Recruiting Troops

"Honorable Lord Caesar, Todd Flowers has come at Lady Olenna's command to serve you!"

Samwell looked at the knight bowing before him, as well as the hundred House Tyrell soldiers behind him, unable to hide his surprise.

He had originally assumed that the hundred soldiers Olenna mentioned would all be levies—a group of farmers who had just set down their hoes and picked up swords.

But judging by their uniform movements and fierce, bloodthirsty bearing, these were clearly House Tyrell's regular troops!

And they had everything: leather armor, longswords, shields, spears, bows...

A fully armed elite infantry force like this could easily sweep through the barren lands and crush some minor lord, yet Olenna had simply handed them over to him?

Samwell suddenly felt that he might have underestimated the resolve and resources of the "Queen of Thorns."

Of course, she had clearly underestimated him as well.

He was not some puppet who could be controlled so easily.

As he looked at these elite House Tyrell soldiers, Samwell could barely conceal the eagerness in his eyes.

He would show that House Tyrell woman what it meant to throw meat buns at a dog—ptui, ptui, ptui. Why was he insulting himself?

Coming back to his senses, Samwell carefully examined the leader of these soldiers—Ser Todd Flowers.

The man looked to be around thirty, tall and powerfully built, his face weathered by hardship. Most striking of all was the horrifying scar running from his left ear to the corner of his mouth.

But what interested Samwell more was the man's surname—Flowers.

Each of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros had its own customary bastard surname. For example, Snow in The North, Rivers in the Riverlands, Sand in Dorne... and in the Reach, bastards of noble blood generally bore the surname Flowers.

In Westeros, bastards were not necessarily forever beneath others, because all it took was a royal decree to legitimize them, granting them inheritance rights second only to legitimate children.

There were even quite a few bastards who had influenced the fate of the entire continent, such as the former "Lord Bloodraven," Brynden Rivers, and Jon Snow, who would soon become one of the story's protagonists.

So Samwell was very curious which Reach noble this Todd Flowers was the bastard of.

Seeing that Samwell had not responded for some time, Todd raised his head and asked, "Lord Caesar, we are all ready. Shall we depart at once?"

Samwell smiled. "No rush. I still need to recruit a few more men."

Todd frowned. "You still want to recruit more?"

"Yes." Samwell put on a frightened expression. "There are many wild beasts around the Red Mountains, not to mention those unruly Wildlings. Of course I need to bring more men."

Todd silently cursed the useless eldest son of House Tarly, who truly lived up to his reputation, but he could only helplessly follow Samwell toward the city.

After walking for a while, Todd sensed that something was wrong and asked, "My lord, aren't we going to the mercenary camp?"

"No."

Samwell offered no further explanation and continued walking with his head down.

Before long, the group arrived at the docks along the Mander River.

It was noon, and the weather was scorching. Most of the dockworkers were resting in the shade.

Samwell instructed Todd beside him, "Send some men to tell these laborers that I, Samwell Caesar, have been ordered by Lord Mace to develop the Red Mountains. Those willing to follow me may register here. I will provide food and drink, including one meat meal every day. In addition, they will receive seventy copper coins in monthly pay. Should they unfortunately die in battle, their families will receive five Silver Stags in compensation."

Todd hesitated before reminding him, "My lord, aren't you being a little too generous to these people?"

Samwell waved a hand, looking as if money meant nothing to him. "Only a generous lord can recruit soldiers who fight well. Do as I say."

"Yes, my lord."

Before long, news that Samwell was recruiting soldiers to develop the Red Mountains had spread throughout the docks.

"One meat meal every day? Seventy copper coins a month, and five Silver Stags for your family if you die? Is there really such a good deal? Are you sure you heard right?"

"Of course. The entire dock is talking about it now."

"Could it be a scam?" Gavin frowned. "Caesar? What family has that surname? Why have I never heard of it?"

"Do you know every lord in the Reach?" his companion scoffed. "Besides, how could it be a scam? Over a hundred imposing soldiers are standing right there. If you don't believe me, go see for yourself."

Gavin immediately stopped hesitating and ran over with the others.

