Chapter 190: The Red Priest

When Varys' head was in the fire, it was a common fire-red color plus a touch of wonderful dark blue. When the flames swallowed and decomposed the wood and drilled out from his empty eye sockets, he smelled a strange taste. He defined this taste as the taste of Varys.

A day or two later, that charred stench still lingered on the side, lingered on the body, and could not be dispelled.

This reminded him of the smell of steak grilled by Uncle Gillian with sweet flower juice when he was a child. In the cliché delicate meat fragrance, there was a wonderful feeling that made you want to identify but could never describe.

At the moment, the slave soldiers of the Tiger Cloak Army were also smelly. This kind of stench was particularly easy to distinguish. He was familiar with many kinds of stenches, including vomiting after drinking, the cheap whore left on his chest, the sweat mixed with feces splashed by people during the heavy rain in the Westerlands, and the dissipation when shot in the abdomen by an arrow—however, only the hot sweat of people fermented for a period of time mixed with a faint corpse stench was the kind under his nose at this moment.

He was glad that the red robe gave him a little comfort in this small world filled with stench. He pulled the robe to the position of his nostrils and used the musty smell on it to cover it up slightly, so as to clear the easy mocking smile of Uncle Gillian from his mind.

Is this why you wear perfume, Spider?

He had previously gone to the Tiger Cloak Army with a crazy attempt, and even prepared to meet his uncle after death: Lord Tywin had gone before him and must have said many bad things about him in front of his uncle. He felt that it would take some effort to explain so that he could still be his good nephew after death.

However, the persuasion went more smoothly than he imagined. He did not encounter any real danger, and he was not even the dominant force. He believed that there was a mysterious force stirring people's actions.

When he was wearing a red robe and about to approach the military camp, he was warmly invited into the camp by the soldiers. He remembered the scene at that time.

"Are you a priest of R'hllor?"

"I use the pseudonym Moqorro." Thoros, Benerro, and another "orro" didn't count for anything.

"Did High Priest Benerro instruct you to come here?"

"The long night is dark and full of terrors. I only accept the guidance of the God."

After he answered in broken Valyrian, he was pushed by the enthusiastic soldiers to a high place in the center of the military camp.

"In the name of the True God, please tell us, did the Dragon Queen Daenerys say, 'I am not a slave,' to the True God while pointing to the sky and stepping on the earth, and then she was no longer a slave?"

Hot language, expectant eyes, hot sweat. This was all he saw.

"Bastard, what are you doing?" A slave officer sensed the danger and roared at this soldier under the protection of guards. The whip lashed on the soldier, but the stubborn soldier didn't notice it at all, his eyes staring fixedly at Tyrion. The tiger on his face had the same expression.

Tyrion wanted to laugh up to the sky. He had never been so sure that the Queen would win as at this moment.

"She not only said it, but also wrote it down." He remembered the whip lashing on his red robe, and he almost screamed in pain, "Not only does one not need to point to the sky and step on the earth, but even reciting it silently in one's heart can also free one from slavery..." He didn't finish his words, and another whip interrupted him.

"Stop! Bastard!" The captain said fiercely, "If you speak again, don't blame me for being impolite!"

Tyrion finally laughed out loud. There was no moment in his life when he wanted to laugh more than this moment.

The captain was silently separated by the slave soldiers.

The captain's guards drew their swords.

The slave soldiers drew their swords!

"Hahaha!" He let down his dyed red hair, feeling that he had gone crazy, perhaps really gone crazy. He continued to chant in not-so-familiar Valyrian in an extremely crazy tone, "The Queen has issued a decree: those who offend and deprive others, sin! Those who do more evil, kill them, exterminate their clans, the True God rejects them, and all gods abandon them!"

"Dog thief!" The captain yelled at him, signaling the guards to act quickly.

Perhaps this was his end. He was prepared and no longer resisted willfully. His life would end here, for a height he might never reach in his life.

Father, look, I died fighting for the freedom of slaves! What about you? Haha, you, this Northern Lion, died because you touched your son's woman! How cheap.

He opened his arms and faced the swords of the captain's guards calmly, just as he calmly opened his arms to face Varys' fire and Varys' taste.

