Clay watched the eager expression on Vielphid's face, his mind racing.
It wasn't a matter of whether he would agree to his sister's request. Deeply aware of Walder Frey's character and what the Frey Family was like, how could he possibly push his sister into such a predicament?
When Vielphid made this request today, he realized something. His sister was already 19 years old, an age that merited consideration in itself.
According to Clay's understanding, as a direct descendant of White Harbor, and the granddaughter of Lord Wyman, the beautiful Vielphid should have been swamped with proposals from nobles.
However, to this day, Clay had only vaguely heard from servants that Lord Wyman had rudely rejected many nobles who had come to request a marriage contract. Up till now, his sister still had no betrothal.
Clay wasn't eager for his sister to marry; he was contemplating a question: what exactly was his old man plotting?
"I'll flatly refuse them, Vielphid, don't worry."
Clay couldn't think for too long; it would give Vielphid the impression that he was still carefully considering the matter.
Seeing Vielphid visibly relieved, Clay couldn't help but ask:
"Vielphid, hasn't Grandpa mentioned anything to you about your betrothal? You're already..."
Before he could finish, Clay realized his last sentence wasn't appropriate and quickly shut his mouth. Unexpectedly, Vielphid didn't mind at all. She shook her head, her bright eyes fixed on Clay, and continued his sentence:
"Yes, I'm nineteen years old, but Grandpa has never mentioned a betrothal to me before. Not before, but now that you're back, he will."
Clay was stunned by this. What did this have to do with him? Why would he be able to influence his sister Vielphid's betrothal? Suddenly, thinking of his sister Vera, Clay immediately understood the reason.
Simply put, originally, with his uncle not having a male heir and Clay being far away in Essos, let's assume a situation where the old man had married off Vielphid and Vera, or at least arranged their betrothals.
This in itself was nothing, but if a sudden, extreme situation arose, where the old man, Willis from the second generation, and Wendel all met with an accident, and the heir's status wasn't fairly determined, it was possible that Clay, who didn't even know the news, wouldn't be present.
Don't think I'm just trying to scare you. In the original timeline, after the War of the Five Kings, Wendel Manderly died at the Red Wedding, and Willis Manderly was captured by the Lannisters. This extreme situation actually happened.
At that time, who was the heir to the Manderly Family of White Harbor? The answer was Vielphid. But pay attention: if she had a marriage contract at this time, given the weak position of women in Westeros, who knew which family would end up with White Harbor.
This was the fundamental reason why Lord Wyman had repeatedly refused Vielphid's marriage proposals. The old man was guarding against, or rather, preventing this situation from happening.
Now that Clay was back, with Duke Eddard's notarization, his status as heir was as solid as a steel plate. Naturally, under these circumstances, White Harbor would not fall into the hands of outsiders no matter what. Of course, the old man had a reason to seriously consider Vielphid's marriage.
Since Vielphid didn't want to marry a Frey, then Clay would naturally grant her wish, but he didn't know her own thoughts.
Clay knew which families in the whole of Westeros were real fire pits. He would do his best to prevent Vera and Vielphid from contacting these families. After all, once you stepped in, it would be extremely difficult to get out.
Seeing Clay agree so readily, Vielphid smiled, her beautiful face looking incredibly lovely among the flowers under the moonlight. Clay suddenly felt a sense of family responsibility. He didn't want the tragedy of the Stark Family members to happen to his own family, not at all.
Feeling the power of the butterfly effect, Clay was called to the study by the old man the next day.
Clay initially thought his grandfather knew about his conversation with his sister, Vielphid, and wanted to ask what he'd said.
But when Clay opened the study door and went inside, he was surprised to find a stooped, stern-faced old man standing in front of the desk, talking quietly with his grandfather.
Hearing the sound of the door opening, both old men stopped talking. Seeing Clay, Lord Wyman, sitting in the armchair, smiled and beckoned him over.
Clay sized up the old man he'd never seen before. Although covered by dark trousers, Clay could tell at a glance that one of his legs was artificial.
The thick calluses on his hands indicated that this old man had once been a master of the longsword. The black robes and the aged face, missing an eye, gave him a slightly sinister air.
Clay instinctively felt a sense of danger. The old man was lame, missing an eye, yet Clay felt that he was inferior in terms of presence, and it wasn't due to age.
Whether it was an illusion or not, Clay's heightened sense of smell, brought on by the mutation, told him that the old man had a strong smell of blood. This smell wasn't fresh, but rather a deeply ingrained one.
At this moment, Clay heard his grandfather introduce him:
"Clay, this is Sir Bartimus, the former commander of the White Sea Guard, as I mentioned before."
So this was the man who controlled the Manderly Family's vast spy network? Clay couldn't help but examine him more closely. The old man, referred to as "Sir," was at least a knight with land, yet Clay, as the young lord of White Harbor, had never seen him before.
That made sense. If the person before him had been a playboy like Kingslayer Jaime Lannister, Clay wouldn't have believed he was in charge of an intelligence agency.
"Hello, Sir Bartimus," Clay greeted him with a nod.
Sir Bartimus was also sizing up Clay. He was only slightly younger than Lord Wyman and had witnessed the ups and downs of White Harbor for many years.
He had to admit that, from first impressions, the young man before him was indeed a suitable heir, at least much stronger than the heirs he remembered.
From Clay, he seemed to see a Lord Wyman forty years younger, only Clay was much better looking.
He reached out and shook Clay's hand, nodded, and didn't say anything.
This was a bit impolite, at least in terms of status, but Clay didn't mind. He had enough patience for Sir Bartimus, who had been in charge of the White Sea Guard for nearly twenty years.
"Alright, Bartimus, this is my heir. Take him with you now. He's my heir, and yours too. Let him go to your domain and see what it's like. He should also get a whiff of the blood that lies behind White Harbor."
....
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