Investiture

"Apologies, Lord Tarly, Samwell, Dickon, for keeping you waiting."

Margaery lifted her skirts in a slight curtsy, the radiant smile blooming across her face seeming to brighten the entire knights' hall.

Samwell only glanced at her once before lowering his head again.

The beauty before him was not someone he could covet.

At least, not yet.

His younger brother Dickon, however, stared blankly at the exquisite rose before him, completely unaware of how discourteous he was being.

Lord Randyll gave a light cough, rousing his second son from his daze, then asked Margaery:

"When will the lord duke arrive?"

A look of regret appeared on Margaery's face. "My father is unwell today and cannot come. My sincerest apologies."

Lord Randyll frowned slightly. "Then let us reschedule."

But Margaery shook her head, taking out a scroll from behind her and smiling. "There is no need to reschedule. My father has already signed the charter of reclamation and entrusted me with delivering it."

"But what of the investiture?"

"I shall conduct the investiture in my father's stead as well."

The knights' hall fell silent at once.

Dickon was still too dim-witted to react, but Lord Randyll and Samwell had already understood that Lord Mace was deliberately making excuses not to come.

It was not entirely unexpected.

After so many years of development and management in the Reach, there was little unclaimed land left. If one truly wished to reclaim land, one could only go to barren regions near the border, such as the Red Mountains.

But that place was truly a desolate land of hardship. Bandits and brigands ran rampant there, and never mind whether it was worth reclaiming—the difficulty of establishing a domain there was not something ordinary people would dare challenge.

Moreover, House Tarly's cowardly eldest son had long ceased to be a secret among the Reach's noble circles. No one believed Samwell had the qualifications or ability to reclaim a new domain.

Lord Mace clearly had no desire to grant a charter of reclamation to such a person either.

Had Lord Randyll not personally come to plead for it, Lord Mace would never have agreed.

Yet granting the charter of reclamation also meant that Samwell would become Lord Mace's vassal. By rights, Lord Mace should personally invest Samwell Tarly as a reclamation knight.

However, the duke was clearly extremely reluctant to accept Samwell as one of his knights.

That was why he had deliberately feigned illness instead of appearing in person, sending his daughter to invest Samwell and grant him the charter of reclamation.

Lord Randyll could understand Lord Mace's difficulties. If Lord Mace had sent his eldest son, Willas Tyrell, heir to Highgarden, to handle the matter in his stead, Lord Randyll would have swallowed his displeasure and accepted it.

But Margaery...

What right did she have to invest a knight?

Even though Lord Randyll despised his eldest son, he found such humiliation difficult to accept.

He glared coldly at Margaery, making no effort to conceal his anger.

Yet Margaery's exquisite face still wore a gentle, innocent smile, as though she did not understand in the slightest where Lord Randyll's anger came from.

Just as the atmosphere began to stiffen, Samwell, the man at the center of it all, suddenly spoke and broke the deadlock.

"If that is the case, then I shall trouble you, Lady Margaery."

Samwell was naturally furious at the humiliation, but he also understood that a weak man's anger was worth nothing.

Besides, he had not forgotten the chief purpose of this journey—obtaining the charter of reclamation.

He had no intention of losing something truly important for the sake of laughable pride.

The trials and hardships of his previous life had long taught him to endure when necessary.

A trace of surprise flashed through Margaery's eyes as she looked at Samwell, then she smiled. "Very well. Let us begin."

Lord Randyll shot his son a glare of bitter disappointment, as though saying, You are actually willing to accept an investiture from a woman?

But since Samwell himself had agreed, there was little more he could say.

Margaery walked up the steps at the front of the hall, while Samwell knelt on one knee before them.

A beam of light shone straight down through the glass skylight, enveloping them both and lending the coming ceremony a touch of sanctity.

Samwell drew the longsword at his waist and raised it over his head with both hands.

Margaery was just about to take it when Lord Randyll suddenly spoke.

"To invest a bloodline of House Tarly, this blade should be used—Heartsbane."

