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Inside the Twin, Lord Walder Frey was facing a thorny problem.
This matter made him irritable and uneasy, to the point that he had been unable to properly enjoy the company of his eighth wife for several days in a row.
Seated atop the highest tower of the castle on the eastern bank of the Twins, a place where he usually enjoyed watching the rain, he now stared at the relentless, sky-darkening downpour outside with an endless stream of curses in his heart.
The situation unfolding before him reminded Lord Walder Frey of the war that had taken place more than ten years ago. Back then, his hesitation in choosing sides had caused him to respond to his liege lord's call only at the very last moment, earning him the infamous nickname of "Late Lord Frey."
That shameful epithet had long since become a thorn deeply embedded in his heart, impossible to pull out.
The Frey family was vast, with countless children, yet after so many years, many of the younger men and women, unable to find spouses elsewhere, had begun to entangle themselves with each other.
As someone who could hear even the faintest sounds from anywhere within the Twins, how could Walder Frey not know of such disgraceful matters? But what could he do about it?
If he tried to punish every pair he discovered, it would not be long before one of his own descendants decided to rid themselves of him.
Lord Walder Frey still intended to live as long as a dragon, and he certainly had no intention of meeting the Seven Gods so soon.
Originally, he had taken a liking to that young man from White Harbor, Manderly's heir. He had planned to choose one of his finest daughters and send her to marry the boy. Unfortunately, before anything could be arranged, the lad had barely toured the castle when he was summoned away by some troublesome matter involving an attack on his family's merchant caravan.
What a pity it had been.
The ninety-year-old lord had lately felt his strength declining more and more with each passing day. His once-proud figure had shriveled into a frail, skeletal frame, swallowed by the luxurious robes he wore, making him look like a ridiculous old weasel.
He was keenly aware that the weaker he became, the more delighted his eldest son, Stevron, grew. After serving as heir for decades, Stevron could finally see the long-awaited opportunity to inherit, and how could he not be brimming with excitement?
Lord Walder Frey placed no faith whatsoever in the so-called bonds of fatherly affection between himself and his eldest son. The only reason Stevron had not yet raised a blade against him was because he wished to avoid the stain of being known as a Kinslayer.
Sometimes, when he looked at his third son, Aenys Frey, who always maintained a respectful and deferential attitude, Walder was tempted to simply eliminate Stevron and promote Aenys to the position of heir.
As for his second son, who had long since been ensnared by some Lannister woman and reduced to nothing more than her plaything, Walder Frey had never even considered him a candidate. If that fool ever inherited the Twins, the entire Frey family would soon be forced to change their name to Lannister.
Now, in the southwest near Riverrun, the Kingslayer had recently defeated Lord Hoster Tully's good son, Edmure, in battle and was leading troops in pursuit toward Riverrun itself. It was uncertain whether Edmure would be able to escape capture.
To the southeast, Lord Tywin Lannister commanded an elite army of over twenty thousand men, blocking the vital route at the Lord Harroway's Town. Reports indicated that Lord Tywin was conducting a fierce manhunt within his own controlled territory, searching for Eddard Stark.
As for the north, young Robb Stark was leading nearly twenty thousand men down the cursed Kingsroad. Just yesterday, his advance scouts had already arrived at the Twins.
In the name of Catelyn Tully, Robb Stark had sent a message demanding that Lord Walder open the gates and lead all his forces southward to rescue the ailing Lord Hoster Tully, known as the "Old Trout."
Thinking of that letter, Lord Walder Frey let out a cold snort. This young wolf from the North was every bit as arrogant and naive as his father. Did he really think that because he was the son of a great lord, he could command the Freys as he pleased?
The Freys had been collecting tolls at this crossing for over a hundred years. No one, not even a king, could expect to pass without paying a price that Lord Walder deemed satisfactory.
Inside his nearly bald head, Lord Walder Frey had already begun calculating his demands. As far as he knew, Robb Stark was not yet betrothed, nor were his two younger sisters engaged.
That made things simple.
He would quietly spread some hints among his many children, letting them compete fiercely among themselves to see who could secure the most advantageous marriage.
After living for ninety long years in this tomb-like castle, Lord Walder Frey's greatest pleasure was no longer found between a woman's legs. Instead, what thrilled him most was watching his countless offspring tear at one another's throats over matters both great and petty.
