Eagle of the Valley of Ice and Fire

Chapter 260, King's Landing Drama (2) Also known as "The Rainy Season in King's Landing"

The prison warden and the weirdo Logan were talking nearby. Yoro chewed some fishy dried meat, endured the discomfort caused by the air in the dungeon, and listened to their leaky conversation.

He was a new jailer, transferred here from the port by Lord Tywin.

It's not worth it! He thought to himself, he finally survived the Battle of the Blackwater River, but now he has to guard this hellhole. I heard that ghosts and wolves often appear in the dungeon!

"What's wrong with you? Has Stannis confessed?" The warden's voice.

It's easy to guess. Yoro turned his head and the weirdo Logan's teeth full of dirt and worms were exposed from his messy hair. The smell of bad breath must have hit the warden's mouth and nose.

For this reason alone, he admired the warden for a whole year.

"No." The voice was rough and hoarse.

The warden frowned. It must be painful to deal with such a person.

"Why don't we go to the trial? It's just a formality. Any method will do as long as he pleads guilty."

Logan blinked twice. His eyes were bright and conspicuous in this disheveled appearance.

"He wants to see you, butler."

"See me?"

"He will plead guilty if he sees you."

The butler's eyes widened, and a look of joy climbed up the corners of his mouth. "There is such a good thing. After all, this is the dungeon of the Red Castle. Even the toughest people will have weak spines. This Stannis, I'm afraid he will be crushed into ash." As he said that, he walked into the dungeon.

Yolo closed his eyes. There was no way to kill time in this dungeon. There was not even a clean place to stay. There were bugs and sewage everywhere.

The sun set from midday to sunset, and the butler came out of the dungeon.

"Butler" Yoro stood up quickly.

This time the butler did not joke with him. He just looked at him calmly, nodded slightly, and walked out the door.

The weirdo Logan followed him and smiled at him.

"Ding-dong!~ Ding-dong-dong!~"

Sansa closed her eyes tightly. She could tell the difference between the bells of the Red Keep and the Great Sept of Baelor. The bell tower on the dome of the Red Keep only had a majestic "dong-dong!~", while the city wall near the defensive coast sounded more like a horn during war.

The bells of the sept were more crisp in their majesty, like the sound of musical instruments and the chanting of hymns spread out in the center of the sept square at the same time, bringing the most dramatic and sacred background sound to the stage of King's Landing.

Just like her father and brothers kneeling in front of the weirwood, the crows on the roosting trees crowing in disorder, and the fierce howling of the sudden north wind intertwined and surrounded everyone.

Sansa opened her eyes, and the huge dome building appeared outside the curtain. The huge statue of Baelor I, "blessed by God", slowly moved back after the carriage came to the side. It stood calmly on the pedestal with a face full of compassion.

Sansa clasped her hands together. Merciful Virgin Mary, please forgive me. She missed home too much, the North that she had despised so much, and Winterfell, which was located on the hot springs.

The white robes of the Kingsguard were very close to her. The White Knight turned his head and saw the Hound with hideous scars.

The four eyes met, Sansa lowered her head and closed the curtain.

The Hound pursed his lips, sped up his horse, and caught up with King Joffrey's carriage.

Sansa covered her chest, and the burning feeling in her heart surged up and down.

The lady's bloodthirsty desire Sansa suppressed this discomfort, felt the lady's internal organs with her heart, licked her fangs, and enjoyed the blood. The piety and regret to the Seven Gods just now were suppressed by this cruelty and bloodthirstiness. Sansa took a deep breath, and her eyes were no longer confused.

The golden robes held up their spears, separating the crowd from the nobles' carriages. Even when the king was traveling, conflicts between the people and the golden robes often escalated in the corners.

The whole row of golden robes were pushed and shoved by the people, twisting and turning like a long snake dancing.

"Silence!"

"Back off! Back off! You bastard!"

"Pfft!"

The golden robes drew out their swords, opened their mouths wide and roared at the civilians who were pushing forward, but were hit in the face and mouth by a mouthful of spit.

"Hahahaha!" Laughter and rumors were thrown at the golden robes like soft swords.

