Ser Samwell, my father felt terrible about missing you on your last visit to the Arbor. He sent me here to extend an invitation."
"Please thank Lord Paxter for his kind offer," Samwell said with a polite smile. "But I don't intend to return to the Arbor just yet."
Horas stared, dumbfounded.
"I apologize if you came all this way just for that, Horas."
"But…what about the wine deal?" Horas stammered. "And the supplies?"
"Oh, that's all arranged," Samwell said casually. "The Hightower family has agreed to handle the sales, and House Tyrell will be involved as well."
"What!" Horas looked thunderstruck, his confidence crumbling before Samwell's eyes.
As Samwell began to walk away, Horas grabbed his sleeve, almost pleading, "Ser Samwell, House Redwyne sincerely wants this partnership. We know the wine trade like no other in Westeros! Believe me, only the Arbor's merchants know how to get the highest price and the fastest reputation for your wine. And we even have traders reaching Essos—we can help your brand cross the Narrow Sea!"
At this, Samwell paused. "Alright, if Lord Redwyne is so keen, I'll visit the Arbor once more."
"Excellent!" Horas beamed with relief, visibly relaxing. "When shall we set sail? This afternoon? My ship is ready whenever you are!"
"Tomorrow. I still have a few matters to attend to."
"Tomorrow, then! I'll make sure everything is prepared."
With Samwell's assurance, Horas finally relaxed, his eagerness undiminished as he continued boasting about the Arbor's vast trade routes and the unrivaled quality of their wines.
Returning to the Hightower, Samwell first met with Baelor Hightower to let him know that he'd collected the silver mining knowledge from Moroa.
He mentioned nothing of recruiting the recently expelled Qyburn; there was no need to invite complications.
Baelor and Samwell then finalized the terms for both the wine trade and supply shipments.
Throughout the negotiations, Samwell sensed genuine goodwill from House Hightower.
He'd originally offered a per-gallon price of ten silver stags for his brandy, which allowed for significant profit margins—a bargaining chip he'd intended to use. But to his surprise, Baelor accepted it without protest.
For food and other supplies, Baelor provided an especially fair price, leaving Samwell, who usually prided himself on his sharp bargaining skills, somewhat sheepish.
Sensing Samwell's thoughts, Baelor said with a smile, "Ser Samwell, remember our family words. For a brave knight such as yourself, committed to expanding our lands, it is only fitting we offer what little aid we can—to help light the way forward."
In high spirits, Samwell expressed his gratitude. "House Hightower is indeed a noble family. Should you ever have need of me, please don't hesitate to ask."
With that contract settled, Samwell swiftly sought out representatives from House Tyrell.
Although Lord Mace wasn't present, he discussed the terms of the brandy trade with Lady Alerie and Lady Margaery, drawing up an agreement to be finalized at Highgarden upon Mace's return.
He didn't broach the topic of recruiting the smallfolk; he trusted Margaery would gain her father's approval once she returned to Highgarden.
With these matters tied up, Samwell's mission in Oldtown was complete. Although his stay felt brief, his heart now yearned to return home.
He had left the Eyrie for over two weeks and was eager to see the progress on his castle.
The next morning, Samwell bid Lord Leyton farewell, then set sail from Oldtown aboard House Redwyne's merchant vessel.
(End of Chapter)
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