298 AC
White Harbor
The largest city north of the Neck greeted another clear morning of the long summer.
The White Knife River flowed into the sea here, and large numbers of fishing boats sailed out of the harbor to begin their day's work.
House Manderly, which ruled here, lived in New Castle atop a high hill within the city, and today was something of a momentous day for the entire house.
The family's third-generation heir, Clay Manderly, had finished his two-year journey through the Free Cities and returned to House Manderly.
Clay's father was only the second son of the current Earl of White Harbor, Wyman Manderly. Under the laws of inheritance, Clay should never have been in line to become the third-generation heir.
But six months earlier, after Clay's uncle's wife suffered an unexpected miscarriage, Maester Theomore judged that she could no longer bear children.
The aging Earl Wyman immediately sent men rushing to the Free Cities to summon Clay home.
Apart from Earl Wyman and his two sons, every member of House Manderly went to the harbor to welcome the young man who was about to become the heir.
What none of them knew was that the young member of their family slowly descending from the deck had already been replaced by a soul from another time and space.
Before transmigrating, this soul from another world had been complaining about the next-gen update to a certain Witcher game. The next moment, he had arrived in this world of ice and fire that he knew so well.
After absorbing the memories, Clay discovered that he had become a third-generation member of House Manderly, someone who had never appeared in the original world.
He had not spent long in the Free Cities before receiving an urgent summons home from his family, delivered in person by a senior member of the house, Ser Marlon Manderly.
"White Harbor hasn't changed. Still reeks of fish." Clay set foot on the soil of Westeros and remarked as he smelled the strong, lingering fishy odor in the air.
"Heh, seems you've grown used to the scent of perfume in Pentos?" Ser Marlon retorted mildly. He placed great importance on family and was somewhat dissatisfied with this young master who had spent two years away from home.
On the inner harbor's wharf, fully armed guards of the city watch had already formed ranks.
Merman banners flew high, and a group of people stood surrounded by two lines of guards.
"Come, meet your two cousins." Ser Marlon led Clay toward the crowd.
Wynafryd and Wylla, the two female members of House Manderly, wore dark green gowns and led the others in welcoming Clay.
"Seven, look, sister! He's grown so much taller in just two years!" Fifteen-year-old Wylla clung to her sister's arm and cried excitedly.
Clay was a little older than Wylla and had already celebrated his sixteenth name day aboard the ship.
He walked up to them, and under Ser Marlon's stern gaze, Wynafryd, her sister, and the remaining members of the family's collateral branches solemnly bowed to Clay.
Clay was still young, but his position as heir placed him far above everyone present.
Ever since House Targaryen's bloody civil war, the Dance of the Dragons, had ended, establishing heirs, especially male heirs, had become the foremost concern of nobles throughout Westeros.
Once the bows were finished, the eldest sister, Wynafryd, who carried herself with great dignity, took Clay's hand of her own accord and said with a smile:
"Clay, Grandfather is waiting for you in New Castle. Let's hurry."
Clay nodded. He, too, wanted to see his grandfather sooner rather than later. After all, his position as heir would only be secure once Earl Wyman gave his approval.
Mounting their horses, Clay and his party passed through Fish King's Square and climbed along the Castle Stairs. A towering, majestic fortress of white stone sprang from Clay's memories and appeared before his eyes once more.
This enormous fortress, which ranked among the top three in the entire North, was House Manderly's ancestral seat. To distinguish it from Old Castle at the foot of the hill, it was called New Castle.
Led by the sisters, Clay entered House Manderly's great hall, which represented the center of power over all White Harbor. It also had a more resounding name-New Castle.
Although he had visited many times in his memories, stepping inside again still made Clay marvel at the family's substantial wealth.
In this palatial hall, both ceiling and floor were skillfully fitted together from thick wooden planks. The surfaces of this costly timber had been carved with a wide variety of exquisite sea creatures through the combined efforts of White Harbor's skilled craftsmen. On a raised platform directly in the center of an entrant's view stood a huge cushioned throne, representing House Manderly's absolute authority.
Clay made a comparison in his mind. This hall was certainly far more lavish in style than House Stark's hall at Winterfell. Although it still fell somewhat short of the Red Keep's throne room, it was undoubtedly without equal for someone of an earl's standing.
A tall, stout old man sat on the throne, his head of silver hair particularly striking in the candlelight. Clay knew perfectly well that this was his grandfather, the Earl of White Harbor, Lord Wyman Manderly.
Wynafryd pulled her pouting younger sister aside, leaving Clay standing alone in the center of New Castle's great hall, meeting the gaze of the stern-faced old man on the distant throne.
Taking a deep breath, Clay stepped forward and bowed with a hand over his chest. "Grandfather, I'm back."
He kept his head lowered for an unknown length of time as grandfather and grandson faced one another in silence.
"Our Reach Is Long!" Earl Wyman suddenly bellowed.
Clay was briefly stunned, then realized these were the family's words. He immediately raised his head, looked straight into the old man's eyes, and answered just as loudly, "Our Reach Is Long!"
The ice on Earl Wyman's ruddy face melted and shattered, and he broke into a broad grin and laughed:
"Haha, good to have you back!" The old man's stout body sprang from the throne. He strode over to Clay and circled him, examining him carefully as he spoke rapidly:
"Good, now that's the height my grandson should be. You're even growing hair above your lip. Tsk... I never would have guessed. You were as ugly as that father of yours when you were little, but you're much handsomer now. Good! Now that you're back, rest for a night. Tomorrow I'll take you to Lord Eddard to ask for a marriage agreement..."
Clay listened with helplessness written all over his face. Wylla had already burst into giggles in the hall. Wynafryd managed to maintain her ladylike composure, but the upturned corners of her mouth still revealed her amusement.
Earl Wyman was still rambling on. Only when he saw his two granddaughters' expressions did he realize he had said too much. He glared fiercely at them and muttered, "I'll marry both of you off next month."
Perhaps his voice had been a little loud. In any case, both unmarried ladies shut their mouths and shrank back into the corner like ostriches.
"All right, Clay, off you go. Crossing the entire Narrow Sea is no easy matter. You'll have your old room. It's been kept clean for you these past two years. We'll talk at dinner. Your father and uncle have just made it back as well."
Clay nodded in agreement with his grandfather's words. The quick-witted Wynafryd hurriedly brought along her silly, muddleheaded younger sister and led Clay out of New Castle. Staying here would only earn them another scolding from the old man.
Lying on the bed that had not changed at all from his memories, Clay pondered. Earl Wyman had been right about one thing: he really did have business that required a trip to Winterfell...
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