Samwell pondered how to fix things. Although he felt guilty toward his younger brother, he figured it would be better to create a big enough commotion before leaving the castle—perhaps his father Randyll would catch wind of their movements.
If they were caught after already sneaking out, the punishment might be far worse.
…
Samwell, too overweight for quick movement, was already gasping for breath not long after Dickon started pulling him along.
"Di—ckon, do—don't rush… Lord Crabb just arrived; he won't leave that quickly. We still have time… huff, huff."
Although anxious, Dickon slowed his pace when he noticed Samwell's condition.
"Brother, it's a duel—Baron Gawen is challenging all the Reach's swordsmen! If we're late and he's already defeated, it'll be a wasted trip! I don't want to miss any of the matches!"
Baron Gawen, challenging all swordsmen in the Reach alone?
Samwell thought Gawen's courage was truly remarkable.
…
"And Talla is coming too. She's already in the carriage, just waiting for us!"
Before Samwell could even process Dickon's first piece of news, the second one hit him like a hammer.
Talla Tarly was coming too?!
And the worst was yet to come—it had only just begun.
Samwell was certain he was doomed.
Before leaving, Samwell wanted to see his mother one last time.
He wouldn't stammer, nor shy away—he'd stand tall and tell her boldly that he loved her dearly.
…
Desperately, Samwell said, "Before we go… let me just inform Father…"
What?! His brother wanted to face their father?
Because of him, Samwell had been reprimanded by Randyll, and Dickon had been so guilty he avoided Samwell for days.
In the past, after being scolded by their father, Samwell would usually avoid him for at least a month.
Was his brother getting braver? Dickon felt genuinely happy about Samwell's change.
"Brother, don't you remember? It's hunting season—Father's gone into the woods with the huntsmen. He won't be back for days!"
Dragged into the carriage by Dickon, Samwell only came to his senses after seeing his sister Talla.
After months apart, he realized she'd grown even more beautiful—clearly inheriting their mother's grace.
He wanted to praise her beauty like the knights in his books, but though he opened his mouth, no words came.
Talla Tarly noticed Samwell's glances but didn't know how to engage with her awkward brother.
The awkward silence inside the carriage was broken by Dickon's excited voice.
"I heard Baron Gawen offered a reward of two thousand gold dragons—anyone who defeats him in a duel can take it all!"
Talla played along, gasping in amazement.
Samwell, his mind full of images of his father's angry face, didn't really hear what Dickon said. But seeing his siblings so happy, he forced a smile.
Once Samwell had calmed down, he noticed the soldiers riding alongside their carriage.
This wasn't his doing—who arranged for them?
From a balcony in Horn Hill, Melessa Florent (Randyll Tarly's wife) watched the departing carriage and smiled warmly.
…
Outside Highgarden Castle
The same day Gawen left the castle, he had a wooden dueling stage constructed near his camp.
Thanks to the Reach's thriving commerce, Steward Rossell quickly gathered the needed materials, and by sundown, hired craftsmen had completed the platform just as Gawen requested.
After working through the night, at dawn the next day, Gawen had several large banners hung from the platform:
"Baron Gawen Crabb, Chief Agent of the Queen"
"First Swordsman of the Crownlands, Challenging the Reach"
"Defeat Me—Win 2,000 Gold Dragons"
Day One of the Duel
Though the stage was simple, the banners were eye-catching.
Once a crowd had gathered, Gawen ordered a chest of gold dragons to be carried onto the stage.
Rossell opened the lid, and the golden coins gleamed under the sun, drawing gasps from onlookers.
Taking advantage of the attention, Rossell loudly read out the rules:
It was a standard sword duel, but with one key condition—challengers had to pay ten gold dragons to enter.
Defeat Gawen, and you won two thousand. Lose, and you forfeited the ten you paid.
Gawen didn't even need the plants he'd arranged; his first real challenger came quickly.
The man bore a heraldry of a radiant red-gold fox—clearly a swordsman from House Florent.
Gawen held back his strength on purpose, exchanging blows with the Florent knight for several rounds.
But after a dozen exchanges, it became clear the man's skills—though brave—were lacking. Gawen decided the show had gone on long enough.
Spotting an opening, he flicked his longsword upward, knocking the opponent's sword from his hands.
Without a trace of arrogance, Gawen kindly offered the man a comforting excuse:
"Truly, our swordplay is evenly matched. I merely had a slight advantage in strength."
His tone was so sincere that the Florent knight actually felt consoled.
And the duel itself had been thrilling.
Perhaps he'd just had an off day. He'd go back, regroup, and maybe challenge again tomorrow.
He even chatted with Gawen for a while afterward, trading swordplay insights, before leaving the stage in good spirits.
…
To the second challenger, Gawen said,"Truly, our swordplay is evenly matched. I merely had a slight advantage in speed."
To the third:"Truly, we were equal in swordplay. I just had a slight edge in height."
…
To the eighth:"Truly, our strength is equal—I only had more practice with the blade."
To the ninth:"Truly, our speed was matched. I simply had a bit more sword experience."
…
Day Two of the Duel
A new banner appeared:
"The Swordsmen of the Reach Are Too Weak"
The crowd erupted.
Today, Gawen shed his modest image and sat proudly atop the wooden stage.
Cross-legged in his chair, chin raised, he stared indifferently at the crowd, as if they were beneath him.
Another sign appeared at just the right time:
"Any More Brave Challengers?"
.
.
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🔥 The Throne's Last Flame — A Song Forged in Ice and Wrath 🔥
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