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Clay and the old lord spent the entire night in discussion. By the end of it, the table between the grandfather and grandson was so cluttered that there was not even space left to place another empty wine bottle.
Yet despite their inebriation, both men remained spirited, engaged in a heated debate. The arrival of the dragon meant that many of the family's existing plans would have to be entirely redirected. As head of the house, this was something the old lord had no choice but to consider seriously.
At one point, Clay asked his grandfather a direct question—what would he do if, in the future, Clay were to truly ride a dragon and soar across Westeros? How would he face the House Stark then?
The question caused the old lord to purse his lips and fall silent for a long while. Finally, he let out a slow breath and spoke just one line.
"I am first and foremost a Manderly. Only after that am I a vassal of House Stark..."
Clay understood the meaning behind those words. He did not ask again. Clearly, it was not a topic to bring joy to anyone involved.
In the end, the old lord and Clay reached an agreement. Clay needed to hatch the dragon as soon as possible—this had to be done before the Manderly forces marched down the Kingsroad to join Winterfell's army.
During that time, the old lord would raise his banners and lead a campaign to seize the Three Sisters. Once the islands were taken, Clay's dragon would be sent there to grow in seclusion.
The old lord's original plan was for Clay to remain in White Harbor, and then later, to oversee the dragon's upbringing on the Three Sisters. He wanted Clay to have nothing to do with the southern battlefront. But Clay rejected this notion.
Achieving brilliant military feats in the south and returning to the North covered in glory—only then would the revelation of the dragon hold true weight. How the Northern lords would react, Clay could not say for certain.
However, if he were to avoid the battlefield altogether, hiding in White Harbor while the war raged on, and later revealed a dragon, then regardless of whether the Northern army won or lost, the only title he would earn would be that of a cursed dragonspawn. No one would accept him.
Clay had no desire to use dragonfire to subjugate the proud and unyielding lords of the North. That was something he deeply wished to avoid.
…
The next morning, Clay stumbled out of the study, still reeking of alcohol. Just then, a letter from Winterfell arrived—and the moment he saw it, his mind instantly sobered.
He had barely stepped out of the study before hastily turning back and slamming the door open again.
The message from Winterfell bore urgent news: Robb Stark, the young heir of House Stark, had summoned his bannermen and begun gathering an army at Winterfell. They would march south to the Neck in pursuit of justice for his father's fate.
Even more crucially, they intended to find Lord Eddard Stark, the Warden of the North before Lord Tywin could reach him.
Half an hour later, the Manderly family council convened once again. But this time, their discussions were no longer vague or speculative. With the arrival of that summons, everything changed. The North had declared war on the Iron Throne.
More accurately, they had declared war on the Lannister king who now sat upon it. And naturally, that included Lord Tywin of the Westerlands.
Joffrey was no Robert. He did not possess even a strand of his father's authority or charisma. If not for his immensely powerful grandfather, Lord Tywin Lannister, the Iron Throne beneath him would have long been claimed by someone else.
Given his own lack of ability, even if all the forces of the Westerlands were handed to him, they would amount to nothing.
Clay did not know what the situation in the Riverlands was like at the moment. Still, he highly doubted that Lord Tywin would pass up the golden opportunity to attack the Riverlands.
The Riverlands were unprepared. Though the region lacked military strength, if the Tullys of Riverrun summoned their vassals, they could likely raise around twenty thousand men based on their population.
If Lord Tywin attacked before that force was assembled, he might achieve a swift victory. But if he waited, the campaign would become much more difficult, even if he still won in the end.
"The son of Lord Eddard, Robb Stark, has issued a call to arms to House Manderly. But we are not required to march to Winterfell. Instead, our forces will proceed west and meet up along the Kingsroad," the old lord said, officially opening the meeting.
Wylis turned to his younger brother and asked, "Wendel, how is the army's assembly coming along?"
Wendel, who had been living in the barracks these days and had rushed back, answered his brother's question quickly:
"It's mostly young lads. We don't have many veteran soldiers. There's no way White Harbor can send all its seasoned fighters to the front. Right now, counting everyone who can be mobilized in the camp… it's around two thousand four hundred."
He shook his head with a hint of regret and said with frustration, "The time was too short. We only heard about this a day or two earlier than Winterfell. With such limited time, even distributing equipment properly is a challenge. If we had even two months, just a bit of training would make a world of difference."
The rest of the family members understood his concern. No one offered any counterarguments.
"We will do our best. Winterfell's forces still need time to assemble. Based on experience, even if Robb Stark is in a rush, waiting for all the vassals to arrive and marching south will take close to a month. We still have time."
The old lord had once fought in Robert's Rebellion, and his insight on such matters was invaluable.
Upon hearing this, Wendel exhaled slightly in relief. Most of the summoned soldiers were farmers, fishermen, hedge knights, or small-time merchants. Without proper training, sending them to clash directly with the Lannister standing army would lead to disaster, even with the famed bravery of the Northmen throughout the Seven Kingdoms.
A month was still a tight timeline, but if managed wisely, Wendel believed he could toughen the recruits enough to give them a fighting chance.
But then, the old lord's next order shattered his plans.
"Wendel, leave the training to Ser Marlon. You've fought pirates under Lord Stannis before. This time, I want you to take all of the family's warships and capture the Three Sisters."
This order had not been discussed with anyone beforehand. It left Wendel momentarily stunned. He knew well what and where the Three Sisters were, but he could not understand why his father would suddenly issue such a command.
"Take the islands and seal off the entire Bite. No ships are to pass. Sink any that try."
Though Wendel was puzzled, he was a soldier through and through. Since the order came from his father, he would carry it out without hesitation.
"Father, if we do this, will Winterfell have something to say about it?" Wylis asked, voicing his concern.
Interestingly, neither of the brothers gave any thought to the ruling family of the islands. In their eyes, those people were not true nobles but pirates. And killing pirates in the name of the Seven required no moral justification.
In response to his son's question, Lord Wyman merely waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. Clearly, he did not consider it a serious matter.
"The White Harbor fleet will be protecting the eastern coast of the North during wartime. That reason alone is sufficient."
As for the western coast, the fleet could scarcely be expected to sail around the entire continent of Westeros.
Having finished that matter, the old lord turned his gaze to his grandson.
"Clay, focus on your own tasks for now. The topmost chamber of the Sea God Tower is reserved for you. Once our army is fully assembled, you will be their commander. Ser Marlon will accompany you."
Clay understood his grandfather's intent. He was to stay in the chamber where the Decoctions of the Grasses were synthesized and complete the hatching of the dragon egg.
Meanwhile, his father Wendel would lead the troops to subdue the Three Sisters, and once the dragon hatched, Clay would send it to the islands for a period of growth.
This plan was tailored for a young dragon, one still incapable of flying far. But when the dragon matured, when it could soar across the skies and leave the Bite—then the day would come when Clay would ride it and descend upon Westeros.
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[Chapter End's]
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