Clay and Jon's duel continued, but as Ser Rodrik, a seasoned observer, had noted, the situation was turning against Jon.
Although his weapon was shorter, Jon's attacks were swift and cunning, but he was disadvantaged due to his lack of strength.
Clay, despite being pushed to the brink a few times, always managed to regain control of the situation, while Jon found himself tiring.
Each swing or thrust from Clay forced Jon to expend a great deal of energy just to dodge, let alone block. It was clear that Clay had a significant advantage in strength.
Another powerful clash sent both of them stumbling back a short distance. Jon winced, looking at the small chips in his short sword.
As a bastard, he didn't have much money, and forging a short sword had been a considerable expense.
Holding his sword horizontally in front of him, Clay breathed slightly heavily, wiping the sweat from his brow. He keenly observed the slight tremor in Jon's right hand, which held the sword, and the involuntary movements of his fingers.
He's out of energy, Clay thought.
Leaning forward, he charged with his sword, swinging it down. Just as he brought it down, a sword, obviously of much better make than Jon's, was placed between them. Someone said, "You win, friend from White Harbor," the voice also young.
Someone had intervened, so Clay sheathed his sword and retreated. Defeating his host's son on his own turf wasn't a wise move, although he didn't think the Starks would necessarily care, given their character.
"Robb, you didn't have to do that. I could have won!" Jon was a little displeased with his brother.
Clay was surprised. Was the tall, brown-haired young man in front of him Robb Stark?
"Alright, go change out of those dirty clothes first, or Mother will scold you again," the young master of House Stark said, patting his brother on the shoulder with a smile.
Although Jon was somewhat reluctant, he knew his own physical condition. He wasn't the type to be a sore loser. He nodded slightly to Clay and then left the scene with a guard.
Seeing the end of the match, the onlookers made sounds of unfulfilled desire, but soon they dispersed in twos and threes.
Only the guards of the two houses remained on the field, along with Robb and Clay, who stood together, and Ser Rodrik, who was walking over.
"Ser," Robb called out, and Clay did the same.
Ser Rodrik's gray eyes held a scrutinizing gaze. He looked at Clay, his voice serious, "Lord Eddard is waiting for you in the hall. Come with me."
Robb wanted to follow, but Ser Rodrik only said, "Robb, your mother is looking for Bran. He's climbed up some tower again, who knows where. I suggest you go help her."
Robb gave a helpless, wry smile and shot Clay an apologetic look before pulling up his wolfskin cloak and hurrying away.
Clay followed Ser Rodrik, who led him through the castle to the Stark family's great hall.
This was likely the largest building besides the main keep where the Starks resided. The vast hall could accommodate eight long tables, easily holding five hundred people.
On the high platform, Clay saw a middle-aged man with a common appearance. However, he knew very well that this was one of the seven most powerful people in the entire kingdom, Eddard Stark, the Duke and Warden of the North.
Without waiting for Ser Rodrik to introduce him, Clay gave a chest bow, "My Lord Duke."
Eddard Stark waved his hand, and Ser Rodrik bowed and stepped aside. Only Clay and he remained on the empty dais. He looked Clay up and down, this young man who had just defeated Jon.
He certainly inherited the Manderly family's height and robust physique. After a moment of silence, he asked in a gentle voice, "Which one of White Harbor is your father?" He didn't ask Clay's name first.
"Wendel Manderly, my lord."
"Hmm... Wendel, eh? You are Wendel's son?" As the Warden of the North, he naturally knew the situation of his vassals. After a little thought, he remembered who Wendel was, and he immediately realized Clay's identity. This was the third generation heir of House Manderly!
Ser Rodrik, who had heard Clay's words, also looked surprised. He had a good relationship with Wendel and didn't expect that the Manderly boy he considered a side branch was actually his old friend's child.
Clay took out the letter sealed with Lord Wyman's sigil from his pocket and placed it on Eddard Stark's desk.
Eddard Stark was a little puzzled, but he still picked up the letter and immediately recognized Lord Wyman's unique sigil, and his trust in Clay's identity increased.
After reading the letter, Eddard Stark understood Lord Wyman's meaning. He wanted him to send letters to all the Northern nobles to vouch for Clay's identity.
This was understandable. When encountering an heir's issue, it was common for vassals to seek their liege lord to do such an operation, but this concerned the heir of the Manderly family, one of the most powerful lords in the North. Eddard's sense of honor required him to be cautious.
"Clay Manderly, I need you to stay in Winterfell for a few days. I'll send a raven to White Harbor to confirm your identity." It seemed the old man had mentioned his name in the letter.
Such a hassle? Clay frowned slightly, but he had no reason to object and could only nod.
Seeing Clay's lack of hesitation, Eddard Stark's serious face broke into a slight smile. He pointed to the side: "You've already met Rodrik. Let him show you around Winterfell these few days. I heard you brought your sister as well? That's perfect. Get her acquainted with Robb and Sansa."
Clay had a good first impression of the two brothers, Jon and Robb, and naturally wouldn't refuse. He knew his conversation with the Warden of the North was over, so he bowed and left the hall with Rodrik.
As soon as they were outside, Rodrik said, "Wendel pestered me countless times when he came to Winterfell. Now it seems you've inherited your mother's looks. But this build of yours makes you a proper Manderly."
Clay looked at the aging knight and thought his father's words were true; he was indeed very close to Rodrik. He remembered his father's instructions before he left.
"Ser, before I came, my father told me to give you a bottle of wine, saying it was to repay a gambling debt he owed you."
Rodrik was taken aback, then burst into laughter. Now he had no more doubts about Clay's identity, because the gambling debt was a secret only he and Wendel knew. No one else knew about it.
He grumbled, "It's a wonder he even remembers. I thought he'd hole up in White Harbor for a bottle of wine."
The old knight was clearly in a good mood; his iron hand landed on Clay's shoulder.
"Lord Eddard is right. You young ones should get to know each other. Come on, go eat breakfast first, then bring your sister to the Training Grounds to find us."
As the Master-at-Arms of Winterfell, he was responsible for training the younger generation of House Stark. Jon's swordsmanship was taught by him.
Smiling, Clay headed towards his quarters. He had to wake up Vera, his sleepy sister.
....
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