Infiltrating the Twins

Read 20+ Chapter's Ahead in Patreon

Clay had never enjoyed guiding the emotions of children, but in this age where the hierarchy between superior and inferior was excessively rigid, there was no helping it. If he wanted Robb Stark to be even a little more obedient, then such methods were unfortunately necessary.

"I would never accept such a woman as my wife! With my father present, he would never agree either!"

Robb Stark spoke with clear frustration. Just imagining a woman like that made his stomach churn with disgust.

"Lord Clay, if I may ask, can you truly guarantee the authenticity of this information?"

Roose Bolton instantly saw through Clay's rhetoric, but at the moment, he lacked enough reliable information to challenge the narrative or regain the upper hand in the meeting.

Clay didn't care in the slightest about the suspicion in Bolton's question. He merely shrugged his shoulders, and although his posture was casual, his tone left no room for retreat.

"Lord Bolton, whether what I say is true or not is something you need not doubt. Once we've taken the Twins, you can ask them yourself."

"But as things stand, I see no clear way for us to take the Twins quickly. Just look at the ballistae mounted on those walls, and the countless archers stationed above. My lords, if we're going to chew through that, we'll lose a great many men."

Lord Glover interrupted the conversation, lifting the flap of the central command tent and pointing toward the dark green fortress walls heavy with the damp air of the riverbank.

Clay agreed with his assessment completely. When he had come here earlier, he had exchanged heated words with Aenys Frey atop the eastern wall, but he had also taken time to observe the structure with care.

It was then he understood—this wall was not as strong as it looked. With a few dozen catapults pounding away, it could be breached. The real problem was time. Constructing siege engines was no easy feat, and it required time they did not have.

The Northern army, known for its role as the vanguard in southern campaigns, rarely brought along heavy siege equipment. Over time, their ability to break fortified positions had become severely lacking.

Now, according to the scouting party that had advanced ahead of the main host, Lord Tywin, after hearing that Robb Stark was leading over ten thousand men southward, had already moved his main forces forward to the town of Lord Harroway.

As for his vanguard, it was now even farther north, dangerously close to Stark's own scouts.

Since the current Lord of the North had rejected the marriage alliance proposed by Lord Walder Frey, there was only one path left if they wished to cross the river—war.

Once again, the Northern lords began to quarrel over how to proceed with the siege. But this time, Clay did not join in. As the sun dipped below the horizon and cast long shadows across the encampment, he quietly slipped away from the heated tent filled with spittle and shouting.

He sought out Ser Maron, who was at the riverbank drinking alone, and pulled him toward the edge of the Green Fork River.

"Ser, tonight, I plan to infiltrate the Twins."

With just that one sentence, whatever tipsy haze had started to build in the old knight's mind vanished faster than morning mist. He stared at his young lord in stunned disbelief, unsure if he had heard correctly, and asked hesitantly:

"Clay… what did you just say?"

Clay had no intention of repeating himself. Instead, he simply pointed across the river at the scattered lights flickering in the distance.

"Ser, unless my eyes are deceiving me, it appears that the western gate of the Twins has not been shut. There are still small Frey detachments arriving from the western side, trickling into the stronghold."

Following the direction Clay indicated, Ser Maron looked across the water. As expected, the Freys, clearly unafraid of a siege, had not bothered to close the western gate. Their scouts, along with soldiers mustered from the nearby manors, were entering and leaving in small units, forming an unending stream.

Those vexing banners of silver-gray and deep blue, bearing the twin towers of House Frey, blanketed the entire western bank like a tide.

"At midnight, I'll take my personal guards and swim across the Green Fork. From there, we'll look for a chance to enter through the western gate. I understand your concern, but you're also well aware of our current situation."

Clay narrowed his eyes as he looked toward the opposite shore, mentally rehearsing every detail of the plan that was about to unfold.

Then he turned back to Ser Maron and issued a solemn command:

"Ser Maron, tonight, do not let our Manderly cavalry remove their armor. The moment you see flames rise from within the castle, launch an immediate assault on the gate."

The old knight's gaze fell upon the ominous black iron and oak gate, his brows knitting together in grim silence. His expression left little room for doubt. He clearly did not believe that cavalry alone could break through such a formidable barrier.

Clay understood that if he said nothing, the old knight would never permit him to move forward with this plan. He leaned in closer and spoke softly into the knight's ear.

"Ser Maron, the last time I came to the Twins, I was here under the arrangement made by my grandfather. During that visit, we secured certain understandings."

"There are people within those walls who serve us. And within House Frey, there are those who have grown ambitious. As it happens, one such fool was bold enough to share his plan with me."

"This time, I am going in to remind him that it's time to fulfill his promise."

"As for the gate guards, I will take care of them. When the time comes, they will no longer be loyal to their posts."

"Also, the men from our house will have a specific task tonight. They will eliminate certain individuals. Should you encounter Aenys Frey or Stevron Frey, treat them as rebel scum and send them to meet the Seven."

