Eagle of the Valley of Ice and Fire

Fishing boats shuttled between the Red Fork River, and the harpoon "plopped" into the water. The smell of blood mixed with fish rushed into Hall Hewen's nostrils. He had long been accustomed to these smells and didn't care at all. He just looked at the trout struggling on the harpoon with joy. The round eyes were wide open, and the desire to survive that every creature has prompted it to twist its body constantly, trying to escape the harpoon.

The round-framed wooden basket is the final destination of the trout. Hall looked at the trout with satisfaction, which was left with only a little life in the wooden basket, and whistled proudly. It seemed that today was another big harvest.

When he was still very young, he was lucky enough to attend a banquet of the nobles in his own territory. At that time, he was hung in the wooden frame for fish by his mother, and he looked curiously at the luxurious things around him.

The crowds coming and going were not as numerous as the endless stream of people he saw in the town, but they seemed to be more hurried than the people in the town. There were no playmates playing in the water, no girls quietly watching her father fishing, and no children from the next door neighbors showing off their skills of floating stones on the water.

But there were kitchen chefs covered in flour, and cooks carrying plates walking around the banquet hall, secretly looking at their noble daughters. Hall only felt that her curious eyes looked stupid. Hadn't they seen the son of a fisherman?

"Illegitimate child? He Wen?" The words of the noble daughter were extremely harsh.

Hall certainly understood the meaning of these words. He had no father. But his mother always told him that he was the son of the nobles of the territory, but he was not born legally.

His mother often put on makeup and went out at night and came back at dawn. During the day, he asked the fishing master in the town to teach him how to aim the harpoon at the water surface when he was a child, and how to hit the cunning fish swimming in the river with one shot.

"Fish are cunning, you have to be more cunning than them." The fishing master said.

Hall Riverman was very good at fishing. He quickly mastered all the skills of fishing. From then on, the fishing master never took Hall to row a boat on the Red Fork River to catch fish. Instead, he spent half of his family property to buy Hall a fishing outfit, a small boat, a harpoon, and a fishing net.

The fishing master would always stare at his mother for a long time when he saw her, and then touch Hall's head with a smile, "Your mother has had a hard time."

Hall always nodded ignorantly. He probably guessed that the master who had been teaching him how to fish had a feeling for his mother that was not as simple as it seemed.

Hall collected the fishing net that had been spilled into the river, and the live fish jumped on the fishing net. "A big harvest!" Hall shouted loudly to the water. Today's weather was much colder than yesterday. His mother did not plan to go to her work place at night, but chose to stay at home to rest. "Hall," the mother seemed to be weak in bed, "Let's go fishing. It's good to have some fish tonight."

Hall agreed. He was very happy that his mother could accompany him when night fell, so he rowed the boat as far as possible, even close to the fishing spot of another village. This was considered a taboo for the fishing village. The fishing spots divided by the villages and towns along the Red Fork River were all arranged in a prescribed manner, although not strictly.

Hall followed these regulations and rowed the boat to the depths of the river. There were many big fish there, but it seemed that each village tacitly did not go fishing, leaving a certain amount of space for each village.

"Huh~!" Hall sighed and prepared to go back.

Butterflies were flying on the treetops in the distance. Hall had never seen such a unique flower growing on such a tall tree. It was so bright red that it seemed to be dripping. The fawn suddenly jumped out of the bushes. Hall had seen this elf-like creature from afar with the hunters in the town. He did not continue to follow the hunters because he knew very well how the hunters would deal with the fawn, which made him unbearable to watch.

For some reason, when he saw the fish being stabbed by the harpoon, he had no waves in his heart at first, but he could not bear to see these creatures jumping on the land fall into that situation.

Hall watched in fascination, and the boat quietly rowed back from the river.

Four or five arrows cruelly took away his imagination, and the fawn immediately fell into a pool of blood.

Hall was so scared that he squatted down quickly, and a voice came from a distance.

"This fawn ran far enough."

"I chased it along the river here, and met a few hunters who got in the way along the way."

