Clay had little interest in the banquet about to begin. The only things likely to interest him were the delicious dishes served there.
Winterfell was somewhat worse off materially than White Harbor, but its cooking was surprisingly good. Of course, that might also have had something to do with Clay getting sick of eating fish every day in White Harbor.
Clay had originally been seated near the high table. Wanting to slip away early, he had barely eaten before picking up his plate and moving to the long table near the doors where the guards had gathered.
"Clay, what are you doing over here?"
The speaker was Jon Snow, mingling with the crowd. Usually a boy of few words, he now reeked of wine as he questioned Clay through slightly bleary eyes.
"Can't help it. I don't understand the jokes those lords from the Crownlands are telling. Sitting there makes me feel like an idiot."
Clay spread his hands and pointed to the seat he had just left.
"True. At least you can leave. Look at Robb. Sitting there, he's practically biting his fork to pieces, isn't he?" Jon pointed at Robb, who looked exceptionally stiff sitting opposite the queen at the high table, then grinned and gulped down a great mouthful of wine.
Duke Eddard rarely let his children drink, but today no one was keeping an eye on Jon.
Clay picked up a chicken wing, roasted until fragrant with sizzling fat, and tossed it to the white direwolf curled beneath the table. The direwolf, named Ghost, had already grown very familiar with Clay over the past few days.
In one fluid movement, the wolf caught the chicken wing before it touched the ground, then lay down beside Clay's feet and began crunching away.
Clay loved petting this white wolf, and Ghost did not resist his touch.
Under Jon's resentful gaze, Clay grew increasingly enthusiastic about petting Ghost, who lay on the floor and rumbled contentedly beneath his hands.
"Is this your wolf, young man?"
Someone asked from behind Clay. Clay looked up and heard Jon say, "Uncle Benjen!"
He already knew who had arrived. Rising, he turned to look at the tall, black-clad man of the Night's Watch standing behind him.
"No, he's Jon's wolf. Have a seat. I'm going outside for a walk. It wouldn't be very dignified to throw up after drinking too much."
Clay seized the opportunity to leave his seat. The First Ranger, who carried the air of wind and snow about him, did not know Clay at all and merely took him for an ordinary guard. He gave him a slight nod, then sat down and began talking to Jon.
Slipping out of the hall, Clay pretended to be drunk and quickly returned to his room. He scooped a small basin of cold water from the water vat to clear his head.
Picking up a small bundle of clothes, Clay opened the door and walked toward the Godswood as naturally as could be.
Sure enough, Clay had guessed correctly. House Stark took the king's security very seriously. Duke Eddard had transferred more than half the guards to the area around Winterfell's great hall, leaving the usual guard posts along Clay's route empty.
When he reached the entrance to the Godswood, Clay finally spotted two House Stark guards in mail from a good distance away. But there were only those two, and both were concentrating intently on the wraps in their hands.
A perfect chance!
Clay immediately took a wide detour around the entrance. The wall on the side of the Godswood facing into Winterfell was relatively low. With the moon hidden and the wind high, this was the perfect time for murd... no, for climbing walls.
Everything went smoothly. With security in Winterfell's Godswood at its weakest, Clay climbed over the wall. The instant his feet touched the soft ground inside, a faint smell of decay reached his nostrils.
It was the smell of fallen leaves piled layer upon layer. Leaves falling in great numbers during summer was not a good sign.
Though the Long Summer still lingered, as the words of House Stark went: winter is coming...
Pitch darkness lay before him. Thick, sturdy black trunks filled most of his view, while the branches high overhead crowded densely together, blocking what little moonlight there was. Clay advanced cautiously; one careless step could send him tripping over a root protruding from the ground.
It was too dark here, and too quiet. Clay kept feeling that somewhere in this darkness, so thick it was like ink, where he could not see his own hand before his face, a pair of eyes was watching him. Watching him all along...
Clay began to understand why the people who had once lived here had developed such an obscure, ill-defined faith as the Old Gods. In an environment like this, people needed to find a little hope in anything they could, and gods with clearly defined identities could not meet their needs.
The short journey took Clay nearly half an hour. Passing through seemingly endless leaves, he finally saw the ancient weirwood standing quietly amid a pool of cold, black water.
Strangely, no other vegetation grew around this weirwood, which might have been the largest in the North. Clay guessed that House Stark might have cut down the surrounding trees. After all, a place the lord visited often needed to be somewhat spacious.
Moonlight fell upon the towering weirwood, making its trunk gleam silver, while its normally deep-red leaves were forced to bow to the night and turn black.
Drawing a deep breath, Clay stepped forward. Whether he could replenish his Magic Pool all came down to this one shot!
Ignoring the face on the trunk, which looked sinister and terrifying in the moonlight, Clay finally reached the Heart Tree. He had a vague feeling that the face was watching him, but at this moment, he could no longer worry about that.
He removed his finely crafted leather gloves, reached out with both hands, and pressed them against the trunk.
The next second...
An immense, chaotic power surged along Clay's arms and into his utterly unguarded body. The force was so violent, like a raging bull, that he nearly lost consciousness at once.
At a flicker of thought, the translucent, dark-blue system unfolded before his eyes. Clay clenched his teeth, his bloodshot eyes fixed on the number beside his Magic Pool.
"75..." The number did not move.
But the next instant, it became 76, then 77, and began rising faster and faster!
In the moment Clay spent stunned, the number had already broken past 100, and it was still climbing at an ever-increasing speed.
His ears were filled with buzzing. Clay could not hear the rustling of the enormous Heart Tree's tens of thousands of leaves as they stirred without wind.
Within a few breaths, Clay's Magic Pool had accumulated more than 150 points of magic power. This was already more than twice what he had stored when he first obtained the system, enough to push the Trial of the Grasses' success rate to its limit and negate two negative effects.
Clay wanted to stop, but found he could not. His hands seemed firmly pinned to the trunk, on the verge of becoming one with the Heart Tree.
Magic power continued pouring in. His greedy Magic Pool seemed to have no upper limit, but Clay's body was close to giving out.
A strange feeling of blockage filled his entire body. Clay struggled to breathe, but the oxygen he inhaled crawled through his lungs like a tortoise. He was like a drowning man, his face slowly turning pale.
"Fuck." An elegant word that did not belong to this world burst from Clay's mouth. Regaining a sliver of clarity, Clay used every ounce of strength in his body to slam his head into the trunk.
Amid the rustling leaves came a heavy thud, followed by the sound of a body falling to the ground.
Lying on the ground, Clay gasped for breath. Looking at the conspicuous number beside his Magic Pool, he bared a row of white teeth.
Far beyond the Wall, in a deep, dark cave, a blood-red eye suddenly opened in the darkness. He let out a silent roar of fury, for just now, someone had actually injured his largest eye in the North!
Invisible sound waves spread outward. Countless ravens gathered in the cave beat their wings and rose, flying into the pitch-black night sky. They flew south with only one destination-Winterfell!
I received the site's private message some time ago. The status will change in the next few days.