"Damn it! I told you to back off!" The golden robes waved their swords, stretched out their legs and kicked down the civilians who were spitting, and the golden robes on the side also used their spears and shields to hold back the people who wanted to watch the show and were eager to move forward.

Tywin sat on the pulpit in the distance, silently looking at the chaos on the other side of the square, and next to him was the archbishop who kept coughing and had a pale face.

Monks walked out of the Father's Gate in all kinds of groups, while nuns and silent sisters walked from the Mother's Gate and the Stranger's Gate on both sides to the back and sides of the marble pulpit.

The fully armed Lannister guards guarded the pulpit. When the king's carriage arrived, the guards immediately dispersed, leaving a large space from the carriage to the pulpit.

It was the king's idea to drive from the Red Keep to the Cathedral. Joffrey seemed to be very opinionated and did not want the people of King's Landing to think that he was timid because of the last incident with the troupe.

Otherwise, the king could have stayed in the Cathedral and waited for the execution.

Jaime thought so, he wiped the blade of his sword with a cloth, and looked at Joffrey and Margaery who got off the carriage.

"Long live the king!"

The person in charge of the Cathedral shouted loudly.

"Long live! ~" The sound came from the square.

Joffrey seemed to be much calmer than before. Jaime looked at Joffrey with a faint smile on his face and thought to himself.

Barristan walked up to the pulpit, his eyes drooping wearily, following Joffrey's side as he did so.

Jaime stayed where he was and looked at the people on the pulpit. His father, the archbishop, and some unfamiliar priests frowned slightly, turned to face the people, and held the hilt of the sword tightly in his right hand.

It seems that the temple has changed a group of new people.

Cersei was also on the stage, but he deliberately didn't look at her.

"Archbishop" Tywin was about to speak, but was interrupted by the priest next to him.

"I'm afraid the archbishop is in poor health." The priest sitting next to the archbishop frowned, with worry in his eyes, and looked at the archbishop.

Tywin raised his eyebrows and looked at the bishop's bloated legs and unhealthy pale face.

The priest picked up the plate with the holy oil bottle, nodded slightly, and bowed to the king who came.

He poured out the holy oil and smeared it on his hands, "May God grant King Joffrey justice and insight!" The priest approached Joffrey and smeared the holy oil on the king's forehead.

"Hail!"

The priest put down the bottle, picked up another bottle beside him, straightened his back, and shouted loudly: "May the warriors!" He faced Duke Tywin standing beside him, "May the warriors grant Tywin the indestructible sword and invincible glory!"

Tywin bowed his head, and the priest smeared holy oil.

After a series of ceremonies, Joffrey nodded slightly to the priest, and the priest waved his arms, "The guilty, the traitor, the betrayer! King Robert's brother! Stannis Baratheon is here!"

The whole square was almost silent. The people and the nobles were no different at this time. They all stretched their necks, fearful and lucky to see Stannis being escorted by the Lannister guards.

The spirit and temperament of the king in the past had disappeared. The black beard that was once short and neat was now like an ugly bump on the back of a toad, curled up one by one, and even what he saw was a lingering stench. His sturdy limbs were tied tightly together by rough iron chains. The sticky wet mud rubbed against the ground on his dead wood-like legs. When he walked to the stairs, he drooped and the hardest leg bones inside seemed to melt.

Tywin looked at Stannis. The dungeons of the Red Castle had been thoroughly checked since the old wolf left. He deliberately changed a group of jailers and kept another group, just to find out the forces loyal to Stannis or the traces of Varys.

Unfortunately, Stannis was imprisoned in the dungeon and almost died of thirst and starvation, and no one rescued him. His own red robes squatted for a long time, but there was no harvest.

However, this is not urgent. Isn't there a stage specially built for him in front of him? Countless people from King's Landing are here, just to watch a show and find out the mastermind?

Stannis drooped his head and bumped the ground. The scorching sunlight shone on his head, which must be as painful as burning charcoal fire.

He looked around, and Tywin followed his gaze. The ragged people, the nobles wearing gold and silver, and the fully armed knights were all the same as the trials in the Great Sept of Baelor.

"Cough! Cough!" Stannis coughed violently. It seemed that he was used to breathing in the damp and moldy environment at the bottom of the dungeon. Now that he saw the light of day and the air became slightly fresher, he felt unusually uncomfortable.

