Eagle of the Valley of Ice and Fire

Chapter 270, Legal Status

The knight took off his armor, carefully wrapped it with cloth, and inserted the family's ancestral sword into the gap.

"Damn it," he muttered, raising his hand to lift his wet hair and looking outside the round hole of the castle. The water of the Green Fork River was tirelessly tearing at his land, and the newly planted saplings were broken one after another. Only the crooked trees in front of the fence of the manor were still dancing like crazy, just like his father who should have been in hell for a long time coming out of the tavern.

"My lord, my armor is soaked and rotten." The silly servant hugged the soaked armor and ran to the knight with a sobbing voice in his throat.

A wooden stick "swooshed" and slammed on the servant's head, "I told you long ago! Keep your armor and your sword safe!" The knight cursed, kicked open the bedroom door, and the moment he walked to the balcony, he turned from a furious leopard into a wet and temperless old trout.

"Damn it! You should go to the seven layers of hell, Trident River!" The knight knelt on his knees, splashing water and roaring to the sky.

The morning sun, wearing a long dress of gold, red and purple, looked at the knight's castle with pity, casting a ray of orange light.

As if feeling a burning sensation on his forehead, the knight raised his head, then was stunned and knelt in a daze.

"Sir, this, this." The servant put down the soaked armor and pointed to the distance of the castle.

The water of the Green Fork River retracted its outstretched hand. In the desperate and anxious days of the knight and his tenants, it showed its fatigue for the first time. The river water reluctantly retreated from the fields, leaving only fine water and white foam stuck in the soft soil and fine soil.

The bubbles reflected the colors, illuminating the fields into pieces of colorful.

The Green Fork River has receded.

At this moment, everywhere in the Trident River, tributaries, main streams, surrounding farmers, lords, and knights kneeled down to the morning sun involuntarily.

Artis stood at the bow, with the uneasy and somewhat shy Son of the Forest behind him.

The blue robe propped the boat and quickly reached the shore.

"Bronze" Yohn frowned and approached Artis. He glanced behind the duke and his eyes widened.

"What?" A dwarf with dark chestnut skin? Tyrion Lannister with big ears?

"Lord Royce," Artis said, pulling out a letter-like letter from his arms, which seemed to be covered with a layer of wrinkled grass. "This letter requires the maester and his assistant to copy a hundred copies and send them to the castle of the lord of the riverland by raven."

What is this? Yohn Royce's attention was all on the Son of the Forest behind Artis, and he even forgot to ask questions.

Attis explained for him, turning his head to look at the Son of the Forest, "The flood in the riverlands is the anger of the gods. If it weren't for the prayers of the Son of the Forest, the flood would be difficult to recede."

The Son of the Forest looked up at Attis, his eyes revealing a sense of confusion, obviously not knowing that Attis had solved a necessary problem for the emergence of their tribe.

"They. The Son of the Forest," Attis said, "are the blessings of the gods, the darlings of nature, and wherever they go, the castles and farmlands will be lucky."

Yorn frowned tightly, and he subconsciously thought that Attis's move would not be as simple as it seemed, "The monks may not necessarily accept this"

"Find a few monks who are in a bad situation," Attis said, and walked onto the shore, "Let them explain the doctrine for this move, and debate with the monks who live in the high towers of Seagull Town and Old Town."

Yorn understood, and did not ask more about the origins of the Son of the Forest, and turned away.

The Child of the Forest followed behind Atis, shaking his head and looking around curiously. He probably hadn't seen so many humans in hundreds of years.

"I still don't know your name." Atis said to him.

The Child of the Forest put his legs together, as if standing at attention, "Salute to the great Andal leader, Lord of the Valley, and the trusted ally of the Children of the Forest, Atis Arryn. You can call me Redvine, ahem, your Greenman Maester."

Redvine, Atis glanced at the red vines wrapped around his head and said nothing more, "The ships will come one by one. When the letter spreads throughout the riverlands and even the Seven Kingdoms, the returning knights will escort you to the valley. As for finding a place to live."

"We will sing praises to the earth, and the earth will also give us shelter, food and dew." Redvine was in high spirits, with shining eyes.

Atis nodded, said no more, rode on the warhorse brought by the shore guard, reached out his hand to pick up the Child of the Forest, rode on the horse's back, and jumped towards Harrenhal.

"Don't forget the dragon eggs, dragon crystals and eagles." Attis murmured to Hong Man, admonishing him.

The son of the forest shook his head, like a sailor's drumbeat, "The green prophet's trust, time is tight, I will help you."

The black and white courtyard, the holy room at the bottom.

The priest stared at the pool in the middle, and the pool reflected his face.

Countless faces, surrounding the four walls of the pool, were projected on the water.

Only the priest's face was open.

"Someone learned to walk silently, but forgot that his footsteps were windy." The priest said.

"Someone" stood behind the priest, "The king of King's Landing is not dead."

The priest was silent for a moment, "Someone knows."

He turned around and looked at someone, "The sparrow did not pay the price it should have."

"Maybe including the price of deception." Someone said.

"This struggle is meaningless, someone's mission is completed." The priest said.

"No news from Old Town."

"Soon." The priest's tone was more certain, but in someone's ears, there was clearly more regret.

"The king who fell into the sea"

"It was a mistake." The priest emphasized, and he stopped talking.

Someone looked at the stove next to the pool, where a dragon egg was quietly placed.

"It's not a mistake," he said with the same firmness, "It will help solve the blasphemy in the north."

The priest raised his head and looked at the top of the wall.

A human face hung there quietly, eyes closed, sleeping.

"Westerlod is a rebel, a living dead." The priest's mouth was more sad, tears slid down his cheeks, "It is the greatest blasphemy."

Someone knelt on one knee, "It is someone's duty to give death rest."

He stood up without waiting for the priest's instructions, his footsteps still brisk.

The priest's sigh echoed throughout the holy room, and the faces on the four walls seemed to open their mouths and sigh with him.

"The living dead awakened in the frost land, the sea monsters hoping to blaspheme death." The priest muttered to himself, looking back at the pool with sorrow. Countless faces seemed to be filled with hatred, solemn or sad.

"My dear elders," the priest said, "who can teach me to bless the whole world?"

Except for the priest's own voice echoing, no one answered.

He looked at the wall, his eyes seemed to be looking through the heavy stone wall to the west.

King's Landing, Joffrey woke up from the Red Castle and looked out the window