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As expected, just as Clay had predicted, the sentry leading them toward the Twins belonged to one of the factions of House Frey.
According to the captain of his guard, who had galloped back to Clay's side to report, had Clay not inquired, they would have been taken straight to Ser Aenys Frey.
Based on the intelligence reports on House Frey that Clay had read in White Harbor, this Aenys Frey was the third son of Walder Frey, the current Lord of the Twins.
Following Clay's instructions, the captain of the guard remained by the sentry's side. As they advanced further and fully entered the line of sight of the Twins' watchtowers, a deep, resonant horn echoed across both banks of the Green Fork.
Cavalry approaching!
Although the gates were not shut immediately, Clay's keen eyesight caught sight of the commotion at the entrance—peasants and merchants who had been making their way into the city suddenly bolted toward the gates as if fleeing for their lives. Clearly, the unexpected appearance of the cavalry had struck terror into them.
As the aged and cunning patriarch who had ruled House Frey with an iron grip for decades, Walder Frey learned of Clay's arrival the moment the cavalry was spotted.
At that very moment, Walder was rambling on while holding the hand of yet another great-granddaughter—he had long since lost count of how many he had. But as soon as he heard that the banners of House Manderly had appeared outside the gates, he immediately knew who had come.
Releasing the young girl's hand, which he had just been stroking, the old lord pushed himself up from his cushioned seat, his face lighting up with glee. He turned to his steward and commanded:
"Our guests from White Harbor have arrived. Go, give them the finest welcome. The heir… Clay, is that his name? Invite him to see me at once."
"Yes, my lord," the steward responded promptly, about to depart when Walder Frey suddenly called him back.
"Remember, do not let my foolish sons or grandsons snatch up White Harbor's heir before he reaches me. Tell them to behave themselves."
House Frey had risen to prominence as one of the most powerful noble families in the Riverlands, thanks entirely to their bridge over the Green Fork.
Merchants and peasants alike had no choice but to pay a hefty toll to cross it, and it was through this strategic chokehold that the Freys became the second-most powerful house in the Riverlands.
To put it bluntly, without such an advantage, Walder Frey would never have been "Late Lord Frey"—because if his house had been weak, he would never have had the luxury of choosing when and where to declare allegiance.
Having witnessed firsthand the power that wealth could command, Walder Frey understood better than anyone the deep foundation of House Manderly, rulers of a prosperous port city. They were not a house famed for military might, yet no one dared to underestimate them.
Everyone knew that with enough gold, one could raise an army. And even if the soldiers weren't the best, what of it? Three men against one could always do the job. As long as one had gold dragons to spare, assembling an army was never a problem.
Originally, Wylis Manderly of White Harbor had no male heir, and House Frey had made several attempts to arrange a marriage with his eldest daughter, Wynafryd.
Walder Frey had no illusions about the scheme behind such a marriage, and Wyman Manderly had seen through it just as easily. He had simply rejected their offers and sent them on their way.
At the time, Walder had given up on coveting White Harbor. But upon hearing of Clay's return—and more importantly, that he was not yet betrothed—his ambition reignited.
Of course, if a marriage took place, it would be a Frey daughter marrying into House Manderly. But who was to say a woman could not wield influence over White Harbor? Look at Lysa Tully, the beloved wife of Jon Arryn—through her son, Robert Arryn, she now held sway over the Vale.
True, her grip on power seemed rather precarious, but that was Lysa's own failing. Walder Frey was confident that his daughters and granddaughters were far more capable.
Thus, without hesitation, he sent out ravens to White Harbor, laying the groundwork for this very moment. And now, at last, his efforts bore fruit—the merman banner of House Manderly had arrived at the Twins.
The steward understood his lord's intentions perfectly. He acknowledged the order with a nod and swiftly departed. Meanwhile, Clay's retinue had reached the outskirts of the castle.
Since the Twins was not large enough to accommodate their entire force, even House Frey's own troops were stationed outside the walls. Clay had no choice but to leave most of his two hundred cavalrymen behind. After some deliberation, his captain of the guard selected fifty men to accompany him across the fortified bridge leading into the castle.
They had barely ridden past the bridgehead when the sentry who had been leading them finally dropped the pretense and spoke his mind:
"My lord, allow me to take you to Ser Aenys Frey first. He is the third son of Lord Walder Frey. With him escorting you, it will be much easier to gain an audience with the lord."
Since the sentry had abandoned the act, Clay saw no reason to play along either. Just as he was about to refuse, another rider in light armor—bearing the twin towers sigil of House Frey—galloped forward.
It was clear the man had great confidence in his riding skills. He charged straight between Clay and the sentry, only to be stopped by White Harbor guards, their hands already gripping their sword hilts.
The knight, noticing the wary expressions of Clay's men, forced an awkward smile onto his ugly, pockmarked face and introduced himself:
"Which one of you is Lord Clay? I am Petyr Frey, grandson of Ser Stevron Frey, the lord's eldest son."
Oh, great. Another Frey. And that name… Clay couldn't say he liked it.
He scrutinized the knight closely and noted that he wasn't much older than himself—likely about the same age. Yet, with his rough, blemished skin and dark complexion, he looked far older than his years.
According to the intelligence he had gathered, Ser Stevron Frey, Petyr's grandfather, was the rightful heir to Walder Frey. So, did this mean Petyr was here representing the main branch of House Frey?
Before Clay could reply, Petyr abruptly lashed his riding crop across the sentry's back. The poor man, knowing he had failed his mission, dared not retaliate. He merely slinked away as Petyr hurled insults at him.
Having dealt with the sentry, Petyr ignored the barely concealed disdain of the White Harbor knights and repeated himself:
"Lord Clay, I am Petyr Frey, grandson of Ser Stevron Frey, the lord's eldest son. I will escort you to my grandfather, who will then take you to meet Lord Walder."
Clay found the entire situation baffling. He had been personally invited by Walder Frey himself—why did every single Frey here act as if he needed to go through them first?
Who did they think they were looking down on?
Still, standing here and ignoring this faction of Freys wasn't ideal either. Clay had come to the Twins to navigate the situation skillfully—keeping all sides content without committing to any one of them.
After a brief pause, he nudged his horse forward and replied calmly:
"I am Clay Manderly. Greetings, Ser Petyr of House Frey, greetings."
He did not say he agreed to meet Stevron Frey. He remained still, not moving his horse forward.
In truth, he had no desire whatsoever to meet Stevron, even if the man was Walder Frey's designated heir.
Just as he hesitated, an aged voice rang out, breaking the tense atmosphere:
"Petyr, step aside. Lord Walder has personally invited Lord Clay to the tower. You may return now."
Seeing Petyr's face twist in displeasure, Clay thought to himself—I've barely been here a moment, and I've already encountered three or four Freys. The concentration of Freys in this castle is absurdly high.
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[Chapter End's]
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