The moment the tipsy head guard saw Clay wobbling towards him the next morning, the remnants of his hangover vanished.
If he hadn't been so familiar with his young master, the head guard almost wouldn't have recognized him. Clay's appearance was simply dreadful.
"Unkempt" was an understatement. Clay's face was smeared with mud, and it was caked in his hair and clothes. There was even what looked like vomit on his expensive silk jacket. He stank as if he'd been fished out of a pigsty.
"Uh... Master, what happened to you?"
The head guard was completely sober now, and he quickly plastered on a smile, hurrying to Clay's side. He just sniffed at the stench, pretending not to notice it.
He knew better than to make a fuss. As an old-timer in White Harbor, he knew exactly who stood before him. The Old Earl was getting on in years, and Lord Willis, the heir, wasn't in the best of health. It could happen any day now that this young master would become the imposing, powerful Earl of White Harbor.
He hadn't known Clay had been gone all night, and if the Old Earl found out about his current state, he'd be strung up from the highest tower of the castle.
Clay kicked the head guard in the rear with his dirty boot, sending him sprawling. He cursed, saying:
"You bunch of bastards! I drank too much last night, where were you? I ended up sleeping in the mud all night, I'll whip you all..."
Clay wasn't actually angry at all.
He was playing a role. He needed a ready-made explanation for his current appearance.
Before dawn, Clay, having dealt with all the evidence, came out of the godswood. He thought about it and decided not to go straight back to his room. If some early-rising Southern noble spotted him looking suspicious, it would be a huge problem.
Those Southern lords didn't care about details, especially with Robert visiting Winterfell. Everything was likely to be blown out of proportion.
You say you're not an assassin? Where's the proof? Sorry, I suspect you are, and given the Queen's personality, Robert might actually throw me in jail, even if he lets me out after he leaves.
Suppressing his irritation, Clay found a deserted mud puddle and lay down in it. He grabbed an empty bottle and pretended to be passed out, drunk, until he was discovered by the early morning guards.
Watching the head guard scurrying around nervously, Clay felt a little relieved. His impromptu acting skills were still up to par.
"Get me some bathwater, now!" Clay barked.
Under his sister Vera's shocked and disgusted gaze, Clay calmly returned to his room to bathe and change.
Finally looking presentable, Clay contentedly opened the door and sat down. His sister, Vera, immediately approached with a gossipy look:
"Clay, spill it. Which noblewoman did you get busy with last night? Tsk, we Manderlys have some status, couldn't you pick a cleaner place? Or do you and that lady have a very unique taste?"
"…"
Clay was stunned. He really wanted to pry open his sister Vera's head and see what was inside.
"Watch your words, Vera. You can't speak like that about noble ladies, or you'll never get married."
"Grandpa can't even control me…"
Ignoring Vera's nagging, a reborn Clay walked out of the room and sat down on a stone stool. The cold northern wind cleared his head, and he finally had a chance to check his system.
When he became the first Witcher in the history of Westeros, his system upgraded.
He had been too busy escaping the godswood before being discovered to check out the specific new changes.
The pale blue system unfolded again, and Clay saw:
——
Witcher System (Level 2) Potions (Drop-down)
Bombs (Drop-down)
Equipment (Drop-down)
Mana Pool: 120 Unlocked Signs: Quen (Level 1), Aard (Level 1), Igni (Level 1), Axii (Level 1), Yaxii (Level 1) Items (Drop-down)
——
Magic points remaining: 120. This is enough to allow a test subject to endure the pain like Clay did and become a true Witcher, although it won't negate the severe side effects.
This also means that Clay's plan to expand the Witcher ranks has officially begun. He was already excitedly considering potential candidates in his mind.
But that wasn't what excited Clay the most. Becoming a Witcher not only meant he was a powerful warrior with physical abilities far surpassing ordinary people and rapid healing, but more importantly:
He could finally try out the Witchers' numerous potion recipes!
He opened the potion section, and sure enough, the system didn't disappoint him.
Four basic potion recipes were already available: Swallow, Cat, Thunderbolt, Blizzard.
Although they were basic, they were extraordinary in this low-magic world. Aside from the possibility of soaring dragons, everything was decided by the swords on the battlefield.
This Game of Thrones was essentially a contest where a few gamblers with the most powerful armies used their violent resources as chips, desperately trying to win their opponents' chips at the gambling table. The gambler who accumulated enough chips could exchange them with the boss (if there was one) for a prize called the Iron Throne!
To put it bluntly, having an army meant you were the boss; without an army, you were screwed, so go home.
Even the one who said "chaos is a ladder", always had one or several major patrons behind him when creating chaos: Lysa Tully at first, then Cersei and Tywin later, and finally, he simply controlled the Vale of Arryn and joined the game himself.
This is the right way to play the game of thrones. The "Emperor" Joffrey Baratheon, the "Faceless Man" Arya Stark, and others like them, were all about flipping the table.
Now, Clay, supported by White Harbor, has become a Witcher. Once he fully digests this power, he will also be capable of flipping the table.
Clay didn't bother researching the exact formulas for the four potions. That could wait for now. Suddenly displaying absurd strength would only arouse suspicion.
The excitement faded. Now, he was pondering something: what secrets were hidden within the Weirwood or Heart Trees? He had experimented with so many plants and animals in the North, so why did the Heart Trees possess such immense magical power?
If it was because the Heart Tree was the core of worship, the power of so-called faith, then Clay believed this view reversed cause and effect. Perhaps when the worship of the Old Gods arose, people discovered the Heart Tree's magic, and that's why they began to worship it?
Then, this raised another question: where did the Heart Tree's magic come from? He didn't believe for a moment that the plant itself possessed magic; there must be another reason.
(End of Chapter)