As Samwell entered the Hightower, he couldn't help but let his eyes wander, taking in every detail of the massive structure around him. The thick walls, formed of dark stone, gave the space a sense of weight and age, each tiny crack seemingly holding a story long forgotten.
Noticing Samwell's curiosity, Baelor laughed, "Everyone's fascinated the first time they step in here. But if you stay for decades, you'll feel nothing but confined and weary. If I had an older brother, I would've been free to roam wherever I wanted long ago."
Samwell traced a hand along the smooth, dark wall and asked, "Was this really built over ten thousand years ago?"
Baelor chuckled. "Not quite! The Hightower family did settle here in the Dawn Age, but our first fortress was a wooden tower, only fifty feet high. Later, we built a series of taller towers, and this current one—well, it's the fifth."
"Built by Bran the Builder?" Samwell recalled his knowledge of Westeros lore.
"Yes." Baelor nodded, a distant look in his eyes. "They say he also built the Wall. I'd love to see it someday."
"And Storm's End," another voice chimed in from behind them.
Samwell turned and saw a strikingly handsome youth descending the stairs. It was rare for Samwell to think of a man as "pretty," but there was no other word that fit. With flowing brown curls, golden eyes, and exquisitely fine features, he could captivate any woman—and perhaps even a few men.
As the young man noticed their gaze, he gave a slight smile and continued, "Lord Renly told me that Storm's End was also Bran the Builder's work. It stands untouched by even the fiercest storm."
"Loras, come here!" Margaery called, motioning to the young man on the stairs. "This is the knight I told you about, Samwell Caesar."
Loras came forward, nodding politely. "I am Loras Tyrell, third son of the Duke of Highgarden. Pleased to meet you, Ser Caesar."
"The honor is mine, Ser Loras." Samwell nodded in return, realizing he was meeting the famed "Knight of Flowers." His reputation preceded him.
Samwell vaguely recalled that Loras was supposed to be serving as a squire to Lord Renly Baratheon at Storm's End. His surprise must have been apparent because Loras added, "Lord Renly is here as well. He's upstairs talking with Lord Hightower and my mother."
Renly's here, too? Samwell wondered. House Hightower and House Baratheon weren't exactly close. It seemed that Margaery and her mother's visit to Oldtown had more behind it than just "family business."
As Samwell's mind drifted, Loras remarked, "You're nothing like I'd imagined, Ser Caesar. They say you've carved out a territory in the Red Mountains and won the loyalty of thousands of wildlings?"
"Yes, thanks to the Seven's blessing."
"The Seven only bless brave, devout knights," Loras said with a smile. "I'd heard rumors about you, but now I see they were nasty lies. No wonder Lord Renly always says to trust one's eyes, not one's ears."
"Thank you for the kind words." Samwell returned the compliment smoothly, adding, "And I've heard much of your skill, Ser Loras, particularly with the lance."
"Everything I know about jousting I learned from Lord Renly. He's the finest knight I know, and a wise lord too. I've never encountered wildlings myself, though. Could you tell me more about them, Ser Caesar? What kind of weapons do they use?"
"Of course. Their weapons are crude…"
As he spoke, Samwell chuckled to himself. Loras's open admiration for Renly was beyond apparent. With every other sentence mentioning "Lord Renly," it was no surprise that rumors about the two of them had circulated across noble circles.
They continued chatting amicably as they walked, and when they reached a certain floor, Baelor stopped and gestured toward a door. "This is your room, Ser Caesar. Your attendants are next door. Feel free to rest. The banquet will begin at six, and someone will come fetch you."
"Thank you, Ser Baelor. I'll see you all later."
"Until then," Loras and Margaery replied.
Inside his room, Samwell took a bath, then lay down for a nap. It wasn't until a servant knocked on his door that he finally got up and changed for the banquet. This time, Samwell waited for Todd Flowers and Chiman to get ready so they could head to the hall together.
After his previous experience at Sunhouse, Samwell wasn't about to blindly follow any servant to dinner, no matter how inviting the scenario. One could never be too cautious.
When the three of them entered the banquet hall, they were greeted by polished purpleheart wood floors so fine they shone like glass. The wood was tight-grained, lustrous, and often reserved for high-end furniture. Here, it was used as flooring.
Seven alabaster columns carved with intricate designs rose to support the hall's vaulted ceiling, while more than a dozen armored guards stood at attention around the hall, tall and imposing with long spears in hand. Graceful maids moved lightly through the room, placing exquisite dishes onto a long banquet table.
The feast was set up as a buffet, though few guests lingered over the dishes, taking only small samples of each. To do otherwise would have been a breach of decorum.
The guests naturally separated into groups. To the left sat the noblewomen and young ladies in their finest dresses, their laughter ringing out like bells. To the right, groups of gentlemen engaged in quiet, polite conversation.
The brightly lit hall, the elegant decor, the courteous servers, the graceful maidens, and the endless array of delicacies all came together to paint a picture of a grand noble banquet.
Though Todd was a bastard, he had grown up around the nobility, and after his years serving in Highgarden, he was not too unsettled by the grand setting. He merely adjusted his collar once or twice. Chiman, however, was utterly lost, his movements stiff and awkward.
Samwell, paying little mind to his attendants, entered the hall with a confident, poised smile, following a young maid who led them in with a deep bow.
(End of Chapter)