Eagle of the Valley of Ice and Fire

Touching the wall is like touching the back of a fish, it is smooth and sticky, making people feel the unpleasant smell of smelly water.

But the lady didn't care about this. She sniffed the wall. The smell of dirty concrete and dead beetles in the secret passage were mixed together. If Sansa came out of the direwolf's body at this moment, she would still cover herself up like that lady Sansa. Hold your mouth and nose, pretending to be surprised. This isn't just about covering up the stench, but more importantly maintaining the impression that Sansa from the Red Keep is stupid enough to be manipulated.

This would put everyone at ease, Sansa thought, even if there was a hint of pretentious pity, contempt, and fear in it.

The lady's forelimbs felt a slight pain, as if they had been stabbed by some sharp object, which made her walk much slower.

The secret passage looks the same as before, and the paintings left by Varys's little girl "Bug" are still on the walls. The city of King's Landing that was destroyed by fire is among them, including the Red Keep that Sansa hates.

This kind of hatred became more and more distant after the news of her father's "resurrection" in the north. In contrast, she wanted to escape even more.

Leave here, leave the south, and return to the north.

But she couldn't go back alone.

The lady paused her front paws and raised her head excitedly. She smelled a familiar smell.

The smell of woman's rouge... In this hellish place, there is only...

The lady walked gently through the secret passage without making a single sound.

The dim light of the candle shrouded a corner not far away, and Varys sat there quietly, making almost no sound.

fortunately! He's still there! Sansa thought.

…

King's Landing, Flea Bottom.

"Not everyone has secrets. The most pious people who only serve the seven gods with their body and mind have no secrets."

The neat plain clothes were worn on the High Sparrow, and it was difficult to find even a single wrinkle. He knelt calmly, and the obvious wrinkles on his face added to his solemnity.

He spoke softly, with the statue of the Seven Gods in front of him and the monks praying silently behind him.

The High Sparrow is as much like a missionary as it is a prayer.

The monk stood up and said, "May the Seven Gods bless you."

The High Sparrow nodded slightly, "Please."

The monk reached out and took off the High Sparrow's pure white clothes.

His rickety body was exposed, and what was shocking was that almost all of his back was covered in scars.

"Seven Gods are above..." The monk couldn't help but open his mouth.

The High Sparrow closed his eyes, as if communicating with the gods, "Leave the strong will to the Seven Gods, you are too soft-hearted, let the people behind do it."

The monk swallowed and walked out.

Another monk walked in and the door was closed.

The sound of a whip hitting a body could be heard in the room, and it sounded extremely dull through the thick walls.

"Pah! Pah!"

…

Militan Darry waited a long time for the High Sparrow's pale, frail face.

He held the long sword and frowned slightly when he saw this appearance.

"Theodore died in Harrenhal, and most of the monks who stayed in the Riverlands lost contact. The monks from Seagull Town in the Vale took over everything."

Militan had a sad look on his face, and his thumb kept rubbing the thumb ring used for archery, and the rust spots on it were rubbed clean.

"One city and one place is not a big deal for believers who believe in the Seven Gods and give up their fiefdom to marry a wife." The High Sparrow shook his head, "Theodore could have followed me to King's Landing, but he valued the past too much. Achievements, unwilling to leave the Riverlands..."

So he died a fool, so useless that he didn't even see Attis Arryn or Melisandre, Militan thought.

The High Sparrow smiled slightly, and the corners of his mouth were slightly stiff. Militan could see that Ser Theodore's death had hit him hard.

"What should I do?" Militan asked the question he wanted to ask the most.

The High Sparrow calmed down his expression. He stretched out his hand and put it on the shoulder of the knight who was looking sad and confused.

"The Seven Gods need swords. What we need to do is to get rid of everyone who hinders the Seven Gods from taking the swords."

"you mean?"

"The fallen church, the fallen kingship," the High Sparrow said softly, "The king and the church have always been one, and the king needs us."

