iron throne of ice and fire

Chapter 411 Atonement
Arya said with a bored expression, "See with your eyes, hear with your ears, taste with your mouth, feel with your skin, and finally think."

Syrio took a step back lightly and added with a smile: "Very good, let them become your instincts, and you will be able to see the truth at any time. You will become a dancer like me, a clever girl."

Arya also put away her sword, took a step back, bowed, and said with a smile: "Syrio, let's continue dancing."

"Girl, I can see that you are up to something." Syrio said as he pointed the tip of his sword gracefully at Arya: "Remember, what I teach you is not the dance of a knight swinging and slashing, but the dance of a killer, the dance of water, agile movement..."

Arya suddenly looked the other way and shouted angrily, "Rickon! Stop messing around!"

When she saw Syrio looking in the same direction from the corner of her eye, her body shot out like an arrow, and the sword in her hand stabbed straight at the wrist of the person opposite her.

Arya's movements were clean and neat, without a trace of delay, but... the tip of Syrio's sword appeared in her sight first. Arya reacted very quickly, her whole body curled up in an instant, like a nimble kitten, and then rolled on the ground, narrowly avoiding the fatal attack.

"Very good, it was your body's reaction that saved you, not your brain. Remember, thinking is slower than reaction." Syrio put his feet together, one hand holding the sword at an angle, the other hand behind his back, looking at the embarrassed little wolf girl rolling in the mud, his smile carried a hint of schadenfreude that was hard to conceal.

Arya glared at Syrio. "Did you do this on purpose?"

Syrio smiled, "Your trap has become my trap. It takes wisdom and experience to catch them off guard."

Casually brushing off her clothes and wiping the sweat from her forehead and chin, Arya realized that her hands were covered in dirt left by the mud. Arya thought it would be wise for her to go to the bathroom and clean herself up before her mother found out and nagged her.

"Cat girl, Mrs. Stark may come to inspect at any moment."

Syrio's voice was so annoying. Arya stuck out her tongue at him and threw the wooden training sword in her hand hard. "I'm leaving now."

Syrio caught the sword steadily and said to the figure who had already started running: "Don't delay breakfast. The Water Dancer needs to grow up well."

"understood!"

Arya didn't take the stairs when she got to the bottom of the house. She jumped up lightly and climbed up the pillar skillfully and quickly. Then, she turned over flexibly and her figure appeared on the second floor. She waved to Syrio as a brief farewell.

Unfortunately, Arya used her cleverness to avoid the sharp eyes of her mother and Septa Mordane, but ran into Sansa, the person she hated the most at the moment, and Sansa's lady playmates in front of the bathroom.

Sansa was wearing a simple outfit that showed sadness, and the two sisters' eyes met, and Arya followed her sister's example and rolled her eyes without any hesitation.

With a snort, Arya walked straight past Sansa without looking back. She and her sister had just had a fight yesterday and they hadn't reconciled yet. Besides, she didn't want to forgive her sister easily.

In the bathroom, Arya angrily took off her muddy coat, thinking bitterly in her heart, she hated Sansa so much!

Sansa's eyes were red and swollen every day, but Arya didn't feel sorry for her at all. Instead, she hated her. Her sister always cried in front of her father for the death of her brother... Everyone was immersed in grief, and her father was even more sad. Although he tried his best to hide his inner pain, Arya could still sense it.

Sansa cried in her father's arms again... She really couldn't help crying and had a big fight with her sister.

Arya kicked off her boots angrily, and they rolled on the ground for a few times. She didn't want to make her father more sad. She would hide in bed at night and secretly cry for her brother. Sansa was thirteen years old, and she was still like an ignorant child!
As Arya was struggling to take off her "mud pants", the bathroom door was pushed open. She paused when she saw the figure walking in and forced out a slightly flattering smile: "Good morning?"

The visitor is Septa Mordane, who is responsible for the care and raising of the Stark children (Chapter 144). She looked at the clothes thrown casually on the floor, then sighed helplessly: "Arya, proper dress is the armor of a noble lady."

