Game of Thrones: I loaded the witcher system.

Chapter 42 Secret
After emerging from the walls of Wolf's Lair, Clay on horseback took a breath of the icy northern air.

"My lord, I don't like them at all. These people always feel weird."

The one who spoke was a young guard beside him on horseback. Clay didn't mind his talkativeness. He knew in his heart that he might come to this place many times in the future.

Most people in the northern region believed in the old gods, while the Mandalay family who migrated from the Reach kept the belief in the seven gods, but only they knew whether this belief was pious.

The Mandalay family does not interfere with the beliefs of the people, so in this city, the beliefs of old and new gods coexist.

There is a very old godswood forest outside the wolf den, but the only weirwood inside has lost most of its leaves and looks withered and decayed.

This is probably a heart tree older than the wolf's den, which has witnessed the ups and downs of countless families in the wolf's den.

Clay had been to that tree and touched its trunk, but to his disappointment, the magic power contained in it was pitifully small, and it didn't increase his magic pool at all.

As a descendant of the Manderly family, especially the heir, it is inappropriate to run to the godswood forest that represents the belief of the old gods many times.

Originally, Clay had no reason to go in again, but when he saw Sir Bartimus limping into the woods on crutches, he changed his mind.

Telling the guards to wait in place, Clay followed him in.

The woods were not big, but Clay came in very rarely, and there was always no one there. In the seemingly deep woods, Clay could only follow the footprints on the ground with the senses of a witcher.

After twisting and turning, Clay finally found the half-withered ancient heart tree and Sir Bartimus standing quietly under the tree in the northeast corner of the godswood.

Seeing Clay approaching from afar, Sir Bartimus twitched the corners of his mouth, as if he had smiled.

"Sir, do you believe in the Old Gods?"

Clay crossed a shallow puddle that surrounded the godswood, and came to him under the watchful eyes of the old knight.

"Yeah, I've been standing under the heart tree and praying to them for decades, and I'm used to it."

The tone is still light, neither sad nor happy, just stating a simple fact.

Clay noticed that there was a black bottle stuck on the ground at the old jazz's feet, and he didn't know what it contained.

As if he had noticed Clay's eyes, the old knight leaned on the trunk of the heart tree and let his body slide down slowly. He threw away his crutches, flicked his fingers on the bottle, and said calmly:
"I exchanged one leg for your grandfather's life on the battlefield. He gave it to me, together with this castle. He said, when I rest in this position, I will drink this bottle of wine with him. "

Clay was stunned. He didn't know that there was such a story about this poor-looking bottle of wine.

"then you……"

The old jazz waved his hand, pulled a sour grass leaf that was swaying in the wind from the ground, threw it in his mouth and chewed slowly, and took the time to answer Clay's question:

"In the past, I really thought about drinking this cup with Grandpa Ni and my comrades-in-arms. But, unfortunately, up to now, the only ones alive back then were me and your grandpa. If I drank with him, I would have to It's not worth thinking about them."

The old jazz's tone was as calm as a pool of water, but Clay could taste a strong taste of depression from it.

Grandpa is over sixty years old, and Sir Bartimus in front of him is not bad. As nobles, they can get good rest and nutrition, while those ordinary people, with this level of medical treatment, can't get off the battlefield. , it is difficult to live to 60 years old.

"Come on, taste it, gods be blessed, and hope it doesn't turn into a bottle of vinegar."

The old jazz took out the dagger from his breast pocket, and stuck it into the cork of the bottle.

With a sound of "Bo", some moldy corks were pulled out, and a faint scent of wine was captured by Clay's sensitive sense of smell. Clay knew that this old bottle of wine was lucky to keep its original appearance.

"It's just ordinary ale, what is the young master's drinking habit?"

The old jazz handed the bottle to Clay, who didn't refuse, and took the bottle engraved with traces of time.

Following the old man, Clay was naturally infected by him, and took a sip for himself. Sure enough, it was the most common ale, even in terms of quality.

But it doesn't matter, he didn't come here to taste wine today.

The two drank one sip at a time, and after a while, Sir Bartimus, who was in charge of the alcohol, began to talk more.

Caressing the same old trunk with his old palm, Sir Bartimus said to Clay:
"Boy, I don't object to you making the whole White Sea Guards live better, but, please remember, never allow yourself to be too lenient."

The old jazz drained the little wine in one breath, let out a long breath, and continued with what he just said:
"I know what you did in Winterfell. Very well, only those who can see blood can control this White Sea Guard, but, then again, although they are members of the Mandalay family, at any time, Never give your trust to any of them."

"You're a smart man, you know what I'm talking about, we can infiltrate other nobles, can you guarantee that those guys won't send someone to bring a golden dragon into White Harbor to tempt us to infiltrate us?"

"Those five people, I can guarantee their loyalty for the time being, but the people below may not be sure. I will teach you a way. If you believe half of the information summarized below, basically there will be nothing too serious." Big mistake."

After digesting these valuable experiences and information, Clay knew that most of what the old knight in front of him said was correct, and this game of power was full of betrayal and deceit.

Therefore, the best strategy is to believe a little in everyone and not in anyone.

Their topic changed a lot. The old knight bragged to him about how he and the old man performed on the battlefield during the Usurper War, and how powerful the northern army he was in was.

In the end, the old jazz walked away unsteadily. Although he staggered, his back was still straight. His father just let him step down as the commander of the White Sea Guard, but a large area of ​​land nearby still belonged to him.

Picking up the clear water in the puddle and washing his face, the cold feeling dispelled the not much drunkenness. Clay stood up while supporting the old tree trunk, and patted the dust off his body with both hands.

Just when he was about to leave, a piercing crow twittered and stopped his footsteps.

Raising his head, a huge pitch-black crow stood on his finger, a pair of deep yellow eyes stared straight at him, and the crow's eyes shone with the light of wisdom.

No need to think about it, Clay knew who it was, and the witcher's senses were all open. Sure enough, there was a faint magic power echoing from this huge crow, and he knew this magic power.

The Three-Eyed Raven is here!

(End of this chapter)