Chapter 152: Troops from the Vale

Tyrion Lannister's expression turned to one of great alarm; he threw the wine cup in his hand and drew his custom-made small sword from his waist.

But it was too late; Meryn Trant of the Kingsguard had walked in at some unknown moment, and with a single strike of his sword hilt, he knocked Tyrion Lannister to the ground.

"No." Tyrion Lannister ignored his bleeding head, "I... I got Lyle for you."

With a heavy blow to his head, he could no longer stand, and he could not even speak clearly.

Cersei looked at him with disgust, stretching her neck as she cursed: "If not for your rotten ideas, how would my son have died at the hands of the Sand Snakes?"

Sending Tommen away secretly during the time at Duskendale was truly a last resort. Even if Cersei and Tyrion Lannister fell into the hands of Stannis, they might have lived for a time, but Tommen could not.

Anyone else would have handled it with a similar line of reasoning, but the furious Cersei still recorded the debt against her brother, Tyrion Lannister.

Language seems to have a special magic; words spoken aloud can strengthen the emotions in one's mind.

Cersei's hatred for Tyrion Lannister reached a new climax: "Secretly bring him into the dungeon, and once my uncle has left King's Landing, execute him immediately. Tell the outside world it was an assassin left behind by Stannis."

Because of Kevan, Cersei did not yet dare to order her brother's death on the spot, but her uncle would be departing soon, so Tyrion Lannister would only live for a dozen more hours.

After Meryn Trant nodded and saluted, he picked up Tyrion Lannister like a chick and left.

Their father was dead, and Jaime was not there; Cersei could finally do what she wanted without restraint.

……

King's Landing, residence of the Tyrell family.

Garlan stared motionlessly at the map spread out on the table; beside him, Loras sat slumped in a rattan chair.

Margaery Tyrell, the Little Rose, wore a look of resentment, staring fixedly at her two useless brothers.

"Father is still in the hands of the Riverlanders, and you two can't think of a way? And the lions—they won't even let Loras into the Red Keep. What kind of logic is this?"

Since capturing King's Landing, Kevan had assigned all Lannister soldiers to guard the Red Keep and key locations within the city; only three thousand Reachmen were allowed in, and they were tasked with maintaining order in civilian areas like Flea Bottom.

Loras finally made up his mind: "Since Cersei and the King don't need my protection anyway, I might as well go to Harrenhal and trade for Father."

Although he had already taken his vows, Cersei still refused to let him protect the King closely, citing that Tommen had been frightened and could not see strangers for the time being.

"Calm down. Grandmother is already on the road and will arrive in King's Landing soon; we can make plans then." Garlan comforted his younger brother and sister.

Ten days ago, after news of Mace Tyrell being captured spread, Highgarden sent word that Olenna was already heading north.

"Then what about Father?" Margaery asked her brother with wide, beautiful eyes, "Are we just going to ignore him?"

Garlan pointed out the locations of King's Landing and Harrenhal on the map to his sister.

"Although most of the servants are gone, we still have forty thousand warriors in our hands, the lions have less than ten thousand, and the Dragonrider barely has fifteen thousand. Whoever we support is the true King; do you understand this principle?"

Margaery shot a glance at her second brother: "Speak plainly. Don't tell me you want to wipe out the lions in the Red Keep and then present them to the Dragonrider?"

The Reachmen had already paid the price of tens of thousands of lives for Tommen, Cersei, and the others; if they were to install a new King now, many minor lords would likely have grievances.

"No, I mean that the lions need our support even more now."

Whichever side the Reachmen leaned toward would possess strength exceeding that of the other Kings.

Therefore, if Queen Regent Cersei had even a little bit of brains, she should show more sincerity to win over her strongest ally.

"But what about Father? Can't you send someone powerful to rescue him? Like Tarly, or the counts of the Fossoway, Merryweather, or Hewett families?"

Garlan shook his head: "Except for Randyll Tarly, the people you mentioned, sister, are all incompetent fools who only know how to show off at tourneys and masquerade balls. No matter how many troops they take, they'll just be delivering them to the Dragonrider. And since we've deeply offended Randyll, we shouldn't count on him to help us wholeheartedly."

As long as the main force of the Reach remained, Mace Tyrell would be an honored guest wherever he was, so Garlan was not particularly worried about his father.