Sir Marlon could not tell what kind of emotions swirled within him as he listened to these words. The young lord's tone was calm, almost disturbingly so, yet anyone could sense the overwhelming stench of blood that lingered behind each slowly uttered word.

Since when had the family begun laying plans within the Twins? He had always remained at Lord Wyman's side. How had he failed to notice a single thing?

Now he understood. There was no stopping Clay any longer. According to the young heir, everything before them had been part of a carefully constructed snare, a trap prepared long ago with the sole purpose of ensnaring House Frey. All that remained was the army's arrival to set it in motion.

Even so, the old knight could not bring himself to let the sole heir of the family walk into danger alone. With deep concern, he stepped forward and spoke from the heart.

"My lord, let me go in your place. You are the heir of House Manderly. You cannot afford to risk your life."

Clay waved his hand in quiet refusal. He understood the old knight's loyalty, but he also knew that this was something no one else could accomplish in his stead.

Only his own face, suddenly appearing beside Aenys Frey's bed, could ensure that idiot would not die from fright but instead act without hesitation to launch an assassination attempt against Lord Walder Frey and the Stevron faction.

Clay never expected Aenys to accomplish the entire task perfectly. All he needed was chaos to erupt in the Twins. That would draw the garrison inward, and amid the confusion, Clay would slip through and take the gates.

As long as the gates fell, over ten thousand Northern soldiers would pour into the city. At that point, House Frey would have no choice but to surrender.

Moreover, before marching south from White Harbor, he had already issued a secret order to the White Sea Guard stationed at the Twins. If the army were stalled outside the city, they were to seize the opportunity and coordinate with the family to capture the gates from within.

He had assessed the White Sea Guard's capabilities and believed they were competent enough to carry out this task faithfully.

"Sir Marlon, trust me. The roaring currents of House Manderly shall drown these fools who do nothing but frolic in the river."

"Ready the cavalry. I have surveyed the family's camp. The terrain is broad and open. It should be easy to charge directly to the city gates. If you truly wish to keep me safe, then the best thing you can do is ride to the gates with all possible speed."

"And one last thing—kill as many of the Freys as you can, but be sure to leave one or two of the cowards alive. After all, someone still needs to inherit this place when it's over."

Having said all that needed to be said, Clay did not waste another word. He summoned his specially trained Witcher squad and moved swiftly along the outskirts of the main camp, following the course of the Green Fork downstream.

He intended to find a secluded place to enter the water. An operation like this was best conducted in silence, witnessed only by the gods.

…

Clay, accompanied by his five personally trained Witcher guards, stepped into the icy waters of the Green Fork far from the Twins.

Each man had discarded his heavy armor, despite its excellent defensive qualities. After all, Witchers were not fish. Jumping into the river in full plate was no different from committing suicide.

Their powerful physiques and expertly trained lungs allowed all six to overcome the swift currents. In the darkness, they emerged successfully onto the western bank, climbing ashore on a shallow gravel bar.

Droplets of river water clung to Clay's newly grown eyebrows. His eyes shone like gems in the darkness as he looked over the Witcher squad he had personally forged. He issued his first order.

"From now on, do not call me 'sir' or flatter me with titles. Save those words for later. Boys, it's time to taste blood."

Clay led them into the woods and silently moved toward a narrow riverside path on the western bank.

"Our target is any Frey patrol with fewer than ten men. I have given each of you a crossbow. Aim carefully. Aim for the face and neck. And for the gods' sake, try not to ruin the armor too badly when they die."

With a flick of his hand, the five men, each trained for swift and silent action, slipped into the surrounding forest, spreading out to find the ideal vantage point for a clean and decisive shot.

Though night had fallen, the path was anything but quiet. House Frey had mobilized a significant number of soldiers. Troops from nearby estates were arriving, making the narrow road uncharacteristically active.

Because of this, Clay's squad could not risk charging in with swords. Even if the Witchers, using signs, could slaughter ten men with ease, the sound of battle would betray their position and ruin everything Clay had planned.

In his design, once the ambush was complete, they would eliminate most of the patrol and capture one or two prisoners for interrogation.

They did not have to wait long. Before the insects could even crawl onto their skin, a group of eight Frey soldiers came into view. They marched with torches held high, humming vulgar drinking songs as they made their way down the path.

"Wait for my signal. Fire all at once. Leave two alive. Use the Arad Sign to knock them unconscious, then follow with the Axii Sign. Prepare yourselves," Clay instructed in a low, measured voice. These were his final words before the ambush began.

He held his breath, every part of his body still, and waited for the prey to step into range.

Clay could guarantee control over two of them, given his six-man team. But if more survived and even one turned out to be quick on his feet, a single scream would be enough to doom the entire operation.

He raised his crossbow and carefully took aim. The tip of the bolt was pointed directly at the forehead of the man leading the Frey patrol.

