He also gradually regarded him as a real younger brother.

After a long silence, Samwell smiled, but it was uglier than crying.

"Didn't you say you wanted to charge after me?"

"Didn't you say that you want me to make you a knight personally?"

"Where is the knight lying down..."

The camp became quiet, and there was no movement for a long time.

Samwell patted the coffin lid twice:

"Goodbye, brother. I'm going to avenge you."

He took two steps back.

"Not only for you, but also for myself, for Earl Yohn Royce, for the three hundred and forty-one warriors who died in the temple, and for the hundreds of warriors in heaven and below who died in vain."

He turned around:

"revenge."

Samwell, who was striding away, did not see that there was a faint trace of smoke flowing in the air, and finally slowly merged into Dickon's coffin.

After leaving the camp, Samwell packed up his mood and headed straight for Tianji City.

At this time, the battlefield had been cleaned and the corpses were burned together. However, the blood stains could not be completely removed, leaving mottled traces on the ground and city walls, reminding people of what had just happened here.

Entering the castle of the Fowler family, Samwell finally felt some festive atmosphere.

The spacious aisles were strewn with freshly picked rose petals, well-dressed waiters gracefully led the guests, and musicians played violins, recorders and tambourines.

The venue for the banquet was finally chosen to be outdoors. Although the Fowler family's castle was not too small, it still could not accommodate the grandeur required by His Majesty the King.

Samwell walked into the open-air venue and saw that many guests were already here.

However, the atmosphere at the venue was rather depressing, and the laughter on the faces of the nobles was more or less perfunctory.

Along the way, Samwell saw the king sitting high on the stage.

Joffrey was wearing a black and red striped coat and a golden crown today, and he was scanning the audience with an arrogant look.

Queen Cersei sat on his right hand, wearing a black palace dress with gold threads, her golden hair tied into a lady's bun, and covered with a black silk hair net decorated with evergreen stones, looking dignified and elegant.

But she kept wrinkling her nose, as if she didn't like the smell of the city at the moment.

The chair to the left of the king was empty, with a cushion embroidered with golden roses placed on it, implying that this was a seat prepared for the future queen.

But the future queen was not present.

Samwell paused slightly, looking around for Margaery Tyrell.

But it was never found.

Instead, I saw Duke Mace Tyrell sweating profusely and talking to the attendants beside him with a panic expression.

Did she make a brave choice after all?

Samwell thought to himself, a smile forming on his lips.
Chapter completed!