Eagle of the Valley of Ice and Fire

"Red-haired girl, good-looking!"

The slave trader shouted loudly, and lifted the gray cloth covering the cage beside him, revealing a hideous iron cage.

In the iron cage was a naked red-haired girl cowering in a corner of the cage. She rubbed her eyes, and her eyes, which had not seen the light of day for too long, were stimulated and even shed some tears.

The slave trader looked at the tears in the eyes of the petite girl and smiled with satisfaction. Most of his customers liked this kind of pitiful and beautiful girl. The pity they bred could arouse the pleasure of conquering like a beast hidden under the gorgeous clothes of these noble masters.

The beauty of torture, the noble master said this to the slave trader.

"Red-haired girl, twelve years old!" The slave trader shouted loudly, attracting many people to watch.

"So beautiful." Someone stroked his lips, his eyes invaded the girl's body.

"Too expensive, cheaper." The brothel owner looked at the price and said to the slave trader.

"Look at her tearful face. She is the source of trouble. She might be the bastard born by a prostitute!"

The onlookers evaluated the girl's appearance, price, and vague background.

The girl was barely able to open her eyes. She looked at the huge building in front of her, and she was in it.

On the tall wall, a huge "seven" appeared in front of her.

"Slave House No. 7 is really a place of trouble," said the onlooker, "I remember the top prostitute in the brothel came from here."

The words were fragmented, but it was like a dense net covering the whole body, unable to break free.

"What's your name?" There was a wizard in a red robe in the crowd, looking emaciated, with a cane in his hand.

"What?" The slave trader didn't hear clearly.

"What's the girl's name?" said the red-robed wizard.

"No one would ask a slave's name, you are so strange," the slave trader turned his head to look at the girl, he didn't know the girl's name, "What's your name, answer this master, quickly!"

The whip swung violently at the iron cage, making bursts of noise, the girl shrank her head in fear, her back was covered with whip marks, the slave trader's method was very strange, he would use the whip to whip the slave's back to make whip marks of abuse, but he would recover quickly, so as not to damage his selling goods.

"Merry.Merry." The girl said softly, she looked at the approaching red robe monk, the coldness of the naked body was wrapped in a warm current.

"She is not your slave anymore, merchant." The red robe monk said to the slave trader.

"You mean" the slave trader looked at the tattered red robe on the old man suspiciously.

A cloth bag appeared in the red robe monk's hand, shaking it to make the sound of gold coins colliding.

"She is not your slave, nor will she be my slave," the red monk watched the greedy slave trader put away the cloth bag, "she will be the slave of the Red God."

"Whatever you say, sir, she is yours." The slave trader counted the gold coins in the cloth bag and said with a smile.

The door of the iron cage was opened, and the red monk reached out and held Meryl.

"Child, come here." He said.

Meryl only felt the long-lost intimacy, and the kind face of the old man made her willing to approach.

The girl dragged her scarred little body and approached the red monk.

A red cloth was wrapped around Meryl, and she was picked up by the old man.

"Come with me, child." The red monk said.

The girl nodded slightly.

The moment she walked away from the iron cage and out of the gate of the No. 7 slave trade house, the girl heard a tragic wail behind her.

She turned her head and saw that the slave trader who had tortured and trained her was on fire. The temperature was so high that the gold coins turned into liquid and dripped around him. Steam rose and the spectators around were burned by the heat, with hideous burns on their faces.

The girl hugged the red monk tightly and felt warm.

Melisandre woke up from her sleep, staring at the wall of the bedroom with red eyes, her red hair scattered on the bed, and she leaned against the head of the bed, with a lazy beauty.

This dream has been unusually frequent recently. Is it a new instruction from the Lord of Light?

The accommodation that Artis Arryn arranged for himself and Maqiro was very exquisite and luxurious, and the warmth of the fireplace filled the entire bedroom.

She got out of bed, wrapped herself in a thin red shirt, opened the window, and the cold wind poured into the bedroom, but Melisandre did not feel any cold.

