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The sound of Clay's young fra resonated through the room, causing all those seated at the table to glance over involuntarily.
What a decisive young man, thought Lord Wyman and Ser Malron, both of whom had seen countless seasons of the world. In situations like this, their first instinct would be to wait for Winterfell's will before taking any steps.
But the heir of House Manderly, who had already surprised them countless tis, was already contemplating the complete annihilation of an entire house.
To be fair, even Lord Wyman, with all his experience, could not deny that his grandson's proposal was highly practical.
White Harbor boasted a fleet that could be considered respectable, but it had never truly contributed to the battle plans of the North. The reason for this was simple: the presence of the Three Sisters. The fleet's position was exposed to the South, losing any advantage of secrecy, and the high mobility of the fleet beca aningless.
For years, Lord Wyman had been looking for an opportunity to resolve this issue, but it was clear that under King Robert's rule, he had never received the chance.
If House Manderly starts a war in peaceti, they will never be able to take over the Three Sisters even if they occupy them.
…
The most serious family eting in over a decade had caused the Manderly family, the rulers of White Harbor, to transition from a ti of peace to one of war.
Weapons were distributed, and the army began to assemble. Under the strong push of White Harbor's young heir, Clay Manderly, though the raven from Winterfell had yet to arrive, everyone in White Harbor knew: the family was preparing for war.
In the Sea God Tower, Lord Wyman's study.
As a continuation of the family eting that had taken place earlier, three n sat in the spacious study: Lord Wyman, his eldest son Wylis, and Clay.
Wendel and Ser Malron, both experienced in leading troops, were already with the army. Thanks to the financial strength of White Harbor, House Manderly was able to maintain the North's only standing force of more than five hundred soldiers.
This permanent force now served as the foundation for the expansion of the Manderly family's army.
However, despite this, House Manderly's military strength was far from comparable to that of the more established Northern noble houses. If a Stark warrior were to duel a Manderly guard, the odds were high that the Stark would easily overpower the Manderly soldier.
The elderly lord lit the fire in the room's hearth. The weather had grown steadily colder, and the long sumr was finally showing signs of coming to an end.
"Grandfather, can you give a clear picture of our family's foundation? How many soldiers can we truly muster?"
This was actually a question Clay had been pondering ever since his arrival in Westeros. According to his grandfather's earlier statents, he was capable of gathering fifteen hundred heavily armored cavalryn.
This number was considered a massive cavalry force by the North's standards, but when compared to the population of White Harbor, it seed off.
Upon returning to White Harbor, Clay had looked into the general demographics, and as he had suspected, the population was extrely young, a result of the near-absence of dical resources in this era.
People didn't live to old age unless they were nobility—few others survived long enough.
Even a minor wound or a common cold could claim a life. That was how harsh the world was.
White Harbor had a population of over two hundred thousand, which, in practical terms, ant around one hundred thousand n. Considering the city's youthful population, even the most conservative estimate suggested that at least fifty thousand people could be ard and sent into battle.
With one in five n capable of fighting, that equaled an army of ten thousand. Clay was astonished. Who could have imagined that his family could field such a force?
However, further investigation revealed that while this calculation was theoretically correct, there was a massive flaw: due to the backward societal system, the Manderly family had no ans to organize this large population into a military force.
The people of White Harbor had always paid their taxes dutifully, but the family lacked the necessary infrastructure to call them to arms. There was a significant difference between simply recruiting soldiers and actually organizing them into an army.
Had they been able to organize the population, the Manderly family could have rivaled the Targaryens in their pri. Imagine it—if the Targaryens could raise ten thousand soldiers from their own land, Robert Baratheon would never have stood a chance against them.
The reality was far different, however, and Clay quickly grasped the practical limitations of his family's potential.
"Are you asking about now? Or what we could achieve with more ti?"
His grandfather's voice interrupted his thoughts, turning the focus of the discussion.
"Both. I want to know our true strength."
As the head of House, Lord Wyman certainly knew the family's resources. He raised his plump hand and showed Clay a number.
"Right now, if Winterfell ordered to march south imdiately, I could field two thousand five hundred n—five hundred cavalry, two thousand infantry. That is the maximum I can muster, but in reality, we would need to keep so n behind to defend White Harbor, so the actual number would be lower."
Clay nodded, understanding the limits of their current capacity.
"However, with sufficient ti, I can double that number—fifteen hundred cavalry, three thousand five hundred infantry, or even more. As long as we can afford the gold dragons, rcenaries who do nothing but boast in taverns will join us."
Clay finally understood his family's standing as they prepared for the war ahead. Knowing what resources lay in his hands would help him make inford decisions as the conflict lood.
"And what do you an? Are you planning to lead the army yourself?"
His grandfather's gaze suddenly fixed on him, and his uncle Wylis, who had been silent up until this point, shifted his attention from the fire to Clay, his gaze sharp.
Clay shrugged. He didn't feel that he could just sit in White Harbor while others headed south, fighting and dying in battle. Without being able to speak to Robb, it seed inevitable that he, too, would have to go.
"Father summoned us both here for this reason," Wylis suddenly spoke up. Clay was montarily startled, not entirely understanding his aning.
"Father can't go to the battlefield himself," Wylis continued. "One of us must lead the troops south. Originally, if you hadn't returned, that responsibility would have fallen to ."
This statent struck Clay hard. In that mont, he realized that if the rightful heir of Winterfell had already raised an army to march south, then House Manderly could not afford to stand aside. It was no different from a gamble. The real question was whether or not to take part—and more importantly, how the Manderly family would position themselves in the war to co.
"Clay, I... I really don't want you to go," the old man said hesitantly, his voice heavy with worry. One day, when the Seven finally called him, the title of Lord of White Harbor would naturally pass to Wylis. But after Wylis, it would be Clay who inherited that mantle. The future, in truth, belonged to him.
What made the situation more complicated was that Clay, despite his position, had no legitimate children, nor even a single bastard. If sothing were to happen to him on the battlefield, the Manderly family would face great uncertainty. They simply could not afford to lose him.
Clay understood the old man's concern, but he also knew that he had no choice but to join this war. Everything he had and all he would ever have forced him into this path. He could not remain diocre, not when everything was on the line.
Clay made a decision. He would show his grandfather sothing important—sothing that would shift the balance of his grandfather's worries.
The dragon egg. It was ti to let the old man know.
To put it simply, once the matter of the dragon was settled, Clay would imdiately lead the troops south. Fire and Blood, iron and steel, would follow behind. The war's outco would no longer be the sa, for Old Wolf's death in King's Landing had set the stage for a new direction. This war, too, would take on a different shape, one that might bring interesting changes.
"I have a story to tell," Clay said, his mind already spinning with the possibilities of what was to co. "Would you all care to share a cup of wine with ?"
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[Chapter End's]
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