The idea was good, but the problem was, how could Clay leave?
Although being a noble meant Clay wouldn't suffer in prison, especially under the protection of the Stark Family, this also made it incredibly difficult for him to escape.
The logic was complicated, yet simple. Ultimately, it was a matter of face.
For example, if Clay were imprisoned at Casterly Rock, and he killed a jailer and took out the Lannister guards, escaping back to The North, he wouldn't just escape punishment from the kingdom's laws; he would be welcomed as a hero.
But alas, Duke Eddard was his liege lord. Clay was in his prison. If he escaped, it would mean he was cutting himself off from the Northern nobility, which was a very serious matter.
In the language of The North, it was called trampling on honor, and it would never be forgiven.
The next morning, Ser Rodrik, his face covered in frost, hurried into Clay's cell.
Early in the morning, he heard the report that the jailer had been knocked unconscious. The seasoned old knight immediately realized this was aimed at Clay, because besides him, there wasn't a single valuable target in Winterfell's dungeon.
Along the way, the knight's mind raced. He feared he would see Clay's dead body, because that would mean Duke Eddard would completely sever ties with the Queen.
Although he knew that with his master's steadiness, it was impossible to take up arms against the Queen while the King was present, from now on, the wolf and the lion, who had previously disliked each other, would start baring their fangs at each other.
Muttering to himself, Ser Rodrik moved quickly, and soon saw the young jailer, a large bruise on his neck, standing in place, at a loss.
"Is Lord Clay alright?" Rodrik asked immediately.
The jailer shook his head, and the old knight breathed a sigh of relief. He glared at the jailer and then rushed into the prison.
Passing by one candle after another, Rodrik arrived at the deepest part of the dungeon, the quietest cell with the best conditions.
Clay, wearing civilian clothes, was leaning against the wall, holding a copy of Stories of the Old Gods of the North borrowed from Winterfell's library, and was engrossed in reading it.
"My Lord Clay, are you injured? Did you see who the attacker was?"
Ser Rodrik finally relaxed, but then he was puzzled. Clay didn't seem at all like he'd been targeted in an assassination attempt; his brow was completely relaxed.
"Hmm? Ser Rodrik, what did you say? Attacker?" Clay looked confused. He gently closed his book and walked to the door. Ser Rodrik took the key from the accompanying jailer and opened the cell door.
"My Lord Clay, this fool was knocked unconscious last night. You… are you alright?"
Ser Rodrik's mind was a bit of a mess. Clay hadn't seen the attacker, which was completely unexpected.
This was really strange. Someone snuck into the dungeon, knocked out the jailer, but it wasn't to assassinate Clay? Then what were they doing? Just coming to beat someone up for fun?
The attacker, let's call him that for now, definitely existed. Ser Rodrik, who had trained in martial arts for years, could tell at a glance that the wound on the jailer's neck was not something he could have inflicted.
"Are you sure you didn't see anyone last night?" Ser Rodrik was flustered and asked again, unwilling to give up.
Clay shook his head, looking confused and innocent. This left Rodrik at a loss. In his subconscious, Clay would never lie, and if someone wanted to kill him, why would he lie?
Ser Rodrik, after spinning around in place for a long time, still couldn't make heads or tails of this somewhat bizarre matter. So, he fell back on the fine tradition of subordinates everywhere: find the boss!
When he recounted the whole affair to Duke Eddard Stark, the middle-aged Lord of the North's usually impassive face showed a clear look of contemplation.
After Ser Rodrik finished speaking, Duke Eddard fell into a long silence. After waiting for a long time, Ser Rodrik didn't know whether to stand or leave, so he could only steel himself and call out, "My Lord?"
"?" Duke Eddard raised his head, then quickly reacted. He furrowed his thick brows and ordered, "Go bring that Clay boy to me, and remember, make sure he's properly dressed. Don't let the Queen's people see him."
A bewildered Ser Rodrik took his leave. Half an hour later, Clay, dressed in a Stark coat, was standing in Winterfell's hall once more.
Duke Eddard dismissed Ser Rodrik, leaving only the two of them in the vast hall.
His gray eyes sized Clay up and down, as if trying to re-acquaint himself with him. After a long moment, he finally spoke, "Clay, was that your first time killing someone?"
As he asked this question, Duke Eddard looked closely into Clay's eyes.
Clay didn't overthink it, nodding in agreement.
"Yes, Duke."
"How do you feel?"
"Uh… I didn't think that much about it."
Duke Eddard Stark just nodded, seemingly not satisfied with Clay's answer. He sighed slightly and pointed to a chair nearby.
Clay didn't stand on ceremony and sat down directly.
"As your liege lord, and your elder, I can only tell you that those who wield the sword lightly will ultimately die by the sword. Human life has weight."
Duke Eddard Stark poked at the blazing fire in the hearth, looked at Clay, who was deep in thought, and suddenly smiled, saying softly:
"I know you're right. Honor cannot be defiled, and that's why you're standing here now."
He stopped Clay from speaking, pausing before continuing.
"I know the assassin must exist, but you don't want him to, do you?"
Seeing Clay's suddenly stiff expression, Duke Eddard walked forward and patted Clay's stiff shoulder.
"You don't need to explain. It's good that the assassin didn't threaten you. You did the right thing. Although we'd rather not, the Stark Family really shouldn't conflict with the Queen right now, but you need to understand, boy..."
He looked into Clay's eyes, speaking slowly and clearly:
"A wolf can never fear a lion. Courage is the foundation of our survival in The North."
"I'm glad you possess more wisdom than your father, bestowed upon you by the gods. Use this wisdom to assist Robb in the future."
With that, Eddard Stark strode out of the hall, leaving Clay still stunned.
Clay was too surprised. He hadn't expected Duke Eddard to see through him at a glance. He thought he could fool everyone, but his dream had been shattered immediately.
The old wolf's eyes held a deep wisdom as he spoke, an image that was etched in Clay's memory.
This was definitely a smart person. So why did he perform so poorly in King's Landing later?
Clay felt that what was about to happen in the southern capital of the Seven Kingdoms was far more complicated than he had imagined...
Status updated. Gentlemen, you can invest. Feel free to comment if you have any ideas about the plot. This is my first time writing, and your suggestions may help me avoid some pitfalls.
....
Fully Completed English PDF of this fan-fic on my Patreon shop if you want to support and own the full fan-fic in one go. Just grab the PDF and binge the entire story from start to finish!
Patreon.com/AniFic