Eagle of the Valley of Ice and Fire

"Silence!"

The cavalry of the valley shouted weakly, turning their heads and looking around. The lances in their hands lost their deterrent effect, and the sharp and brand-new blades were temporarily reduced to flashy and useless decorations, just like the fragile lances specially made for the tournament.

"The men of the vulture leader," the river knight next to David Destin said sarcastically, "are they all a group of riding babies playing with swords, by the seven gods."

Baron Destin took out a ball of rope from his leather case, "a rope with a hook, and the surface is mixed with spikes," he handed it to the knight who was close to him, "enough for these bastards in the valley."

"A dagger is enough," another companion grinned slightly, "aim at the horse's neck, splash, I look forward to seeing a pool of blood gushing out, like the turbulent water of the Green Fork River."

"Knights who have lost their territory, you can become a bard and live freely," Baron Destin said solemnly He said in a low voice, opening his arms and hugging several of his most trusted knights together, "But now," he whispered, "We don't know what kind of opportunity Sir Theodore is waiting for. According to the plan, we need to create opportunities for him."

Baron Destin exerted a little force on his palm, and several people lowered their heads and leaned together, "We originally had everything, all legal rights," his voice was like chewing a blade, hoarse but sounded vicissitudes, "Our castle, our people, mills! Farmland! Fishing village! Now these have nothing to do with us."

"Kill them." A knight cursed in a low voice.

"Flay their flesh alive and send them to the river to feed the fish." Another knight pursed his lips, his cheeks trembling slightly.

"Don't be stupid," Baron Destin knocked on their heads and reminded, "Act according to the plan."

Everyone nodded and got into the crowd.

Theodore was lying in the dungeon, the stonemason's miserable wailing had disappeared, and when he opened his eyes, the blood and flesh of the boy servant had been cleaned up.

Evan Arryn sat cross-legged on the haystack on the opposite wall, tilting the exquisite wine glass. The deep red wine poured from the pot into the wine glass. In Theodore's eyes, it seemed like the blood of the boy and the stonemason.

"I curse you," Theodore spat out blood foam, "accomplice of the pagans, running dog."

"It's not as bad as the sin of you, a sloppy assassin," Evan tasted the wine and blinked his lips, "The wine of the Hundred Hearths Hall Banquet has finally said goodbye to the sour wine of your riverlands. The wine of Dorne is still better."

Theodore's eyes were red and swollen, and the sticky blood scabs blocked his vision, so that his eyes were a little blurry and he couldn't see Evan's face clearly.

His mind was full of the scene of himself entering the blacksmith shop and being pushed to the ground by a group of stonemasons, carpenters and blacksmiths. A boy wearing a horn mask rushed to him first, pressing his arm like a heavy rock.

Then he was tied up with ropes and waited for the Vale soldiers to come and identify him and take him into custody.

"I don't understand," Theodore tried to open his eyes and try to see the interrogator's face clearly, "I don't understand why I was discovered."

"The list of Harrenhal is not a joke. It can be decided by a few words," Evan Arryn took a sip of wine and said to Theodore, "It is a luxury to find out the cause of death before death, just like planting ice roses on the Wall in Dorne."

Most of the craftsmen who entered Harrenhal to work were masters and apprentices or fellow villagers, and the towns scattered across the river and the convenient shipping on the Trident River gave these craftsmen the opportunity to gather and contact, so their origins were very clear.

After the Vale took over Harrenhal and issued a recruitment order, the origin information of these craftsmen was recorded in the list for easy management, and strictly controlled the entry and exit of Harrenhal.

As people poured in, in order to lure the enemy into the trap, Evan Arryn specifically asked the Duke to loosen the city defense and expose loopholes, and arranged special people to watch in the blacksmith shop and stable.

Strange faces, late at night, these are the key information that Evan Arryn gave to his subordinates, and Theodore's capture is just a matter of course.

He lowered his voice and stood the wine glass upright in front of Theodore, "Where is the High Sparrow, why do you want to go against the valley."

Theodore was slightly stunned, looking at Evan Arryn in disbelief, "My men will not betray me."

"It seems that compared to loyalty, the old and young couple value each other's lives more," Evan Arryn stood up, "The Seven Gods warn the world to care for each other in the same journey. They are devout believers, choose the right loyalty, and die for what they deserve."

Theodore leaned against the wall in silence, closed his eyes, and didn't want to pay attention to Evan Arryn anymore.

"Before an eagle hunts, it will first let its prey accept the fear of hanging high in the sky," Evan Arryn took back the bottle and stood up, "God bless you and your men to overcome the difficulties."

Theodore's lips were tightly pressed together, and his eyes never opened.