He heard the sound of swords entering flesh and the incredible deep breathing before death.

When he opened his eyes again and looked at everything in front of him, the captain and his three guards were already lying in a pool of blood.

The soldiers of the Tiger Cloak Army killed their commander without hesitation in front of him.

He should have felt nervous, but now there was only excitement and rare happiness.

"Justice and evil, we must choose," he felt it necessary to chant in front of the indignant soldiers and other soldiers who might be afraid and worried, "Choose light or darkness," he watched the soldiers with beast face tattoos in front of him relieved from a trace of worry, changing from fierce to expectant, thinking it necessary to say or imply his purpose, "Choose the slave owner or choose the slave liberator, choose the True Dragon or these bitches."

"True Dragon!" they shouted.

Tyrion felt that he was walking too fast, flying too fast. The sound of shouting made him excited, but also made him stomp his feet in worry.

He hurriedly walked to a higher place, pressed his arm, signaling the soldiers not to cheer anymore, and instead, in the center of the military camp, loudly conspired with everyone. It was a crazy act, but with the dead on the side, what else did he have to fear?

So smooth.

They placed the bodies in a tent, discussed the time and method of raising the flag, and quietly waited for the Queen's reply.

He was treated like a god, except for someone trying to touch his head.

Because of this impolite action, he left the first military camp and, under the guidance of a few slave soldiers, went to the second and third—all formed by slaves.

Smooth and smooth. He felt sad for Volantis.

When the slave soldiers thought that continuing to connect the slave soldiers would attract the attention of the Commander-in-Chief and the vigilance of the free officers, he stopped.

Then they sat steadily in the tent together, eating and sleeping together.

In hunger and fatigue, he cursed Mormont who had no news and cursed the slow Dragon Queen.

He felt that the slave soldiers could not bear the too long instability and quiet silence, so he led them to chant the inexplicable and non-existent Valyrian Bible and hymns together.

Fabricating was not difficult. What was difficult was saying and singing it in unfamiliar Valyrian:

"I stand and gaze,

The True God is the brilliant hope, the light shining in the deep night, guiding the lost.

R'hllor's gift, illuminating the dark corners,

Warming hearts, dispelling the cold.

I stand and ponder,

The True God is the source of wisdom, the light that enlightens ignorance, illuminating the future.

R'hllor's gift, piercing through the false and monstrous lies.

The sun of hope, unparalleled in the world.

R'hllor is the only True God.

Lost mortals should follow its footsteps to chase,

Dull vulgar people should learn its wisdom to find the way.

R'hllor is the only True God.

Follow the faith of light, it gives you courage, dispelling the vortex of fear,

Follow the ideal of justice, it grants you strength, breaking the heavy noose."

If he knew that one day he would use Valyrian like this, he would definitely study hard. But in the end, he felt that language could be mastered faster through use.

Chanting poems and preaching.

He felt that he was the God of Creation.

At the beginning, he felt strange and embarrassed, but the further he went, the more he felt it was smooth, as if those sacred music and scriptures were there. In the end, he felt that he began to appreciate it, until he was taken away by Mormont.

"Your Valyrian is terrible," Steel Saw said to him.

"Also very funny," Hemp Rope said, "But the singing is okay, better than Moqorro's singing."

"Who is Moqorro?"

"Benerro is the whitest priest in the temple, Moqorro is the blackest in the temple," he mocked with a smile, "And a certain Moqorro is not necessarily the shortest..."

"But definitely the ugliest," Hemp Rope interrupted him.

"But definitely the most magical," Steel Saw gave him a smile.

"Damn, also the one who will make the greatest contribution to the Queen," he laughed out loud, rejoicing in leaving the unbearable environment, rejoicing in escaping death, and fearing the amazing adventure he had done.

"The Commander-in-Chief may attack the slave soldiers who learn to chant poems from you at any time," Mormont said, "Don't think others are fools."

"If he is not a fool, why did we kill his captain and he remained indifferent, or was completely unaware? If he is not a fool, why could he let the military camp receive a red priest into the camp to make trouble and sing? If he is not a fool, haha, why does he dare to lead a group of slave soldiers," he looked at the serious Mormont and laughed, "and a group of mercenaries without any loyalty to attack the beloved Queen?"

