No matter how beautiful a woman is, when she lets out a shrill scream, she becomes nothing but ugly, more like a degenerate monkey.
The affected screaming was cut short by Robert's roar:
"Shut up, woman!"
Queen Cersei stopped screaming and gave her husband a cold glance, a trace of undetectable resentment and disgust flashing in her eyes. She said icily:
"Your Majesty, the Stark family has trampled on the Guest Right, and they should be cursed!"
The Queen's summary was obviously very well-learned, and she was very good at focusing only on the essential points, but this was a crime that no one could afford, nor was it possible to establish.
The bewildered Duke Stark was stunned for a moment, and just as he was about to say something, Robert slapped Cersei, making her stagger, not caring at all how others would view the royal couple.
"Don't talk about Guest Right, didn't Tywin teach you how to speak?!"
The King was about to berate him further, but Eddard stopped him.
"There's no need for that, Your Grace." He glanced at the stunned royal guards, and finally, someone reacted, helping the Queen, who was clutching her face.
Robert didn't want to stay any longer, but Cersei blocked his path, her emerald eyes flashing with anger.
"Your Grace, my father would never allow a Lannister to be killed while the murderer walks free!"
"Don't try to use that old lion, Tywin, to pressure me!" The King growled angrily, glancing at Clay, who stood silently. He then irritably ordered, "Lock him up, then, until I leave. Remember, I want him alive. Eddard, you're in charge. That's all!"
Once the King gave the order, no one could object. The King's corpulent figure disappeared. The Queen sneered and left with her guards, never looking at Clay again.
Everyone's gaze turned to Eddard, who remained. His expression was grim and serious. He sighed softly and walked over to Clay.
"You didn't need to kill him, lad."
"Don't worry, my lord. Just do what you must."
"The Lannisters don't play by the rules."
"Rest assured, my lord, they can't kill me."
Eddard Stark watched Clay's grin, unsure where he found such confidence, but there was nothing else to be done.
The Duke of Winterfell felt a deep sense of helplessness. He couldn't protect his vassal, even on his own land, which only deepened his distaste for the Lannister family.
He instructed Ser Rodrik to take Clay to the dungeon and look after him. At the same time, he ordered Vera and the people from White Harbor to be brought into the main keep, the only truly safe place in the vast North.
He specifically instructed Ser Rodrik to personally inspect Clay's every meal and to post guards around the clock.
Having lived two lifetimes, this was Clay's first time in prison. Honestly, it wasn't much different from what he'd imagined.
Even though he was a noble, and the jailers of the Stark family's prison sympathized with and supported Clay, a prison was still a prison. Clay was brought to a slightly larger, dimly lit room by Sir Rodrik.
"You'll stay here. This is already the best cell in Winterfell, you Lannister piece of shit," Rodrik cursed, then carefully and meticulously instructed him on the details of the prison.
He couldn't stay here forever; Clay would have to make his own judgments if something happened.
Clay listened carefully to Sir Rodrik's words. Even though he was a Witcher, Witcher potions couldn't kill him, let alone ordinary poisons. Even if the Lannisters wanted to assassinate him, they probably wouldn't use something as high-end as Tears of Lys. To put it bluntly, Clay wasn't worthy.
If assassins came directly, Clay wouldn't be afraid either. Although his sword, that is, the murder weapon, had been taken away, Sir Rodrik had given him a dagger.
As long as it wasn't a crossbow or a pitchfork, Clay thought he should be fine. And all of this was based on whether Cersei, that woman, would really send someone to kill him.
Clay didn't think Cersei was that stupid. Although she wasn't exactly brilliant, if she were to do something so obvious, Clay couldn't figure out how she had slept with Jaime for so many years without Robert noticing anything.
Clay spent two quiet days in the cell. On the second night, Clay, who was lying on the bed and dozing off, suddenly heard faint footsteps coming from the door.
The footsteps grew closer, though they were already light. Yet, through Clay the Witcher's heightened senses, they sounded like a military march.
Clay was instantly awake, but he didn't move. He lay on his side in the bed, his eyes narrowed in the darkness, fixed on the doorway.
Before long, a thin figure clad in black opened the door silently in the flickering candlelight. Clay recognized the key; it should have been on the jailer's belt. If the Stark family's jailer hadn't betrayed him, he'd probably be unconscious by now.
So, a real assassination attempt. What was Cersei thinking? This level of skill?
Clay breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the assassin preparing to strike. At the same time, countless questions flooded his mind.
Wait, what if this assassin wasn't sent by the Lannisters?
The thought struck like lightning, and Clay immediately abandoned his plan to kill. He heard the assassin's low whisper: "Greetings from the Lannisters, Master Clay!"
A whistling sound filled the air. Clay suddenly rolled to the side, dodging a deadly blade.
The assassin was stunned for a moment. He hadn't expected his almost-guaranteed strike to miss. Clay had dodged!
There was no time to hesitate. His mission was to kill Clay, so he immediately raised his blade, ready to pursue. Just as he lifted his head, a hand shot out in front of him.
It was a strange gesture, thumb separated, index and middle fingers together, ring and little fingers curled.
In a daze, the assassin seemed to see a pale green inverted triangle flash by.
"Axii," Clay murmured.
The assassin's blade, about to fall, abruptly stopped in mid-air. His dark yellow pupils widened, his eyes vacant. He stood there without a word, like a zombie.
Fortunately, it worked. Clay had actually prepared to immediately swing his dagger if Axii failed.
The reason he didn't just stab him with a single blow was because Clay suddenly thought of a possibility:
He had been assassinated, and almost everyone thought it was the Lannisters. So, what if someone wanted everyone to think that?
Killing him on Stark territory and framing the Lannisters wasn't impossible.
Clay leaned against the wall and asked:
"Your name?"
"Hall Lico."
Clay didn't recognize the name; perhaps he was just a minor player.
"Who sent you?"
The question seemed to cause the assassin immense pain. His features, hidden beneath the black cloth, contorted, but he ultimately couldn't resist the power of Axii.
And so, Clay heard a name:
Petyr Baelish!
....
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