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As the heir of White Harbor, Clay had seen and experienced much. With just a single glance, he recognized the marks left behind—this was undoubtedly the work of a powerful crossbow. The short yet deadly bolt, launched from a well-crafted mechanism, possessed the capability to pierce through steel plates at close range.
This particular bolt had embedded itself deep into the ground, hidden beneath a mound of blood-soaked earth. There was no way an ordinary merchant caravan could have been responsible for this.
A low-profile merchant convoy would never carry such an intricate, expensive, and difficult-to-maintain weapon like a crossbow. That meant this bolt could only have belonged to the attackers.
Whoever launched the attack had chosen to strike near the Kingsroad, a place where travelers could appear at any moment. They had waited for nightfall to ambush the White Harbor caravan. If they had been the ones wielding the powerful crossbow, then the fact that the bolt was now missing meant that they had meticulously cleaned up the battlefield.
But that raised an important question—why?
In the dead of night, with nothing but darkness surrounding them, they had slaughtered the convoy. Instead of seizing their loot and fleeing immediately, they had taken the time to comb through the battlefield, even going so far as to retrieve buried crossbow bolts.
Were they truly so brazen? This was not the behavior of mere bandits. Furthermore, if they had carried crossbows, then longbows would surely have been present as well. Yet, how could they possibly have recovered every single arrowhead after the fight?
Most importantly, Clay had personally questioned that knight earlier. With unwavering certainty, he had asked whether all the victims had died solely from sword wounds. The knight's response had been firm—yes, only sword wounds.
Then what of this crossbow bolt?
There was only one possible explanation: the knight had lied. He had hastily buried the bodies of the other merchants to conceal the true cause of their deaths.
Had he done so under the orders of House Frey?
The thought flashed through Clay's mind, but he dismissed it almost instantly. House Frey had no reason to target White Harbor at this moment. Moreover, he himself was in the Twins—attacking his people now would be far too risky.
So then, who was this knight lying for?
Clay had an overwhelming urge to march up to the knight and press an Axii sign against his face, forcing him to reveal everything. Unfortunately, this was neither the time nor the place for such actions.
However, one thing was now clear—this scene had been deliberately staged by the knight, which meant he had known about the attack well in advance.
He and the attackers had likely planned everything to ensure that, by the time Clay arrived, the bodies would already be decaying, reeking to the point of being unbearable. They had deliberately chosen three corpses that bore only sword wounds to mislead him. Those who had died to crossbow bolts had long since been buried deep in the ground.
There were no supply-laden wagons at the scene, and the bodies bore only sword wounds. Everything had been staged to make Clay and his men believe that a group of poorly equipped bandits had been responsible. Clay could even guess that the chaotic hoofprints on the ridges were also part of the deception.
Rising to his feet, Clay casually tossed aside the dark red clump of soil he had been holding. He dusted off his hands and silently made his way toward his gathered cavalrymen.
Just in case, he would not allow the events of four nights ago to repeat themselves here. This time, he had two hundred well-equipped cavalrymen at his command.
The moment he reached his men, one of his attendants stepped forward, leading his white warhorse to him. Clay ran a hand along the steed's face before mounting it in one smooth motion.
At that instant, his captain of the guard came galloping down from the hillside, heading straight toward Clay's forces. He pulled hard on the reins, bringing his horse to a stop just five paces away.
"Tell me what you've found. Speak plainly."
Clay reached for his waterskin and tossed it to the captain, who caught it, took two deep gulps, and steadied his breath before reporting:
"There are indeed wagon tracks on the ridge, along with human footprints. But it's been four days… and it looks like there has been some rain over the past two days, so many of the traces aren't very clear."
"There are plenty of hoofprints—I made an estimate, around twenty horses. My lord, that's roughly the number of pack animals in our merchant caravan, with little margin for error."
The captain frowned as he spoke, but Clay had spent enough time around him to recognize that expression. The man clearly had more to say. His gaze kept flickering toward Clay's back, as if reluctant to speak in the presence of the Freys.
Clay nudged his horse forward a few steps, distancing himself from Aenys Frey, who was busy questioning his own cavalrymen. Once they were far enough that no one else could hear, the captain immediately lowered his voice:
"My lord, something isn't right."
"What do you mean?" Clay narrowed his eyes.
"There are too many things that just feel off," the captain said. "First of all, I recognize the wagons built in White Harbor. Our wheelwrights always make the wheels larger than those in the south because of the rain and snow—our roads are harder to travel."
"But when I examined the tracks, I saw not only our wide wheel marks but also several narrow ones. Where did those come from? If the attackers were simple bandits, did they just happen to have wagons prepared?"
"Second, the number of horses doesn't add up. The ridge to the east indeed has tracks from over twenty horses, but in a battle like this, wouldn't at least a few horses have been injured or killed? Yet all the hoofprints are steady—there isn't a single sign of a limping horse."
"And finally, the west side—why are there no traces there? To wipe out our entire caravan, the enemy would have needed to surround them from both sides. But while there are human footprints to the west, there are no horse tracks. Why?"
The captain had raised several questions, none of which formed a complete picture on their own, but they were enough.
Clay already knew the knight was lying. That meant everything here had been deliberately arranged for his benefit. Nothing could be trusted.
So where was the truth?
If they wanted him to believe the attack had come solely from the east, then the real question was—where did the western path lead?
The answer was clear—it led to this knight's estate.
A hazy yet chilling realization settled over Clay's mind.
Everything before him—the carefully arranged corpses, the misleading tracks, the inconsistencies—suggested a collaboration. This knight must have joined forces with the unknown attackers from the east.
Otherwise, how else could a mere landed knight possess the strength to annihilate an entire merchant caravan?
As the local lord, he had likely provided intelligence on the caravan's movements. Then, while the unknown force launched the main assault from the east, he had positioned his own men in the west, blocking any escape routes. Once the slaughter was complete, his job had been to clean up the battlefield and erase any traces of what had truly transpired.
Now, what Clay urgently needed to know was—what had been inside those wagons?
If they had been transporting Witcher herbs and alchemical ingredients, then this attack could have dire consequences for him.
Yet, aside from using Axii to force the truth out of this knight, he lacked any solid evidence. As the heir of White Harbor, he had two responsibilities at this moment.
The first was to honor the dead.
And second—to find the ones responsible and take their heads.
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(Author's Note)
Hey guys,
So yeah, I know I've been super inconsistent with uploads lately. I've been down with a nasty fever, and if you know how fevers hit men… it honestly felt like I was on my deathbed. No joke, it was like someone was repeatedly punching me in the nuts — pure suffering. Anyway, I'm finally starting to feel human again, so I'll be getting back to regular uploads. Really appreciate you all for sticking around. Thanks a ton.
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