I'm Not Short of Money

Dear Miss Margaery Tyrell:

I should not have troubled you with such trivial matters, but considering that you are, after all, the sponsor of this expedition, I felt obligated to write and inform you of our latest progress.

After we parted that day, I met Ser Todd Flowers and one hundred soldiers from House Tyrell. They are all exceptional warriors; please convey my gratitude to Lady Olenna. In addition, I recruited one hundred and eight dockworkers myself. I believe they will also become an important source of support for this expedition.

After spending a day in Highgarden preparing food and equipment, we set off. We traveled south along the Rose Road and, after about a month, arrived near Honeyholt. We planned to rest here for a while before leaving the Rose Road and continuing south.

However, we have run into some difficulties.

It is somewhat embarrassing to admit, but this was indeed my mistake. I truly did not anticipate how much a march of over two hundred men would consume, especially since I had promised the newly recruited soldiers one meat meal a day... So I fear I may go bankrupt before even reaching the Red Mountains...

After much struggle, I decided to confess this to you and beg for your help.

Of course, I know this request is excessive, so even if you refuse, I will hold no grievance. I merely fear that this expedition may come to nothing.

Your most loyal knight,

Samwell Caesar

In a courtyard filled with roses, Margaery sat on a hanging chair, gently swinging. Her curly brown hair fluttered in the breeze, while her delicate little face was slightly furrowed as she read the letter in her hand, making her look especially pitiful.

"What's wrong? Which knight's letter has our little princess so worried?"

The speaker was a young man seated in a wheelchair. He had a full beard, a narrow face, and a gentle temperament.

He was Willas Tyrell, eldest son of House Tyrell and heir to Highgarden.

"It's not what you think, brother." Margaery jumped down from the swing and handed the letter to Willas, pouting with her rosy lips. "It's that Samwell from House Tarly. He actually wrote to ask me for money. And after all this time, he has only made it to Honeyholt. Has he been sightseeing the whole way?"

"Samwell? Oh, I remember that boy." Willas read the letter, unable to hide his amusement. "That pioneering knight who loves Golden-Tailed Shrimp. Hmm? You actually sponsored him?"

"It was only to cooperate with Grandmother."

Willas frowned slightly. "I never asked before, but what exactly is Grandmother planning by sending Ser Todd and one hundred household guards to help that boy develop his territory?"

Margaery shrugged. "I don't really know Grandmother's specific plan either. I only know that she is probably doing it to deal with Dorne."

"Dorne..." Willas unconsciously lowered his head and looked at his crippled leg.

Dorne lay at the southernmost end of Westeros, separated from the Reach by the Red Mountains.

Neighbors had never lacked for conflict, and the struggles between Dorne and the Reach had continued for thousands of years. Legend had it that the Red Mountains had once been green, only to be dyed red by the blood of warriors who died in the long wars between the two lands.

Willas's leg had been broken by Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne during a tourney, which had clearly deepened the hatred between House Tyrell and House Martell.

Seeing her brother's low spirits, Margaery hurried over, took his hand, and comforted him.

"Don't worry, brother. We will make House Martell pay!"

But Willas smiled with relief and shook his head.

"Actually, I do not hate him. Truly. He defeated me fairly and squarely at the tourney, so of course I bear no resentment. You probably would not believe it, but we have remained in correspondence. A few days ago, Oberyn even told me a good way to cook horse meat. Ah, right, I should inform the kitchen at once. We can try a new horse meat dish tonight. Ha ha."

Willas returned the letter to his sister and added,

"As for this pioneering knight's request, decide for yourself whether to continue sponsoring him. If you do not have enough money, just tell me."

Margaery did not know whether her brother's relief was genuine or merely an act, but she did not pursue the subject. Taking the letter, she sighed helplessly.

"Ah, of course I have to keep sponsoring him. We can't really let him come crawling back so soon."

"Fine. How much do you need?"

"Five hundred... no, three hundred Gold Dragons. Hmph. This time I'll write to that fat man and tell him to spend more carefully!"

"Carefully, my ass! Do you think I'm short of money?"