Clang—

As he spoke, Lord Randyll drew the two-handed greatsword from his waist and held it out before Margaery.

This greatsword, Heartsbane, forged from Valyrian Steel, had been passed down through House Tarly for more than five hundred years. It weighed over thirty pounds. Even an ordinary person would struggle merely to hold it, let alone wield it in battle.

As for a pampered noble lady... she might not even be able to lift the greatsword.

Clearly, Lord Randyll intended to make the Rose of Highgarden embarrass herself and vent some of his dissatisfaction.

But Margaery did not shrink back in the face of Lord Randyll's deliberate provocation. Instead, she smiled faintly and extended her slender white hands.

Clink—

The tip of the sword struck the marble floor, but fortunately, Margaery held the hilt firmly in her hands.

She took a deep breath and used all her strength to lift the greatsword, placing it upon Samwell's shoulder.

"Whew—House Tarly's ancestral greatsword truly is extraordinary. No wonder Lord Randyll has been able to dominate the battlefield with it, invincible against all foes."

After those words, Lord Randyll found it awkward to say anything more. He merely snorted and stepped back several paces.

Margaery looked down at the knight kneeling before her, about to begin reciting the oath, when she suddenly recalled something and asked:

"By the way, Sam, do you intend to keep your original family name, or choose a new one?"

After becoming a reclamation lord, Samwell truly could adopt a new family name to signify his separation from House Tarly of Horn Hill.

But Samwell did not answer immediately.

He kept his head lowered, and his body began to tremble slightly.

Seeing this, Margaery thought the greatsword was making him uncomfortable and exerted a little more strength to relieve some of its weight.

In truth, Samwell was not trembling beneath the sword's weight, but with excitement.

Because he had actually seen the square-shaped characters he had been separated from for three months!

These words, which did not belong to this other world, had appeared in the lower-right corner of his vision after the investiture ceremony began. He had to focus intently to make them out:

Samwell Tarly

Title: Reclamation Knight

Domain: None

Vassals: None

Strength: 1.08

Agility: 0.52

Spirit: 1.12

What was this?

Could it be an attribute panel?

Samwell was ecstatic.

This joy crashed down like a massive boulder, shattering the restraint he had struggled to maintain ever since crossing into this world.

At that moment, the anger, fear, humiliation, and worry he had suppressed for so long churned violently within his chest, fermenting into an indescribable emotion that seemed ready to burst forth.

If, before this, he had merely wanted to rely on his familiarity with the plot to maneuver skillfully among the great powers, or cling to someone powerful and wait to be carried along, then now an ambition suddenly rose within him—

An ambition for that twisted, ugly Iron Throne, covered in spikes and jagged points, forged from a thousand swords!

"I have decided on a new family name." Samwell raised his head once more, his gaze following the cold greatsword to meet Margaery's doe-like brown eyes. He declared loudly, "Caesar!

"From this day forth, I am Samwell Caesar!"

Margaery froze.

For an instant just now, she seemed to have seen leaping flames in the eyes of the man before her.

But she quickly composed herself, confirmed that this new family name had no precedent, then smiled slightly at Samwell. Her tone became incomparably solemn.

"I, Margaery Tyrell, daughter of Mace Tyrell, in the name of the Lord of Highgarden, Warden of the South, and Lord Paramount of the Reach, invest Samwell Caesar as a reclamation knight.

"All unclaimed lands in the Reach may be reclaimed by you, and all landless people may receive your protection. May Father grant you righteousness, may the Mother grant you mercy, may Warrior grant you courage, may the Crone grant you wisdom, and may the Stranger grant you the strength to defeat all enemies!"

"I, Samwell Caesar, before the witness of the Seven, swear upon the spirit of the holy ancestor Garth Greenhand that I shall devote my loyalty to the great Lord Mace! From this day forward, your will shall be the faith I uphold, and where your sword points shall be the direction I advance!

"I shall defend this honor with my life!"