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This was roughly how things stood. Clay did not want Anty Rivers to linger here too long. Too many eyes were watching, and he had no desire to bring unnecessary trouble to the White Sea Guard's operations in the Twins.
"You have received your mission. Go and carry it out. If anything changes in the Twins, send a raven to Wolf's Den immediately to contact me. However, I must remind you—when gathering intelligence, do not expose yourselves. The time for recklessness has not yet come."
With his mind weighed down by endless thoughts, Anty Rivers once again assumed the guise of a traveling merchant well-acquainted with White Harbor's guards. He clapped a soldier on the shoulder, grabbed a bottle of cheap barley ale, and staggered away from the Manderly family's residence, feigning drunkenness.
There was still more intelligence that Anty Rivers had compiled, but there was no need for Clay to keep him waiting just to read through it all. After all, they were still on Frey territory, and it was best to remain cautious in all things.
Through the study's window, Clay watched as Anty Rivers melted into the crowd. He kept his gaze fixed until the man's already unremarkable figure disappeared entirely from sight. Only then did he slowly sit back down in his chair, reaching out with his right hand to pick up the intelligence reports laid out on the table.
Beyond the information they had just discussed, the remaining details pertained to members of House Frey. Anty Rivers had gathered intelligence on several women who had interacted with Clay, as well as a few key members of the Frey family.
For each individual, Anty Rivers had included his own recommendations, along with explanations for his reasoning.
"It is not advisable for Young Lord Clay Manderly to maintain further contact with Walton Frey's daughter, Walda Frey. Throughout the Twins, rumors abound that the 'Fair Walda' is engaged in an affair with a member of House Frey known as 'Black Walder.'
"After a thorough investigation, these claims have been confirmed to be true. Therefore, it is strongly recommended that Clay Manderly refrain entirely from any intimate dealings with Walda Frey."
Reading these words aloud softly, Clay immediately understood. This message had been sent in response to an order he had issued from White Harbor's Wolf's Den. It did not mention the White Sea Guard by name, nor did it contain any direct subject in its phrasing. This omission was a means of protection for both Clay and his organization.
Walda Frey?
Clay savored the name on his tongue. He recalled that eerie and unsettling night. Well, well—so Walda Frey had been eating from one bowl while still eyeing the food left on the platter?
His mind drifted back to the main hall of the Frey family's great keep. On the night he had danced with Walda Frey, a man had been leaning against the wall, watching them. The memory of those eyes—burning with jealousy and resentment—remained vivid in Clay's mind.
Could that man have been the so-called Black Walder?
---
In the following days, Clay was inundated with invitations from various members of House Frey—so many that he had started to mix up their names. At first, Lord Walder Frey had sent people to put a stop to these interactions. But now, it seemed he no longer cared in the slightest.
Clay's response to all these invitations was a firm and consistent refusal. His purpose in coming to the Twins had already been achieved. There was no reason to get entangled with the Freys, whose relationships were as intricate and messy as a spider's web.
His plans for the Twins had been laid down in such a way that, had he not come in person, no one would have been able to discern his hand in them. After all, how could he have orchestrated the White Sea Guard's infiltration of the castle's garrison and the strategic seizure of the gates during wartime from the distant safety of White Harbor?
For now, the internal conflicts within House Frey had not yet surfaced openly. That meant he could not take advantage of them just yet. He did not have the time to sit around observing and deciding on whom to place his bets.
His preparations were already underway, and Clay was now contemplating a reasonable way to leave the Twins. He had come at House Frey's invitation, and they had held high hopes for his visit. Yet, not only had he refused to secure a marriage alliance, but he had also remained resolute in not compromising on the marital affairs of his sisters.
While an excuse was not strictly necessary, it would be prudent for Clay to have a reason for his departure that could hold up under scrutiny. Simply vanishing would not be appropriate.
