Samwell Tarly

House Tarly bore the emblem of a striding hunter. Martial valor ran in its blood, and for generations it had ruled the Horn Hill region, home to hundreds of thousands. It was one of the most powerful lordly houses in The Reach.

The current Lord Tarly, Randyll Tarly, was without question the foremost commander in The Reach, a major figure even among the Seven Kingdoms.

Even so, Joffrey faithfully played his assigned role.

(The arrogant, ignorant Prince Joffrey obviously wouldn't care who anyone was.)

"Eleventh match of the first round of the Jousting Tournament! Ser Lyles Fossoway versus Sandor Clegane!"

Joffrey glanced at the field, then continued pressing Randyll Tarly.

"Have you made up your mind, Lord Tarly?"

Several more matches had passed since Prince Joffrey explained his intentions, yet Randyll Tarly was still somewhat dazed.

Without any warning, Prince Joffrey had suddenly approached him and said he wanted his eldest son to come to King's Landing as Grand Maester Pycelle's apprentice.

Naturally, he had been surprised.

Before the other court officials and nobles at their table departed, Randyll was certain he had seen pity in their eyes.

It humiliated and enraged him.

But after giving it some thought and understanding what it meant, an uncontrollable delight rose within him.

Lord Randyll had to admit that the latter emotion had gained the upper hand.

He knew he should not think this way.

House Tarly truly revered martial prowess, warriors born for war.

But they were also lords and bannermen.

A warrior's fierceness was important, certainly, but the tacit understanding and rules between lords could not be ignored either.

The eldest son's inheritance was an ancient tradition and a legally established system that had endured for thousands of years. Every house ought to uphold it.

That was precisely why Lord Randyll, despite loathing the weakness of his eldest son Samwell Tarly, had delayed sending him to The Citadel or The Faith.

Stripping the eldest son of his inheritance, even if it was an internal family decision, would inevitably invite gossip and damage the house's reputation and honor.

If an outsider interfered, it would be an even more intolerable humiliation.

But what if that outsider was the royal family?

It was as though Lord Randyll had pushed open a new door.

Cheers and boos suddenly grew much louder. "The Hound," Sandor Clegane, had won.

Lord Randyll remained immersed in his thoughts.

Originally, he had resolved to force Sam to join The Night's Watch at the Wall once they returned to Horn Hill, surrendering his inheritance.

The Night's Watch was, after all, a place for warriors. It lay at the northernmost edge of The North, far farther from home than The Citadel, and it would keep Sam from further tarnishing the family name in The Reach.

Though the family's reputation would still suffer somewhat, and its internal unity would also be affected.

He had thought there was no other choice.

But now, a chance to satisfy both sides had appeared before him.

Lord Randyll raised his head and asked again, "Your Highness, are you certain you mean this?"

Joffrey felt helpless. He had confirmed it so many times already. How many more times did he have to say it?

But he also understood that Randyll Tarly was not being forgetful. He was hesitating. Hesitation itself represented a certain attitude.

Joffrey was not worried about being refused.

Sam's fate in the story was enough to prove that Lord Tarly had already reached the limit of his tolerance for his eldest son's weakness.

The option he offered now benefited everyone.

"Lord Randyll, I am very serious."

He slightly broke through the restrictions of his persona.

"Isn't this a good thing? House Tarly can have a more suitable heir, your eldest son who loves knowledge can focus on his studies, and Grand Maester Pycelle gains another apprentice. Everyone wins."

Randyll Tarly said nothing. Sam, why couldn't you be a little braver? Don't blame me.

Joffrey waited for quite a while, but still received no response.

Gradually, a suspicion formed in his mind.

"Lord Randyll, what is there left to hesitate over? What could possibly be wrong with becoming the Grand Maester's apprentice? I'm doing this for his sake!"

Lord Tarly remained silent. It was time to settle this once and for all.

Joffrey became somewhat certain.

He rose to his feet and delivered his final ultimatum.

"Lord Tarly, in the name of Joffrey Baratheon, heir to the Iron Throne and Crown Prince, I command you to obey. Do you intend to defy me?"

People around them turned to look.

Randyll Tarly sprang to his feet, his eyes wide, looking as though he were barely suppressing his fury.

The two glared at each other, neither willing to yield.

Just as Joffrey could not help doubting his own judgment, Lord Tarly finally spoke.

"I will obey the Crown Prince's command and place my eldest son, Samwell Tarly, under Grand Maester Pycelle's instruction. However—"

Randyll Tarly was remarkably insistent.

"I must emphasize that this is not my wish, nor is it House Tarly's decision!"

As soon as he finished speaking, Lord Tarly turned and strode away.

The atmosphere immediately went cold.

Watching the subdued, silent crowd, Joffrey could guess exactly what they were thinking.

Randyll Tarly really was an old fox!

Joffrey knew he had not guessed wrong earlier.

This was what the man meant: House Tarly would remain stable and united, its image undamaged, its succession secured. All the bad things had been done by Joffrey—the royal family.

And given King Robert's temperament, once he learned of this, he would surely feel indebted to House Tarly.

There was simply no downside.

But it was precisely these extra benefits that led Lord Tarly to choose King's Landing rather than the Wall for Samwell.

As for Joffrey, he was merely sacrificing a reputation that had already been terrible to begin with, perhaps earning a few more scoldings from the king.

A negligible price in exchange for a connection to House Tarly and a powerful, knowledgeable talent whose background he knew inside out.

Samwell Tarly.

In the story, he had always been Jon Snow's invaluable support and one of the main forces against the Others—an unquestionably righteous character.

Kind-hearted, quick-witted, intelligent, learned, and without ambition.

Though his presence was less prominent than that of several main characters, as the author's favored child, he absolutely could not be underestimated. At the very least, he had the potential to become a minister capable of standing on his own.

With another dozen or so talents like him, Joffrey could barely support the political structure he envisioned.

And the more, the better.

Joffrey wanted to gather far more than a dozen characters.

After all, one of the greatest advantages of knowing the story was his deep understanding of the people who appeared in it.

Who in reality could see through another person completely?

The costs in time, risk, and building mutual trust were simply incalculable.

As a transmigrator, of course he had to seize this opportunity to recruit talent, make use of those who could be used, and plant ticking bombs among his enemies.

With Tyrion, the Hound, and Sam, his little circle had begun to take shape. All it lacked was some seed money.

Joffrey looked toward a plain tent outside the tournament grounds.

It's up to you.

The Hound.