"Back off!" The valley cavalry panicked and hit the civilians' backs with their lances, "Go west, there is a large wilderness there, don't rush to the stands!"

"Oh!~" The exclamation came from the audience's stands again.

"Sir Robert Royce goes to the battle!" The referee's voice could still be heard faintly, but it was completely covered by the voices of the audience at this time.

The knight was pulled up from the ground by the squire in embarrassment, "I must have lost a leg!" He didn't seem to care about his face and complained loudly.

"Which leg? The left, right or the middle one?" Someone in the audience soon laughed loudly.

"If the knight loses the middle leg, what will happen to the little lover in the castle!"

"Sleeping in the cursed cellar of Harrenhal! Hehe! Hehe!"

Sneers and frivolous taunts came from all directions. The knight pushed his squire away angrily and fled to the field without turning his head.

"I said retreat, damn it!" The cavalry of the valley put the long spear that was in the way on the back of the saddle. The blue ribbon tied to the head of the spear was pulled away at some point. He drew his sword, "Everyone behind me, give it to me."

The horse under his crotch suddenly let out a long neigh, and the cavalry saw the blood gushing from the horse in an instant. The horse raised its front hooves, whimpered twice and fell to the ground. The valley soldier felt that the scene in his sight was suddenly turned upside down, and when he came to his senses, he had already fallen heavily to the ground.

"Attack! Someone is attacking!"

"The knight fell from his horse and died!"

The valley cavalry stretched his neck to look, and frequently hit the crowd blocking the road with his long spear, "Get out of the way! Let me go and see!"

A rope suddenly jumped out from the crowd and hit the cavalry's neck like an arrow from a string.

"Damn it!" When he was about to reach out to pull it, the rope suddenly loosened. When he turned his head to look again, one end of the rope was in the hands of a civilian with a confused face in the crowd.

He thrust his long spear forward, and a bloody hole suddenly appeared in the civilian's chest. He collapsed to the ground without even a scream, and there was no sound.

"Dead man!"

The same thing seemed to happen everywhere in the crowd, screaming continuously, and the crowd was at a loss and was swept away by this fear of the unknown, rushing around.

The valley cavalry was pushed by the out-of-control crowd, and was even pulled off the warhorse and trampled under the feet of the crowded crowd.

The sound of the long sword being unsheathed was also forced out, followed by unreasonable shouting, senseless beatings, and then the sword cutting flesh and blood, and the crowd was covered with blood.

A large number of people fled around the high platform, and some even rushed towards the castle gate.

"Master Attis!"

Ange and the blue-robed guards quickly came and surrounded the duke and the nobles.

"There is a mob riot, and many cavalrymen died in their attack. It's not good to stay here. Go back to the castle immediately." Ange said to Attis hurriedly.

Before Attis responded, a piercing scream interrupted his thoughts. 、

"The devil is in the crowd!" This is a sharp female voice, which penetrates the crowd and the audience's high platform and points directly to Attis.

"The red demon hides in the cursed castle!" A strong voice emerged around the crowd, "The curse of Harrenhal, the devil attacks innocent civilians and innocent believers of the Seven Gods!"

"Attis Arryn and his valley people came here, and the evil god named 'R'hllor' from the East Continent was conceived in the womb of the red-robed witch!"

The long sentence was obviously not as effective as the shouting behind it.

"Cursed City!"

The voices of people were like waves, and like hidden arrows in the crowd.

"The accomplice of the red god!"

The sharp female voice appeared again.

The crowd was swept forward, some sang hymns and prayed for liberation, some cursed and had ugly faces, and more followed the crowd and were swept forward but their faces were blank.

"Duke?" Ange and the blue-robed guards looked at the crowd vigilantly and asked tentatively.

Attis remained silent, sitting and watching the crowd surging like the dark waves of the deep sea.

"The incestuous bastard of King's Landing!"

"The black-haired king! The blonde princess!"

The short message removed a lot of unnecessary information in the middle, and expressed the most controversial side through the slogans that suddenly popped up in the crowd.

Sneers and indignation immediately appeared in the crowd, and some even followed the trend and shouted "The princess born of incest"

"The bastard is with the pagan!"

"The seven gods will not allow it!"

The indignation was quickly mobilized, the excited sparrows, the emotional crowd, and the monks and nuns who led the voice but disappeared.

In just a few moments, the crowd approached the high platform, and Attis sat on the platform, shaking the wine glass in his hand.

He not only heard the dirty words that provoked the blue-robed guards around him, but also heard the superstition of the common people in the riverland, the hidden dangers of their life experience, and the religious fanaticism.

Attis stood up and looked at the crowded crowd. Most of these people must be civilians who were provoked by a few words. They are the foundation of the valley to appease the riverland.

