The idea was good, but a whole host of problems came with it.
First and foremost was the question of candidates.
This was no small matter. In fact, it was the most important of all the problems. Their numbers could be large or small, but they had to be loyal.
Before new witchers emerged in large numbers and could form an army capable of fighting on the front lines, this squad would undoubtedly be doing the dirty work, both on the battlefield and in peacetime.
That placed very high demands on the quality of the squad's members. They could not afford to be careless.
Age brought shrewdness, and Earl Wyman quickly understood why Clay had called him over today: suitable candidates should be found among these collateral branches of House Manderly.
In terms of the cost of keeping them under control, all their social ties were in White Harbor or its outlying villages, making them relatively easy to control once they became witchers and joined the army.
Though hardly honorable, such methods were essential. Their ties to home would also make coordination and management much easier.
To put it plainly, with their wives, children, or parents all in the hands of Clay and his grandfather, these men would have a somewhat higher baseline resistance to corruption and attempts to win them over.
Narrowing his eyes, Earl Wyman asked Clay directly:
"How do you intend to screen them?"
He had expected Clay to say something about martial prowess, honor, or loyalty. Instead, without the slightest hesitation, Clay gave him a term he had settled on long ago:
"The ability to learn."
"The ability to learn?"
As he said those words, Clay's mind was full of the guerrilla warfare waged behind enemy lines by the rank-and-file soldiers of a certain party in another world. His squad would take on a similar role in the future.
He could not command them directly. Only by breaking up into smaller units could they exercise strong operational effectiveness, and that was utterly beyond illiterate peasant levies who could only follow orders. Forget it!
The system had granted him a complete set of Signs, knowledge of potions, and even the swordsmanship of the various schools, but he could not grant these things directly to future witchers. Thus, his requirement for the ability to learn was the result of careful consideration.
Earl Wyman mulled over the term without immediately connecting it to the word "warrior," but that did not matter. He fully respected his grandson's opinion.
"You have your own ideas, and I won't interfere. You needn't get involved in choosing candidates for now. We old fellows will screen some suitable people for you first, and then you can choose from them according to your requirements."
That was how clever people behaved: they did not insist on meddling in things they did not understand. This technical knowledge came from Clay, so Earl Wyman would not fight him for the final say.
Seeing his grandfather help him complete the hardest step, Clay pulled the sword from the ground and returned it to his waist, making no attempt to hide his smile.
If he had handled this step himself, he would have had to investigate each person's family background and character individually. For someone with his limited knowledge of White Harbor's common folk, that would have been an absolute time sink.
"All right, we've finished discussing candidates. Now for the next question: what do you need to create warriors like yourself?"
Clay had to answer this question, but it was not actually easy to answer, because it involved magic power. Explaining magic power to his grandfather would undoubtedly be a risky undertaking of considerable scope.
So Clay intended to sidestep the issue of magic power and leave that trouble to himself. He had to be present during the mutation anyway to keep the subject's physical condition stable.
Resting his chin in his palm, Clay thought for a moment before giving his answer:
"Turning an ordinary person into a warrior like this requires a potion. It needs one lizard-lion venom gland, an adult swamp leech, powdered sentinel bark, and a handful each of ghost grass and pennywort."
"Hmm... aside from the first, none of those should be difficult. What happens once we've bought them?"
"Leave the final synthesis to me. I'm not doing this just to be difficult. If anyone with an interest traces our bulk purchases of these ingredients, they may start making guesses. So, at this stage, I don't want any written preparation instructions. That would be too risky."
His grandfather approved of Clay's reasoning. They were doing something no one in the history of Westeros had ever done, and no amount of caution was excessive. Earl Wyman was also very pleased that Clay could think this way.
"Anything else?" Earl Wyman continued. White Harbor's finances could easily cover everything Clay had just listed.
Running through the entire process, Clay recalled rolling back and forth in pain in the mud beneath the Weirwood in the Godswood, and his body instinctively felt uncomfortable.
"If possible, have the maester prepare some painkillers. This transformation isn't something anyone can get through easily."
Clay only supplied the list of materials required to become a witcher. He did not need to worry about the actual collection, purchase, or transportation.
He trusted that his grandfather's experience would allow him to handle these matters without problems. Clay had placed his order; all he had to do was wait for delivery.
In fact, the list was missing the most crucial ingredient: dragonbone. But that was far too difficult to obtain. There were only two places in all of Westeros that had it: the skulls of House Targaryen's former dragons beneath the throne room in King's Landing, or the Dragonpit atop Rhaenys's Hill.
As the place where the Targaryens had once kept their dragons, it might still hold some bones from those days.
But either way, doing something like this in King's Landing was far too risky. Even if Clay or the people of House Manderly pulled off a peerless master thief's feat and successfully obtained dragonbone, the stuff contained large quantities of metallic elements and was harder than steel.
That meant cutting it into sections on-site was impossible, and this world had no electric saws...
The conclusion was that even if they obtained it, they could not transport it out. They had better leave it alone for now.
"Grandfather, how many gold dragons can White Harbor spare for this?" Clay needed to know his grandfather's budget in advance.
Hearing his own grandson actually ask how much money he had, Earl Wyman, who had been sitting there frowning in thought, immediately perked up.
He extended a thick, broad palm before Clay's eyes, holding up five carrot-like fingers.
"Uh... five hundred?"
Clay guessed a number, then immediately realized he had been far too petty-minded, because contempt was already written all over his grandfather's face.
"Five thousand!"
"Heh." His grandfather answered him with a cold chuckle. Rather than let this grandson, who was truly embarrassing House Manderly, keep guessing, he gave him the answer outright.
"Fifty thousand gold dragons to start. However much you need, I'll make up the rest. This port brings in more than that in trade taxes in a single quarter. Can't you show a little ambition?"
From those words, Clay felt his filthy-rich grandfather's swagger practically shoved into his face. Unable to say anything, he could only marvel:
It's good to be rich!
Clay finally understood why the family could afford complete suits of armor for fifteen hundred men and all their horses. No money? Dream on.
I'll post first and fix the typos later. Doge face to save my skin.
Hmm, the recommendation slot is confirmed. Thank you all for your support. This humble author will do his best to write well and fully respect all you esteemed readers' opinions.