The thought of the chaos to come caused an involuntary, twisted smile to creep across his face. Somehow, under the darkening rain clouds, the endless downpour no longer seemed quite so hateful.
---
Finally, through a sea of fluttering banners, Clay caught sight once again of the Twins and its gloomy, rain-soaked dark green walls, which seemed to glisten wetly under the heavy skies.
The Northern army, numbering seventeen thousand strong, had spread itself across the plains on the eastern bank of the fortress. Campfires burned in the encampment, while countless banners adorned with the sigils of noble houses flapped and snapped in the rain-laden wind.
Unlike what Clay remembered from the original timeline, this time, the Northern lords arrived with a firm resolve to fight first, considering negotiation only as a secondary option.
Clay had honored the vow he made to himself: he led a great host and brought his forces to the gates of the Twins.
Before the Frey family could dispatch their knights to negotiate, a council of war was convened.
The council was held in a large tent, similar to those of their previous gatherings but set in a different location. However, the atmosphere this time was far more tense than before.
On the march to the Twins, Clay had found an opportunity to selectively disclose to Catelyn Tully the false engagement he had arranged between himself and Innis Frey, as well as the possibility of internal strife within the Frey family.
Clay could still vividly recall the complex expression on Catelyn Tully's face when she heard the news. It was a blend of shock, dismay, and helplessness, as though she had come to realize just how perilous the situation had become.
According to Clay's plan, he would take a small group of his most trusted personal guards and infiltrate the Twins. Once inside, he would pressure Aenys Frey to act without hesitation.
Their goal was to eliminate everyone who stood ahead of Aenys Frey in the line of inheritance. As for the methods they would use, if Aenys lacked sufficient manpower, Clay and his men would gladly lend their assistance. Of course, they would act under the guise of being soldiers loyal to the Freys.
Of course, Clay had no intention of ever admitting that he had entered the Twins.
If things went awry, he would simply shrug and claim that it had nothing to do with him.
Should Aenys hesitate or refuse to cooperate, Clay would personally let him experience the delightful sensation of having the Sign of Axii branded onto his face.
As for why Clay did not simply sneak into Lord Walder Frey's private chambers and cut off the old man's head to kick around like a ball, he had his own reasons for restraint.
The northern lords, should they later discover that it was Clay Manderly who had personally slain Walder Frey, would not react kindly.
A fortress that could not be breached even when besieged by over ten thousand men, yet Clay Manderly slipped inside and slew its lord undetected—such a deed would break an unspoken rule and sow seeds of fear.
Any noble with a shred of sense would realize that if Clay could kill Walder Frey without anyone noticing, he could just as easily send them to meet the Old and New Gods without a sound.
Clay had no desire to burden himself with such needless trouble.
Walder Frey dying at the hands of his own son was an entirely different matter from Walder Frey dying at Clay's hands.
Moreover, the Twins, as the strategic rear base for future wars, must be kept under absolute control, free from unrest.
Catelyn did not inform Robb Stark of Clay's full plan. Instead, she tested Robb with a half-joking suggestion. As Clay had anticipated, Robb disapproved of such methods. Like his father before him, Robb's deep sense of honor made him feel that such actions were utterly inappropriate.
He had even been preparing to harshly criticize whoever had suggested such a plan to his mother.
However, Catelyn shut down all of Robb's arguments with a single, piercing statement:
"If you wish to win this war, to save your father, and to help your uncle defend Riverrun, you must rely on more than just the sword on the battlefield."
Robb knew, deep down, that his mother was right. Yet, years of education under Eddard Stark's stern guidance made it difficult for him to accept such underhanded tactics.
He preferred the clarity of the battlefield, where victory was won with sword in hand and honor intact.
It was not that his way was wrong, but the real world was far more complex than simple ideals could cover.
---
At this moment, they had finally arrived at the Twins. True to his nature, Walder Frey, that cunning old dog, had sealed his gates tightly against them. Faced with this obstacle, Jon Umber jabbed a finger at the spot marked "The Twins" on the map and asked, his tone gruff:
"So, what now?"
The great host had just taken up position outside the fortress, yet no one could truly grasp where the Freys' loyalties lay.
