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The stench of blood from King's Landing could not possibly drift to the tranquil Riverlands. As he stepped onto the heavily weathered boulder at the shoreline, Clay took a deep breath, feeling the earth beneath his feet. Behind him, the White Harbor Guard was completing their disembarkation in an orderly fashion.
Dressed in a set of lighter yet highly protective armor, the captain of the guard walked steadily across the mix of sand and soil, leaving deep footprints as he approached his young lord.
They had now entered the Riverlands, which meant they had officially stepped into the South. The distance from the North was not great, yet the climate had shifted drastically. Here, Clay could not feel the familiar chill of White Harbor at all. Instead, sweat had already begun trickling down his back—this place was far too hot compared to home.
"Young lord, we should be able to depart in about an hour."
Despite the Riverlands being densely populated, this rugged, rocky coastline was eerily devoid of any human presence. Clay and his men had brought ample provisions, but no matter what, it would be best to find civilization as soon as possible.
The captain of the guard had traveled this route before, yet it had already been a year since his last journey from White Harbor to the Twins.
The small, dilapidated dock remained unchanged, but the narrow path leading inland had mysteriously vanished. It took a good amount of time for the first group of soldiers ashore to comb through the dense overgrowth before they managed to uncover the faint traces of the old trail.
This was strange. The dock did not appear to have been left unattended for an entire year. After all, most ships departing from White Harbor for the Riverlands docked here. Did someone maintain it themselves? The captain of the guard had no answers.
After making a brief report to Clay, he stood silently to the side, awaiting his young lord's command. Before departure, the old lord had given explicit instructions—on this journey, no matter the situation, Clay must be the one to issue all orders.
The experienced captain could offer his opinions, but only after Clay had made his decision.
By now, Captain Stonn and his grand vessel, Old Man of the Sea of White Harbor, had long vanished beyond the horizon. As per their arrangement, once Clay departed from the Twins, he would dispatch a raven to White Harbor. Upon receiving the message, Captain Stonn would return with the fleet to this very location.
Glancing at the darkening sky above and the dense forest ahead, Clay made his decision.
"We make camp here. Light the fires, prepare the food, and set up night patrols. This is not our land—we must remain vigilant."
The captain of the guard had initially considered heading to a small village that he recalled being nearby—after all, sleeping under a roof would be far preferable. However, seeing how the path had been completely swallowed by wild grass, he was uncertain whether the village even existed anymore.
With that in mind, he saw no need to oppose his young lord's decision. Besides, even with Lord Wyman's authorization, he would not dare openly defy Clay.
Once the order was given, the two hundred well-trained soldiers swiftly began chopping wood and preparing the camp. It seemed they had anticipated such a situation, as they had already brought along some fifty men equipped with tools specifically for setting up camp.
Clay walked among his men, sword at his hip, occasionally engaging in brief conversations with those taking a break. The discussions were mostly trivial and unimportant, but the effect was clear—the soldiers seemed far more at ease than before.
By the time the sun dipped below the horizon once again, the soldiers had erected a simple but well-fortified encampment. The horses were secured within a wooden enclosure, and numerous sentries were stationed throughout the perimeter.
Beyond the camp's defenses, two teams of ten seasoned hunters ventured into the woods, fully armed. Their primary task was to drive away any lurking beasts and ensure the camp remained undisturbed through the night. Of course, if they happened to catch some game, these hunters would certainly not refuse the chance for a more lavish dinner.
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At dawn the next day, under the guidance of the captain of the guard, Clay led his two hundred cavalrymen into the forest.
Calling it a 'forest' was not entirely accurate—it was more akin to an expanse of towering thickets, tangled and unyielding. The lead captain rode ahead, carefully scouting for a suitable path, ensuring the dense vegetation would not hinder their advance or injure the horses as they passed through.
It took them the better part of the day to navigate through the undergrowth. But finally, Clay saw it—the King's Road, the great highway that linked the North and the South. The mere sight of it reassured him that they were heading in the right direction. They could press onward.
Three days later, near the banks of the Green Fork, Clay and his men finally encountered a patrol from House Frey.
A lone sentry stood watch, his posture stiffening the moment two hundred fully armed cavalrymen emerged before him. His face paled, and his hand instinctively flew to his sword. Had he not spotted the dozen or so Merman banners fluttering among the White Harbor troops, he might have already turned and fled in terror.
"Greetings, soldier of House Frey," the captain of the guard addressed him firmly. "We are forces of White Harbor, escorting our young lord, Lord Clay, to the Twins for an audience with Lord Walder Frey."
He deliberately emphasized the title Lord—after all, the Freys had no shortage of men named Walder, and he had no desire for unnecessary complications due to a misunderstanding.
Judging by the soldier's reaction, it seemed House Frey had already been informed of Clay's arrival. Moreover, it appeared they were quite eager to receive him, as the soldier immediately adopted an attitude of extreme deference.
"My lord, I shall escort you to the Twins," he said, bowing toward the assembled riders.
Not knowing who Clay was, he refrained from directly addressing anyone in the group. Until Clay chose to reveal himself, it was not his place to ask.
Clay merely nodded, feeling a subtle sense of relief. The latter half of this journey had felt more like a wilderness expedition than a diplomatic mission. The only signs of civilization they had encountered were the occasional travelers along the King's Road.
As they advanced, Clay considered his next move, then turned to his captain of the guard, who was riding nearby.
"Go and speak with him. Try to gather some insight into the situation within House Frey. I also need to know exactly who we'll be meeting first—when stepping into the Twins, the first move must be made with utmost caution."
The captain pondered Clay's words for a moment before grasping his intent. House Frey was notoriously fragmented into numerous factions. Though not a noble himself, the captain did not view matters purely from a noble's perspective.
For Clay, this visit had a clear objective—he must meet directly with Lord Walder Frey himself. As for the other Freys, he would deal with them after making contact with the White Sea Guard agents stationed within the fortress.
Meeting the wrong person first could easily entangle him in unwanted complications, and Clay had no patience for such distractions.
Before departing White Harbor, the White Sea Guard's Riverlands administrator had informed him that all available personnel in the region had already been deployed to the Twins. Someone would make contact with him upon his arrival.
Following the Frey soldier's lead, Clay finally glimpsed the Green Fork. He saw the bridge. He saw the twin towers rising on either bank, their banners—countless and unyielding—fluttering in the wind.
This was the Twins.
At first sight, only one thought surfaced in Clay's mind: If I were leading an army, how would I take this place?
Thus, the Frey plotline begins. This fortress is the bottleneck that holds the North in check, the gate that dictates the march south. Clay has not come here for sightseeing. The Twins is a place where schemes are meant to unfold.
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[Chapter End's]
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