This fat boy was the complete antithesis of every traditional image of a Westerosi knight.
He looked like a fortress built of soft dough and parchment—massive but utterly devoid of intimidation, constantly radiating a worrying fragility.
His excessive obesity gave him an incongruous, almost childlike softness, like an overstuffed cushion or a lump of partially leavened dough.
Even when walking, the flab on his waist and thighs wobbled uncontrollably, his heavy steps causing the ground to seemingly tremble beneath him.
The armor he wore looked like a child's bib strapped onto a giant; the seams were stretched to breaking point, offering zero protection while adding a touch of cramped absurdity to his appearance.
His face inherited this roundness, his skin possessing the unhealthy, pale puffiness of someone who shunned sunlight and exercise, looking as if a gentle poke would leave a permanent dent.
However, beneath this clumsy exterior that clashed so violently with the harsh world around him, lay the most striking feature—his eyes.
They were round, clear, and innocent, like those of a small herbivore exploring the world. Yet, in this moment, they were filled with panic, unease, and a deep, instinctive fear completely disproportionate to his size.
As he walked towards the gangplank, he looked like a ragdoll forcibly stuffed into a tin can, every movement laboriously difficult.
Although the brothers of the Night's Watch didn't think much of this weeping fat boy, his arrival brought a pleasant surprise.
The merchant ship that delivered him had also unloaded a cargo of precious supplies usually only seen during festivals.
According to the Tyroshi captain, these goods were the payment. Their mission was to drop off the cargo and take the fat boy away.
The whole thing looked exactly like a trade.
But Samwell Tarly wasn't ignorant of what was happening.
Before leaving, although terrified, he had felt a secret thrill of joy.
Since being disinherited by his father, Lord Randyll Tarly, he had held no hope for his future.
Arriving at Castle Black, he had faced the harsh, unfair treatment he expected.
Fortunately, Sam had learned from books that the world was inherently unfair, but transactional relationships were often reliable.
He didn't know which "big shot" was willing to trade a ship full of supplies to buy him from the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch.
But simply being taken away from this freezing land where death lurked around every corner was enough to make the fat boy weep with gratitude.
So, even as he left, Sam wasn't sure if he deserved this freedom.
As for these Tyroshi slavers—since they were willing to trade 500 barrels of supplies for his 200 pounds of blubber, surely they wouldn't just chop him up and sell him for parts.
---
With Jon's continuous maneuvering, the landscape of Westeros began to change drastically, bringing immense satisfaction to the Baron of Tampa.
After reaching an agreement with Littlefinger, the two quickly pushed forward the plan for Lady Lysa Arryn's return to King's Landing.
Originally, Jon had intended to lure Grand Maester Pycelle out of the capital to travel to the Vale, thereby weakening the old man's influence on the Small Council.
But as a seasoned player in the game of thrones, Pycelle knew perfectly well that once he left the table, getting back would be as hard as climbing out of the Seven Hells.
So, despite Jon's repeated requests and even using Lord Ned's name as leverage, the Grand Maester refused to budge.
In the end, Lady Lysa had to bring her thousand Vale knights and slowly march toward King's Landing herself.
To accommodate this "poisonous trout," Jon went to great lengths.
Although the Tower of the Hand was her former home, given Lysa's erratic personality, she certainly wouldn't want to return there.
And while King's Landing had estates befitting her status, none were large enough to house her thousand soldiers.
Jon had considered letting Littlefinger handle the accommodation. Pushing Lysa into his arms might secure the Vale's friendship.
But that was just a fantasy.
Littlefinger intended to extract massive benefits from Lysa, but the timing wasn't right.
At the very least, he had to wait until Lysa testified about Jon Arryn's death before he could cement his control over the Vale through a grand wedding.
Eventually, Jon arranged everything himself. His solution was reasonable and compromised.
He billeted the Vale soldiers in a shared camp with the Gold Cloaks near the Iron Gate, while Lady Lysa was housed in a nearby manor.
This arrangement should have been enough to silence any complaints from Lysa.
However, despite his thorough preparations, Jon underestimated the arrogance of the Lady of the Vale.
It took Jon only a few days to prepare the reception, but he waited nearly half a month for the slow-moving Lysa to arrive.
Once she finally did, the Shadow Hand immediately threw a grand welcoming ceremony, expressing his respects to his foster father's widow and sister-in-law on behalf of Lord Ned.
This sincere display earned Jon praise from everyone at the banquet for his impeccable manners.
The only flaw was the absence of any female guests of equal status to welcome Lady Lysa.
Fortunately, the "poisonous trout" didn't seem to care. After making a brief appearance at the opening, she hurried back to her quarters.
Disappearing along with her was the Master of Coin, Lord Petyr Baelish, who left the banquet early.
In the days that followed, Lady Lysa kept a low profile. Aside from allowing Grand Maester Pycelle to visit and treat little Robert Arryn, she made no other moves.
However, during this period, rumors began circulating in King's Landing that Lady Lysa intended to remarry.
constrained by her role as Robert Arryn's regent, she had to suppress the urge for now, planning to choose a worthy husband from among the knights who could bring justice for Jon Arryn.
But casual rumors are often caught by those with keen ears.
When this rumor began to spread through the city, the person most annoyed was Lord Petyr Baelish.
Although he was confident he could control Lysa completely, he hadn't accounted for the sudden influx of young nobles in King's Landing who began expressing their "admiration" for the Lady of the Vale.
Clearly, quite a few young lords in the capital had reached a spiritual consensus with Jon:
Why work hard when you can just lie flat, marry rich, and take a shortcut to power?