Seeing the report on silver production, smiles appeared around the table. That was one of Samwell's main reasons for holding this meeting—to give everyone confidence.
He wanted them to believe that this new territory had real promise.
After the update on the silver mines, Chief Craftsman Vido discussed the castle's construction.
Thanks to ample manpower and the incentive of the work-point system, everyone was competing to contribute, and construction progress was swift. The foundation was complete, and the outer walls were already three feet high. At this pace, in roughly four more months, the castle's main structure would be complete.
By then, Samwell would be able to petition Lord Mace Tyrell to formalize his title as a noble.
Samwell could almost see it now—Lord Samwell Caesar, Lord of Eagle's Nest.
Pleased by the prospect, he couldn't hide a satisfied smile.
After Vido's update, it was the Master smith, Buso's, turn to report. Since Eagle's nest had no iron mines, Samwell hadn't tasked his smiths with forging iron weapons, as it made more sense to buy them than to import iron ore and forge from scratch.
Instead, the blacksmiths' primary task had been to help the maester, Qyburn, mint silver stags.
But while Eagle's Nest might lack iron, it had no shortage of hides, so Samwell had instead assigned his smiths to make leather armor for his soldiers.
Still, Samwell had ordered Buso to forge him one special piece—a custom war hammer.
With his strength increasing, Samwell felt that ordinary steel swords no longer suited his abilities. A war hammer was far better suited with his power.
"...My lord, your war hammer is complete. You can try it out when you have a moment," Buso reported with slight hesitation.
It wasn't that he doubted the young lord's skill, but simply because the war hammer Samwell had requested was far heavier than any Buso had ever forged. He'd urged Samwell to reconsider several times, but Samwell had been adamant, and Bosso couldn't shake the feeling that the young knight might end up embarrassing himself...
"Excellent!" Samwell was thrilled and gave Buso a hearty praise, promising to test the hammer's balance after the meeting.
Next, the fourteen village heads gave brief reports on their respective areas.
Most didn't have much to report, though. Almost all the local wildlings had either been drawn to Eagle's Nest to work as laborers, brewers, or miners, while a few had joined Samwell's troops, and the elderly, women, and children had been placed in the welfare center. Many of the villages were practically deserted.
It was becoming clear that village leaders might soon be redundant.
The village heads sensed this change and, throughout their reports, hinted that they were anxious to retain their authority and, especially, their new status as household retainers under Samwell.
Samwell saw right through them and used the opportunity to announce that all fourteen village heads would be reassigned to Eagle's Nest to continue serving as managers, while the villages would be overseen by a single circuit sheriff and a tax officer.
After reassuring his men, Samwell invited everyone to speak freely—whether to suggest ideas or ask questions.
There was a pause, as most weren't used to such "democratic" discussions, instead waiting for the lord to give orders.
Finally, Gavin, Samwell's steward, broke the silence.
"My lord, the wildlings aren't farming or hunting anymore but just working for you. How, then, will they pay taxes?"
Samwell gave a calm smile; he'd anticipated this issue.
Currently, they were still within the three-month tax exemption period he'd promised, so he hadn't yet needed to address it.
"Simple. They'll pay taxes in work points."
"Work points?" Gavin was baffled.
"Exactly. I've pledged that one work point equals one copper. Work points are as good as currency. When the tax-free period ends, they can pay their taxes in points."
"Oh, understood." Gavin nodded, satisfied.
The system's "genius" was still lost on his young steward, and Samwell left it at that.
With Gavin leading the way, the others began to speak more freely, offering advice and asking questions, and the meeting continued for a couple of hours before finally concluding.
After the meeting, Samwell followed Buso to the smithy to test his new weapon.
"My lord, here it is." Bosso lifted the cloth covering the weapon but hesitated before he continued, "Just be careful—it weighs seventy pounds!"
Yes, seventy pounds!
It was the heaviest weapon Buso had ever forged, and he could hardly imagine someone actually wielding such a hammer in battle.
But Samwell was unperturbed. He knew his weapon preference was highly unconventional.
Ordinarily, no one would ever choose such a heavy weapon.
But he was different.
Thanks to his diligent "investments"—silver stags and golden dragons—his strength attribute had already reached an impressive 4.02!
But after crossing the level 4 threshold, he'd noticed that further improvement became significantly harder. Now, raising his strength even by 0.01 would cost thirty gold dragons or two hundred silver stags.
He suspected that even if he used every gold dragon he'd recently swindled from House Lannister, he might not reach level 5.
At this point, spending gold to increase his strength seemed like a poor return. Better, he thought, to invest in his fief's development and to strengthen his forces.
He'd also noticed that silver was a more cost-effective option for increasing his strength.
While one gold dragon was roughly equivalent to six or seven silver stags in terms of boosting his attributes, the common currency rate was 1:210.
Given that Eagle's Nest had a silver mine, focusing on "silver investments" was the way to go. Once the efficiency of silver diminished, he could then switch back to gold for the next stage.
Still, reaching a strength level of 4.02 was impressive. He wasn't sure of his exact limits, but handling ordinary swords now felt no different than picking up branches.
Hence, he needed a heavier weapon.
The hammer looked as formidable as it was heavy. The massive head was covered in spiral spikes, gleaming coldly in the firelight—a sight enough to make any foe tremble.
Samwell stepped forward, lifting it effortlessly with one hand.
Testing the weight, he nodded in satisfaction, then gripped the handle with both hands and swung it down toward the ground—
Boom!
It struck with a deafening thud, and the ground shook.
Everyone in the smithy was momentarily stunned, staring at Samwell as though he were a creature straight out of a myth.
After a while, Buso found his voice, now full of awe:
"My lord, you truly possess the strength of a god! You must give it a name!"
Samwell hoisted the hammer onto his shoulder, grinning.
"Let's call it—Thunderstrike!"
(End of Chapter)
[I'm very tempted to just call it 'Mjolnir']