He narrowed his eyes. This group of believers who claimed to believe in the Seven Gods deliberately chose to stir up the right and wrong among the civilians who came here for entertainment, using the people of the Riverlands as a shield, and also covered with a mysterious veil of the will of the Seven Gods.

Those who want to play the cyvasse chess table are not good people. When Attis guessed that the Riverlands Knights were colluding with the civil organizations of the Seven Gods, he put the people behind the scenes on the chess table. Although he was cautious, he still did not expect such a strategy.

He had never seen the priests of the Seven Gods preaching. At least the church in Seagull Town, as the center of the Seven Gods belief in the valley, although it has a high status in the territory of the Seven Gods belief, seems to be restricted by the strong religious atmosphere in the valley, and rarely takes the initiative to preach the will.

Moreover, most places in the valley are threatened by the high mountain tribes of the Mingyue Mountains, and the Seagull Town Church rarely takes the initiative to send monks to the countryside to preach.

And this time, he saw the power of a powerful missionary.

"Master, should we capture or annihilate?" Ange asked straightforwardly, his face flushed red under the half-helmet.

This is a question, Atis asked himself in his heart, he held the hilt of the sword and looked at the surging civilians with scrutiny.

"Bastard Princess! Heretic Arlin!"

The swarm of civilians almost knocked down the high platform that the craftsmen had worked so hard to build. The "creak" sound of broken wood came from the high platform.

Attis frowned and slightly drew his sword.

Suddenly, when Attis was about to swing his sword, the high-pitched voice of the Steward of Harrenhal miraculously drowned out the noisy crowd.

"Princess of the Iron Throne!" The word princess quickly attracted the attention of the common people. "The fiancée of Lord Attis Arryn, Princess Myrcella Baratheon!"

Myrcella slowly walked up the steps of the high platform with her legs weak.

Sir Jaime's words were still in his ears, "It's too dangerous there. There's no need for you to take risks. Attis Arryn can handle it himself."

"The duke ends the conflict with sword and strife," Myrcella responded, "the princess resolves the conflict with motherly ceremony and words."

She stood on the high platform and walked to Attis Arryn's side. Her long curly hair was as black as deep iron.

"I am Myrcella Baratheon, the daughter of King Robert and the sister of King Joffrey," Myrcella said loudly to the crowd. Her black hair successfully silenced the murmurs. She turned to look at Attis, "also the Duke's fiancée."

Myrcella swallowed her throat, but the crowd in front of her still made it difficult for her to breathe. "If the deception spreads, the kingdom will only fall into the chaos caused by traitors and clowns," she shouted at the top of her voice, "Think about Sancha The tragedy of the Halberd River is that the betrayal of the North and Riverrun has left you with no farming, no fishing, and no way for you to sing, dance, or knit freely!"

"And my betrothed," Myrcella continued to shout, "the Warden of the East in Westeros, the Warden of the Trident, is going to spend a lot of money to hold a grand party to comfort Harrenhal, a city plagued by lies and superstition. The wounds of your war! This is the duty he has been given by the king. He is the Eagle of the Valley, and you have heard of his name in the tournament! He is invincible, and the arrogant Young Wolf Lord was defeated by the Eagle!"

"My white knight will not allow me to be framed and slandered," Myrcella said. The excitement of the crowd had long since disappeared, and the chattering monks and nuns did not dare to say anything, because speaking out at this time meant that their identity was confirmed. , "But I won't let him draw the sword," Myrcella's voice turned soft, "You have suffered enough, why not continue the competition?"

"Bad breed!"

Sparrow stood out from the crowd and said, "You are a scoundrel!"

"She is a black-haired princess!" Someone immediately retorted.

"Black-haired princess!" The short slogan became this again.

Attis waved his hand gently, and the blue-robed bodyguard stepped forward angrily, hit the sparrow's joints hard with the scabbard, and dragged him over.

"In the name of myself, the Princess of the Iron Throne, and the betrothed lady of the Vale and the Riverlands, I declare that the contest will continue!" Myrcella waved her arms and announced loudly.

The audience cheered again.

"Black-haired princess! Black-haired princess! Black-haired princess!"

I don’t know whether someone composed an improvised music or the crowd in front of her turned into a minstrel. The words Myrcella heard in her ears seemed to have a rhythm, and they were sung along with the melody.

"The contest continues!~" the referee shouted loudly.

Just when Myrcella was savoring her joy, she was held behind by a hand.

Attis leaned close to her ear, "If a hidden arrow had just hit you, such a wonderful speech would have disappeared silently, my princess and my fiancée."

"I'm not afraid," Myrcella's lips slightly raised when she heard the word "ma'am", "because I know there will be a shield in front of me."

Myrcella looked at Attis and smiled again.

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