Eagle of the Valley of Ice and Fire

"Who is the mastermind? Who is behind you?" The interrogator's voice sounded, and the splashing sound of the bucket when it was lifted reached the monk's ears.

The cold water soaked his clothes again, and under the weak candlelight, Brother Walter could even see his hair standing up due to the cold.

The interrogator hid in the dark, the candlelight jumped, and his face switched back and forth between light and shadow.

Walter shivered, and his trembling body twitched to the scar under his neck. The pain made him grit his teeth and curl up on the ground.

"May the stranger ride the pale mare to the side of the sinner," he whispered, closing his eyes.

Silence enveloped him, and the interrogator's footsteps suddenly sounded and gradually moved away.

Walter struggled to open his eyes and looked at the fleeting light in the distance. The closed cell door opened and closed, and the wine-red long hair came into his eyes.

The monk opened his mouth, supported the ground with both hands, leaned his upper body against the heavy wall behind him, held his breath and looked forward.

"Death is not a privilege for strangers. Everyone's final destination is the dry bones on the ground, the monks of the Seven Gods." The woman's voice came over, and the red-robed woman raised the torch, and her beautiful face appeared in the dark dungeon.

"Damned pagan!" Walter's shrill voice echoed through the dungeon, causing a burst of echoes, "I curse you, curse you to be crushed to ashes after death, curse you to fall into the seven levels of hell, and never recover!"

Melisandre blinked her wine-red eyes and looked at the screaming Walter with pity.

"Poor monk," Melisandre squatted down and looked up at the monk tied with chains, "Look at your weak and dry body. The Seven Gods have only given you a tragic experience and fate, and they didn't even give you a complete body. You can only stay in a dirty corner for the rest of your life and look up at the light."

"Bah!" Walter spit on the ground, "You bewitching witch, this is how you bewitched the nobles of Westeros and Duke Attis, and you treated them like cattle and horses!"

Melisandre shook her head slightly, with a regretful smile on her face, "The Seven Gods are just a few "It is a sculpture, worthless, and R'hllor is the only true God, and the Artis Arryn you slandered is the only true king."

"Hahaha!" Walter laughed creepily, "Not only a heretic, but also a usurper?"

Melisandre restrained her smile and stood up. The torch illuminated her profile, and the orange-red flame swayed. The red-robed woman chuckled disdainfully, turned and walked to the door of the cell, turned her head and looked at Brother Walter, "Disobeying the true king is disobeying the true God."

"I only have the Seven Gods in my heart, heretic!" Walter spat again.

The cell door was suddenly pushed open, and the executioner of Harrenhal walked in, wearing leather gloves on his strong arms and holding an axe tightly.

"What do you want to do. Ah! Ah~!" Walter looked at the approaching executioner in horror, as if he saw a giant.

The monk's right hand was pressed on the hay, and the axe chopped violently, and the hand and body were separated.

"Ah! ~ Ah! ~" The sharp screams echoed throughout the dungeon, but the walls of Harrenhal were too thick, and the cells here were carefully selected, so the sound could not be transmitted at all.

Most of the cells were designed so that the prisoners could hear the screams of their companions during the interrogation. The purpose was also very simple, which was to use the screams of the interrogated people to deter accomplices or other prisoners.

When the He An family was weak, the government orders did not go beyond the city walls, and there was no time to take care of the public security within the jurisdiction. Naturally, a large number of cells were vacant, but since the Vale took over Harrenhal, the prisoners captured in the previous battles and the criminals who violated the lord's laws within the jurisdiction were thrown into the huge Harrenhal dungeon.

Moqorro walked in from the door of the cell. If it weren't for the bright color of his red robe, it would be difficult for anyone to notice his coming in the dark.

He carried the stove and gently placed it on the ground, showing his yellowed teeth and smiling at the screaming monk.

The executioner picked up the severed hand with the tip of the axe and placed it in the burning stove. The flesh and skin immediately rolled in the jumping flames, and the unmelted carbon black climbed up the edge of the nails. The unpleasant smell filled the cell.

Walter rolled on the ground, his voice unclear, the pain had filled his head, and any remaining reason could not stay.

The sparks from the rising flames splashed like water, even contaminated the haystack on the ground, and the sparks slowly turned into black charcoal on the hay, as if they were blooming black flowers.

Melisandre and Moqorro set their eyes on the stove. The swaying fire devoured the severed hand, eroded the flesh and blood, and made a "sizzling" sound from time to time.

Surrounded by screams, the expected scene finally emerged in the fire.

Walter holding a page hammer, knights in cloth armor, monks passing food, rainbow-colored cloaks, star-shaped hilts.

A thin old man with gray hair sat among the children, smiling on his kind face, holding an open seven-star Bible in his hand.

"The Father reached his hand to heaven and took off seven holy stars. He placed these holy stars one by one on the head of Hugo, the King of the Hills, and cast them into a glorious crown." The old man quoted the story from the Bible.

A huge lake appeared in the sight of the two, and the green water surface was covered with warm mist, stretching as far as the eye could see.

The picture suddenly disappeared, leaving only the monks rolling and crying and the executioner standing in the original place.

Walter's howling lasted all night, and the executioner dragged the already stiff body, put it on the wooden board of the donkey cart, covered it with thick hay, and slowly walked towards the open space outside Harrenhal.

The donkey cart slowly passed through the city gate, and Ser Alliser Thorne lifted the black cloak covering his face, revealing his eyes as bright as agate.

He touched the letter from the bear in his pocket. Although many ravens had been sent before, in order to ensure that nothing could go wrong during the war, most of the ravens were sent to King's Landing, the Citadel and the castles that protected the family. However, most of them had no news and were pressed under the thick letters by the castle maesters.

Along the way, he had heard that Lord Artis Arryn was stationed in Harrenhal, and there were many new scums in the dungeon. The wandering raven Yoren was missing in the south, and many people could not be replenished. The bear sent himself to King's Landing in the south, and he also had this mission.

Alliser looked at the broken arm of the corpse exposed outside the hay with disdain. The headless flies were still buzzing on it, and the creepy smell made people vomit.

He took a deep breath, showed the soldier guarding the city the mark of the old bear on the letter, and walked towards the depths of Harrenhal.

"Rainbow cloak, monk?" Atis asked in surprise after listening to Moqorro's description.

"Yes, Duke Atis." Moqorro replied respectfully.

Atis stroked the newly grown stubble on his chin, "Are you sure this is not a scene from hundreds of years ago?"

"We saw Brother Walter himself, so." Moqorro was not familiar with this period of Westeros history, but just answered step by step.

Atis pondered in silence, looking out the window of the tower study, the beautiful scenery of the God's Eye Lake was in full view.

"God's Eye Lake?" He muttered to himself.

I'm still updating, there will probably be another chapter at midnight, maybe, go to bed first, everyone