Arya put more strength in her hands and finally took off her pants with great effort. She said breathlessly, "I will be able to turn into a decent Miss Stark in a moment. I promise, Sister Mordane."

"I choose to trust your promise for now." Septa Mordane leaned down and helped Arya take off the rest of her clothes.

Seeing Sister Mordane frowning at her face, Arya immediately said, "I am the swordsman appointed by the Duke of Winterfell. I must practice swordplay every day to live up to my father's expectations."

Septa Mordane stood up and rummaged through the clean clothes she had brought with her. She said, "You can also be an elegant swordsman lady. This may make Lord Ned more pleased."

Arya's eyes suddenly widened, and she asked suspiciously, "Sister Mordane, how did you know I was here? And how did you know I needed new clothes?"

Arya felt that it was Sansa who betrayed her. Who else could it be but that annoying sister!
“You’re very flexible.”

Sister Mordane turned her thin face to Arya and said expressionlessly, "Lady Stark and I saw you climbing the stairs. She was very surprised. She asked me to deliver these things and told me that you must not be late for breakfast today."

She came over and said, "Okay, Miss Swordsman, you can get in the bathtub now."

Arya obediently entered the steaming hot tub, then looked at the "torture instrument" in Sister Mordane's hand with a pitiful expression, and said, "I'm just covered in some mud. I don't think you need to use a brush. I'm miserable enough, Lady Mordane."

Septa Mordane remained unmoved. Her shadow enveloped tiny Arya as she announced grimly, "These are orders from the Lady of Winterfell."

…………

Winterfell, crypt.

Eddard Stark, wearing a black cloak with a thick fur collar, stood tall and motionless. The successive lords of Winterfell in the mausoleum seemed to be staring at him with fixed gazes.

He closed his eyes and devoutly begged them for wisdom on how to restore the Stark family's thousands of years of honor.

The sound of footsteps slowly echoed in the huge mausoleum. Duke Ed was very familiar with the owner of the footsteps. He opened his eyes and saw his wife, Catelyn, who looked haggard, looking at him with concern.

"Where are the children?"

"My dear Ned, they are all waiting to dine with you."

Lord Eddard's gaze shifted to the stone statues of the Stark ancestors: "Have Sansa and Arya reconciled?" Lady Catelyn came to Eddard's side, smiled lightly, and said: "Arya may not feel better until the afternoon. I asked Mordane to punish the little wolf girl who was 'canonized' by you as a swordsman."

Her eyes followed her husband's gaze. The statue showed the lords of Winterfell sitting side by side, with a huge stone sculpture of a roaring dire wolf curled up at his feet. They seemed to be gazing at the eternal darkness with eyes that could no longer see, making people feel an invisible oppression.

According to tradition, an iron sword must be placed on the knees of any stone statue that was once the lord of Winterfell. Ned told her when he first brought her to the Stark family tomb that this was to ensure that the resentful and vengeful spirits were sealed in the tomb and did not wreak havoc on the northern land.

Speaking of Arya, Lord Eddard, with a heavy face, finally raised his lower lip slightly: "I will find time to talk to Arya."

Lady Catelyn approached her husband, put her arms around him tightly, and rested her head on his arm. Her voice was full of sadness and helplessness: "Ned, I want to go see Robb, but I'm worried that my crying will disturb his sleep."

Last night, Vayon Poole, the steward of Winterfell, placed the sarcophagus engraved with Robb's appearance when he was alive in the crypt. Lord Eddard has not yet seen his eldest son.

Lord Eddard closed his eyes in pain. The northern vassals who went south brought the rotten body of his eldest son back to Winterfell, but he didn't even look at it... His wife was extremely sad, but the only kindness he could give her was to not stop her from seeing his eldest son.

Robb, his proud eldest son, resolutely raised an army to save his father and sisters trapped in the Red Castle... The young Stark led the northern vassal and troops southward. He defeated the powerful Lannister several times on the battlefield, but put the Tully family, who were closest to the Starks, into an unprecedented predicament, and he himself... was eventually taken home as a corpse.

