"You can't possibly think I would risk tarnishing my family's honor by joining you in piracy, do you?" Lord Mullendore's voice was sharp, his eyes narrowed.
"Of course not," Samwell replied, a harmless smile on his face.
"Such risk is best taken by a man in my desperate position. You would only need to invest, my lord. Should the venture be exposed one day, your name would remain unscathed."
"Invest?" Mullendore asked, his tone wary.
"Exactly." Samwell took a sip of wine, adopting a casual tone. "House Tyrell has already invested two hundred elite soldiers, and soon House Redwyne from the Arbor will supply ships and sailors. They all stand to gain a handsome return. So, my dear lord, would you wish to be part of this investment? After all, the Reach's two mightiest houses have already placed their bets. Opportunities like this do not come often."
Lord Mullendore considered this but remained cautious. "And what, pray tell, do you seek from me?"
"Craftsmen," Samwell said simply. "I have troops, and I'll have ships soon enough, but I'm in dire need of skilled workers to help construct my holdfast and docks. That's why I would ask you to send Highgarden's finest craftsmen along on this journey. I can promise that in time, your rewards will be tenfold, perhaps even a hundredfold!"
Lord Mullendore paused thoughtfully before finally nodding. "Very well, I shall send ten craftsmen to accompany you."
"Ten?" Samwell interrupted without hesitation, his tone laced with disappointment. "Lord Mullendore, I tell you the truth of this venture, risking my own name and reputation to speak plainly, only for you to treat me as a mere beggar?"
Suppressing his irritation, Lord Mullendore asked, "How many, then?"
"All of them." Samwell replied smoothly.
"All of them?"
"Yes, I want all of Highgarden's craftsmen," Samwell replied boldly, with a sweeping gesture. "Let them work for me for one year, and at the end, I shall repay you with ten times the wages."
"Out of the question!" Lord Mullendore refused immediately. "And if your venture fails? How then would I seek compensation? All my workers, lost to some fool's errand? Do you truly think me mad enough to agree to such terms?"
"Failure?" Samwell chuckled. "My lord, do you honestly believe this endeavor will fail?"
"Every enterprise hath its perils," Lord Mullendore retorted. "More so when one ventures into the untamed wilds of the Red Mountains."
Samwell laughed aloud. "My lord, it seems you don't yet understand the true scope of this venture. Do you really think House Tyrell would go to such lengths merely to raid a few Dornish vessels?"
Lord Mullendore, holding back his impatience, inquired, "Oh? And what other motives would they have?"
"Of course they have other motives. The Reach and Dorne have feuded for over a thousand years, and now, with Lord Tyrell's eldest, Ser Willas, crippled by Prince Oberyn, they've all the more reason to seek retribution."
"Retaliate against Dorne?" Mullendore looked skeptical. "Dorne is not so easily invaded."
"You're correct, my lord—Dorne is, indeed, a fortress. Yet King Daeron I conquered it without dragons, did he not? And while he claimed all the glory, those with wit know the true victory lay in Lord Alyn Velaryon's fleet, which seized Planky Town, gained control of the Greenblood River, and severed Dorne's defenses. And Lady Olenna personally selected the site of my endeavor near the mouth of the Torrentine. Does that not resemble Planky Town?"
Samwell paused, observing Mullendore's reaction. He continued, "Seize control of the river's mouth, and the western Dornish lands shall fall as easily into the Reach's grasp as coins fall into a beggar's hand. Tell me, would House Tyrell allow such a venture to fail?"
Mullendore fell silent, absorbed in thought.
Seeing his chance, Samwell continued, "With House Tyrell determined to see this through, I can't fathom how such an endeavor could fail. The wild hill tribes in the Red Mountains—could they stand against Tyrell's finest soldiers? And do you imagine the Dornish will see through the Reach's designs and act first, preemptively striking to foil this venture?"
Mullendore shook his head.
The disorganized hill tribes were no threat, and if the Dornish were foolish enough to strike first, provoking war, Lord Tyrell would welcome it. Dorne could never match the Reach in numbers, resources, or might. Centuries of resistance have only endured thanks to the mountains and deserts, yet should they forfeit these advantages, the Reach's armies would crush them utterly.
Furthermore, the greatest obstacle in establishing a new hold in the Red Mountains—securing funding—had been solved by the audacious young knight before him, a man ready to stake his honor and future to make it happen. No, Lord Mullendore thought; the likelihood of failure seemed remote.
Yet to risk his family's entire workforce was no light matter, and Mullendore hesitated.
Seeing this, Samwell placed his cup upon the table. "Consider it, my lord. I shall linger here in Highgarden a few days, gathering supplies and provisions for the mountains. If you're willing to invest, you need only send word."
With that, Samwell turned and exited the chamber.
---
On the third day of waiting, Samwell still hadn't received a reply from Lord Mullendore.
It seemed the lord was more prudent than Samwell had hoped, not so easily taken by grand words alone.
However, Samwell did receive a letter from Lady Margaery.
Predictably, her letter contained rebukes for his reckless spending and yet another call to quicken his pace. The clever lady had, it seemed, learned from their exchanges, setting clear terms: from now on, he'd receive only one hundred golden dragons monthly for his efforts. Any additional funds would require proof of progress in establishing his new hold or growing his population.
Margaery had indeed grown shrewd, effectively closing the door to Samwell's attempts at blatant extortion.
This didn't come as a great surprise. House Tyrell would hardly serve as a limitless purse. But such polished use of "management techniques" was likely the handiwork of the Thorny Queen herself.
Samwell took the news in stride. After all, he'd gained much from the Tyrells already, and the family's support had lent him an invaluable banner under which he could now entice other investors.
Starting a new hold was, in essence, no different than starting a business. And who better to bankroll such ventures than investors?
Yet, Highgarden's cautious lord seemed hard to convince.
If Lord Mullendore didn't answer by tomorrow, Samwell planned to move on and seek a different source of funds. The Reach had many potential backers, and Samwell was determined to find one.
---
Meanwhile, Lord Mullendore was making inquiries of his own. He had tracked down the Tyrell messenger and asked bluntly, "That letter you delivered to Samwell—who sent it?"
The messenger gave a slight bow, politely declining. "Apologies, my lord, but I cannot disclose such information."
However, a single golden coin prompted a more agreeable smile.
"It was from Lady Margaery herself, with an additional three hundred golden dragons enclosed."
"Is that true?" Mullendore's gaze turned contemplative. "And I also saw you speak with Ser Todd Flowers."
"Yes," the messenger replied, hesitating only briefly. "Lady Olenna had sent word instructing Ser Todd to obey Lord Samwell's every command."
The news made Lord Mullendore's expression darken. He stood silent for a long while.
(End of Chapter)