This sentence made Mormont silent until the military camp.

That night, he took off his red robe and put on the tattered armor and a piece of leather armor with a strange smell.

A great battle was imminent. He couldn't sleep. He pulled the red robe over his body, as if adding a piece of armor.

A faint musty smell, he smelled. However, the charred stench belonging to Varys appeared again, lingering like a shadow.

What is the smell? he thought. It is called the smell of Varys.

Hemp Rope entered his tent and made a noise while he was in a daze. He woke up immediately, without hesitation, and rolled off the simple bed.

He lifted the tent, a complaint-like dragon roar, he heard.

It was pitch black outside the tent, and only one torch was lit in the center of the camp.

He lay on the ground, his ears stretched toward the ground.

A slight movement, he was not sure if it was the heartbeat of Mormont or the marching sound of the Dragon Queen's army.

"Fuck it, I never knew I had to go to the battlefield too," he inserted the short axe beside him into his waist and said in Valyrian. If he had to go to the battlefield, he had better use an axe to chop other people's legs, not their necks. After all, there were more people wearing armor on their necks than on their legs.

"If you don't go to the battlefield, you can't get money from the mercenary group," Hemp Rope said.

"The Queen will reward me."

"The Queen might also fuck you to death, but I have never seen a woman pay."

"Because you were a slave before," Steel Saw said, "The prostitution fee must be given to the master."

Ser Jorah walked toward him from the darkness, tapped him lightly with the scabbard, signaling to mount the horse at the camp entrance and prepare to act at any time.

In the darkness, he groped for the stirrup and carefully mounted his bad-tempered inferior horse, almost being shaken off, which made the Chief Quartermaster Tribek and Chief Financial Officer Ptolemy beside him laugh mockingly.

"This is a strange horse," he said to the two people, "Generally speaking, in order not to be eliminated, an inferior horse should learn humility and submission, and only those good horses that really have strength are qualified to lose their temper. This one is different, not only is its personality bad, but its strength is also poor..."

"What kind of person matches what kind of horse," Tribek said mockingly, "Aren't you the half-man with a bad temper?"

"That's not necessarily true," Tyrion was strange, did he offend this person? "For example, the horse under your butt is much more polite than you. At least it knows how to respect."

He rode the inferior horse, bypassed the annoying person, blocked his voice, and then squeezed through dozens of cavalry, came to the other side of the camp entrance, and waited in silence for the bonfire to light up.

Waiting, he watched the moonlight tilt down, until the bonfire quietly ignited from the military camp.

"Red Priest Moqorro, fighting is not your business. Don't run too fast or rush too deep later."

"Our fees do not include raiding the camp."

"Damn, my task is to make the fire bigger."

As soon as his words were finished, the bonfire in the military camp in the distance seemed to have burned all the tent canvas, covering the entire camp.

"Your task is completed," Steel Saw said.

"Warriors of the Picnic Company, light the torches," Jorah Mormont shouted, "Raise our big flag!"

"Blood and Fire!"

The black-red flag of the three-headed dragon and the unknown crow-dismembering flag flew in the wind under the orange light. The cavalry of the Picnic Company galloped at full speed under the leadership of the flag.

Tyrion put on the red robe and followed behind.

The camp of 20,000 people was divided into several pieces, and as a whole, it was boundless. One branch of the uprising was like a corner of a huge black cloth burning.

Shouts of killing sounded in other directions, and torches were lit.

The shouts of killing were endless. The caltrops simply set up in the camp were moved clean by the uprising Tiger Cloak Army. The cavalry poured into the front camp instantly, hacking and killing unscrupulously, throwing the torches in their hands at one tent after another.

Tyrion stood on a high ground, touching the axe at his waist, observing the chaotic battlefield in the dimness.

Daylight was about to come, which was an opportunity and also a difficulty.

The Windblown held the entrance to the main camp of the rear camp for the Tiger Cloak Army, and the Sun Company held the camp gate with the retreating chaotic army.

The terrifying horn was blown in the main camp of the Tiger Cloak Army. After the horn sound, there was a uniform roar from the main camp of the Tiger Cloak Army.

