First Dance

No one had expected that the stars of this banquet would be neither the beautiful Lady Margaery nor the noble Duke Renly, but a new kind of liquor—

Brandy.

Nearly every guest who tasted Brandy praised it lavishly. Unfortunately, since it had not yet entered mass production, Samwell had not brought much with him. Before everyone had even finished a round, it was gone.

This unfulfilled craving perfectly embodied the essence of "hunger marketing," making everyone desire Brandy all the more intensely.

Thus, a circle of nobles soon gathered around Samwell to discuss purchasing Brandy directly from him.

Faced with their enthusiasm, Samwell remained calm. He claimed that he had already reached a sales agreement with House Hightower, and that anyone wishing to purchase Brandy should speak directly with Ser Baelor.

Though selling it himself would have brought greater profits, Samwell knew full well that he lacked both the ability and time to organize merchant caravans and expand sales channels. More importantly, Brandy's profits were simply too tempting and would surely draw covetous eyes. He had to give up part of the gains and win over sufficiently powerful partners.

House Hightower now filled precisely that role.

Watching Lord Leyton and Ser Baelor surrounded by the crowd, Samwell stood to one side with a wineglass in hand, smiling brightly.

But then, he felt a pang of hunger—hmm, he had actually forgotten something.

Samwell handed his empty glass to a servant, asked for a silver plate, and walked toward the long tables at the front of the hall.

Though the tables were laden with exquisite delicacies, Samwell's gaze did not linger. Instead, he swiftly swept his eyes over them.

There really were Golden-Tailed Shrimp!

Samwell's heart leapt with joy.

Although the effect of Golden-Tailed Shrimp had diminished to almost nothing as his Strength attribute increased, every little bit counted. Besides, this was a buffet—House Hightower was paying for however much he ate. How could he possibly let such an opportunity pass?

So Samwell simply stationed himself beside the platter of Golden-Tailed Shrimp, taking one and eating it, then taking another after he finished... utterly ignoring the strange looks cast his way.

Reputation was an exceedingly fickle thing.

Once, he had been House Tarly's useless eldest son. But after gaining a foothold in the Red Mountains, he became the promising young Ser Caesar.

If one day he truly sat upon the Iron Throne, then he would be Emperor Caesar!

By then, all his past disgrace, embarrassment, and hardship would vanish beneath the radiance of an even more dazzling legend.

Watching his lord's behavior, Todd Flowers could not help slipping quietly into a corner of the hall. The country bumpkin Chiman, on the other hand, copied him exactly, holding a plate by the long table and eating as he took more.

This young Wildling had never tasted so many delicious foods in his life. How could he possibly let them go so easily?

Just as this peculiar lord-and-servant pair feasted without a care for anyone else, the melodious sound of a harp slowly rose, marking the beginning of the ball.

Samwell remained where he was.

He had not known how to dance in his previous life. Though the original owner of this body had received dance lessons as a child, he had been too fat and too timid, and had gone far too long without practice. He was already hopelessly rusty.

As for Chiman, it was even less likely that he could dance. Seeing his lord constantly eyeing and eating the Golden-Tailed Shrimp, he had curiously approached to take one for himself, only to be frightened back by Samwell's possessive glare.

By now, quite a few men and women in the hall had found partners. Hand in hand, they walked onto the dance floor and began to dance gracefully.

Duke Renly, the highest-ranking person present, naturally made his way toward the most eye-catching Lady Margaery. He appeared ready to invite the Rose of Highgarden to share a dance, but before he had gone halfway, a young woman in a purple evening gown suddenly stepped out and blocked his path.

Duke Renly had no choice but to take the young woman's hand and lead her onto the dance floor.

Samwell had been wondering which great house's daughter dared compete with the Rose of Highgarden for attention when he spotted Ser Baelor nearby, his expression somewhat awkward.

So she was his daughter. No wonder.

As Lord Leyton's eldest legitimate granddaughter, she certainly had the confidence to compete with Margaery for a man, especially here in the Hightower.

But with Duke Renly intercepted, it became difficult to find anyone else present of suitable status to invite Margaery for the first dance. Loras could have helped his sister out of the predicament, but he already had a partner.

Thus, the most dazzling young woman in the entire hall stood with no one before her, about to miss the first dance.

Watching the young noblemen who were eager to try but never dared step forward for fear of rejection, Samwell curled his lip disdainfully and muttered:

"A bunch of cowards."

With that, he set down his plate and strode toward Margaery.

As a knight of House Tyrell, Samwell felt it was his duty to spare the beautiful Lady Margaery from embarrassment.

Even if he was not particularly good at dancing himself.

Yes, he was just that selfless!

"Lady Margaery, may I have the honor of inviting you to the first dance?"

Looking at Samwell as he bowed before her, Margaery secretly breathed a sigh of relief. Someone had finally come. If she had truly been left without anyone asking her to dance, how embarrassing would that have been?

"Of course, my knight."

Margaery smiled sweetly and placed her fair, jade-like hand in Samwell's large one, allowing him to lead her to the center of the dance floor.

Once they had taken their positions, Samwell suddenly leaned close to the young woman's ear and whispered:

"Let me tell you a secret. I'm not very good at dancing."

"Huh?" Margaery froze for a moment, then said helplessly, "It's all right. I'll teach you."

With that, she began teaching Samwell how to step, how to follow the rhythm of the music, how to hold his posture... and most importantly, how not to step on her feet!

They were indeed rather clumsy at first, but as Samwell gradually recovered memories from the original owner's childhood, his steps became much smoother.

Though it still could not be called graceful, at least he no longer stepped on Lady Margaery's feet.

Several black footprints already stained those exquisite red high heels.

"Well? Didn't I learn quickly?" Samwell actually grew smug as he held the beautiful young woman and spun across the dance floor.

"Not bad," Margaery said, puffing out her cheeks indignantly. "If you put the same enthusiasm into learning to dance that you put into dealing with Golden-Tailed Shrimp, you would have learned even faster."

Samwell laughed heartily without defending himself. He merely led the young woman through a rather difficult lock-step turn, drawing a startled cry from Margaery.

Once she had caught her breath, Margaery shot Samwell a glare.

Unfortunately, it had no threat behind it whatsoever.

Their coordination grew increasingly seamless, and Margaery could finally display her charm to the fullest.

Her lively, flowing dance steps, her graceful and alluring figure, and her bright, peerless beauty ensured that even with a clumsy partner dragging her down, she once again became the center of attention in the hall.

The young noblemen who had hesitated to invite her before were left beating their chests and stamping their feet in regret.

After another spinning sway, Margaery suddenly said, "Sam, House Tyrell can help you sell Brandy as well."

The corners of Samwell's mouth rose slightly, but he said:

"What? Forgive me, Lady Margaery, I didn't hear that clearly."

Helpless, Margaery had no choice but to repeat herself.

"I'm truly sorry, Lady Margaery, but I have already signed a contract with House Hightower, and it is an exclusive sales contract, so..." Samwell wore a troubled expression.

There was no such thing, of course. And whether to prevent a monopoly or spread the risk, he would never have signed such an exclusive sales agreement. But negotiations required bargaining chips.

If he did not have any, then he would simply make them up...

At that, Margaery's delicate brows knitted slightly.

Samwell spoke again:

"Of course, for House Tyrell's sake, I can speak with Lord Leyton about drawing up a new contract, but..."

"But what?"