And there was Sam - his round body standing out as usual, the only one in the library garbed in a black robe. His friend was hunched over a large oaken table, with half a dozen books haphazardly strewn before him while he was reading another tome and scribbling something on a roll of parchment. While he did not seem to have lost even a pound of fat, his hair had taken a hit - the black locks were quickly receding, and if the trend continued like this, Sam Tarly would be fully bald in a handful of years. Looking at the long chain filled with metals of different kinds that had only two less than Maester Wolkan, the black brother was still following his orders, albeit in his own cowardly way.