Chapter Eight: Herbal Decoction

As the most efficient means of communication among the major noble houses, ravens bear a crucial responsibility. However, today, as Catelyn observed her husband under the heart tree, his face filled with disbelief and pain, she wished she had never received the message brought by the raven – Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King, had succumbed to a sudden illness in the Seven Kingdoms!

Catelyn was well aware of her husband's sentiments towards Lord Jon, but with his passing, they had little time for grief. King Robert Baratheon was already on his way to Winterfell.

When Clane received the news, he felt no surprise. Theoretically, his official duties in Winterfell were complete.

Following the suggestion of Ser Rodrik Cassel, as a guest of Winterfell, he could leave whenever he wished, as long as he paid a visit to Duke Eddard Stark before departure. For Clane, this worked out perfectly, as House Mandrake did not adhere to the Old Gods worshipped by the Northmen. Therefore, openly proposing a visit to the godswood would not be a wise choice.

"Master, the materials you requested have been brought back," the captain of the guards reported as he approached Clane on the second-floor corridor.

"Oh? Very well, let's take a look," Clane nodded and followed the captain to the carriage.

"Well... done. This is your reward; split it among yourselves. Remember," Clane frowned slightly, reminding them not to spend it all on women, be more discreet. The captain of the guards, with a strange smile on his face, accepted the money pouch.

Once he left, Clane looked at the guards' tree bark-filled carriage in front of him. His mouth twitched; indeed, these guys were fitting the stereotype of arrogant wealthy men among the Northern nobility.

He remembered vividly that he had specified a small bag during the negotiation, yet these three fellows filled the entire carriage.

Loyal completion of tasks by subordinates deserved commendation, and Clane could not blame them. He hopped onto the carriage, picked and chose, selecting the piece with the best quality, and dragged it into his room.

With the final materials now in hand, it was time to prepare the herbal decoction. With a thought, the Huntmaster system opened, and Clane tossed the processed guard tree bark into the backpack. Upon checking the potion tab, the previously unselectable Herbal Decoction was now available.

Choosing with his mind, he heard the imaginary sound of bubbles bursting and water splashing in his ears. Then, except for the dragon bone that remained usable, all the materials disappeared. In the inventory, Clane saw a new item – three small bottles stacked together. Touching it with his mind, Clane naturally received the following information in his mind:

"Name: Herbal Decoction Version: 1.0 Effects: Mutate ordinary people into Huntmasters. Side effects: Severe nerve damage (compensatable), extreme weakening of reproductive ability (compensatable), pupil dilation (compensatable)... Base success rate: 30% (can be increased)... Note: Drink it. If you survive, you will become an invincible warrior. Oh, by the way, friendly reminder – if successful, the pitchfork's damage to you will increase significantly..."

Clane automatically ignored the note, staring at the Herbal Decoction that took so much effort to create, his chin in his hand, lost in thought.

This thing definitely couldn't be consumed in one gulp by his brothers. He absolutely couldn't accept a 70% mortality rate. He wasn't sure how much he could increase the success rate with his magic power pool.

Moreover, those side effects were absolutely unacceptable. If he miraculously succeeded, he'd turn into a poker-faced eunuch with cat eyes. Forget about being the heir to White Harbor; they'd burn him at the Seven's temple for heresy.

"Sigh, it seems a visit to the godswood is inevitable," Clane sighed lightly. Closing the system, the guard tree bark he had dragged in disappeared completely. Fortunately, there was plenty of inventory, and it wouldn't be discovered by others.

Having made up his mind, he sat at the table, picked up the pen, and wrote a letter to Lord Wyman Manderly in White Harbor. In the letter, he informed the old man of the prime minister's sudden death and the imminent arrival of the king. At the same time, he told him of his decision to stay in Winterfell and expressed a desire to meet the various lords of King's Landing if the opportunity arose. Unlike traditional Northern nobility, House Manderly, in control of White Harbor, was not exclusionary. For a considerable period, the Manderlys had served as the gateway to the North for external matters, and they continued to do so now.

As far as Clane knew, his old man corresponded frequently with the Great Houses of the Riverlands and the Vale of Arryn, as well as with the Eryn Vale of Aelinor. Evidently, they had some friendship.

Therefore, he was confident that his old man would agree to let him stay. Building connections with influential figures in King's Landing was in line with Lord Wyman Manderly's household policy.

The letter was quickly written, the ink dried. Clane folded the letter, knowing that it couldn't pass through the hands of the guards. He stood up, pushed open the door, and walked to the raven cage placed not far outside.

This was something his old man specifically requested him to bring before his departure, ensuring constant communication.

From the cage, Clane grabbed a seemingly plump raven and, ignoring its struggles, stuffed the carefully written letter into the small box attached to its leg. With a quick release, the grey creature flapped its wings, soared into the sky, circled once, and then flew southeast. Once the raven disappeared, Clane suddenly found himself with nothing to do.

Having made up his mind to infiltrate the godswood on the night of the grand feast in Winterfell, when most of House Stark's forces would be concentrated in the Great Hall located southeast, Clane knew that the safety of the king took precedence. He had no obligation to participate in the welcoming ceremony; he wasn't the Stark family head. In a sense, he was no different from King Robert in Winterfell; he was a guest.

Now that he knew he would inevitably get involved and join this game of power, Clane wanted to observe the few prominent players in the open beforehand. After all, until the boy known as the "Great Emperor" overturned the table and broke the rules, the game was still being played within relatively non-bloody rules.

Shaking off his thoughts, Clane drew his longsword from his waist and began practicing the Wolf School swordsmanship displayed in the system. The blade whistled, cutting through the falling snowflakes from the late summer sky.

Passing through layers of high walls, what he didn't know was that in the godswood where Eddard Stark often visited, an indifferent gaze was closely watching Clane's figure.

This line of sight ignored all obstacles, only focusing on Clane's increasingly swift sword movements. A faint whisper echoed:

"An interesting person..."