Game of Thrones: Lord of the Flames

The first rays of dawn pierced through the clouds, casting a soft golden light over the mountains.

On blood-stained soil, nameless weeds greedily soaked up the remains of the fallen, striving to grow taller and stronger.

High above, vultures circled, eager to swoop down and feast.

Though Samwell had gone without sleep, he appeared full of energy, directing his men to clear the battlefield and secure the prisoners.

The victory was theirs at last, and a resounding one.

Samwell understood the immense significance of this victory for him.

First, his recruits, tempered by the flames of battle, were no longer mere novices but a formidable force he could truly depend on.

Second, his own reputation had soared after this victory. Once dismissed as a fool among the nobility of the Reach, now he saw respect and admiration in the eyes of those around him. They now regarded him as a true leader, a lord capable of carving out new territory.

And most importantly, this victory meant that his new territory would no longer need to fear raids from wildlings—at least, not in this valley. No nearby wildling tribe would have the courage or strength to threaten him.

Just then, Todd approached, bowing respectfully to Samwell and reporting:

"My lord, the initial tally from the battle has been completed."

The knight from House Tyrell was clearly more respectful than he had been before.

"What's the result?"

"We lost twenty-one men, with another thirty-some badly wounded. But we killed over two hundred and thirty wildlings and captured nearly a thousand!"

Todd, the seasoned warrior, could scarcely believe it himself.

He'd seen his share of battles but had never encountered such astonishing results, especially knowing that most of those under Samwell's command were green recruits facing an enemy with crude weapons and chaotic organization. Even so, such a sweeping victory placed the young knight firmly among the Reach's most skilled commanders.

House Tarly truly does raise remarkable generals, Todd thought.

At this moment, Todd no longer dared associate Samwell with that disparaging label of "useless." Either that had been a grievous misunderstanding or a product of some foul conspiracy within House Tarly itself.

"Good. Make sure our wounded are cared for, and issue the death gratuities I promised to the families of the fallen. You can speak with Gavin for the funds."

"Yes, my lord."

"Have we captured the wildling leaders?"

"Yes. The attack was led by the Tigerfang Clan, and it was organized by the chieftain's three sons. They've all been captured."

"Excellent. Bring them to me."

"Yes, my lord."

When the Tigerfang brothers were brought before him, Samwell recognized one of them as the fearsome warrior who'd nearly ended his life during the battle.

"So, we meet again," Samwell greeted with a grin. "And what's your name?"

"Chika," he snarled through gritted teeth, his blood-red eyes fixed on Samwell, as though ready to tear his throat out at any moment.

Samwell, however, felt no fear in the face of a defeated warrior—especially one whose hands and feet were bound.

"Chika, we had no quarrel, and I never harmed your clan. So, why did you attack us?"

Chika scoffed, rage flashing in his eyes.

"You Reach folk—everywhere you go, you take land and build castles, chop down forests, and hunt our beasts. These lands and creatures are the gifts of the gods, meant for us! And you destroy them. You still wonder why we fight you?"

"These resources don't bear your name," Samwell replied coolly. "What makes you think they're yours alone? Why not share and develop them together?"

"Hmph. You won. The forest is yours. Why waste breath?" Chika sneered. "If you mean to kill, then kill. No warrior of Tigerfang fears death!"

"Oh?" Samwell eyed the defiant brothers, an idea forming. "Well, I never said I intended to kill you."

"You're not going to kill us?" Chika's brows knit in surprise. "Are you planning to make us your slaves?"

Samwell shook his head again. "Enslaving others is an affront to the Seven and is prohibited by the laws of the kingdom."

"If not slaves, do you mean to set us free?" Chimu, the second brother, asked in disbelief.

To their surprise, Samwell nodded.

"Ha! As if you'd be so kind?" Chika's tone was thick with doubt.

"I've no desire to make enemies of the wildlings," Samwell said earnestly. "You gave me no chance to show you goodwill. As I said, nature's bounty isn't yours alone. We could work together—as partners, allies, even kin."

"Empty words. You Reach nobles speak well," Chika scoffed, "but you just want us to bow to you."

Samwell laughed. "Isn't it natural to submit to the strong? Isn't that the way in your clans?"

At this, Chika fell silent.

Strength did rule in the wildling tribes, after all.

After a pause, he muttered, "Only the chieftain of the Tigerfang Clan, our father, could decide if we'd submit to you."

"That's why I'd like to meet him."

"Fine. Then release us, along with our clansmen."

Samwell shook his head. "You inflicted significant losses upon us. There must be some recompense."

"What recompense?"

"The captured warriors will stay to help build my castle and can only leave once it's complete."

"So, you would enslave them! Earlier, you said no slaves. Typical noble hypocrisy!" Chika sneered.

Samwell ignored him and continued, "And the three of you must also pay a price for starting this conflict."

"What punishment?"

"Over a hundred died because of you. The punishment, therefore, must be death."

Chika laughed. "So you do mean to kill us! Were those noble promises just lies?"

"No," Samwell replied calmly. "Only one of you will die. I'll spare the other two as a sign of my desire for peace with the Tigerfang Clan."

The brothers blinked in shock before, almost in unison, asking:

"Who do you mean to kill?"

Samwell gave a sly smile. "I'll let you decide among yourselves who will die to atone for the fallen."

With his words, the air around them grew tense.

(End of Chapter)