The night was deep.
With the evening banquet concluded, everyone had retired to rest, silence enveloped Eagle's Point.
Samwell lay on his bed, unable to fall asleep.
He had been staring at the status screen with the "+1" next to his title, analyzing it for what felt like hours. Finally, he guessed that it was likely a free attribute point!
Now, the question was where to allocate it.
Currently, his highest attribute was strength, at an impressive 4.44, which was far beyond the average human. With that kind of strength, he could probably go toe-to-toe with "The Mountain" himself.
However, he had already found a reliable method to boost his strength attribute — by consuming gold and silver. So it didn't seem necessary to invest this precious point into strength.
Similarly, he already had a way to increase his mental attribute, albeit a slower one that required a rare herb. But he had some ideas that would likely lead to finding other sources as well.
His agility, however, remained his weakest area, and he hadn't found any foods or methods to raise it aside from standard training, leaving it at a mere 1.25. While just slightly above average, this wasn't enough considering the weight of his weapons, which slowed him down significantly.
His agility was the one trait he most needed to improve.
With this conclusion, Samwell made his decision.
He took a deep breath, concentrating entirely on the agility stat.
And just as he anticipated, his agility attribute increased from 1.25 to 2.25, while the "+1" next to his title disappeared.
Exhale—
Samwell felt a sudden lightness throughout his body, as though the very air around him was aiding his movements.
He leapt out of bed, darting around the narrow room, making sharp turns and jumps, testing his newfound speed and agility. His movement had undeniably improved.
Although he wasn't sure he could now compete with knights who specialized in speed, like Prince Oberyn "The Red Viper," at least agility was no longer a weak point.
And when his title advanced further, he could expect more free attribute points, perhaps even more than one next time…
If so, then he wouldn't need to worry about not finding foods that could boost his agility.
With this satisfying thought, Samwell returned to his bed and drifted off to sleep.
---
The morning sunlight shone upon the Summer Sea, illuminating the surface with shimmering waves. The sky was a vivid blue, clear of any clouds — perhaps recognizing the weight of the King's Hand's presence, even the winds had calmed, and the waters were calm.
Under the escort of five warships from the royal fleet, the flagship bearing Lord Jon Arryn, Hand of the King, docked smoothly at Starfall's pier.
A group of armored guards, polished to perfection, nimbly disembarked, creating a perimeter to keep the curious crowd at bay.
Then, a silver-haired elder descended the gangway, leaning on a servant's arm.
The gathered nobles stepped forward to greet him with bows.
After his greeting, Prince Oberyn's sharp gaze scanned Jon Arryn up and down, before he commented, "Lord Arryn, you look much older than when I last saw you."
The long journey had worn heavily on the old lord, and he could hardly stand straight. When Prince Oberyn greeted him with his usual barbed words, Jon Arryn wasn't the least bit angered, replying with a gentle smile,
"I grow older with each passing day. I'm sure it's the same for you. In this, at least, the gods are fair."
"Yes." Prince Oberyn's eyes grew cold as he stared at Lord Arryn. "But for the fairness that gods do not give, we must take by our own means. Lord Arryn, don't you owe House Martell a bit of justice? Or have you forgotten?"
Lord Arryn maintained his calm smile. "Prince Oberyn, you're as passionate as you were in the past — you haven't changed at all. But when I negotiated with your brother in Dorne, I promised peace, not justice."
He sighed, his voice weary, "If we want peace, some measure of justice must inevitably be sacrificed."
"Easy words!" Prince Oberyn sneered. "But it wasn't you who paid that price!"
"I pay it just the same," Lord Arryn answered solemnly.
Prince Oberyn's jaw tightened, as though he was holding back a wave of anger. "Then I'll have to seek justice by the sword."
Jon Arryn's only response was a weary sigh. "The sword won't bring you justice. It only worsens things for everyone."
With that, he turned his attention from Prince Oberyn, exchanging greetings with the Reachlands nobles, now free of any tension.
The Reachlords had been royalists during the Rebellion, but hadn't caused the rebel army any real harm and, unlike the Martells, had no lost kin to mourn.
If King Robert himself were here, he'd likely tease his old rival Lord Randyll Tarly about their clash. Jon Arryn, however, was more inclined toward maintaining harmony.
"Lord Tarly, I've heard a great deal about your son. Is he here? I'd like to meet him."
Lord Randyll forced a rare smile. "I apologize, my lord. Samwell is currently at Eagle's Point, preparing to welcome the Tyrells. Once he returns to Starfall, I'll be sure to introduce him to you."
Lord Arryn nodded with understanding, but was interrupted by a sharp cry from behind.
"It's too hot here! I don't want to be here — I want to go home!"
Everyone turned to see a woman descending the ship's gangway, clutching a boy around four or five years old who was kicking and wailing.
"Please forgive us, my lords," said Jon Arryn, "That's my son, Robert. He has a loud voice, but his courage has yet to match it."
The nobles offered sympathetic remarks, but Prince Oberyn commented with icy indifference,
"Lord Arryn, I thought you'd come to mediate our conflict, but it seems to me you're here on a holiday, with your wife and child, no less. Very well, I'll be more than happy to personally show you Dorne's deserts and mountains. I guarantee an unforgettable experience."
Lord Arryn merely smiled and ignored the remark.
In truth, he had intended to travel alone. But his wife, Lady Lysa, had insisted on accompanying him, and he had reluctantly agreed.
Soon after, Lady Lysa Arryn joined them. She appeared around thirty, with typical Tully features of blue eyes and auburn hair. Her lips were thin, her skin pale, and she seemed weary from the journey.
Perhaps due to the unfamiliar crowd, the young boy she was carrying finally quieted down, burying his face into his mother's chest.
Lady Lysa smiled and curtsied to the nobles, then attempted to coax her son to greet them, but to no avail.
"My apologies, my lords," she explained, "Robert's not accustomed to Dorne's heat. He was a bit frightened."
Seeing Prince Oberyn's expression growing more venomous, Princess Arianne quickly interjected,
"My lady, don't worry. Once young Robert has tasted Dorne's food, I'm sure he'll cheer right up."
Lady Lysa's smile warmed as she replied, "And you must be Princess Arianne! As beautiful as they say. My brother Edmure has spoken of you often."
The atmosphere at last softened, with tensions easing all around.
Taking a cue from Princess Arianne's initiative, Nathalie stepped forward with a newfound air of confidence, greeting Lord Arryn and his family with poise.
Lord Arryn looked at her and, with a wistful tone, remarked,
"Remarkable — the likeness is uncanny. Seeing you, I feel as though I'm once again watching that radiant Dayne girl at the tourney in Harrenhal."
This drew a collective smile from the Reachlands lords.
For Lord Arryn to make such a comment was nearly a de facto endorsement of Nathalie's claim to her heritage.
Yet Princess Arianne's face darkened in the background. Standing at the edge of the gathering, she pulled her uncle aside, whispering,
"Uncle, why provoke Jon Arryn like that? Don't you realize that—"
"I know exactly what I'm doing," Prince Oberyn replied coldly. "Did you think a few polite words from me would sway Jon Arryn in Dorne's favor?"
"But…"
"There's no need to worry. I have my own plan."
(End of Chapter)