As the evening sun cast its golden-orange glow across the land, Clay reclined in a cushioned chair, enjoying the mild and comfortable southern breeze. In his hand, a goblet of red wine swirled gently. Before him lay a simplified map of the Riverlands.
No matter how he looked at it, this land was far more suited for human habitation than the bitterly cold North. The three rivers—the Green Fork, the Red Fork, and the Blue Fork—ran through this region, nourishing the land with abundant water.
Aside from the Reach, known as the 'Green Realm' further south, the Riverlands likely had the densest population in all the Seven Kingdoms.
Yet despite ruling over this vast expanse, House Tully did not control the Bloody Gate in the east, nor did they hold dominion over the Golden Tooth in the west. Though they were merely two fortresses, the lack of control over these strategic points was inconsequential in peacetime but utterly devastating in times of war.
This meant that, in the east, the knights of the Vale could ride forth unchecked through the Bloody Gate. In the west, Tywin Lannister's elite forces could march straight into the undefended plains of the Riverlands, reaching Riverrun's gates without opposition.
In the south, Harrenhal—supposedly the largest castle in the Seven Kingdoms—belonged to the Riverlands in name only. In reality, Riverrun exercised little to no control over it. If an army invaded from the south, marching north along the Kingsroad, the Riverland lords would find no stronghold sturdy enough to mount a proper defense.
As for the North, the Twins, perched on the upper reaches of the Green Fork, had grown so powerful in recent years that it no longer held much respect for the ailing Lord Hoster Tully of Riverrun, who had been bedridden for a long time.
In summary, the Riverlands were a vast, battle-ridden plain. And, most unfortunately, its noble lords were among the weakest in the Seven Kingdoms.
Now, the young heir of Riverrun, Edmure Tully, lacked the prestige to rally his bannermen under the silver trout banner. In the event of an invasion, the Riverlands would instantly dissolve into disunity, collapsing without a fight.
Clay furrowed his brows, gazing at this land with a headache brewing in his mind.
The alliance between the Direwolf and the Trout would persist unless House Stark and House Tully were completely eradicated. So long as that did not happen, the North would always remain House Tully's staunch ally.
Since he was already preparing for war, he had to consider how to preserve the Riverlands' strength so that, by the time the North's reinforcements arrived, their allies would not have already been decimated.
Relying on the Riverland lords to unite under House Tully's banner and defeat the Lannister invaders? That was nothing short of a delusion. Even if their forces were doubled, they would still be unable to achieve such a feat.
There were no 'Warlords of the Riverlands' here. If the invading army managed to conquer even a few castles, that alone would already be considered a miraculous resistance.
But merely watching the Riverlands bleed was also unacceptable. At least until Clay had built his own foundation or found an alternative path, he was still a Northman. And the North could not afford consecutive failures.
Once upon a time, even with the combined might of the North and the Freys, Robb Stark had commanded no more than 23,000 soldiers. He could win one battle, two battles, even three. But if the Lannisters managed to cripple him just once, he would be forced to retreat.
As Clay was lost in thought, the heavy clang of iron boots on wooden stairs caught his sharp ears. Someone was approaching.
A second later, the door was shoved open. A breathless captain of the guard hurried inside and handed Clay a rolled-up parchment.
"My lord, a letter!"
Clay found the urgency in the man's demeanor strange. Unrolling the parchment, he took one glance—and was instantly stunned.
The first line read:
"The White Harbor trade caravan was ambushed northeast of the Twins. Out of fifty-four men, forty-eight were slain. Six remain missing. Commander, please exercise the utmost caution!"
It was a letter from Anty Rivers.
At the bottom, a trident emblem had been stamped in wax.
As he gripped the pristine letter, Clay could almost smell the thick stench of blood seeping through its clean surface.
---
He will be leaving the Twins soon, but matters here are far from over. Since, in another timeline, House Frey chose the path of betrayal, then in this one, I shall ensure that Lord Walder Frey himself experiences the bitter taste of treachery.
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[Chapter End's]
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