A flicker of anxiety crossed Robb's otherwise calm face, but he swiftly suppressed it. Letting out a long breath, he shared an update on the broader situation:
"Two days ago, my uncle, Edmure Tully, having regrouped the forces of the Riverlands, clashed once more with the Kingslayer outside the gates of Riverrun. Regrettably, they suffered another defeat, and my uncle was captured."
He paused, then added gravely:
"At present, the Kingslayer's army, nearly ten thousand strong, has surrounded Riverrun. Thanks to Riverrun's strong defenses, they have not yet begun an assault."
This was grim news indeed. Although Clay had long anticipated such an outcome, given the fighting strength of the Riverland lords, losing the heir of Riverrun in a single battle spelled significant trouble.
The Lannisters would not easily kill Edmure, of course. He was far more valuable alive. Yet his capture alone gave their enemies a powerful bargaining chip.
Clay spoke, his voice steady but urgent:
"This is why we must pass through the Twins without delay. The Riverlands' forces will not be able to hold out for long."
The weight of the situation pressed heavily upon all present.
At that moment, a Stark retainer rushed into the command tent, bringing urgent news:
"My lords, riders from House Frey have arrived."
Clay immediately asked: "How many?"
The retainer answered quickly:
"Around ten. They bear a banner of silver-grey emblazoned with deep blue twin towers. Leading them is Ser Stevron Frey, heir to Lord Walder Frey."
Jon Umber gave a low, humorless laugh and remarked:
"Well, would you look at that? The old lord has lost one heir to his liege's war, and now he is sending us another."
It was easy to hear the derision laced within his words.
Clay, however, merely shook his head and calmly dismissed Jon's suggestion with a few simple words:
"Lord Umber, do not forget, Lord Walder Frey is not short of heirs. Unless we can storm the castle and wipe out every last Frey inside, it would make no difference."
Seeing that the eyes of all the lords had now turned to him, Clay decided it was time to lay out his plan. He raised his voice slightly and spoke:
"My lords, I believe I can guess Ser Stevron's intentions."
He continued, his words carrying weight:
"He is here to invite Lord Robb to enter the Twins and meet with that treacherous old man."
Clay had not even finished speaking when Lady Catelyn interrupted him, her voice filled with alarm:
"No! Robb must not enter the castle. If we allow ourselves to be locked outside these gates, then we must cease to think of Walder Frey as a loyal vassal of my father."
"Perhaps, in truth, he has never truly considered himself a subject of House Tully," she added bitterly.
Clay shrugged his shoulders lightly, signaling to Lady Catelyn not to rush. Then he continued speaking in a steady voice.
"We will certainly not allow Lord Robb to enter the city. If he were to be detained inside, everything would be ruined. As for what Lord Frey truly intends, none of us can say for certain."
He paused for a moment, then added, "We must send an envoy in Robb's stead. But, if I may wager with you all, I am willing to bet that old Frey will demand to marry one of his many daughters or granddaughters, of questionable relation to Robb, and he will also insist that one of Lord Robb's two sisters be betrothed to House Frey."
Clay's tone was resolute, leaving no room for doubt. After all, he remembered vividly what had taken place here in the original timeline.
Moreover, after experiencing the atmosphere inside the Twins, he had gained a deep understanding of House Frey's near-obsessive passion for arranging marriages, a drive almost as strong as their instinct to produce heirs.
The Northern lords present all gave Clay peculiar looks. None of them could understand how he spoke with such certainty, even laying out the exact terms with such precision, as though he had already seen the future unfold.
"I will go," Lady Catelyn said with a soft sigh, her voice carrying a mixture of weariness and determination. "Other than Robb, I am the highest in rank here."
"Lady Catelyn, you wish to go personally?" Jon Umber furrowed his thick brows deeply, showing his worry.
"Mother, you know what Lord Walder is like," Robb said anxiously, unable to hide the concern on his young face.
Lady Catelyn smiled and gently patted her son's hand in reassurance.
"Walder Frey may not have responded to my father's call to arms, but he would not dare harm me. Should he raise a hand against me, it would only give you all a justified reason to storm his gates."
