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"Master, why is the lord so anxious for us to return to White Harbor? Did he explain the reason in his letter?"
The one speaking was the captain of the guard. He, too, was shocked by the unexpected letter from Lord Wyman. Judging by the situation, this letter must have been sent directly from White Harbor to the Twins. The people in the Twins, upon receiving it, immediately pursued them all the way here.
Considering the time, since they were traveling as a group and their pace was slower, these two Frey cavalrymen had arrived half a day later than them. In other words, just a day after they left the Twins, Lord Wyman's letter had already arrived there.
It did not take long for a raven to fly from White Harbor to the Twin. This, however, raised a significant question—Lord Wyman had not even received their reply from the Twins before he sent this urgent summons.
"I don't know. Grandfather didn't explain in his letter. He only gave strict orders for us to return to White Harbor at once—there's no room for discussion."
Clay shook his head. He, too, had noticed the unusual timing of the letter's arrival. The fact that it had come so quickly meant only one thing—his grandfather had sent it the moment he received word from Wolf's Den about the attack on the merchant caravan.
He had many suspicions, but he lacked the necessary evidence. Moreover, his grandfather would never put such crucial information in a letter—that would be tantamount to sharing intelligence with the Frey family.
This unexpected letter had completely disrupted his plans. Originally, he had intended to stay here for the night, then, under the cover of darkness, sneak into that knight's quarters, stage a violent interrogation, press an Axii Sign against his face, and demand to know exactly which bastards had taken part in the ambush.
But now, he had no choice but to leave. The letter was clear—he was to head east immediately to the coastal port, where a fleet was already waiting for him. It was evident that his grandfather was deeply anxious.
With a long sigh in his heart, Clay turned back and cast one last look at the lonely burial ground standing amidst the vast fields. He thought to himself: The next time I return, it may very well be when I march south at the head of an army. By then, I will personally see to it that those involved in this matter do not escape justice.
Standing nearby, Aenys Frey observed Clay in silence. Seeing that Clay was lost in thought, he knew the other man was about to leave. Aenys, who regarded Clay as an ally, felt that this sudden turn of events had caught everyone off guard.
However, he could not ask Clay to stay. The direct command from the head of House Manderly meant that this matter was now his own responsibility to handle.
Lowering the hand that had been tugging at his grizzled beard as if weighed down by its burden, Aenys Frey patted Clay's arm and spoke in a low voice,
"Lord Clay, leave this matter to me. When your people from White Harbor arrive, I promise to ensure that everyone involved is handed over to them. Since this is Lord Wyman's order, you should set off without delay."
"But, Lord Clay, you must not forget the agreement between us. You are still young, but I… I am already past fifty. I cannot afford to wait much longer."
Clay understood what he was implying. Snapping back to reality, he asked in return,
"So, Ser Aenys Frey, when do you plan to put your plan into motion? A plan as merciful as yours is bound to be complex—it must be carefully prepared."
Aenys Frey stroked his beard again, nodding with a smile. His voice dropped even lower as he said,
"Of course, Lord Clay. When the time is ripe, you will know. But for now, during your visit to White Harbor, you must persuade your grandfather to finalize the marriage alliance between our two houses."
Clay merely chuckled at that and said nothing more. A marriage alliance? Just wait. Have a little patience.
With no knowledge of what had happened in White Harbor, Clay could not afford to delay any further. He swung himself onto his horse, took one last careful look at the land where an entire White Harbor merchant caravan had been slaughtered, memorized its appearance down to the last detail, then turned his horse eastward and rode off without looking back.
---
Their destination was the small harbor where Clay had previously landed. It lay southeast of their current location, and the journey would take just under four days.
This was the fastest way to return to White Harbor. If they took the King's Road north, crossing the Neck and then heading east past the Bay of Seals, it would take at least ten days to half a month—a waste of valuable time. Clay preferred to minimize unnecessary delays.
Along the way, he deliberately followed the tracks left by the mysterious attackers to the east, trying to trace them back. However, it soon became clear that these people had left behind footprints, hoofprints, and wheel tracks on purpose. The moment they entered the forest, they erased every sign of their passage.
Even with Clay's heightened witcher senses, he could not pick up their trail. And that fact alone spoke volumes—these were no mere bandits. Such professional methods were far beyond the abilities of common outlaws.
"Lord, we've lost them. I sent men to search in all directions, but we found nothing."
The captain of the guard reported regretfully. Frustrated, he punched the nearest tree trunk, knocking loose a small chunk of dry bark. Tracking the enemy for so long, only to lose their trail, left him both infuriated and powerless.
"Forget it. We will find out who is behind this attack eventually. But for now, that is not our concern. Let's move—we need to cross this forest as quickly as possible. I don't like the feel of this place."
---
The return journey was largely uneventful. The first half was straightforward, but the latter half had veered in an unexpected direction. First, came the shocking news of the White Harbor merchant caravan being ambushed. Then, after rushing to the scene, they discovered hidden complexities beneath the surface.
Just as they were beginning to gather clues and prepare for a proper investigation, they were abruptly summoned back by an urgent letter. The timing of it all was frustrating—it left them hanging, unable to proceed further.
On the evening of the third day, Clay and his 200 cavalrymen finally arrived at the coast. From a distance, they spotted four large sailing ships anchored in the harbor—two more than when Clay had first landed here.
A group of people stood on the docks. The moment they saw Clay's group approach, they mounted their horses and rode out to meet them. The banner of the mermaid fluttered in the wind, a clear sign that they were all part of House Manderly.
As they drew closer, Clay finally recognized the man at the head of the welcoming party. He was taken aback.
"Ser Marlon?" he murmured to himself, surprised that this particular knight had crossed Bite Bay just to receive him. And judging by the number of people waiting at the docks and on the ships—at least a hundred—it was clear that something unusual was going on.
When they met, Ser Marlon wasted no time with pleasantries. Instead, he asked immediately,
"Clay, did you encounter any trouble on the way here?"
Clay was momentarily puzzled. "Trouble? What trouble?"
Shaking his head, he rode alongside Ser Marlon toward the dock and replied,
"No, the journey was completely uneventful. We received the news of the merchant caravan's ambush south of the Neck and immediately made our way to the harbor. We arrived in three days."
"Good." Ser Marlon let out a heavy sigh, as if relieved of a great burden.
"Ser, what exactly happened? Why is my grandfather in such a hurry to summon me back?"
Ser Marlon sighed again and, after a moment of silence, said in a grave tone,
"Don't ask. Your grandfather will explain everything once you return. For now, just board the ship. Only when you're back among our forces will I be able to truly relax."
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[Chapter End's]
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