"After burning this village, I can probably go back to eat venison."

"That's a must."

The chatter of three or five people talking came from the shore. When they approached the fawn, Hall saw their appearance clearly.

They wore uniform cloth armor, bows and arrows on their shoulders, and each of them had a steel sword hanging between their hips. Only two of the five wore helmets, speaking a common language in Westeros that was not local. Howl looked at them curiously.

"Look, there's a young man fishing over there." One of them spotted him and waved at him, "Hey! Where do you live? Can you tell us?"

Howl pointed in the direction of the river, "Just follow the river," he shouted curiously, "Are you knights?"

"Haha!" Another foreigner wearing a helmet smiled, "Don't talk nonsense with him, just kill him."

"Seven Gods bless you." Someone shook his head.

"Bless you," the foreigner raised his longbow and pointed it at Howl, "Watch me."

Howl's eyes widened, an arrow came flying, he fell on his back, the arrow pierced the wooden basket, the trout fluttered and fell on his face, and the collected salt water also flowed out.

"Hahahahaha!" This arrow made everyone around laugh, "You should practice." "Children are not living targets, you really have no aim."

"Who says it's not a living target? This kid is quite flexible and doesn't grow too big." The stranger said with a blushing face.

"Don't waste time," said the man in the middle, "kill him."

The five men nocked arrows together and pointed at Hall's boat, with no pity or sympathy in their eyes.

Hall jumped into the river, and the arrow crossed the water, leaving a blood mark on Hall's face. Donated blood gurgled out of Hall's face, and he knew it dyed the river red.

"Let's go, this kid won't survive."

"My lord's team is still ahead, burn that town first."

"Village or town? Are there prostitutes in the town?"

"There are virgins too, don't worry about it, burn them first and then talk about it."

The sound gradually faded away, and Hall suddenly emerged from the water. He gasped for air. He had a premonition that something might happen to his town. He hurriedly climbed onto the boat. Regardless of the trout jumping on the boat, he picked up the oar and rowed hard towards the town. .

The place that was supposed to be noisy was extremely quiet, and the water surface was impossibly calm. Tears flowed from Hall's eyes. He ignored his extremely sore arms and rowed desperately. The water surface gradually became rippled, and a person's face emerged from the water.

Hall's eyes widened. He was the master who taught him how to fish. His face was as pale as a whitened fish. His face was stiff and motionless, like a dead fish floating on the water.

Hall rowed beside him and tried to grab the master by the arm and pull him ashore.

The town was filled with gray smoke, and the sound of the flames was like countless struggling live fish. Hall flew through the town, passing countless dead bodies, playmates who often played by the river, and the leader's house was floating on the water. A good child, a fishing father and a girl who has been bored watching her father fishing, the rope maker in the town, and the old man who settles accounts for the lord.

Finally, in his own home, he saw his mother lying on the bed. Her clothes were messy and the supports of the bed were broken. Hall approached his mother and reached out to touch her. Her mother had already died.

Hall's heart seemed to be spread by the salt water that fed the trout in the wooden basket, and his sadness was like sinking into the red fork water of the river that enveloped him, unable to breathe, unable to breathe

"Hey, this kid is still here." A familiar voice came from the archer on the shore. He was holding up his trousers and placed his sword beside the bed.

Hall stared blankly at the person who made the sound.

"Your mother?" the man said, "very good, she must be a prostitute, right?"

Hall suddenly picked up the long sword that the man left beside the bed, and stabbed the man in the chest.

A choking sound came from the throat of the person who had just spoken. He looked at the underage Hall in disbelief. "You" blood flowed out of his mouth, like a dying fish on a harpoon waiting to be slaughtered.

When he made no sound, Hall let go of his hand and collapsed beside the bed.

The sound of horse hooves came from the window, the blue flag swayed, and a falcon came into Hall's eyes.

"Hisham the Bastard, follow the team!" The man holding the flag shouted loudly, and a person who looked like an attendant quickly followed. The group of gangsters left the town in a mighty manner, leaving only corpses and spreading corpses scattered on the ground. of flame.