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The next morning, just as the impatient Walton Frey led his men in an attempt to storm into the Manderly residence, only to be stopped at the entrance by the captain of the guard—when tensions between the two sides were on the verge of erupting—a Frey retainer with a strange expression suddenly rode in, bringing news that left Walton Frey utterly dumbfounded.
His daughter, Walda Frey, was not in the Manderly residence at all. Instead, she was exactly where she was supposed to be—obediently staying in her own chambers.
The Axii Sign had not only prevented her from carrying out the task assigned by her father but had also tampered with her memory, leaving her unaware of her original intentions.
Furious and exasperated, Walton Frey stormed out in haste. As for how he would deal with his confused daughter—that was no concern of Clay's.
With a flick of his fingers, shimmering magical energy extinguished the candlelight, and the icy power of the Aard Sign dissipated. Standing atop the high platform, Clay watched the departing Freys with cold, indifferent eyes.
This was nothing like the predicament Robb Stark and the Northern army would later face—trapped beneath the walls of the Twins, compelled to accept a marriage pact with House Frey in a desperate bid to cross the river and seize the advantage. Clay had no such concerns.
He could marry whomever he wished—or no one at all. At least on the surface, there was no one with a legitimate claim to force his hand. This was precisely why he had dared to come to the Twins so decisively.
After finishing his breakfast, Clay set out from the residence with his guards. The social obligations of the previous day were behind him; now, he could focus on what truly mattered—closely studying this fortress on the Green Fork.
House Frey had occupied this place for six hundred years. Ever since they built this stronghold, no army had ever successfully breached its walls in a frontal assault.
It was not that the fortress was protected by some powerful enchantment. In truth, it was nothing more than an ordinary fort built of brick and stone, with walls that were hardly impressive. At least in Clay's eyes, the defenses of the Twins were nothing compared to the massive barriers of White Harbor.
However, what made the fortress formidable was the great advantage it possessed—the ever-flowing Green Fork River that ran through its center.
The presence of this river made it impossible for an enemy force to completely encircle the fortress. In fact, even surrounding half of it was an impractical feat, as both the eastern and western keeps had only one side facing the shore.
To make matters worse, the limited size of the fortresses meant that the battlefield for any siege would be extremely constrained. Even if an attacking army had overwhelming numbers, only a small portion of their troops could be deployed at a time, reducing any siege to a series of costly, incremental assaults.
Before Aegon's Conquest, the Twins had rarely faced serious threats, as they lay far from the main battlefields of the Riverlands. Meanwhile, the exorbitant toll fees they charged for crossing had allowed House Frey to maintain a standing force of three thousand men.
Over time, this seemingly insignificant fortress and its ruling family had steadily grown in power, becoming a stubborn stone in the Green Fork—one that could not be easily washed away.
At present, no one in the North had given any thought to what would happen if this bridge truly stood in their way. But Clay, who knew that war was inevitable and that preparations must be made in advance, had come to the fortress personally to search for its weaknesses.
The part of the fortress Clay was currently in was the keep on the eastern bank of the Green Fork, where House Frey's main stronghold was located. Naturally, he decided to begin his observations from the eastern gate.
Clay was no expert in military strategy, but that did not mean others were equally ignorant. During their journey, he had casually gathered insights from his captain of the guard—an old soldier who had fought in Robert's Rebellion—and had gained a basic understanding of how a fortress like this might be taken.
House Frey had stationed men at the entrance of the Manderly residence, keeping a watchful eye on Clay's movements. The moment he stepped outside, a short-statured Frey—whose name Clay neither knew nor cared to learn—scurried up to him, his face plastered with a fawning smile.
"My lord Clay, where might you be headed?"
Clay glanced at this insignificant figure with little interest and replied indifferently, ""I'm going to take a look at the city walls. There's no need for you to follow. Under the sun's bright light, I'm sure there's nothing I do here that your lord won't already know about, is there?"
Patting the Frey retainer on the shoulder, Clay left him standing there awkwardly as he continued toward the castle gate with his guards.
The small fortress was surprisingly lively. Vendors of all sorts had set up their stalls along the roadside, loudly hawking their wares—odd trinkets that even Clay couldn't identify.
Now and then, soldiers clad in armor bearing the sigil of the twin towers passed through, yet they made no effort to drive the street vendors away. It was not that they were particularly benevolent—rather, the toll collected at the castle gate had already fattened their purses to the point that they had no interest in bullying these impoverished peddlers.
Feigning interest, Clay instructed his guards to browse the market stalls, purchasing a few items while he made his way toward the castle gate. There, he positioned himself to the side, his gaze sweeping over the bustling crowd as he carefully examined the eastern gate of the Twins.
The gate was constructed of thick black steel bars, each as wide as Clay's lower leg.
Beyond the bars stood a large black oaken door. Clay had taken note of it when he first entered the fortress—it was not particularly thick, meaning it likely provided little in terms of actual defense.
However, in times of war, an attacking force would first need to destroy this wooden gate before they could even attempt to breach the reinforced steel portcullis behind it.
After scrutinizing the gate for some time, Clay reached a conclusion: there were two possible approaches to overcoming this obstacle. The first was to prevent the gate from being lowered in the first place—or to have someone raise it during a siege.
This, of course, presented a challenge—how could he ensure that someone loyal to him was in the right place at the right time to control the gate mechanism?
He thought of his White Sea Guard. Perhaps this should be their next objective. Coincidentally, he had intended to seek out the White Sea Guard stationed here to gather information.
The second option was to bypass the gate entirely. If his army could maintain a siege for long enough, he could employ skilled craftsmen to tunnel beneath the gate. White Harbor had artisans capable of such work.
However, this approach required time. If the situation demanded swift action, it would have to remain a secondary option.
If only he had a few mammoths, he mused to himself. With those beasts, he could simply tear the gate down and be done with it.
After selecting a few trinkets that caught his interest, Clay watched as his guards returned, each carrying the items they had purchased.
Once the last of them had rejoined him, he gave a brief nod, offered a casual remark about their taste in goods, and then led them up onto the castle walls.
In White Harbor, when he had stood upon the battlements, his view had been filled with the vast expanse of the sea, bustling sailors, and the lively crowds of the city.
But here, standing atop these walls, Clay felt an inexplicable sense of decay and stagnation—not just because of the twin-towered banners fluttering in the wind, but also because of the moss that crept through the cracks between the bricks.
The damp air from the Green Fork had thoroughly seeped into the fortress, leaving it clammy and damp.
On the wall, Clay unexpectedly spotted a familiar figure—Ser Aenys Frey, the third son of Lord Walder Frey, whom he had met at the feast the night before.
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[Chapter End's]
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