chapter 86 part 2
Aemilia and Lena had been good friends for many years, and she understood Lena well.
Lena was short and thin, but she was extremely warlike, a trait that had only intensified since she joined the Thorn Legion.
Aemilia's lips curled slightly as she reached out to pat Lena's head. "Just think of it as a rest, alright? We can't be fighting every day. Knight Maegor is resuming his farming at the new homestead. He needs more labor."
Lena hummed softly. "Aemilia, I don't need comfort. Just like you said, I'll consider it a rest."
Aemilia patted Lena again before withdrawing her hand.
Lately, Aemilia had grown fond of patting Lena's head. It felt quite addictive.
...
Lena's eyes darted around. "Aemilia, really, why bother with farming? Our soldiers are growing more numerous, and our strength increases with every battle. We should just keep conquering."
Lena was not alone in this thinking. In fact, what she expressed represented the thoughts of most soldiers of House Crabbe.
They fought almost every day, and because they were at war, the standard of their rations naturally increased.
Moreover, they usually outnumbered their enemies. Spoils of war continuously filled their pockets, and the soldiers had never lived so comfortably.
The soldiers' mood was naturally noticed by the commanders. The experienced Ser Per Pily was, of course, capable of handling such a situation.
Aemilia, too, was constantly growing through learning.
...
Aemilia looked at Lena, her tone serious. "Lena, haven't you noticed that there have been quite a few unnecessary casualties among our sisters lately? Fighting is like drawing a bow; the string cannot be kept taut all the time."
Lena's eyes sparkled as she looked at Aemilia, her voice filled with surprise. "Leopardess, how do you understand such profound principles? You've convinced me completely!"
Aemilia's cheeks flushed slightly.
The last time Aemilia saw Per Pily, she had found an opportunity to ask for his advice and had secretly written down some phrases she thought were suitable for placating the soldiers.
Although Per Pily was not one to smile, he was an honest man. Or rather, he would do his utmost for anything he believed would benefit House Crabbe.
Per Pily told Aemilia that words alone could only comfort soldiers temporarily, and military law by itself could not boost morale. A commander also needed to master techniques for raising and maintaining it.
Finally, Per Pily shared some examples from his personal experience and imparted some of the skills he had mastered.
...
Aemilia cleared her throat and said, "Tell the sisters that the Thorn Legion will use this opportunity to continue expanding its ranks. If you find suitable candidates, remember not to miss them. We don't have much time. Lord Glyn will be making bigger moves later."
The information revealed in Aemilia's words made Lena's eyes light up. She nodded heavily. "Don't worry, Commander Aemilia!"
Aemilia waved her hand as if shooing away sheep. "Go on, then. Arrange it."
Aemilia's dismissiveness only made Lena feel closer and happier, as if the bond between them had suddenly deepened.
Lena bowed respectfully and departed, throwing herself into her military duties with a face full of excitement.
Aemilia watched Lena's retreating figure and pinched her chin.
She nodded to herself. *It worked, indeed!*
...
...
In the House Crabbe camp, the night was deep.
When he left Horn Hill, Samwell Tarly hadn't taken so much as a single copper star.
Samwell felt that since he had already chosen to leave, nothing there belonged to him anymore.
The old horse he had used for travel and the unfinished book were only borrowed. He would arrange for someone to return them.
Perhaps, in leaving home, Samwell was subconsciously rebelling against the father he feared so much for the first time.
...
Having waited at the camp gate for Glyn all this time, Samwell was already faint with hunger.
He had refused the dinner the guard brought him.
The simple-minded Samwell believed that this was a military camp, and since he hadn't officially joined yet, he shouldn't enjoy the food of House Crabbe ahead of time.
Samwell shifted his plump body and continued reading the book in his hand by the light of the camp gate's brazier.
The book allowed Samwell to forget his inner unease and the hunger in his belly.
...
Tomorrow was the day of departure. After the feast ended, Glyn left Highgarden with his guards.
Including tonight's efforts, Glyn had nearly perfected the "victory through non-contention" theory of war he had tailored for Lord Mace.
