Eagle of the Valley of Ice and Fire.

Chapter 267 The trend is gradually gaining momentum
265: The trend is gradually rising

The sky above Harrenhal was covered with haze, and the layers of dark clouds occasionally roared with thunder, and blue lightning was looming. It was hard to imagine that it was the weather in the riverlands. If you stood on the cliff-like tower of Harrenhal and looked out, you would think it was the sky of the narrow sea pointed directly by Cape Wrath.

The Winged Knight held a banner with a crescent falcon high in the wind, and the horse's hooves splashed thick mud with every step, which clung to the horseshoes, and the knight's mail and blue robes were also not immune to the tattered mud on the Kingsroad.

The heavy rain washed over the walls of Harrenhal, and every time the massive gates opened and closed, there was a buzzing sound as the heavy iron hinges creaked.

The Winged Knight rushed through the city gates, "The Green Fork River is flooding, flooding farmland and the knights' private property!"

Countless fireworks lit up the lights in the Hall of a Hundred Hearths, and the cold walls of the halls were baked warm. Artisans and maids came and went, trying their best to repaint the walls and decorate the halls with exquisite ornaments. Treasures, fine wines, and spices from the Free Cities and even further east were continuously shipped to Harrenhal.

"If the Vale army stays at the Trident for too long, the Valley Road will be completely buried by the snow. The homesick knights and levied soldiers will not be able to fight anywhere, Duke," said Yohn Royce. He paused for a moment, but then emphasized, "Of course, I still stick to my original point of view, Artis. Tywin is dead, and King's Landing is under our control. We will never return to the Valley Road unless we take it down as soon as possible!"

"Mrs. Anya hopes that her sons can end this knight's dance and return to Tieyu City to attend the wedding." Harold Hatton whispered behind Artis.

"The new temple built by the monks has also been submerged by the water of the Red Fork River and the Blue Fork River. I can clearly feel the piercing coldness with every breath. The earth should be frozen, but why is there more and more mud in the riverbed and the rivers are flooding?" The Seven Gods Bishop who was sent to the riverbed by Seagull Town said helplessly.

"This strange phenomenon has been reported to the Citadel through ravens. I believe there will be corresponding records. We will get the answer soon."

"Is winter coming soon?"

"Even a Canyon Knight would be like a fish here."

The noise filled the Bailu Hall and continued to echo due to the walls and space.

"Quiet!" Ange noticed the impatience in Attis's expression and stood up and shouted loudly.

The voice spread from the main seat to the iron gate, drowning out all other voices.

The Winged Knight rushed in, half-knelt on the ground, holding an envelope in his hand, "Duke Artis Arryn!"

"What is it?" Harold Hatton asked loudly after looking down.

"The Green Fork River flooded, flooding many knights' estates and castles."

Before the knight could finish his words, there was another commotion in the Hundred Furnaces Hall.

"Another surge?"

"Seven levels of hell, how do we get back to the valley?"

"Those mountain clan barbarians in the valley have started to plunder the village again. There is no discipline at all!"

"Quiet!" cried Anguy and Harold Hatton.

The noisy Hall of a Hundred Furnaces finally quieted down, and everyone's eyes fell on Artis Arryn.

"My lord," the maester of Harrenhal stroked the chain around his neck and bowed slightly to the Duke. "As far as I understand, the Trident should not have risen so wildly at the beginning of winter. I'm afraid the Citadel has no corresponding explanation."

"Perhaps it is the will of the Seven Gods. The people of the valley should return to the canyon and prepare for the winter." The bishop naturally made the statement that a priest should make.

Jon frowned. He was not at all shy about hearing the monk's words. "The most urgent task is to take down King's Landing."

"I'm afraid you shouldn't have spoken of taking King's Landing, my Lord," said Harold Hatton. "Lord Artis Arryn is for the Seven Kingdoms, and the Vale is part of Westeros."

"Perhaps the Six Kingdoms, Ser Harold," the maester said flatteringly. "The Trident and the Vale have become one. I'm afraid the ancient name should be changed to the Kingdom of the Vale and the Trident."

Artis Arryn remained silent. He listened to the sound of rain outside the window and the sound of craftsmen and servants stepping on water as they passed by. If it weren't for the perfect sewer construction in Harrenhal, the huge castle would probably have become a habitat for trout.