He waited patiently until the enemy was within ten paces. Then, Clay pulled the trigger.

The sound of a crossbow string echoed through the air. A moment later, five more followed. What came after was only three muffled groans and the dull thuds of six bodies hitting the ground.

There were only three groans because three of the unfortunate men didn't even have time to cry out. The powerful crossbow bolts, at such close range, were more than enough to pierce through a human skull.

The bolts entered through the forehead and exited the back of the head, destroying the brainstem and rendering the body lifeless in an instant. Pinkish brain matter splattered outward, and by the time the corpses hit the ground, their souls had already been sent to the Seven.

The other three had their throats pierced straight through. The force of the bolts had obliterated their vocal cords. Thick, blackish-red blood gushed from the open wounds as if pouring without end. The only sound left behind was the wet, hoarse gasping of men taking their final breaths.

Without the slightest hesitation, Clay led his five witcher guards out of the woods. They charged toward the two remaining Frey soldiers who stood there in stunned silence, too terrified to react.

A pair of strange blasts rang out in the dark, almost simultaneously. The sounds were caused by Aard's Sign attacks.

The two Frey men were thrown into the air by the impact and landed hard on the ground, barely conscious. Clay and Christen were the first to reach them, each pressing an Axii Sign directly onto the soldiers' faces, pinning them in place.

Satisfied that the targets had been subdued, Clay turned swiftly to the remaining four members of his team and issued a crisp order.

"Drag the corpses into the woods. Bury every trace of blood. Move immediately."

The elite witcher squad needed no further instructions. They were well-trained, highly disciplined, and knew exactly what was at stake. Without needing Clay to repeat himself, they sprang into action with sharp efficiency, each of them understanding how to take initiative in the absence of further commands.

Within just two minutes of Clay leading the two prisoners deeper into the forest, the bloody scene they had left behind was completely erased. There was no sign that anything had happened.

After dragging six corpses and two prisoners into a denser part of the forest, Clay finally came to a halt.

"Strip their uniforms. Find ones that aren't soaked in blood. Put them on."

Everyone understood exactly what Clay intended. They were going to impersonate Frey soldiers.

Clay, uninterested in watching five grown men change clothes, took the two prisoners and stepped aside to begin his interrogation.

"Name?" he asked.

"Eren Darr! Mogus Rivers!" the two captives answered at the same time, their voices vacant and lifeless.

Clay immediately lashed out with a powerful kick, sending one of them sprawling. He had forgotten to tell them to speak one at a time.

"Eren Darr," Clay continued, his voice calm but cold, "Who is your liege lord…"

He carefully extracted all the information he needed from Eren Darr—his place of origin, military unit, commanding officer, and the procedures or passwords required to enter the Twins.

Once he had learned everything he wanted to know, Clay granted him a quick and merciful death.

He then turned to the other man, Mogus Waters, who was now lying face down, chewing dirt. He questioned him in the same manner, gathering anything that might be useful before executing him as well.

Clay returned to his team.

By now, all five of his men had finished changing into the Frey uniforms. One of them handed Clay the outer armor worn by the Frey squad's captain.

Once Clay had finished donning the uniform, a perfectly convincing Frey patrol stood ready before him.

He shared the information he had gathered from Eren Darr and Mogus Waters with the others. Clay and Christen each took on the identities of those two men. The rest invented plausible cover stories for themselves, adjusting them to suit whatever situation they might encounter.

"All right," Clay muttered under his breath, a glint of dark amusement in his eyes, "Let's see if I can slip right under their noses and sneak into that bastard Aenys Frey's bedroom."

He cast aside all unnecessary thoughts, letting go of his complex emotions.

The six men, now disguised as Frey soldiers, began walking toward the western gate of the Twins, imitating the swagger and posture of the local garrison.

As they neared the gate, Clay noticed that another squad had just been let through. His keen ears picked up the words of the gate officer, who instructed them to head toward the East Keep, find a place to rest for the night, and report to the city walls at dawn.

Clay slowed his pace, signaling the others to do the same. They listened carefully, absorbing every useful detail from the conversation.

It was clear that those entering had entertained the idea of sneaking off to harass local women during the night, but the gate officer firmly warned them that such behavior would be punished by hanging. Grumbling under their breath, the soldiers had no choice but to march into the city obediently.

At a moment like this, maintaining order inside the city was more important than anything else.

When Clay's team reached the gate, their identities were checked. The officer on duty had been working through the night and was visibly tired and impatient. After giving the six mud-spattered, rustic-looking men a brief warning, he waved them through with obvious disdain.

He had no idea that by letting in these seemingly unremarkable grunts, he had just welcomed the Manderly family's greeting into every corner of the Twins.

And so, under the cover of darkness, the operation truly began.

..

..

[IMAGE]

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Chapter End's]

🖤 Night_FrOst/ Patreon 🤍

Visit my Patreon for Early Chapter:

https://www.patreon.com/Night_FrOst

Extra Content Already Available