Glyn believed that in the future, Lord Mace would no longer need his help. With this new theory, he could handle most situations and continue to build a name for himself.
This was exactly what Glyn hoped to see.
No matter how much of a figurehead Lord Mace was, he was still the Lord Paramount of the Reach, and his influence there was not to be underestimated.
Because it would build his name and increase his prestige, Lord Mace would spare no effort to promote his unique art of war at every opportunity.
The ever-flourishing House Tyrell would also exert its influence from the shadows.
An increase in their lord's prestige was beneficial to House Tyrell's rule over the Reach.
What was Glyn's objective?
As hinted before, after entering the Reach, its prosperity had made the ever-scheming and far-sighted Glyn feel a sense of unease.
Glyn's deepest hope was that this "victory through non-contention" strategy, tailored for Lord Mace, would smoothly penetrate the hearts and minds of the people of the Reach.
In the future, as long as the flames of war did not reach them directly, the Reach should not be so quick to mobilize.
...
The more deeply Glyn understood, the more he felt that under the rule of the ever-flourishing House Tyrell, the Reach had become too powerful.
If he were the Lord of the Reach... Glyn might use its power to unify Westeros, and then use its people to govern the kingdom. The scale of the Reach was large enough to absorb the rest of Westeros after a war.
Among the Seven Kingdoms, only they had the strength to achieve this.
The traditions they inherited and their comfortable lives reined in the ambitions of the Reach.
Building upon this foundation, the pragmatic and far-sighted Glyn merely used an easily accepted new theory to go with the flow, adding an invisible tether to the "stability" of the Reach.
The astute Glyn thought: *Before I am fully grown, House Tyrell must maintain its proper decorum. We must abide by the rules of the game of thrones, not flip the table and break them.*
...
Approaching the camp, Glyn was the first to spot the large figure by the gate's brazier.
*Samwell?* Glyn's eyes twitched, and he urged his horse to a faster pace.
"Samwell, it's wonderful to see you again!"
Having dismounted, Glyn walked towards Samwell with his arms outstretched.
When he heard the sound of hooves, Samwell had already closed his book and swayed to his feet.
Seeing Glyn's smiling face, Samwell felt a wave of relief.
According to proper etiquette, Samwell should have sent a letter beforehand and received Glyn's consent before visiting.
Seeing that Glyn didn't mind such things, Samwell felt he had not misjudged the man. Lord Glyn was a man of broad horizons. With his emphasis on knowledge, his future achievements would surely be extraordinary.
One fat, one thin, two contrasting figures embraced for a moment.
Glyn smiled, glanced at the book in Samwell's hand, and said, "Samwell, I am the one who is late. Come, let's go inside together."
Samwell shook his head shyly.
Seeing Samwell's hesitant expression, Glyn simply smiled warmly at him and didn't move.
Glyn's gesture seemed to silently encourage the nervous Samwell.
After a moment's pause, Samwell finally mustered his courage. He thought of the many beautiful phrases he had once read.
The thought was noble, but when Samwell opened his mouth, the words came out pale and direct, contrary to his intentions.
"I... I wish to serve you, Lord Glyn..."
Glyn's eyebrows rose slightly, his eyes crinkling with a smile as his lips curved upwards.
Glyn felt that what Samwell needed right now was not polite pleasantries, but a way to set his restless heart at ease.
Glyn unbuckled the longsword at his waist, held it upright before him, and clasped the hilt with both hands. "Samwell, I trust you have noticed that I have always yearned for your exceptional wisdom. Swear your fealty."
Samwell's eyes reddened. His body swayed, and he awkwardly knelt on one knee before Glyn. "I, Samwell Tarly, swear fealty to you. I will offer you my counsel and strategies. In times of peril, I am willing to lay down my life for you. From this day until my last day, I swear it by the old gods and the new."
Glyn nodded slightly, his steady voice carrying a hint of solemnity. "I, Glyn Crabbe, swear that there will always be a place for you by my hearth and meat and wine for you at my table. I swear never to ask you to do any unjust thing. I swear it by the old gods and the new."
(end of chapter)