"I" he seemed to want to say something.

But he was interrupted by the troupe singing loudly, "The day of hanging Stannis is really hard! ~ In the afternoon of King's Landing, listen to the bell ringing!"

It was obviously the tune of "The Day of Hanging Black Robin", and the troupe changed it into a mess.

The priest shouted angrily, pointing at the kneeling king: "Ser Ilyn Payne, the law enforcer!"

Ilyn Payne skillfully pressed against the back of the sinner's knees, and his long sword rested on the side of Stannis's left knee.

"Stannis Baratheon, you are accused of treason! Sentenced to death, deprived of all legal rights to inherit the Iron Throne!"

There is no confession link. As long as Stannis has a tongue, he will never confess. Tywin thought, looking up at the sun in the sky, his forehead seemed to be severely sunburned, and there was a stinging pain.

He raised the wine glass and took a sip. A cool breeze dispelled the heat.

The archbishop's pale face was facing him, his eyes staring like a dead fish.

Tywin nodded politely and looked at Stannis who was kneeling on the ground again.

What surprised him was that Joffrey stood there without saying a word, staring at the crowd under the marble pulpit.

Too close, too close to the crowd below, Tywin took a deep breath, supported the sides of the wooden seat with both hands, and wanted to stand up.

The numbness occupied his legs, Tywin sniffed, looked at the palms of his hands that were loose and wrinkled due to aging, and there was no time to think about it. He exerted a little force on his legs and stood up.

"Your Majesty," Tywin called, "Please take a seat in the back."

Joffrey turned his head to look at him, his green eyes like two emeralds embedded in it, Tywin hardly saw them move.

The king walked over slowly and sat down beside Tywin.

Tywin glanced at the sun twice, the excessive brightness made his head dizzy, raised his hand and sat down, looking at the pulpit in an inquiring manner.

The most elite Lannister guards were guarding all around, with shields ready at all times. He and Joffrey were wearing soft armor. He was not afraid of his own safety, but he was very eager to see the enemy's performance.

The executioner Ilyn Payne had already grasped the hilt of the sword with both hands, waiting for the king or the prime minister to give orders.

Tywin looked at the crowd. Because his eyes were soaked with sweat, his vision was a little blurry, but the troupe was still performing as usual. The fools had various expressions as usual. The Kingsguard, the gold cloaks and the guards were well-trained and performed their duties. There was no change.

The tune of "The Day Black Robin Was Hanged" was still playing, and it was almost to the last part of the lyrics, "Black Robin's Struggle".

"He grabbed his throat!" The "Black Robin" in the troupe seemed to be narrating himself, grabbing his throat and singing with great expression.

Tywin coughed slightly, swallowed the wine, and panted.

Cersei was just watching the troupe's performance with interest, but she didn't expect that these actors would perform so hard in such a situation. At this time, she looked at her father with some doubts, but she did notice that the temperature in King's Landing changed quickly these days, and she was afraid that Tywin had caught the flu. After all, the morning and noon in the city are completely two different worlds. She remembered reminding Xiao Qiao in the morning.

She turned her head to look at Xiao Qiao and nodded with satisfaction. The king's majesty was undoubtedly revealed. He learned too quickly these days, and understood what it means to judge the situation and respected his father a lot.

Don't worry, Joff, Cersei thought. My dear father always puts family first. You are also a real lion, a Lannister lion. Sooner or later, father will let you rule the entire Seven Kingdoms.

She thought of Tommen, whose lively figure and well-behaved appearance made her intoxicated, but Cersei looked at Joff.

With you, everything will be fine, she thought. For some reason, Cersei always felt that there was a fluke in her heart.

"What do you do?" "Black Robin" asked, but in the lyrics here it refers to Stannis.

When "Black Robin" asked the question, the sky darkened, and the clouds covered the unbridled scorching sun. A breeze blew, and Cersei waved her hand to remove the maid's umbrella, squinting her eyes and feeling the coolness.

"Ahem!" Tywin coughed hard, pointing his index finger at Stannis who was kneeling on the ground, "Execution!"

