The first command

As he looked through the long list of the dead and missing, Clay finally understood what the old man had meant by the smell of blood.

Westeros had now enjoyed more than a decade of peace. Although it had experienced Balon Greyjoy's rebellion, that had not, after all, been a nationwide war.

Yet out of sight, this unknown, bloody slaughter played out day after day, year after year.

Clay did not know the people on the list-not a single one-so he could not grieve for them, but he could feel the cruelty behind it.

"I don't want to see any deductions from the death benefits for the deceased."

After a moment of silence, Clay spoke slowly.

"There won't be. Whatever other payments get skimmed, theirs never will. That's the rule, and no one can break it." It was Snow who spoke. He was somewhat surprised that Clay cared about this issue, and his impression of White Harbor's young lord changed a little.

Clay nodded, his brows knitted in silence as he sorted through all the information about the White Sea Guard in his mind.

He had no way to compare it with other similar organizations, but taken as a whole, it was an outfit with a vast reach that served some purpose, yet was not particularly efficient.

Apart from the Reach, the Stormlands, and Dorne in the south, which were simply beyond its reach, it had branches everywhere else. It could also obtain information such as Lord Tully's grave illness and repeated fainting spells, or the Vale nobles' doubts about whether Robert Arryn could shoulder responsibility for the Vale of Arryn.

But this information, especially anything from King's Landing, almost always came stained with blood. Clay was not afraid of paying the families of dead spies those less-than-generous death benefits. With the old man backing him, he could certainly afford that much.

The problem was that this was no way to do things. If obtaining information in peacetime already cost so many lives, Clay truly doubted how long his White Sea Guard could maintain its presence in those places once war broke out and the other nobles' intelligence organizations brought their full strength to bear.

Having only just taken over, Clay had no way to change the situation for the moment. But he had one advantage: he knew which people were worth watching, and could concentrate the White Sea Guard's scattered strength in those places into a few powerful points.

"Can I exercise a commander's authority now, Ser Bartimus?"

"Of course. The moment you put on that ring, this meeting room, this tower, and the entire White Sea Guard were yours to command, my lord."

Ser Bartimus nodded as he answered Clay. His tone was quite relaxed, as though relinquishing the post of commander had lifted a burden from his shoulders.

After a long period of thought, Clay issued his first command in that meeting room:

"Since I am now the commander, these are my orders:"

"First, withdraw all surveillance in the North except at Winterfell. Reorganize those personnel and send them to Winterfell, focusing on two things:

"Whether Bran Stark has undergone any changes recently-changes of any kind count. Monitor Lady Catelyn's movements, and report immediately if she heads south."

"Snow, you're responsible for this. Avoid crowding too many people together, and reduce the risk of exposure."

Snow gave a slight nod of agreement. He had no desire to argue with Clay, the newly appointed commander. To put it plainly, the White Harbor Guard belonged to House Manderly as a whole, and as its young lord, Clay's orders were difficult to disobey in the first place.

Besides, he was curious himself. Why did Clay want to concentrate all their strength on watching Winterfell, even singling out Bran Stark and Lady Catelyn by name? What information did he want to obtain about them?

Having made arrangements for the North, Clay turned to Chief Rivers.

"Chief Rivers, continue monitoring Lord Tully's illness in the Riverlands. Also, concentrate your strength on the Twins. Give me a way to contact you during my visit to House Frey. I may need your help."

"Yes, my lord. The White Sea Guard will do its utmost to ensure your safety while you are a guest at the Twins."

Chief Rivers's voice came from the patch of shadow where he sat. Clay continued:

"Also, a long-term assignment: I need a layout of the area around the gates of the Twins. But there's no hurry. I don't want to smell too much blood over this."

Chief Rivers gave no reply, and Clay took it that he had heard. This disregard for one's own life in carrying out a task was thoroughly northern, but Clay did not encourage it.

As for Chief Hill, who managed the intelligence network in the Westerlands, Clay told him to stop going up against House Lannister's spies. Clay saw no need to compete with the Lannisters for intelligence on Lannister territory.

"I don't care how you do it. Find leverage over one or two members of House Lannister and bring them under control. Preferably people who can enter and leave the Lannister family castle."

Unexpectedly, Chief Hill shook his head and sighed.

"My lord, we tried what you suggested before, but the results were poor, and we exposed several of our people in the process. Lord Tywin keeps very strict control over those who can enter and leave the family castle."

Chief Hill's words made Clay realize that the situation in the Westerlands was even more complicated than he had imagined. But he could not leave it unattended, either. If war broke out, the North and the Westerlands would most certainly be enemies.

Sometimes, victory or defeat in a war began with a simple piece of information.

Since there were difficulties, Clay had no intention of rushing into sweeping changes right now. He took a step back, asking only that Chief Hill maintain the intelligence network there and preserve his own strength when appropriate. A temporary retreat was acceptable.

Once he had his hands free, he would have to put some real work into the intelligence network in the Westerlands.

There was little to say about the Vale. Clay had not yet decided how to deal with that region.

As for the Crownlands, Clay's order was simple: the White Harbor Guard must never become a casualty of the clash of gods in King's Landing.

Clay asked only that they identify the places frequented by Petyr, the master of coin, and Varys, the Master of Whisperers.

He would certainly enter King's Landing himself someday. Whatever his status then, he wanted to invite those two to experience the taste of the Axii Sign.

Finally, he gave Waters, the chief responsible for the Crownlands, a special assignment. It was a name: Hall Lyko.

That name had brought him the first assassination attempt of his life. Events had unfolded too abruptly, leaving Clay no choice but to let him return. He had originally intended to use Petyr to get rid of him.

But now that he had taken over the White Sea Guard, Clay wanted to know whether this minor figure from House Lyko was still alive. If he was, Clay would send him greetings from House Manderly.

Chief Waters frowned. He had never even heard the name Hall Lyko. He had heard a little of House Lyko, which seemed to be a vassal house of House Rykker of Duskendale.

Leaving aside where Lord Clay had learned that name, why did he care about someone who might not even be worth a single gold dragon?

"My lord, this..."

"Never mind that. Carry out your orders. I want information on him!"