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Flipping through the long list of deaths and disappearances, Clay finally understood what the old man had meant by the "scent of blood."
At present, Westeros had enjoyed a rare peace for more than a decade. Though Balon Greyjoy's rebellion had disturbed that calm, it had been a contained conflict rather than a war that engulfed the realm.
Yet, in the shadows, away from the gaze of lords and commoners alike, blood was still being spilled. Killings, quiet and unrelenting, continued year after year—never seen, never acknowledged, yet ever present.
Clay didn't recognize a single name on the list before him. He couldn't mourn them, nor could he offer empty condolences. Yet, even without knowing them, he could feel the weight of their deaths—the cruelty of it all, the way lives had been snuffed out in the darkness, unseen and unremembered.
After a moment of silence, he finally spoke. "I don't want to see any deductions in their families' compensation."
"Of course not. There won't be any deductions. Nobody would dare do that to them. It's the rule, and no one breaks it." It was Snow who responded. He was a little surprised that Clay cared about this particular issue. His view of the young lord of White Harbor shifted slightly.
Clay nodded but remained silent, furrowing his brows as he organized the information about the White Sea Guard in his mind.
It was difficult to compare the White Sea Guard to similar organizations, but overall, it was a vast and influential network—albeit one riddled with inefficiencies.
Outside of the southernmost regions—the Bay of Crabs, the Stormlands, and Dorne, which lay beyond its reach—the White Sea Guard had branches embedded across Westeros. They gathered intelligence on matters like Lord Tully's worsening illness and frequent fainting spells, or the growing doubts among the Vale's nobility about whether Robert Arryn could truly shoulder the responsibilities of House Arryn.
However, most of this intelligence—especially the reports from King's Landing—came at the cost of blood.
That was not something Clay could ignore. He wasn't particularly concerned about the financial burden of compensating the families of fallen spies—he had the old man behind him, after all, and money was the least of his concerns.
The real problem was that this wasn't how intelligence work should be handled. If gathering intelligence was already this labor-intensive in peacetime, Clay seriously doubted the White Sea Guard would be able to maintain its influence once war broke out—especially with every noble house fully mobilizing its own network of spies and informants.
For now, he had just taken command and couldn't overhaul everything overnight. But he did have one advantage: he knew exactly which individuals were worth watching. Instead of stretching their resources thin, he could consolidate the White Sea Guard's scattered forces into a few key strongholds.
Clay exhaled slowly before speaking.
"Am I now allowed to exercise the authority of a commander, Ser Bartimus?"
"Of course, my lord. When you wear this ring, this conference room, this tower, and the entire White Sea Guard will be at your command," Ser Bartimus replied, his tone unusually relaxed, as though shedding the role of commander had lifted a weight off his shoulders.
Clay tapped his fingers against the table, thinking for a moment before issuing his first command in the conference room:
"Since I am now the commander, this is my order:
"First, withdraw all surveillance in the North—except for Winterfell. After reorganizing, redeploy those forces to Winterfell, with two primary objectives.
"One, monitor whether Bran Stark has undergone any recent changes—any kind of change is relevant. Two, track Lady Catelyn's movements. If she plans to head south, report it immediately."
"Snow, you are in charge of this. Avoid congestion of personnel and minimize exposure risks."
Snow gave a slight nod, silently accepting the order. He had no reason to argue with Clay, the newly appointed commander. At the end of the day, the White Sea Guard belonged to the Manderly family, and as its young lord, Clay's commands were not to be defied.
Furthermore, Snow was genuinely curious about why Clay had chosen to focus all his forces on monitoring Winterfell, specifically mentioning Bran Stark and Lady Catelyn. What kind of information was Clay hoping to gather from them?
Clay, however, had already moved on. With the North settled, he shifted his attention to the Overseer of Riverrun, Rivers.
"Rivers, continue monitoring Lord Tully's health in Riverrun. In addition, focus your efforts on the Twins. When I visit House Frey, I want a direct line of communication with you—I may need your assistance."
"Understood, my lord," Rivers replied from the shadows where he stood. "The White Sea Guard will do its best to ensure your safety during your stay at the Twins."
Clay acknowledged the response with a nod before adding,
"There's also a long-term task. I need a detailed structural layout of the area surrounding the gate of the Twins. This is not urgent, and I want it handled with discretion—I don't want to smell too much blood on this matter."
…
Overseer Rivers did not respond, but Clay took his silence as confirmation that he had heard him. This reckless way of operating aligned well with the North's style, but Clay had no intention of endorsing it.
For the task of managing the intelligence network in the Westerlands, Clay instructed his Overseer, Hill, to stop clashing with House Lannister's spies. There was no need to compete for information in their own stronghold, as doing so would be both futile and risky.
Instead, he gave a far more strategic directive.
"I don't care how you do it—find me leverage on at least one or two Lannister members. Control them. Preferably those who can move in and out of Casterly Rock."
To Clay's surprise, Hill shook his head and sighed.
"My lord, we have tried this before, but it didn't go well. In fact, we ended up exposing several of our agents. Lord Tywin has very strict management over those who can enter and leave the castle."
Hill's words forced Clay to reconsider. The situation in the Westerlands was more complicated than he had anticipated. But it was not a matter he could afford to ignore—when war broke out, the North and the Westerlands would inevitably be enemies.
And sometimes, a single piece of intelligence could decide the outcome of a war.
Given the current difficulties, Clay chose not to push for immediate changes. He took a step back, instructing Hill to maintain their existing network, protect their agents, and retreat when necessary rather than risk exposure.
Still, whenever the opportunity arose, Clay was determined to reinforce the White Sea Guard's presence in the Westerlands properly.
There was nothing particularly urgent about the Vale, so Clay had not yet decided how to address it.
As for the Crownlands, Clay's instructions were straightforward—the White Sea Guard must not become a pawn in the political struggles of King's Landing.
He ordered them to focus solely on tracking the regular movements of the Master of Coin, Petyr Baelish, and the Master of Whisperers, Varys.
Clay himself would undoubtedly make his way to King's Landing in the future, regardless of the identity he assumed. He was eager to let the two of them experience the taste of the Axii Sign.
Finally, Clay assigned a special task to Ocean, the Overseer of the royal domain. One name—Hall Leek.
This name had led to Clay's first assassination attempt in his life. The circumstances had been hurried, leaving Clay no choice but to let him go—initially planning to use Petyr to eliminate him.
But now, having taken command of the White Sea Guard, Clay wanted to know if this minor member of House Leek was still alive. If he was, Clay would ensure he received a proper greeting from House Manderly.
Ocean furrowed his brows. He had never heard the name Hall Leek before though he had heard of House Leek, which was a vassal of House Rykker from the town of Duskendale.
Setting aside how Lord Clay had come by this name, Ocean couldn't fathom why his lord would concern himself with a man who wasn't worth the value of a single gold dragon.
"My lord, this…"
"Do not question me. Just carry out the order. I want every piece of information on him."
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[Chapter End's]
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