"Then...that troupe, that..." Militant was stunned, and he stammered, "We almost killed King Joffrey..."

"Many things are only superficial, Ser Darry," said the High Sparrow, "just like the Seven Gods," he gave an example. "Whether the Stranger's side on the statue faces inward or outward depends on the world's interpretation and choice. "

The High Sparrow sighed softly, "Besides," his face was thin, and his already stern expression was filled with unpredictable ferocity, "the eunuch's thoughts are not at all on the stability of Westeros and the happiness and well-being of the followers of the Seven Gods. He No different than Petyr Baelish who died on the guillotine many years ago."

"Do you want to..." Militang had a vague guess in his heart.

"Varys's entire destiny is controlled by the unknown and mystery. Expose this mystery, let this guilty eunuch be exposed to the sun, reveal the secret, and win the king's trust."

Militan Darry was silent for a moment, then stood up and said, "The agreement I made with the spider..."

"An agreement made with an ungrateful eunuch," the High Sparrow shook his head slightly, "the Seven Gods will not choose to watch."

Militan continued to be silent, and the sound of the monk whipping himself came to his ears again.

"Pah! Pah!" and a painful groan as he rubbed it together, reminding the knight of the High Sparrow's self-flagellation.

He nodded, "What should I do?"

"Reciprocate a favor." The High Sparrow responded.

The lion has lost its spider, its eyes and ears.

The spider lost the trust of the lion and also lost the support of appearing in the open in King's Landing.

Between the two, the sea that can be stirred is too wide.

…

The winch of the crossbow turned slowly, making a sound of the string gradually tightening.

Joffrey held the crossbow trigger, his face turned red.

"Swoosh! Swoosh! Swoosh!"

The three crossbow arrows quickly broke away from the short string, and the mirror, the lion head wood carving and the porcelain vase with flowers on the opposite side shattered.

Joffrey looked at the broken lion head on the ground with satisfaction and stroked the buckle plate on the crossbow trigger.

When he looked up again, Margaery's beautiful face appeared beside the fragments of the porcelain vase, her eyes calm, like an elk looking up.

She reached out and carefully picked up the fragments of the porcelain vase one by one.

"Does my king not like the vase I gave you?" Margaery picked up the fragments into the porcelain vase and looked at Joffrey with a crooked smile on her lips.

Joffrey frowned slightly impatiently, "It just happened to hit it. A vase is not worth cherishing."

Margaery glanced at the broken lion head on the ground, strode over, and came to Joffrey's side, "For the king, I am the most important. A vase, an unpleasant ornament, a mirror that is in the way, can all be destroyed..."

Her eyes were always on Joffrey, and she nodded slightly, "As long as the king is willing."

"Click!"

The crossbow was loaded again. Joffrey ignored Margaery's sweet talk and continued to pull the string, "I am not interested in your words, my dear lady, the future queen, the little rose sent by Tywin."

Joffrey raised the crossbow and aimed at Margaery.

The latter was not afraid and still lowered her head.

"Swoosh!"

The crossbow arrow hit the hanger on the side, and the material of the original wood was smashed to pieces.

Then there were two more sounds of arrows entering the string from the crossbow.

"Myr's crossbow, the king's crossbow is indeed a treasure in the world." Margaery raised her head, approached Joffrey, and reached out to touch the crossbow in the king's hand.

"You know this?" Joffrey was a little surprised.

"The Golden Company's mercenaries speared their skulls, and Myr's crossbows covered them. The black rain pushed the golden sea, the sword and shield were invincible, and the arrow rain roared..." Margaery whispered softly, turning her head to look at Joffrey, "Only the strongest king is worthy of the strongest bow, and even the most powerful ministers can only bow down to him, only the king."

A new idea emerged from Joffrey's mind, and his eyes gradually changed when he looked at Margaery.

"Even Lord Mace Tyrell?"

"Even the Prime Minister, my king."