A red, familiar yet distant figure appeared at the door of Bailu Hall.

"grown ups!"

The red-robed monk, whose body looked as if covered with asphalt, walked in. Machirro Artis stood up and stared behind him.

There was no sign of the woman in red robe.

"Pardon my rudeness, my Lord," Moqorro said loudly, "but I need to tell you something, something..." He looked at the crowd around him, "something private, about everything on the Isle of Faces."

A raging fire burned wantonly at the top of the towering tower, floating in the mist of the night. It and the bright moon were in the same scene, just like the magic of the orange moon contrasting with the reality of the bright moon.

Baelor Hightower looked up, the smile that was always on his face gone, he pursed his lips, and his brows furrowed from time to time.

The invasion of the Iron Race gave him a headache. Although Oldtown had not yet been actually attacked, anyone with a discerning eye could see Greyjoy's next move. The Iron Fleet defeated the small fleet left behind by the Redwyne family on the Arbor, and had almost unimpeded access in Whispering Bay, threatening Oldtown from time to time.

"Brother," Garth Hightower's voice came from behind him, "Is there still no news about father?"

Baelor took a deep breath and turned around. Even though it was night, Garth still couldn't let go of his knightly duties and his heavy armor was still tied to his body. He walked over and patted Garth's strong shoulders. "Father prayed to the gods to grant him magic to defeat the invaders, but he forgot that he already had the most outstanding knights and warriors in the Seven Kingdoms by his side."

"Not yet." Beile turned his head and looked at the towering tower. At least the beacon on the tower had not turned green yet, which meant that the old man in the old town did not think this was a critical moment.

"Does he have to wait until the sea monster's tentacles wrap around the tower before he can come down from there?!" Garce couldn't help but feel stuffy in his chest. He hesitated for a moment and walked out of the room. "I want to go see my father."

"Father won't let anyone go to the Tower of Heaven," Beile said behind him, "except..."

"Moroya?" Garce turned his head, angrily speaking, "Damn it, it's all his fault that dear Moroya has become like this!"

Baelor ignored Garth's anger and picked up a letter from the table. "I will have the maester pass the letter to King's Landing. Although someone on the Arbor must have sent a raven, just in case we need Redwyne's fleet to return to the Arbor, to Whispering Bay, so that our losses will be minimized."

"Hehe! If those bastard ironborn come ashore to fight us, their heads will be chopped off right here along with the Drowned God!"

Beile looked up melancholy, staring at the orange fire on the towering tower for a long time without blinking.

Morua Hightower leaned on the wall of the towering tower and looked down at the prosperity of the old town.

The night wind blew up her messy hair. Her hair had grown to her heels, like a black waterfall.

"Apokashamiduo," the father's voice came from the other side of the wall, "strange words, I'm afraid even the Valyrians can't read or understand them."

Morua walked in and glanced at the horn hanging on the wall. "The babbling of these sea creatures is not easy to understand, father."

"I know, I understand, I know," the old man said repeatedly. He turned his head to look at his daughter who was coming over and waved, "Come and look at these records with me. Haha, it's really amazing. Great era, great magic."

Morua ignored her father and walked closer to the glass candle, staring at the burning wick.

"Doctors of the Citadel, how many of you are pretending to be stupid?" The crazy woman's voice was like a nightmare humming an unknown tune in the ear, like the hoarse sound of sawdust rubbing against each other mixed with the crisp sound of glass falling into pieces.

The old man ignored his daughter and was still immersed in the thick foreign language book. Even though the pages looked as if they would turn to ashes at any moment, it could not stop the old man's enthusiasm.

Across the Whispering Bay, Euron's eyes were staring at the sea shrouded in thick fog in the distance, he tasted mead in his mouth, smiling but saying nothing.

Under him was Faria Flowers, who was trying hard to please him. She kept moaning and calling Euron's name.

"Daenerys will be my sister, and we will get along well. When your majesty's brother brings her here, she will be your rock wife, and I will be your salt concubine," Faria Flowers said in Euron's ear.

Euron smiled, "My dear brother probably likes the toy I gave him, the dark-skinned woman, and he enjoys it."

He grasped Faria Flowers' shoulders with both hands. "We must hurry. I need a child."

Faria shyly moved closer and wrapped herself in the quilt.

(End of this chapter)