After Clay finished assigning tasks, he didn't immediately leave the training ground. Instead, he sat down and began to chat with the downcast members of the extended family.
This time, Clay didn't need to use any of the little tricks he had employed before to strengthen the relationship between superiors and subordinates. He listened attentively to each person's description of their situation, making an effort to remember it all.
Once the twenty individuals had finished their introductions, some long, some short, Clay summarized the characteristics of these fallen Manderly descendants. In short, there were three main points:
First: Although their family circumstances had declined, and they were no longer connected to the nobility, they or their families still had some money, enough to afford a set or half-set of rudimentary armor.
Second: Almost all of these men's fathers had fought alongside their lord. Some had participated in the War of the Usurper, while others had been involved in the battles to encircle the Narrow Sea pirates with Stannis Baratheon's Royal Fleet. The latter were more numerous, but at least they knew something about war.
Third: The Manderly family had lived in White Harbor for so many years, and there were hundreds, if not thousands, of Manderly descendants. It was truly a testament to the old man and Ser Marlon's abilities that they could find these people, who had simple social and family relationships and were easy to manage, within such a complex network.
Clay called out a few people and casually asked them about the battles they or their fathers had experienced. He inquired how they would command a battle if they were in charge.
This question was designed to test their independent thinking skills. Before this, each of them was just a conscripted soldier on the battlefield, ordered around by noble lords and only knowing how to execute commands.
As the conversation went on, these hesitant and shy peasant lads gradually loosened up, and the atmosphere became lively. Clay's question was met with a flurry of answers, varied and diverse.
Although most of the battlefield plans seemed completely unworkable to Clay—in other words, pure suicide missions—he was still very satisfied. At least no one wore a fawning smile and offered him a line like, "We'll do whatever you say, my lord," which would have raised his blood pressure.
The afternoon passed quickly in conversation. These Manderly relatives found that the young Lord Clay they were about to follow possessed a quality that made them admire him wholeheartedly. His analysis of some of the battles they had participated in was also incisive and far superior to their own half-baked ideas.
Even though young Lord Clay's wisdom might be greater than all the wisdom the gods had granted them combined, young Lord Clay kept encouraging them to think and share their opinions.
Moreover, after they cautiously voiced their opinions, they weren't rebuked. This made each of them feel that the young lord valued them. This was the future heir to White Harbor, after all, far more noble than they were.
No one realized how time was passing until the shadows of the massive city walls and towering towers fell upon them. Only then did their young Lord Clay end the conversation.
The White Harbor Guard, who had been waiting in the distance, came forward to meet Clay. They escorted Clay away under the watchful eyes of the Manderly relatives. A tall, stern-faced guard captain then walked towards them, ordering them to form up, as he would take them to eat.
From today on, they are members of the White Harbor Guard.
Stepping into the Mermaid Palace as the melodious chimes of the clock tower rang out, Clay entered the hall. Ever since he'd returned, Lord Wyman had developed a habit of having dinner with the direct family members every evening, which hadn't been the case before.
Looking at his handsome young grandson, Lord Wyman, who was sipping from his wine glass, asked with a chuckle, "Well? Do you think these people meet your requirements?" As he said this, the old man winked slightly at him.
Clay smiled inwardly. He certainly understood that the old man was telling him not to let the cat out of the bag and reveal the true purpose of these selections. As far as Clay was concerned, the old man was overthinking things. He knew full well the importance of keeping this matter secret.
He pulled out a chair with a silk-padded seat and sat down beside his sister, Vielphid. Unlike Duke Ed, who had a very strict upbringing, the old man didn't forbid his grandchildren from drinking, as he himself was quite the drinker.
Vielphid, of a quiet disposition, gave Clay a gentle, ladylike smile and picked up the wine jug to pour him a glass. She said softly, "Clay, the White Salmon is excellent today. You should eat more of it."
Returning a natural smile to his sister, Clay didn't stand on ceremony. He took the glass, took a sip, and then began to tackle the salmon in front of him.
Ser Wendel, his father, who usually stayed in the barracks, was also at the dinner tonight. His eldest uncle, Willis, wasn't feeling well and was taking medication, so he didn't attend.
Wendel had been wanting to chat with his son, but the White Harbor army had been updating its equipment recently. As the infantry commander, he had to keep an eye on things. If he let his subordinates handle it, he didn't know how much corruption there would be.
"Clay, are you recruiting your personal guard?" Wendel asked his son.
"Yes, Father." Clay nodded, chewing.
"Have you chosen your people? Let me tell you, the personal guard are there to take sword strikes and arrows for you on the battlefield. You can't choose anyone small. If you need people, I can get you a few from the army. It won't be difficult; they're all veterans who've seen battle."
Ser Wendel had a straightforward personality. He didn't really know how to communicate with his son, so he could only help him in the area he was best at, even though he didn't know his suggestion was already vetoed in the old man's mind.
"Alright, Wendel, just manage your soldiers. I'll take care of Clay's personal guard. Hold your sword tight and cut down anyone who dares to touch the soldiers' equipment. I don't want to see the soldiers' armor get worse after they change it."
Wendel instinctively nodded. He had resolutely carried out his father's words for decades. Like his elder brother, Willis, he was a qualified soldier and a good general, but this was also the part that Lord Wyman was most dissatisfied with.
Having recovered from the gloom of what happened at Winterfell, Vera was back to her mischievous self, chattering away in Clay and her sister Vielphid's ears, recounting sailor stories she'd somehow picked up.
After a meal, Clay, who was about to return to his room, was stopped by his sister, Vielphid.
Confused, he followed his sister to the castle garden, where Vielphid, looking hesitant for a long moment, asked Clay: "Are you going to go to The Twins to see those Freys?"
"Grandfather told you?"
Clay was a little surprised. Ser Marlon wouldn't have said anything, so it could only have been his grandfather.
"Yes, can I ask you something?"
"What is it?"
"If someone from the Frey family proposes marriage to me, Clay, you must refuse them!"
....
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