Game of Thrones: Holy Flame King
Chapter 14: highland castle

  Chapter 14 Highland City

  Crossing the tributary of the Mead River, Samwell and his party saw a tall gray rock castle.

  The mottled city walls are covered with moss and creepers, silently telling the wind and frost that this ancient castle has experienced. On the top of the hundreds of feet of the castle tower, a white flag was flying, with flocks of black and orange butterflies flying on it.

   This is the lord of Highland City, the coat of arms of the Mullendall family.

  Passing this city and not far to the southwest, you will replace the Crimson Mountains.

   It is conceivable that if Samwell successfully establishes a territory in the Crimson Mountains in the future, the Mullendall family will be his neighbors.

  So, in order to establish a good relationship with the neighbors in advance, Samwell did not choose to go around the city, but sent Gavin to Highland City to send a formal letter of greeting.

   "Samwell Caesar."

  In the castle, Viscount Martin Mullendall held the greeting letter handed over by Gavin, with a playful smile on his face, "Is that the pioneer knight conferred by a woman?"

   Gavin leaned over slightly, and said in a neither humble nor overbearing tone:

   "Dear Lord Viscount, Lord Caesar is a pioneering knight conferred by Miss Margaery, the daughter of the Duke of Metz, on behalf of her father. He is an official vassal of the Tyrell family."

  Viscount Martin curled his lips in disdain: "So, he is indeed a knight conferred by a woman."

   Gavin lowered his head and did not answer.

   Viscount Martin snorted softly, then lazily said:

   "Okay, let him come in."

   Gavin bowed and saluted, then turned and left silently.

   Viscount Martin ordered to the steward beside him:

   "Let the kitchen prepare the dinner, and it doesn't need to be too rich, just decent."

   "Yes, sir."

   "Father, is this the useless eldest son of the Tully family?" It was Viscount Martin's eldest son, Mark Mullendall, who spoke.

  This man is tall and has a beard. There is a black and white monkey sitting on his shoulder, and he is concentrating on cracking the nuts in his hand.

"That's right. Lando Tarly is a character, but it's a pity he gave birth to such a useless son. Now he has finally made up his mind to abolish Samwell's inheritance rights, but he didn't expect to use such a method. Go to the Crimson Mountains to develop... Hehe, it would be better to send him to the Great Wall."

  Mark shrugged and said: "If I had to choose, I would definitely rather choose to develop than go to the ghostly place of the Great Wall."

  Viscount Martin glanced at his son and said with a smile: "Do you also think it is easy to develop?"

   "Of course I know that it is difficult to open up, but isn't the Great Wall of Impassable is obviously worse, it's freezing, and I heard that there are unkillable ghosts."

   "White ghosts?" Viscount Martin sneered, "It's just a legend that lied to children. It's been thousands of years, has anyone seen White ghosts? As for the cold, it's summer now, and the Great Wall isn't that cold."

   "But winter will come sooner or later."

   "Who knows. This summer hasn't ended for so long, and it may last longer. Only those northern savages who worship wood will keep shouting 'winter is coming' nervously."

  Mark seemed to think of something, and suddenly said:

   "Father, do you think this is the eternal summer promised by the Seven Gods to the world, and there will be no more winter?"

   "The Seven Gods said that when the sins of the world are over, Yongxia will come. So, do you think the sins of the world are now over?"

  Mark shook his head, dragging his cheeks and lost in thought. The monkey on his shoulder also followed his master's example and began to think about monkey life.

  At this time, there were orderly footsteps outside the castle.

  Mark walked to the balcony curiously, looked out, and saw a team of about 200 people walking into the castle through the drawbridge.

   "Father! Come and see!"

  Hearing his son's shout, Viscount Martin walked out slowly: "What's wrong?"

  Mark pointed to the pioneering team below with a look of shock, and asked, "Are you sure this Samwell is a waste abandoned by the family?"

   Viscount Martin was also stunned.

  Because the more than two hundred neatly lined up and well-equipped soldiers in front of him really surprised him.

   I have to say that Samwell's military training for more than two months has been quite effective. The more than one hundred newly recruited soldiers, at least on the surface, are not much different from elite veterans.

  Of course, this group of recruits will definitely reveal their secrets if they work with real knives and guns.

   After all, they have not experienced the test of blood and fire.

  But because Samwell has been piling up equipment and feeding them meat regardless of the cost, these recruits are already enough to scare most people.

  So in the opinion of Viscount Martin, this famous waste in the river bend actually led an elite army of more than 200 people!

   This is already an armed force that cannot be ignored.

   You know, the standing army in Highland City is only more than 300 people.

  Of course, the Mullendall family still has more than a dozen vassal knights, and recruiting a group of farmers, Viscount Martin can even gather an army of 3,000 people at most.

   Certainly not afraid of the 200-member development team in front of him.

  However, he is the majestic lord of the highland city, and the opposite is just a pioneer knight who doesn't even have a territory!

   Such a comparison, even if he wins, will make Viscount Martin feel ashamed.

   "Where did he get so many elite soldiers!" Viscount Martin gritted his teeth.

   The original disdain and contempt for Samwell quickly turned into a kind of jealousy and hatred that even he himself couldn't explain clearly.

  Mark settled down and guessed: "Could it be given to him by Earl Randyll?"

   "How many regular troops are there in Horn Hill? Can you allocate so many to a waste that has been expelled from the family to develop?"

  Mark scratched his head. Although he had never been to Horn Hill, he also knew that although the Tully family was stronger than the Mullendoyle family, it was impossible for them to allocate so many elite soldiers to a waste to develop.

  If these soldiers were to be buried in the Crimson Mountains, the strength of the Tully family would definitely be greatly reduced.

   After thinking for a moment, Mark asked again: "Could it be the army that the Tyrell family gave him?"

  In his opinion, only the rich and powerful Duke of Highgarden would be willing to hand over such an elite army to a trash.

  Viscount Martin rolled his eyes: "The Duke of Metz is not willing to canonize this guy himself, would he be willing to send such an army to him to develop?"

  Mark also thought it made sense when he heard the words, and immediately started scratching his head again.

  The monkey on his shoulder seemed to sense his master's troubles, and also started jumping up and down.

   Viscount Martin stared at the pioneering team for a while, and finally went downstairs without saying a word.

  Mark quickly followed.

  Father and son came to the gate of the castle. At this time, the butler brought bread and salt with his attendants.

   This is a sacred contract that has been passed down in Westeros for thousands of years—guest rights.

  When a guest comes to be a guest under the eaves of the host and accepts the bread and salt provided by the host, the guest's rights come into effect immediately, and the two parties must not harm each other.

  Samwell picked up a small piece of bread, dipped it in some salt, put it in his mouth, then put his hand on his chest and bowed slightly to Viscount Martin, saying:

   "Dear Lord Mullendall, thank you for your hospitality!"

   Viscount Martin had an extremely sincere smile on his face:

   "Your Excellency Caesar, welcome to Highland City!"