"I have a decent relationship with Arthur; I'll go to Harrenhal myself to see if I can negotiate terms. After all, Father is a lord of the realm and Warden of the South; it doesn't look good to just leave him like this..."

Garlan looked at his brother, who never took anything seriously: "Wait until I ask Cersei. The lions are in trade with The Vale; perhaps they can help a little."

All three were dissatisfied with the current situation, but they could neither break ties with the Lannisters nor cooperate well with Cersei, so they could only make do and wait for their grandmother, the Queen of Thorns, to arrive and take charge.

……

The Riverlands, a village on the east side of the Gods Eye.

Feeling miserable all over, Sandor Clegane slowly squinted his eyes open; the itching from his wounds and head felt like ants crawling, making him want to scratch them fiercely.

This was a small wooden hut, the smell of herbs permeating the room, and a Septon in brown robes was busy with something.

"Give me some wine, any wine will do, wine is best."

Septon Meribald, who had a rough face, turned his head, looked at the wounded man he had saved, and said: "Child, your body is still recovering; don't drink wine now. I'll get you some water; if you think it's tasteless, I'll mix in some alfalfa juice."

He was a devout Septon; for forty years, he had wandered throughout the Riverlands, presiding over weddings for the common folk and listening to their confessions.

"Alfalfa? That's for plow horses; even warhorses don't eat that stuff. Others call me The Hound, and I'm sure you know the consequences of not giving me wine."

Sandor Clegane sat up with great effort, staring at the old Septon with a pained expression.

"I have heard of you, Sandor, a soul suffering and tormented, a sinner who mocks the gods and mocks others. Since the Seven have given you a new life, forget the Hound of the past and live on with the name Sandor."

The Hound's fame was slightly less than that of his brother, The Mountain, but the well-traveled old Septon had heard a thing or two.

"Loyalty, fighting, and drinking are what I should be doing; don't think you can use some bullshit Seven to bind me. My horse, Stranger, is named after a god," said Sandor.

Septon Meribald shook his head, poured the prepared water mixed with alfalfa juice into a wooden cup, and walked over to hand it to Sandor.

"You serve loyally but feel no pride from it; you fight hard but find no joy in victory; you drink wine like water, but wine only dulls your conscience and brings you nothing more. What is the meaning of what you do?"

Sandor glanced at the old Septon and drank the strange water.

"What I do is for the day I can kill my brother, Gregor Clegane. You're right, I have no meaning to live for anymore, so I can only use cheap ale to drown my fire of revenge."

The situation over the past few months had been so strange and turbulent that Sandor felt his brother's death had happened many years ago.

Before, there was Arya who could make him feel a glimmer of a reason to live, but now, that was entirely gone.

Killing his own brother was such a terrifying thought, yet Sandor said it very naturally.

The old Septon was also stirred by this shocking statement, but he did not show it.

"The world is murky, and you don't need to be pure, because you don't care. But for the sake of me saving your life, can you help me build a small Sept? Your strength is greater than all the farmers, and your height far exceeds theirs."

Sandor finished the water and remained silent.

At this moment, an old dog slowly ran in, wagging its tail at Meribald's feet.

Sandor looked at the dog, reached out to let it come over, and then scratched the dog's ears.

"Fine, I'll build you a Sept, and you provide me with meals."

He didn't know what else to do in the future either, so he agreed.

Septon Meribald nodded with satisfaction and turned back to continue the work at hand.

Outside Harrenhal.

Under the illumination of several torches, Arthur finally saw clearly the forest witch who was called a "ghost."

Aside from her excessively short stature, she was basically a standard old woman: aged, hunched, with pale, wrinkled skin, and she needed a black cane to stand steady.

"Greetings, old woman from High Heart," the Riverlands King greeted first.

If the records were correct, the old woman before him was the only "person" to survive the tragedy of Summerhall.

Whether she was a "person" was hard to say; it was highly probable that she was a Children of the Forest who had infiltrated human society.

"Greetings to you too, handsome King." Although the witch leaned on a cane, her legs were still quite nimble.

Seeing a group of soldiers walking over, she hurriedly hid under a tree, but seeing that the newcomers had no ill intent, she crawled back out.

"It is like this: your presence makes the farmers of Harrentown very uneasy, so I would like to ask you to return to High Heart. I can have someone send you enough food."

The witch did not respond, but instead asked about something else.