Faced with Samwell's bold declaration, Gavin wore a miserable expression.

"But, my lord, the funds you gave me for purchases are almost gone..."

"So soon?" Samwell was somewhat surprised, but there was no panic on his face.

Seeing this, Gavin felt slightly reassured, but he still tried earnestly to persuade him.

"My lord, you really do not need to treat us so well. Although you promised us one meat meal a day, we would be satisfied with meat soup. Giving us twenty pounds of meat every day like this is simply too extravagant..."

"How will everyone have the strength to train if they do not eat enough meat?" Samwell said confidently. "As for money, you need not worry. I'm not short of money!"

Though helpless, Gavin also felt warmth in his heart. "My lord, you are the most generous knight I have ever met!"

Samwell, who was being generous with someone else's money, accepted Gavin's praise without the slightest guilt. He handed him a few more Gold Dragons and said with a smile,

"All right, go make purchases in town. Remember to see whether there are any ingredients we have not bought before. No matter how expensive they are, buy one of each and bring them back."

"Yes, my lord."

Samwell's generosity was not an act. Though his development funds were indeed nearly exhausted, he believed House Tyrell would not stand by and watch him return empty-handed.

After all, they had already sent one hundred elite soldiers. Would they really begrudge spending a little more money?

Of course, Samwell knew that Lady Olenna had some scheme involving him, but exploitation had always been mutual.

Before the other party achieved her goal, he was actually the one holding the initiative.

After dismissing Gavin, Samwell came to the front of the camp and gave the order.

"All right, today's military training begins!"

He then blew the assembly horn.

In the blink of an eye, the hundred-odd newly recruited soldiers rushed out of their tents and formed neat ranks in the open space.

To be honest, Samwell had no real idea how to train troops.

His only relevant experience came, surprisingly, from military training during university in his previous life.

The original Samwell had been forced by his father to receive quite a bit of military education, but those memories were not truly his own. Though he had inherited them after transmigrating, he could not perfectly integrate them. They were like shells scattered across a beach, requiring him to painstakingly gather and organize them.

Thus, ever since deciding to develop new territory, Samwell had begun sorting through the original Samwell's military knowledge. Combining it with the scraps of modern military theory he had learned from films, television dramas, and novels, as well as his experience managing dozens of employees in his previous life as a businessman, he continuously refined and adjusted things through practice. Gradually, he developed a troop-training method of his own.

As for its effectiveness...

Samwell did not know either, since it had not been tested in actual battle.

But at the very least, these recruits could now understand commands. They could line up, march, and perform some basic combat movements in an orderly fashion. They had completely shed their former lax and disorderly state, and now looked quite convincing.

What Samwell did not know was that the troop-training methods he had devised had greatly shocked Todd Flowers, who had been secretly observing from the side.

At first, when Todd saw that Samwell intended to recruit new soldiers, he had been prepared to laugh at him.

He had assumed that if a renowned good-for-nothing from the Reach like Samwell trained troops, these hundred-odd recruits would all flee before they even reached the new territory.

Yet reality was completely different from what he had expected.

Not only had none of the recruits fled, they had instead become increasingly orderly. After only one month, they already looked the part. If someone called them a regular army, few would doubt it.

Todd's initial disdain had gradually turned into serious regard. Every time Samwell trained the recruits, Todd would secretly observe from the side.

That strange training method left him both astonished and faintly... afraid.

Was this really the useless eldest son of House Tarly?

If Lord Randyll did not even think a son like this was worthy, just how formidable was the heir he truly favored?

Todd could also see that Samwell had been somewhat inexperienced at first. Yet as they traveled, he became more and more proficient and at ease. As time passed, the temperament and appearance of these recruits underwent a truly earthshaking transformation.

Of course, Todd also knew that these recruits were still only impressive on the surface. Their combat strength could not compare to that of a regular army. But even so, Samwell had built this foundation in just one month. Todd knew he himself did not possess such ability.

"They are only so energetic because they get to eat meat every day."

Todd turned his head and saw his squire Carter speaking sourly beside him.