Terrible.

He wanted to continue observing, but in the dim light of the early morning, the chaotic battlefield made him unable to see clearly.

"Let's get closer, to that high ground."

"Isn't it good for you to wait for the battle to end here?" Hemp Rope resisted, "You have already caused the Tiger Cloak Army to have internal strife and appear in great chaos, enough for you to collect gold. The rest has nothing to do with you!"

"I still want to see what's going on." He patted the horse and galloped toward the high ground.

The front camp had been destroyed, but the rear camp, which belonged to the core, had now placed caltrops in turn. The Tiger Cloak Army had already arranged into a tight formation, harvesting every brave fighter who dared to fight forward.

The Windblown was trapped on the half-hill beside it, relying on a stream, tightly confronting the Queen's infantry phalanx.

The arrow rain of both sides was like a forest, harvesting the soldiers who took risks in the front.

The sun completely left the sea surface at this time and stepped on the cliff. The morning light was as red as the sunset, stinging his eyes. Tyrion reached out to cover it. When he put his hand down again, the main camp of the Tiger Cloak Army had split in half, and a large group of cavalry roared toward the Queen's left-wing attacking army.

He didn't know what team that belonged to, but it was definitely not the Unsullied.

Where the cavalry passed, the Queen's left wing collapsed instantly.

The collapsed soldiers fled backward, and the pursuing cavalry rushed left and right, driving the fleeing soldiers into the Queen's military formation.

"Woo..." The battle horn sounded. The Unsullied in the center of the Queen's camp were divided into three columns and moved forward step by step, spears like a forest, as if fast and slow.

"Red Priest, we should go," Hemp Cloth shouted, "Those scattered cavalry will treat us as enemies!"

"I didn't fly the Queen's flag!"

"Go quickly!" Steel Saw turned the horse's head and pulled his horse by the way, "They are coming to kill us."

Dozens of scattered cavalry discovered them and came toward the small hill where they were.

"Fuck it!" Tyrion cursed, "I'm just a priest!"

He really wanted to continue watching the performance of the Unsullied: spear thrusts, the whole team was uniform, as if one person was waving, it was beautiful. No matter if it was friendly routed soldiers or out-of-control war horses that broke into the military formation, what they met was their dense and uniform forest of spears.

The Queen lacked anti-cavalry, Tyrion realized.

The 200 cavalry of the Picnic Company were enough to break through the front camp with the help of the uprising soldiers, but they couldn't rush into the main camp of the rear camp in time, and that was the focus and anchor of the commander's defense.

If such a fierce battle was formed, even with the help of the Unsullied, the Queen could only get a draw.

And the Queen could only win, absolutely not accept other results.

The cavalry chased fiercely from behind, and Moqorro and the two guards fled frantically in front.

The posture and speed of the inferior horse made Tyrion uncomfortable. He felt that he would soon be knocked off the horse by the pursuers.

"Hey, didn't you see my red robe?" The wind poured in, blowing his voice away, and no one could understand.

Tyrion reached out and touched his waist. If his flying axe was powerful enough, he could hit someone.

It was a pity that he only brought one axe, and there were more than a dozen living heads waiting to be chopped behind.

"Ang..." At this time, he heard a loud dragon roar.

He felt the horse's hooves soften.

A huge shadow swept across the ground.

"Ang..." This was the sound of the dragon's anger, he realized.

He turned his head, and a giant dragon swept over his head.

The inferior horse's legs softened again, and he flew to the ground.

Thanks to the great juggler. When falling off the horse, he was able to land with his legs. Even so, he was thrown into a mess at high speed.

"Boom..." It was the sound of war horses falling again.

The smoke and dust attacked him, and the pursuing cavalry happened to fall in front of him.

Tyrion raised his axe and swiped across the neck of the pursuer.

Two guards, at this time, turned their war horses and rushed toward the pursuers in reverse.

He didn't look at Hemp Rope and Steel Saw. The distance was the real beautiful scenery.

The giant dragon spewed orange flames the color of sunlight, exploding along the route it flew. The fire was attacking.

The dragon was participating in the battle. ===== CHAPTER 191 =====