This word was almost choked out. Jaime heard his father's hoarse command, which was different from the calm response before. It seemed that his father and Stannis' hatred was hard to resolve.

Ilyn Payne held the long sword in his hand and raised it skillfully.

"Stannis" raised his head to the sky, "I am not a traitor!"

No one heard it clearly, and everyone's attention was on the executioner's sword.

"Bang." Even the sound of the head falling to the ground was so faint.

Cersei changed her posture, looked at the head on the ground, and showed a charming smile.

Haha! Lannister, you must pay your debts!

"What virtue do you have!" "Black Robin" sang loudly, but the overall movement of the troupe suddenly changed.

The flute was picked up, the violin sounded, and the drum was played.

No one sang the lyrics, only another song was played.

Cersei could tell, and anyone in the Seven Kingdoms could tell, that this was "The Rains of Castamere". There is also a saying among the people, "A Lannister must pay his debts".

It was really appropriate. Cersei looked at her father beside her with satisfaction. The latter stroked his throat and rolled his eyes.

A light rain fell over King's Landing.

Ilyn Payne lowered his head and moved his head with his feet. The face on his head was hideous and his mouth was open.

A tingling pain penetrated from the skin under the top of his head into his brain. It was rare for such a scene to make Ilyn so pale. His deep eyes were almost bulging, his lips trembled, and he still looked like he was chewing his tongue without a tongue.

He looked at the Duke, looked at the King, and pointed at the head that fell on the ground.

This head could be anyone, but it was definitely not Stannis!

"And who are you the proud lord said, That I must bow so low~"

"How could it be!~" the priest said in a lost voice, pointing to his head.

"Save my father!" Cersei screamed.

"Only a cat of a different coat. That’s all the truth I know in a coat of gold or a coat of red~A lion still has claws!" The singer's voice was unusually strong, singing in the center of the square.

Tywin covered his throat and fell to the ground, his purple-blue blood vessels swelled and protruded on his facial skin.

Joffrey smiled at the people in front of him, his green eyes were really like emeralds embedded in them, without a trace of expression, like a puppet.

"Long live King Stannis!"

In the bustling crowd, it was as if a stream of steam was gushing out, and some people suddenly stood up, just like the Antlers in the Battle of the Blackwater River reappearing in the crowd and shouting.

The arrows were like summer mosquitoes, not fatal, but very annoying.

The shields of the Lannister guards rose up one after another, and most of the arrows just grazed the edge and posed no threat.

The gold-cloaked men rushed into the crowd, chasing the mob with iron swords and spears.

There were countless people pushing and trampling.

"My minions are no worse than yours, lord~ (As long and sharp as yours~)" The people in the troupe obviously didn't realize the seriousness of the matter.

"Stop singing!" Cersei screamed, and Jaime drew his long sword and slashed at the stage.

The gold-cloaked men pushed together, and the stage fell to pieces, and the actors were either dead or injured.

The Hound angrily blocked the arrows of the mob and roared down. Barristan shouted his orders, his white beard shaking again and again. Jaime saw Oren Waters jumping into the crowd, and stabbed him in the back with a sword. He didn't check on his father's condition first. Joffrey looked straight ahead. Cersei was screaming, her voice was piercing. Margaery and the women looked at her helplessly. Sansa stuck to the back of the Hound's armor, motionless. The people were noisy, some were terrified, and some laughed at the misfortune.

"Bug," Varys asked the little girl beside him, "Who deserves to die the most in King's Landing?"

The little girl hesitated for a few seconds, "Too many, too many to count."

"Lord Tywin must not die, he must die with Artis Arryn." Varys said to himself

The little girl said "hmm", and stopped caring about it. She looked at the many companions in front of her, carefully carrying these pottery jars, pottery jars filled with dragon flames.

Varys was silent for a moment, then spoke again: "It's time to separate the bedbugs."

The little girl remained silent, just nodded slightly.

"I will do what I promised you, and you will do it yourself," Varys looked at the little girl tenderly like a father, "Let you and this city that brings pain be buried together."

Militang looked at the sword, ignoring the twisted little boy in front of him.

He struggled for several days, it's time to rest, Militang thought.

"I! I am the king!" the little boy yelled, "I order you to let me out!"