When the vanguard cavalry of the Reach's northern army arrived at Bitterbridge, Samwell immediately set off for Longtable Keep.
Riding swiftly, he managed to reach the castle just before nightfall.
Longtable was already crowded with lords from the Reach who had come to offer support.
These included representatives from Tumbleton, Grassy Vale, and Goldengrove. Samwell even spotted soldiers from Horn Hill.
The camp was set up outside the castle, and after settling his cavalry, Samwell made his way toward the keep.
"Lord Caesar, welcome to Longtable," Lady Taena greeted him warmly at the entrance, her smile radiant. "Oh? Lady Margaery didn't come with you?"
This countess, originally from Myr across the Narrow Sea, was strikingly beautiful, with raven-black curls, olive-toned skin, and a tall, elegant figure. Her smile carried an alluring charm.
Samwell returned her smile with a polite bow.
"Margaery is feeling unwell and stayed behind. She should arrive tomorrow."
Lady Taena's eyes sparkled. "Shall I send someone to fetch her?"
"No need for the trouble."
"Very well." Lady Taena didn't insist. "Please, take some rest first. We've prepared a grand banquet, and a servant will come to fetch you when it's ready."
Although Highgarden had fallen, and the timing wasn't ideal, the Merryweather family still insisted on hosting a feast—anything less would seem inhospitable and miserly.
"Can you take me to see Lady Olenna first?" Samwell clearly prioritized the Queen of Thorns.
Lady Taenq shook her head. "Lady Olenna just went to sleep. I'd advise against disturbing her. She's barely had a proper night's rest since the fall of Highgarden."
"Understood." Samwell maintained his smile. "Will Lady Olenna attend the banquet later?"
"I'll send someone to check. If the old lady wakes, we'll bring her along."
"What about Lord Orton?" Samwell asked. "I believe I should greet the castle's lord."
"You're too formal, Lord Caesar," Lady Taena giggled behind her hand. "He's busy arranging the banquet. You'll see him shortly."
As they crossed the drawbridge and entered the castle gates, Samwell suddenly halted.
"Something seems to be missing."
"Are you referring to bread and salt?" Lady Tania asked, her smile unchanging. "I thought since the banquet is imminent, there was no need to prepare it separately. My mistake. You must be famished after your journey. Shall I—"
"Haha, there's no need for that." Samwell waved it off and continued forward.
"Alright." Lady Taena led the way, her figure swaying in her tight-fitting gown, accentuating her curves.
They passed through the main hall, down a corridor, and up a spiral staircase to the second floor. Stopping before a room, Lady Taena gestured.
"This is your room, Lord Caesar. Rest here, and someone will escort you to the banquet when it begins."
Samwell expressed his thanks once again.
After closing the door, his smile disappeared instantly.
If he had harbored doubts before, he was now certain: the Merryweather family was involved in the rebellion!
Lady Olenna was likely being held under house arrest.
And tonight's banquet was almost certainly a trap for the pro-Margaery faction!
When entering the castle, Lady Taenq had deliberately omitted the traditional offering of bread and salt—a clear signal that guest rights would not be honored.
But guest rights worked both ways.
Accepting bread and salt from a host obligated them to protect their guest, and the guest, in turn, pledged not to harm their host.
Since the Merryweathers refused to abide by these customs, Samwell was no longer bound by them either.
He walked to the window, his pupils rolling upward until his eyes turned entirely white.
Outside, a falcon soared through the sky, diving into the camp beyond the castle walls.
Chiman Tiger Fang watched the falcon burst into his tent without a hint of surprise, as if he'd been expecting it.
He stepped forward, untied the parchment from the bird's leg, and slowly unrolled it. A bloodthirsty grin spread across his face.
"Summon all officers to my tent. Lord Caesar has issued new orders."
"Yes, sir."
---
Longtable Keep Stables
Cleopatra tore into the food scattered on the ground with ferocious energy, completely ignoring the other horses trembling in fear nearby.
The stablehand cowered in a corner, trembling just as much.
He had been ordered to care for Lord Caesar's white dragon—a task he initially thought was a great honor.
But the dragon had refused all the food he offered, instead roasting a warhorse with its fiery breath and devouring it.
That warhorse was Lord Merryweather's favorite!
The stablehand had no idea how to explain this. Was he supposed to ask Lord Caesar to pay for the damages?
As he fretted, the white dragon finished its meal, then set the entire stable ablaze with another fiery breath.
The intense flames quickly consumed the remaining horses, their anguished screams filling the air.
"No! No!" The stablehand was paralyzed with shock.
Meanwhile, the white dragon spread its wings and soared into the sky.
The roaring fire soon drew the attention of the castle's inhabitants, and cries to extinguish it echoed everywhere.