He loved Robb deeply, he missed his child terribly, and was even more heartbroken by the misfortune that Robb had encountered.

However, the heir who once made her so proud... violated the marriage contract and trampled on the rights of guests for revenge.

His heirs had trampled upon thousands of years of honor held by House Stark.

Hearing his wife's suppressed sobbing, Lord Eddard sighed heavily and said, "Kate, let's go see Robb together."

Duke Ed held up the oil lamp that emitted a dim light and walked slowly inside with his wife.

The darkness seemed to stretch endlessly forward, and they passed three sarcophagi placed side by side, which were those of Duke Ed's father, brother and sister.

Then, Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn stopped in front of a solitary sarcophagus.

It was the sarcophagus of Robb Stark, and he sat upright, his stone fingers clenched around the sword that lay across his knees.

The sculptor of Winterfell captured Robb's spirit very well, but he kept his eyes closed. This was an order specially issued by Lord Eddard. He wanted future generations to always remember the mistakes his eldest son had made... There was no hypocritical deliberate concealment, and this lesson must be remembered forever.

After crying for a long time, Lady Catelyn choked up and said in a broken voice: "Thank you, Ned, thank you for letting him rest here forever."

Her husband would never change his decision easily, let alone their son who had tarnished the family's honor. She begged him... She cried until her tears dried up again and again, and her husband finally agreed to her request to bury Robb in the Stark family cemetery.

Catelyn knew that her request was too much and her husband had made a very difficult decision. Now she only felt endless gratitude towards Ned.

Duke Eddard put his arm around his unsteady wife. His voice was low and hoarse. "Cate, I am Robb's father. As his father, I have the responsibilities and obligations of a father."

Hearing this, Catelyn looked up at her husband in panic and murmured, "Ned..."

Lord Eddard stared at Robb's sarcophagus, paused, and spoke slowly: "Kate, I don't blame Robb, I just feel sorry and sad for him. Winter is coming, and the mistakes he made should be atonement by me as a father."

He looked at his wife, who was clutching his robe tightly and had tears on her face, and said, "Go back, the children are waiting anxiously."

…………

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At the top of Visenya Hill, in the majestic Great Sept of Baelor, the archbishops are holding the final election of the High Priest.

And just as they were arguing loudly inside and the atmosphere was tense and intense... on the wide stone steps between the cathedral gate and the white marble square, countless people were gathering here like a surging tide.

Most of them looked haggard, withered, and emaciated, as if they were just skeletons. They all wore brown coarse cloth robes.

Someone shouted in anger, his voice full of rage and despair: "They don't care about the monks and nuns who were killed! They don't care about the brothers in brown, brown and green! They don't care about the sisters in white, blue and gray!"

"The Virgin in heaven cries out in grief!"

"Protect the living! Protect the cathedral and other holy places!"

A big man with a striking seven-pointed star tattooed on his forehead struggled to climb up to a high place and shouted at the top of his lungs: "A king who cannot protect his people is not a real king! The people salute the lord, the lord salutes the king, and the king must salute the seven-faced god! If you love the seven gods, all knights who are anointed with holy oil should abandon their secular masters and fight with us!"

He waved his arms vigorously and shouted: "Sparrows, we need an archbishop who can unite all the devout people who love the Seven Gods into the Holy Church!"

The crowd's response was deafening, as if it was about to break through the clouds: "Big Sparrow! Big Sparrow! Big Sparrow!"

The sparrows' voices grew louder and louder, "Big sparrow! Big sparrow! Big sparrow!"

Amid the shouts, the sparrows gradually made way for a wide passage leading directly to the main entrance of the church. A man with a half-brown and half-gray beard, sparse hair combed back, and wearing a patched gray robe... walked barefoot in the passage. His feet were covered with thick calluses, and each step was steady and powerful.

Following behind him was a group of armed men, all of whom had seven-pointed stars representing the Seven Gods tattooed on their foreheads. Thick iron chains were crossed across their chests like armor, and most of them were equipped with axes (Chapter 362).

(End of this chapter)