Clay's arrival immediately silenced the noisy hall for a few seconds, but soon, a similarly aged man raised his glass and laughed:

"Welcome, our guest, Clay Mandler!"

His words received many responses from the Frey family. Many people responded with wine glasses or slapping their hands on the long dark table, making a loud banging sound.

Marquis Walder Frey stretched out his palms that were like dry tree bark, pointed at the seat in front of him, and motioned Clay to go to the main table where he was. Clay was the protagonist here today.

Clay was not polite at all. He strode over and sat directly in the chair prepared for him.

Marquis Frey looked at him and said in a serious tone:

"Looks like that old eel in White Harbor has a good heir, unlike me who just has a bunch of stupid sons and grandsons."

Clay frowned vaguely. If it were someone else, he might not agree to calling his old man this way. But for the ninety-year-old old man in front of him, who combined was not as old as the other, he could only curse in his heart.

Without responding to this sentence, Clay sat there quietly, waiting for the next words from Marquis Frey. Previous intelligence showed that Marquis Frey was a person with a strong sense of family values.

Sure enough, Marquis Frey didn't care at all that Clay ignored his words, and began to introduce his family members to Clay with excitement.

He pointed at the man who said welcome to Clay when he entered the door just now and said:

"Stefren Frey, my eldest son and my heir, is older than your grandfather. Who told him to have a father like me?"

After Marquis Frey said this, he seemed very happy. He didn't know whether it was because of his heir or his old age. In short, he took a big gulp of red wine while laughing like a night owl.

"The boy Petyr who stopped you on the road today is his grandson."

Although he said it with a smile, but with this light tone, Clay could clearly see that Sir Steve Lun's expression became very unnatural.

In one sentence, the old Marquis expressed his absolute control over the information in Twins City, and also hit his son. This huge Frey family is very complicated internally.

Clay nodded to Sir Steveron. There was no need for him to be stingy with the courtesy.

Marquis Walder Frey let go of his eldest son and pointed to a tall, bald man on the other side of the long table:

"This is my third son, Aenys. As for my second son, that boy is being strictly controlled by his wife, a golden-haired Lannister lioness. He has not been here for a long time. .”

Clay knew about this situation. At that time, the Lord Controller of Rivers reminded him in the report submitted that the second son of Lord Frey, Emmon, had a strong Lannister tendency.

The reason for all this is that he has a Lannister woman, and this woman's backstage is also hard because her brother is named Tywin Lannister.

In the report, Steward Rivers strongly recommended not to have contact with Emmon Frey and his heirs left in the Twins. This would not be of any benefit to Clay, and Clay agreed with his words.

The banquet continued. Afterwards, Marquis Frey introduced the remaining sons who came to the banquet. As for his grandson, the ninety-year-old man was not that interested.

Clay nodded to his sons, whose ages spanned more than fifty years, although they all looked indescribable. Possibly due to a genetic problem, men in the Frey family generally have a weasel-like appearance.

When the introduction came to an end, Marquis Frey tapped his cup, announcing the official start of the banquet.

The hall suddenly became noisy, because most of the people invited actually had nothing to do with the theme of the banquet. They were not for Clay at all, but purely in response to Marquis Frey's call.

With a few exceptions, the long tables were pulled apart, leaving a large open space in the middle where dancing would take place.

This is what happens at aristocratic banquets in Westeros. Seeing that Clay had no intention of leaving first, Marquis Walder Frey winked at the butler next to him.

As a result, a group of men and women from the Frey family began to enter the dance floor, which finally reduced the slightly awkward atmosphere just now.

Clay can dance, but he only remembers the training he did when he was a child, and is not actually proficient in it. At first, he was a little worried that his own level would embarrass White Harbor, but after seeing the dances of the Frey family, he realized that he The idea is very redundant.

I can’t say it’s eye-catching, to put it simply, it’s just a couple of men and women hugging each other and jumping around. Many people’s hands are not very honest and they always want to touch something, at least most of them are like this.

He knew very well that he had to do this dance today, but Clay just sat in his chair with a smile on his face, sipping his wine and cheering from time to time.

During this process, Clay noticed that there were at least five or six eyes staring at him. Clay didn't look away, and turned around to look at them vaguely.

Female, female, female...still female.

Intuitively, the ages ranged from twelve or thirteen to nearly thirty years old. Clay understood that this was the woman the Frey family prepared for him...

The quiet handsome man didn't do it for long. A Frey woman who had just been looking at him adjusted her skirt and walked towards Clay. Sir Steveron's voice also got in in time. Clay's ears:

"Lord Clay, this is my granddaughter, Watta, who is about the same age as you."

Of course Clay understood what this meant. As soon as Clay heard that he was about the same age and that she was Steveron's granddaughter, he immediately matched the information. This was the first Walda Frey mentioned in the report.

Clay could feel the eyes of many people in the audience, both overt and covert, hovering over him and Walda Frey. Although he didn't like it, Clay didn't care because he really didn't care.

Walda Frey, who should be nicknamed "Beauty Walda", has a voice that suits her age, very young and crisp, but honestly speaking, Clay doesn't think her appearance is worthy of her. Her name is, at best, passing.

"Lord Clay, can I ask you to dance?" Walda Frey asked directly without much stage fright.

At least in the Twin River City, this was a request that Clay could not refuse for the time being. Nodding, Clay put down the wine glass engraved with the double bridge pattern in his hand and stood up.

Under Steveron's slightly satisfied gaze, Clay took the hand extended by Walda Frey.

The typos will be posted first and then corrected. I beg readers to support the author.

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