Her voice was calm, almost casual, but inside, Catelyn knew she was lying. In truth, she had no certainty about how Lord Walder Frey would treat her. Nevertheless, she understood clearly that, at this moment, no one else could represent the North in such delicate negotiations.
As she gathered her courage, Catelyn recalled the words Clay had once whispered to her in private:
"My lady, I dare not promise you much, but at the very least, I can guarantee that the Twins will descend into chaos if needed."
Clinging to that fragile hope, Lady Catelyn cast Clay a fleeting glance, then lifted the heavy tent flap and stepped out into the fading light.
---
As evening descended and Robb along with the Northern lords anxiously awaited news, Lady Catelyn finally appeared, riding through the iron portcullis gate on the eastern side of the Twins.
The moment her silhouette was seen, twenty Northern riders spurred their horses forward, surrounding her in a protective escort. They guided her swiftly back to the main encampment.
After dismounting and catching her breath, Lady Catelyn wasted no time. Her first words instantly lifted a heavy weight from Clay's heart.
The Lady of Winterfell fixed Clay with a complex gaze, as if looking at some strange and unknowable creature, and said in a voice that all could hear:
"Lord Clay, you were entirely correct. Every single condition you predicted was precisely what Lord Frey demanded. He is willing to join our cause and allow our army to cross the river, but only in exchange for those terms."
In an instant, every eye in the tent turned to Clay. Shock, disbelief, and even a hint of fear were clearly written across their faces.
They had all thought his earlier words to be nothing more than a boy's reckless imagination, youthful arrogance without foundation. Yet now, reality proved otherwise. He had been right about every detail.
Although Clay had never mentioned a wager explicitly, everyone understood that sometimes, the stakes of a wager were not measured in gold, but in trust and influence, and those were far more valuable.
"Lady Catelyn, did you accept the offer?" Roose Bolton asked in his usual calm, almost detached voice. Yet behind his tone lurked a deep concern. Should they accept these terms, the future political landscape of the North would be irreversibly altered.
Lady Catelyn shook her head gently.
"Originally, if it had not been for Lord Clay's forewarning, I might have agreed. After all, time is not on our side." She glanced briefly at Robb. "However, now, my answer to Lord Frey was this: I would discuss it with Robb first before making any decisions."
She turned once more to Clay, her gaze now filled with a new emotion, something close to hope. After all, Clay's previous words had helped her avoid falling blindly into Lord Frey's trap.
"Lord Clay, you have won your wager," she said with sincerity. "Thus, I would very much like to hear your opinion."
This was exactly the opportunity Clay had been waiting for.
He calmly organized his thoughts, then, with a few simple sentences, thoroughly crushed any inclination Robb or Catelyn might have had to accept the marriage proposal.
"If Lord Robb does not wish to marry a woman built like a plow ox, or one who is twice his age, or a little girl who might not reach her maidenhood for many more years, then, according to what I observed during my stay at the Twins, Lord Frey actually has very few suitable candidates."
He paused, scanning the faces around him, letting the full weight of his words sink in.
"And furthermore, I should let you know," he said with a mischievous glint in his eye, "that during my time at the Twins, one of House Frey's so-called beauties, Walda Frey, attempted to climb into my bed."
The entire tent erupted in laughter. For a brief moment, the suffocating tension that had gripped them all was swept away like mist in the sun.
Silently scorning the lecherous nature of these old men, Clay continued in a colder tone.
"Later, I learned that Walda Frey was long rumored to have been involved in a prolonged affair with one of the black sheep of the Frey family, Black Walder. Her reputation, as you may know, is far from pristine. From this, I deduce that the skirts of Frey women are likely very easy to lift."
He slowly turned to face Robb directly, then delivered his final, decisive blow.
"If someone like that were to become Robb's wife, to stand as the future Lady of Winterfell, then all the iron honor that House Stark has carefully built over generations would crumble into dust."
Before the gathered lords, Robb's face turned bright red, burning with shame and anger.
Clay knew then that he had won.
Once again, he had shaped the course of fate to his will.
---
[Note🔔]
Just hit 100 chapters on this novel! 💖💐It's been a long road, but I'm proud of how much progress I've made. As you all know, I've been updating two chapters a day for the past few days, and I'm happy to say that this will continue from now on. Excited to keep going and see where the story takes me next!
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