Eagle of the Valley of Ice and Fire

"You always blaspheme the finest steel with these wildfire tricks"

Thoros stroked the steel sword that Tob Mott, the old blacksmith in King's Landing, gave him before he left. The fine wrinkles on it felt very comfortable to touch.

The old blacksmith's words were like the breeze passing by his ears, lingering in Thoros' ears from time to time.

"You are the worst monk in the world, damn it!" Tob Mott cursed and handed the steel sword specially made for him to him in the shabby blacksmith shop in King's Landing, "Hold it tight, Thoros, you drunkard, the most unreliable liar!"

Thoros remembered that he didn't say a word, whistled in his mouth, threw the purse containing double the price on the wooden table of the blacksmith shop, and it clanged. He glanced at the apprentice of the old blacksmith in the back of the shop. At that time, he was fiddling with a helmet as strong as a bull's head and smiled foolishly at himself.

Thoros wrapped his faded robe tightly around his body, slightly tightened the protective gear tied around his arms, took a deep breath, and pulled his thoughts back from his memories.

He was no longer in the stinking King's Landing, he was in the Riverlands, on the King's Road.

A group of ragged people gathered at the corner of the slope in the distance. Thoros looked over and saw that many people were staring at him.

The monk-like people in the crowd were concentrating on the delicate work in their hands, tying knots and tying the wooden basins for carrying water with thin ropes, stirring the pulp in the bowls with wooden sticks, and the sewing work of weaving cloth and sewing clothes seemed to be no problem for these monks.

Thoros, however, sensed a hint of something bad among this group of people. He led the donkey behind him and carefully prepared to bypass this slope, silent.

He was slightly relieved when he got around the slope.

The words that made his back numb came immediately, "Hey, red-robed monk, stop!"

Thoros turned around and glanced at the person who asked him to stop.

The man was skinny, and it seemed that there were only bones left on his body, with a simple layer of flesh hanging on it.

Thoros looked at him, but his eyes were unusually clear and firm, like a hungry rhino lion about to pounce on its prey, staring at him with its tongue sticking out.

"What can I do for you?" Thoros held the sword.

"Dirty pagan!" The man was not afraid of Thoros's sword, and his eyes were still vicious.

"Oh~" Thoros frowned slightly, "I don't think R'hllor asked you to give him your asshole"

The other party suddenly stood up, and then several people stood up with him.

"Is this how your Red God taught you, monk?" The nun standing next to the man asked.

"I don't know how R'hllor taught me," Thoros looked at the unarmed appearance of all of them, and his confidence rose slightly in his heart, "He must have taught you the same way as the Father and the Mother, I think we are no different."

"You!" The skinny man took a step forward. In Thoros' eyes, it seemed that the "warrior" of the Seven Gods gave him courage, and he didn't seem to see the exquisite long sword that Thoros was holding tightly.

The stupid ass of the Seven Gods, right? Thoros drew out his long sword, and the cold light of the sword was slightly exposed, shining on the face of the believer.

This did not affect the several people standing on the opposite side at all, but approached Thoros without hesitation.

Damn, there are still such fanatics in Westeros. Thoros instinctively took a step back. He was a monk that even the fanatics of the Red God were afraid of, let alone other sects.

But he knew that he couldn't retreat at this time. Thoros stood up, held the long sword upright in front of him, held the hilt tightly with both hands, and stared coldly.

If his mind was still clear, Thoros would remember that there was still a small bottle of wildfire in his bag.

It would be no problem to swing the flaming sword at will. He once again remembered how he drove back the damned iron riders in Pike City during the Greyjoy Rebellion. Thinking of this, Thoros became more confident. He shouted loudly: "You are all flesh and blood. The Seven Gods don't have time to inlay your flesh with iron!"

It's not that he didn't have the confidence to kill all these people who were in the way. Thoros just felt a little reluctant to kill innocent people. There were not only women but also children in the crowd who stood up. Damn it!

The believers were still approaching, and even more and more people stood up, trying to surround him.

The monk who seemed to be their leader just squatted quietly in the same place, stirring his pot of jam.

Thoros stretched out his left hand and reached into the bag.

When he felt the familiar texture of the pottery jar, he breathed a sigh of relief. "The long night is dangerous, the true god is my companion, the night lamp is always on, and the fire-quenched long sword" He chanted as usual, his left hand tightly grasped the glass bottle and slowly pulled it out.

"Fire-quenched long sword, fire-quenched long sword, fire-quenched." A burning heat burned on his face. Soros paused slightly and looked at the flaming long sword in front of him in astonishment. The wildfire bottle that was originally used for the flaming sword trick was still intact in his left hand and had not been taken out.

The believers around him retreated one after another, their eyes full of fear, looking at the burning flaming sword at a loss.

Soros understood, he put the wildfire bottle back, and held the long sword tightly with both hands, "See if your seven gods can put a piece of real iron that is invulnerable to swords and guns and is not afraid of fire in your flesh." He waved the long sword slightly, and a ball of fire floated in the air. The believers of the seven gods retreated one after another, not daring to be careless at all.

"Let our foreign friends go."

The monk stopped pounding the jam, stood up, and stood behind the believers with a slightly gloomy face.

He walked to the front of the crowd and bowed slightly, "Forgive me for my poor education and impoliteness."

The monk looked up at the burning flaming sword, "Perhaps, you should put out the fire?"

Thoros looked at the flaming sword that was actually burning in his hand with some embarrassment. He waved it slightly, and the flame that was still flourishing before was immediately extinguished.

He exhaled and looked at the seemingly gentle monk in front of him with a smile. Soros knew clearly, but he still smiled cooperatively.

"I just want to leave and don't want to get in your way." Soros glanced at the unkind-looking believers around him and said, "Pray."

He backed away slowly, still not putting the long sword back into the hilt.

"The Riverlands are still in chaos. If you don't mind, you can join us. Maybe our journey will be the same, if you go to Harrenhal," the monk pointed to the direction Thoros was heading and said with a smile, "That's the lucky place for your Red God. The red-robed messengers of Volantis are getting along well with Attis Arryn."

"Despicable traitor, despicable Arryn" whispered the skinny believer.

Soros heard everything clearly, and he had always been very confident in his ears.

"That's it," Thoros looked like he was considering it, but the topic changed immediately, "Of course not, haha, I don't want to be with the followers of the Seven Gods who want to sacrifice their butts to R'hllor."

He made a face and waved gently in farewell.

Thoros is indeed going to Harrenhal. The news that Duke Arryn is going to hold a tourney has spread throughout the seven countries. As a frequent visitor to the tourney, how could he not join in the fun?

Moreover, believers in the Red God can indeed be protected under Attis. Needless to say, the red-robed female Melisandre and the red-robed monk Magiro, the red-robed monk and missionary he knows can also easily travel across the river. The valley between the lands was newly occupied.

This was considered a good treatment during the war years.

The monk looked at Thoros who was gradually moving away and said, "The traitors and evil spirits have gathered in that cursed city. The blessings of the Seven Gods are gradually being driven away. We need to go over and inform the deceived knights of the truth and the oracle. And the lords, and even the subjects who are highly valued by the Seven Gods.”

The crowd slowly stood up and followed the monks, and the chants lingered in the middle of the crowd, loud and loud.

Double updates should be resumed tomorrow