She closed her eyes and felt the temperature of the ruby ​​necklace on her chest. The touch of her skin made her feel extremely comfortable. The Red God was always with her.

From the slave house to Asshai, and then to Westeros, she is the most staunch believer and the most pious messenger of the Red God.

Melisandre walked out of the room and headed towards the Moon Tower.

Atis wrapped in pajamas, he looked at the battle report handed by Sir Vardis in the dim light of the morning.

"Many of the mountain savages in the looting team carry ears. It is speculated that they are the Black Ear Tribe of the mountain clan. The intelligence is unknown. The only thing we know is that it is led by a female savage. According to the villagers, the female savage's bamboo basket backpack is full of chopped ears. Most of the bodies of the patrol scouts in the valley that were attacked before also lost an ear."

"The savages are vulnerable. We want to capture them all in one fell swoop in the valley, but the savages are cunning, the team is very scattered, and the results are not fruitful."

Atis picked up the pen, dipped it in ink, and wrote a countermeasure on the letter, "The ancestors of the mountain clan are familiar with the terrain of the Moon Mountain Range. The valley knights must not act rashly. They should use static to control dynamics, divide several scout teams, lure the enemy out, and judge their movements."

In front of him, on the table was a thick stack of pages, which were the countermeasures of the East Border Guards of all generations to deal with the harassment of the Alpine Clan. However, they were all nothing more than the encirclement and suppression of the Canyon Knights. It seemed that the nobles of the Valley limited their countermeasures to military encirclement and suppression, and had no idea of ​​solving the problem once and for all.

He frowned tightly and picked up the pen again, "Mainly take prisoners, get information about the ancestors of the Alpine Clan, and enhance understanding." After all, Dr. Anel's description was of the Alpine Clan in the past. The Eagle's Nest City had no idea about what changes had occurred in the mountains, whether the clan had changed, and the size and distribution of forces.

Although everyone knew that the strength of the Alpine Clan was far inferior to that of the Canyon Knights, in the chaotic situation of the War of the Three Kings, the Valley changed its passive defensive attitude that had been confined to the internal affairs to an active offensive attitude, including the digestion of the riverland territory and the expedition of the army.

In this case, the defense in the canyon would only become more negligent, and the problem of the Alpine Clan was put on the table, and it had to be solved.

Draw people together to divide and strengthen ties.

Attis thought of the Stark family's treatment of marginal tribes in the North. The mountain clans on the frozen coast, including the Wolfswood clan deep in the Wolfswood, except for the residents of Skaggs Island, far away from the Westeros continent, who may not be convinced by the rule of Winterfell, other marginal tribes, the so-called uncivilized northern ancestors, are willing to accept the rule of Stark.

In contrast, the self-proclaimed noble Arryn family seems a bit too stupid and complacent.

He sighed slightly. The problem that should have been dealt with within one or two generations has been delayed for thousands of years.

"Master," Ange's voice sounded, "Miss Melisandre wants to see you."

Attis remembered the worship of the fire witch of the Burning Tribe and said, "Let her in."

Melisandre, wearing a thin red shirt, walked into the study and bowed slightly, "Duke Attis."

This title is much more restrained than "True King", and Attis nodded with satisfaction.

"What's the matter, envoy of Volantis?" Attis said.

"The ancient fools hiding in the mountains should look up at the eagle in the sky with more respect," the light appeared in Melisandre's red eyes, very charming, "I am here to relieve your worries, Duke Atis."

Atis was slightly stunned, looking at the mysterious red-robed woman in front of him with some disbelief, his heart tightened slightly, "How to relieve your worries?"

"Help you accept a tribe of ancestors who are only loyal to you." Melisandre lowered her head. She always had this clear attitude of respect and inferiority in front of Atis, believing that he was the only true king, the so-called reincarnation of the prophesied prince.

The flames of the fireplace rose slightly, as if they were rejoicing.

"Okay," Atis looked at Melisandre, "This mission will be left to you."

The flames became more and more jubilant, like a joyful child.