At the same time, Samwell stepped into the banquet hall.
The torches lining the walls emitted plumes of black smoke, making the air stiflingly hot.
The feast was already underway. The sounds of harps and flutes were drowned out by boisterous chatter, and most guests were busy eating and drinking. A few couples danced cheerfully in the center of the hall.
Lady Taena approached Samwell, her crimson lace gown clinging to her voluptuous figure.
"Lord Caesar, you're late! I was about to fetch you myself."
"Apologies, I was so tired that I overslept," Samwell replied casually, his eyes scanning the room. As expected, Lady Olenna was nowhere to be seen.
"In that case, I'll have to punish you with a few glasses of wine," Lady Taena teased.
"I don't drink while on campaign," Samwell said. "But if you don't mind, I'd be happy to dance with you as an apology."
Without waiting for a response, he wrapped an arm around her waist.
Lady Taena laughed but didn't resist.
The two began to twirl in the center of the hall. As they danced, Samwell discreetly observed his surroundings.
Orton Merryweather sat on the high table, smiling as he watched the festivities. Beside him was a boy of six or seven, presumably his son, Russell Merryweather.
Most of the guests were deep in their cups. The Merryweather family members were unusually enthusiastic, pressuring Samwell's knights to drink heavily. Many were already red-faced from alcohol.
"Lord Caesar, why are you so stiff?" Lady Taena suddenly asked.
Samwell smiled faintly. "Where am I stiff?"
Lady Taena wasn't amused. She reached for his chest, her expression darkening. "You're wearing armor under your clothes?"
"Is that a problem?"
"Who wears armor to a banquet?"
"The war isn't over. A knight must always be prepared."
Before she could retort, she felt his hand clamp firmly around her neck.
If she resisted, he could snap it effortlessly.
"L-Lord Caesar…" Fear robbed her of composure.
"Keep quiet," Samwell murmured in her ear. "Let's finish this dance."
Taena's body began to tremble uncontrollably.
At this point, even she should have understood that the plan of the Meryyweather family had been seen through by the man in front of her.
What to do?
Taena fell into deep panic.
She wanted to alert her husband, but feared that she would be dead before she could even speak.
As a woman from a foreign city-state, Taena married into Westeros only to pursue wealth and power, not to sacrifice herself for the glory of the Meryyweather.
"Lord Caesar... please don't kill me..." Taena pleaded softly.
Seeing the woman so cowardly, Samwell slightly loosened his grip on her neck and asked:
"Orton has contacted the Lannisters, right?"
"Yes... Sir Jero Hill is in the castle."
Hill is a common surname for bastards in the Westerlands. Samwell had not heard of this name but knew that this person should be a bastard of the Lannisters.
"Besides the Merryweather and Oakheart, which other houses in the Reach have been won over by the Lannisters?"
"I don't know... really, I'm not lying to you." Taena said pitifully, rubbing her body against the man, trying to win his sympathy, "Orton contacted them, he didn't tell me everything."
"Where is Lady Olenna now?"
"On the top floor of the castle, Orton has arranged for someone to watch over her."
"What about this banquet? How did Orton arrange it?"
"Fifty crossbowmen are arranged next door. Orton plans to get you drunk first, then the crossbowmen will rush in through the side door and subdue you..."
"What about the army outside the castle? No arrangements?"
"No. Orton said that as long as you are...subdued, the Tyrell's will immediately change their stance, and there will be no need to start a war."
As long as Samwell dies or is captured and sent to the Lannister's, the Reach Lords will surely fall apart, and the nobles of the Reach will unhesitatingly side with the Lannister's under the leadership of the Tyrell's.
"Lord Caesar..." Taena pressed her entire body against Samwell, "This was all Orton and the Lannister's idea. I never wanted to kill you, really, please believe me!"
"I believe you." Samwell gave a reassuring smile, "Behave well, and you will be rewarded with a castle."
"Really?" Lady Taena's fear turned to interest, and she leaned closer, though his armor blocked her efforts.
The music ended, and Samwell led her toward the high table.
"Lord Orton, thank you for your hospitality."
Before Orton could respond, chaos erupted outside.
A servant rushed in to whisper something, and Orton's expression darkened.
"Lord Caesar, your dragon—"
"What about it?" Samwell pressed closer to the table, keeping Lady Taena at his side.
"Your dragon burned my stables!" Orton huffed. "This is no way to treat a host."
"That's unacceptable!" Samwell feigned outrage. "I'll have it apologize in person."
Apologize? Orton hesitated, confused.
At that moment, a deafening crash echoed through the hall as the doors burst open.
Amid the splinters and smoke, a pale white dragon stormed in, roaring fiercely.
The torches exploded in its wake, and the air grew unbearably hot.
(End of Chapter.)