"I heard you intend to send this Heart Tree to the Isle of Faces and transplant it again?"

Arthur admitted it quite readily, "Yes, because of the curse of Harrenhal..."

He recounted the cause and effect.

"You and that half-baked Maester have it wrong; the curse only takes effect because of the vengeful spirits who shed blood, so just chanting scriptures for them will suffice. The Old Gods are gods of nature, how could they have this kind of Blood Witch power? And it has nothing to do with the First King either; his curse only works at the Great Barrow, and it's useless once you leave that hillside," the old witch pointed out the error directly.

Arthur gave a sheepish smile, "I know nothing about magic, and Qyburn only has heard of it, so... in that case, should the tree be planted back?"

Judging by the fact that the Three-Eyed Crow's physical body was trapped north of the Wall, the power of the Old Gods was already very weak, and the Weirwood could not be cut down just anywhere.

"No need. The Old Gods are stirring, leaving me unable to sleep in peace. I dreamt of a tree sinking into a great lake, and because of this, others discovered four dragons. I dreamt of a black-eyed king landing on the Isle of Faces and finding a black sword. I dreamt of..."

As the old witch spoke, she walked over to the vicinity of the face pattern on the Weirwood.

Arthur and the soldiers followed, and because they couldn't see clearly, the Riverlands King took a torch and stepped forward.

The old witch was still muttering.

"I dreamt of the black-eyed king marrying a red-haired she-wolf, and the two of them gave birth to nine children, I dreamt of..."

Just then, a black shadow suddenly darted out from the torch in Arthur's hand, drifted onto the old witch's face with a speed too fast to react to, and then vanished.

A black shadow?

Arthur knew it was bad; this was the very thing Stannis used to assassinate Renly.

So he hurriedly retreated while ordering the soldiers to surround and protect him.

But the old witch, possessed by the black shadow, moved even faster, pouncing on Arthur's neck like a monkey and then strangling him with all her might.

Arthur used all his strength, but still couldn't pull the old witch's hands away.

Nearby soldiers also swarmed up to help their king, but to no avail.

In desperation, Arthur whispered a call for his big treasure, Alduin.

It might have only been two or three minutes, but in the eyes of the Riverlands King, the entire world stopped for years; all sounds and sensations seemed to be stripped away, and he felt as if he were leaving his own body.

Finally, Alduin, flapping his great wings, flew to his master's side, opened his maw, and spat; a stream of Dragonfire landed precisely on the old witch's head.

Nearby soldiers scattered to avoid it.

Fortunately, Alduin still knew not to harm his master, so Arthur, whose senses were gradually returning, only felt a scorching heat.

The old witch's hands gradually lost their strength, and the Riverlands King easily threw her to the ground.

Alduin, however, was relentless; he opened his maw and spat with full force, burning the old witch directly into charcoal.

Arthur, slumped on the ground, took deep breaths and carefully recalled what had just happened.

After the black shadow possessed the old witch, her pupils had turned purely black, looking extremely terrifying.

This must have been done by Stannis using the Shadow Magic of the Lord of Light, Lohra.

Judging by the fact that the Red Witch Melisandre could use Shadow Magic, it was very likely that the Lord of Light was also the god of shadows.

Before this, the forest witch should have had no ill intent, and what she said and her prophecies also had their merits.

According to her prophecy, the black-eyed king would discover a black sword on the Isle of Faces.

And among the known kings, only Arthur had black eyes.

The reference of the black sword was unclear, but it likely had special significance, such as a missing Valyrian Steel Sword.

After recovering for a while, Arthur stood up and, surrounded by Alduin and the soldiers, returned to Harrenhal.

That night, upon hearing that the Riverlands King had been subjected to an inexplicable attack, Sansa and Arianne both rushed to his room to offer their condolences.

Although the two women didn't interact much, they still sensed the threat from the other, so they each vied to take care of Arthur, which kept him from sleeping well in the middle of the night.

It wasn't until he used the excuse of needing rest for the upcoming war that he dismissed the two women.

After waking up the next day, a very bad piece of news awaited the Riverlands King.

The Vale had already dispatched an advance force out of the Bloody Gate and begun clearing out the Mountain Clans near the High Road.

It was said that several great lords of the Vale were gathering troops, preparing to answer King Tommen's call to quell the "rebellion" in the Riverlands.

(End of chapter)