Before long, laborers from nearly the entire dock had come after hearing the news.

Clearly, such generous terms were enough to drive these common folk mad with excitement.

Forget the Red Mountains—even if it were a mountain of blades or a sea of fire, they would dare to give it a try.

Standing on a rise, Samwell looked over the sea of people before him and shouted, "I am Samwell Caesar, the newly invested pioneer knight of Lord Mace! Today, I am recruiting soldiers to accompany me to the Red Mountains and develop new lands. But I will not take everyone. I have several requirements. First, I only want those between eighteen and thirty-five years old."

At those words, many people showed disappointed expressions and left.

The crowd thinned somewhat, but there were still over a thousand people.

Samwell pointed at a distant lighthouse and said, "Now, run to that lighthouse as fast as you can, then run back!"

Quite a few people stood there dumbfounded, but more clever ones had already realized that this was a test and immediately took off running.

Samwell watched quietly. Once the first and fastest group returned, he had Todd send men to stop the remaining runners and tell them that they had been eliminated.

Samwell then roughly counted the people still before him and found that there were still a little too many.

He could not afford to support too many soldiers right now. Besides, these people were House Tyrell's subjects. Strictly speaking, he should have obtained Lord Mace's permission before recruiting troops.

But he had no desire to see that Lord Inflatable Fish, who clearly disliked him. What if the man refused?

So he planned to recruit around a hundred able-bodied young men directly. Even if Lord Mace found out, he would probably not bother making an issue of such a small number.

Thus, Samwell went to a rise before the crowd again, held his sword level before him, and ordered the remaining laborers to line up and pass beneath it.

Whenever someone had to lower his head and bend over to get under the blade, Samwell would tell him, "You've been recruited."

For those who could not reach the sword even while standing straight, he would shake his head. "Sorry, you've been eliminated."

Watching from the side, Gavin quickly understood that this time the lord was selecting soldiers by height, and his heart immediately began to pound.

Only after everyone ahead of him had passed through did he grit his teeth and step forward.

As the sword drew nearer and nearer, Gavin gradually began to despair, because he realized that he truly was not tall enough.

But when he reached the sword, Gavin suddenly rose onto his tiptoes and shut his eyes—

Even though he knew his little trick might be mercilessly exposed, Gavin no longer cared.

He was unwilling to accept it.

Born in the slums, he had dreamed since childhood of becoming a knight's squire. But why would any noble lord take notice of a lowborn wretch like him, someone who did not even have a surname?

When he heard that a knight was going to develop new lands, Gavin's hopes had been rekindled.

He knew that developing new territory would be difficult, but once it succeeded, a new batch of nobles would emerge.

He naturally did not dare hope to become a noble lord himself. He only hoped that one of the newly risen knights might take a liking to him and make him his squire.

But now, that dream seemed about to shatter once again.

Gavin held his breath and waited for fate's judgment.

But strangely, the noble knight's voice never came.

Gavin did not dare turn around to look, nor was he willing to give up like this, so he remained on tiptoe.

Time passed bit by bit. Gavin's legs began to tremble, his face flushed red, and large beads of sweat dripped down one after another, but he stubbornly refused to give in.

Samwell had naturally seen that the boy was trying to cheat, yet he did not eliminate him. He seemed intent on seeing just how long he could remain on tiptoe.

The afternoon sun was especially vicious. The sweat that had just fallen evaporated before it could soak into the ground.

Samwell's legs were already beginning to ache from simply standing normally, yet the young man before him continued to endure.

His entire body shook, and he swayed as though he might collapse at any moment, but he never fell.

Just as Gavin's consciousness began to blur, a voice like heavenly music finally rang out. "All right. You've been recruited."

With a thud, Gavin dropped to his knees and gasped for breath like a dehydrated fish.

Then he saw the noble knight crouching in front of him, his round face filled with a gentle smile. "Kid, what's your name?"

"I... I, my lord, my name is Gavin!"

"Good, Gavin. From today onward, you'll lead my horse."

Tears immediately streamed down Gavin's face. "Yes, my lord!"