"Hiss—"
The pain! Every inch of Samwell's body throbbed as if he'd been disassembled, leaving him feeling sore and drained.
The immense strength he was used to wielding had vanished without a trace, sparking a surge of worry. He immediately opened his status panel and, finding that his stats remained unchanged, sighed with relief. It appeared he was merely exhausted and would recover after some rest.
But to be reduced to this state from simply pulling a sword out of a rock? Samwell was astounded; it all felt so surreal, as if he hadn't gripped a sword but rather a blazing flame.
Shaking off his fatigue, he looked at the massive greatsword Dawn lying beside him, its blade now serene, gleaming with an otherworldly pale luster as sunlight danced over it. The strange crimson-gold patterns that had covered its surface were nowhere to be seen.
"Are you alright, Ser Caesar?" Nathalie approached timidly, her eyes lingering warily on the sword.
"I'm fine," he chuckled. "This sword was heavier than I expected—nearly did me in."
"She resisted you," came an elderly voice, both perplexed and reverent. "But at the same time, she welcomed you."
Samwell blinked, taken aback.
So... was that resistance or an invitation? Noting the old knight's pious expression, Samwell wisely kept his thoughts to himself.
"Perhaps you're right; it's as if the sword has a life of its own," Samwell ventured. "When Ser Arthur Dayne first wielded Dawn, was it...?"
"No," the knight interrupted, shaking his head. "I witnessed Ser Arthur draw Dawn, and she reacted nowhere near as strongly as she did with you. In fact, I don't think any previous Sword of the Morning has encountered what you did."
"Well, there you have it!" Samwell beamed. "I knew she liked me."
The old knight's face grew solemn. "Yes, my lord. You are her true master."
With that, he knelt before Samwell, offering up his own sword as a gesture of fealty. "Honored Ser Samwell Caesar, I, Ser Lucas Dayne, pledge my loyalty to you, to follow wherever you may lead. Let the stars and this sword bear witness to my oath."
"You wish to pledge your loyalty... to me?" Samwell was surprised.
"Yes, I am a Swordbearer, loyal only to the one who wields Dawn, regardless of whether they hail from House Dayne."
Samwell rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Alright, I accept your fealty."
As soon as he finished speaking, his status panel changed:
Name: Samwell Caesar
Title: Frontier Knight
Lands: None
Vassals: Ser Lucas Dayne (Knight)
Strength: 4.44
Agility: 1.25
Spirit: 2.17
Foray: 1/100
Not only was Lucas Dayne's name now listed under his vassals, but a new attribute appeared: Foray.
What does that mean? Samwell wondered. And what was that "1/100" supposed to signify? As usual, his panel offered no explanation or helpful tips. He'd have to figure it out on his own.
Based on his gaming experience, Samwell guessed Foray was a skill linked to leading knights in battle, likely becoming stronger as he gathered more knights under his command. As for the "1/100," it probably indicated he needed one hundred knights to max out the skill.
One hundred vassal knights—that was a tall order.
But he could work toward it gradually.
Lost in thought, he pondered what might happen if he acquired a vassal who was a baron. Would a new skill unlock? What about a viscount? Or even an earl? The possibilities were exciting...
"Ahem, my lord? Would you like me to help you up?" Ser Lucas asked, watching Samwell sit there with a dazed expression.
"Uh, no need." His strength returning, Samwell got to his feet on his own.
He lifted Dawn as well, finding it surprisingly manageable this time; it was heavy, but not impossibly so. It certainly wasn't the backbreaking weight he'd felt earlier, even heavier than his war hammer Thunderstrike. The sword now felt like a normal weapon.
However, Samwell sensed a subtle connection to it, as if he could call upon its strange powers at will. Of course, he'd likely collapse again if he did.
Perhaps he'd be able to wield it for longer once his strength increased. And with the world's magic currently in decline, the sword's true potential might not be fully realized until the Red Comet passed, amplifying magic once more.
Samwell examined Dawn in admiration. "Does it have a scabbard?"
"Yes." Ser Lucas opened a nearby chest and produced a sheath that fit the blade perfectly, complete with a leather strap.
Since the sword was too large to wear at his side, Samwell slung it over his back. With Dawn secured, the three of them descended the tower, while the guards outside stared in awe at the sword now strapped to Samwell's back.
"Ser Lucas, you said you serve only Dawn's wielder. Does that mean you once served Ser Arthur Dayne?"
"Please, just call me Lucas." Ser Lucas nodded. "Yes, my lord, I did follow Ser Arthur. But when he joined the Kingsguard, I left his side."
Samwell nodded, understanding. The Kingsguard were sworn to serve the king alone and couldn't bring personal retainers unless they too joined the order. But that path had evidently not been open to Lucas.
In a way, perhaps it had been a blessing. Otherwise, he might have perished alongside Ser Arthur at the Tower of Joy.
As they walked through the castle, servants, guards, and knights alike stared at Samwell and the sword with expressions of awe and respect—even more so than when he'd first taken Starfall by force.
The influence of Dawn runs deep in this place, Samwell mused.
Crossing a courtyard, Samwell spotted two familiar figures: Prince Oberyn and Princess Arianne.
Princess Arianne smiled, about to greet him, when her uncle exclaimed in shock:
"You drew Dawn?"
(End of Chapter)