"This is intelligence on the members of House Frey. Before you returned, I had already instructed the White Sea Guard to gather this information."
The old man took a booklet from his desk and tossed it in front of Clay. Once Clay picked it up, he added:
"You must also meet the former commander of the White Sea Guard before you go to the Twins. He must hand over the entire White Sea Guard to you before you leave."
Clay could do little besides nod. Deep down, he was also very curious about just how much power this mysterious White Harbor spy organization possessed.
Opening the cowhide-bound booklet, Clay turned to the first page and found a skillfully drawn portrait, with the subject's name clearly written beneath it: Walder Frey.
It was an aged face, bald and loose-skinned. Clay thought the face in the drawing bore a certain resemblance to a creature called a weasel.
He turned to the second page, which noted some of Lord Walder Frey's characteristics and things to watch out for. For instance, he held grudges and was extremely vindictive, and he intensely disliked being called "the Late Lord Frey."
It also said that this lord was obsessed with women and had married his eighth wife just as Clay returned to Westeros. It recommended that female members of the family avoid being alone with the lord whenever possible, or simply not visit the Twins at all.
Furthermore, the intelligence mentioned that Lord Walder Frey exercised very firm control over his family, with virtually no dissenting voices. When dealing with House Frey, there was little need to consider the feelings of other Freys; one only needed to pay attention to the lord himself.
There were four or five pages of details in all. By the time Clay finished reading, the image of an unsmiling, lecherous old man living in a gloomy castle had taken vivid shape in his mind, leaving him marveling at the importance of intelligence work.
Only Clay and the old man were in the room. Apart from the crackle of wood in the burning fireplace, the only sounds were the rustle of Clay turning pages and the glugging of the old man gulping down wine.
Lord Walder Frey himself took up the most space. The remainder recorded the circumstances of roughly seven or eight Frey descendants. There was little to be done about that; after all, the old lecher had eight wives, twenty-two legitimate sons, seven legitimate daughters, and a great heap of bastards who did not bear the Frey name.
Most of these people had completely lost Walder Frey's "attention" and had long since left House Frey's inner circle of power, making them of little value to watch.
What was rather funny, though, was that the booklet mentioned three suitable marriage candidates for Clay, also the girls Lord Walder Frey was most likely to push on him. Two of them actually had exactly the same name: Walda Frey.
The male version of that name was Walder Frey, which was another point Clay found himself at a loss to comment on.
The first Walda Frey was the great-granddaughter of Stevron, Lord Walder Frey's eldest son. She was only eight, but to nobles, age was no issue at all. They could arrange the betrothal first, then send the girl over to marry once she had her first period.
The second Walda Frey was the daughter of Wynton Frey, Ser Stevron's third son. Known as "Fair Walda," she was an eighteen-year-old maiden and the candidate the intelligence considered most likely.
The third was named Marya Vance. Her position in House Frey was much like Fair Walda's, but because her mother, Marya Frey, had married into House Vance, she had lost the Frey surname.
The booklet offered some descriptions of these three women, but Clay did not think they proved much. Besides, in all honesty, he was not particularly interested.
Time passed quickly. By the time Clay put down the booklet, nearly an hour had gone by. The old man had waited patiently for him to finish, though the number of empty wine bottles on the table had grown from one to two.
"Finished? Anything you want to say?" the old man asked Clay with a smile.
Clay shook his head and merely remarked with feeling, "Our intelligence work in White Harbor really is excellent..."
After considering the rather novel expression "intelligence work," the old man understood what Clay meant and nodded with some pride.
"Of course. This is a force our House Manderly has spent more than a hundred years building. Obtaining this information is hardly difficult."
"It really is impressive." Clay agreed with the old man once more.
"Once you take over, you'll find that the entire White Sea Guard is even larger than you imagine. But you'll need this..."
The old man fished a pristine gold dragon from his coat pocket. Minted under the former Targaryen Dynasty, the coin had probably seen little use. It still gleamed golden in the sunlight, without any sign of wear.
"Our White Sea Guard is mainly concentrated in the North, the Riverlands, the Westerlands, and King's Landing. Any farther south, they're of little use. After all, our people from White Harbor find living there very hard to get used to, and the cost of staying hidden is too high."
"Then couldn't we recruit some locals?" Clay offered a proposal of his own.
"No. This is a force that cannot operate in the open. Recruit locals? Hmph. Within two days, we'd be forced to leave because other spies had infiltrated our ranks." The old man snorted, rejecting Clay's suggestion.
"All right, make your preparations. I'll write the letter for you. You'll leave for the Twins in five days. I'll make up a reason for you, so don't worry about that. Just stick to it when the time comes."
Five days was not too tight a schedule. Clay's witcher army plan had only just begun. The caravan the old man had sent to purchase materials, along with the other purchasing caravans meant to throw people off the trail, had only just settled their itineraries and were preparing to depart. There was no use in his being anxious.
He had nothing else to do, so five days it was. But then Clay thought of something else. That Three-Eyed Crow seemed to have promised to send Hodor, the stableboy from Winterfell, to deliver the Dragon Egg sometime soon. If he went to the Twins now, would he be standing Him up...?
Although deep down he thought the Three-Eyed Crow was simply fooling him with nonsense, what if it was true? He could not guess what private stash the Three-Eyed Crow, who had coldly watched the North for nearly a hundred years, might possess.
Clay could not work out what this neither-human-nor-ghost Three-Eyed Crow was planning, either. But now that he had allowed Clay to draw on the magic within the Heart Tree, Clay had no need to oppose him for the time being.
Deep down, Clay believed that someone like this, with the entire map revealed and the ability to spy on other people's private affairs whenever he pleased, was better off destroyed sooner rather than later. Or that ability could be given to Clay instead. He certainly did not want to keep experiencing the horrifying sensation of someone peeking at his screen.
With everything said, the old man yawned. Clay said goodbye and withdrew. It was almost noon, and after turning into a dedicated eater, he still had other things to do that afternoon.
Posting first and fixing typos later. Doge face to save my skin!
Also, this novel is getting a recommendation slot tomorrow, so please vote lots and keep up with the latest chapters! Little White Whale bows in thanks to you all!
I didn't think much of it when I watched the TV series, but when I actually looked up information on House Frey, I was truly stunned. This man had practically created an entire race. Walder Frey really was beyond ridiculous in this respect.