Eagle of the Valley of Ice and Fire.

Chapter 272 Legal Status
Chapter 270: Legal Status

The knight took off his armor, carefully wrapped it with cloth, aimed at the gap and inserted the family heirloom sword.

"Damn it," he muttered, raising his hand to lift his wet hair and looking outside the round hole of the castle. The water of the Green Fork River was tirelessly biting his land, and the newly planted saplings were broken one after another. Only the crooked trees in front of the manor fence were still dancing like crazy, just like his father, who should have gone to hell, just coming out of the tavern.

"My lord, my armor is all soaked and rotten." The silly servant ran to the knight with the soaked armor in his arms and crying in his throat.

A wooden stick hit the servant's head with a "swish". "I told you! Keep your armor and your sword safe!" the knight cursed angrily, kicked open the bedroom door, and the moment he walked to the balcony, he turned from a furious leopard into a wet, temperless old trout.

"Damn you! You deserve to go to the seven levels of hell, you Trident River!" The knight fell to his knees, splashing water and roaring to the sky.

The morning sun, wearing a long dress of gold, red and purple, looked at the knight's castle with pity, casting a ray of orange light.

As if he felt a burning sensation on his forehead, the knight raised his head, then he was stunned and knelt on the spot.

"Sir, this, this." The servant put down the soaked armor and pointed to the distance of the castle.

The waters of the Green Fork closed in on their outstretched hand, and for the first time in those desperate and anxious days of the Knight and his tenants, showed signs of fatigue, and the river reluctantly receded from the fields, leaving only a trickle of water and white foam clinging to the soft earth and fine soil.

The bubbles reflected a variety of colors, making the fields colorful.

The Green Fork River has receded.

At this moment, everywhere in the Trident River, including its tributaries and main stream, the surrounding peasants, lords, and knights could not help but kneel down to the rising sun.

Attis stood at the bow, with the uneasy and somewhat shy Son of the Forest standing behind him.

The man in blue robe paddled the boat and quickly reached the shore.

Bronze John frowned and approached Attis. He glanced behind the Duke and his eyes widened.

"This, this?" A dark chestnut-skinned dwarf? Tyrion Lannister with big ears?

"Lord Royce," Artis said, pulling out a letter from his arms that looked like a letter, which seemed to be covered with a layer of wrinkled grass. "This letter needs the hard work of the maester and his assistants to copy a hundred copies and have them sent by ravens to the castle of the lord of the riverlands."

What is this? Yohn Royce's attention was so focused on the Child of the Forest behind Artis that he even forgot to ask.

Attis explained for him, turning his head to look at the children of the forest, "The flood in the riverlands is the anger of the gods. If it weren't for the prayers of the children of the forest, the flood would have been difficult to recede."

The Son of the Forest looked up at Attis with a confused look in his eyes. It was obvious that he didn't know that Attis had already solved a necessary problem for the emergence of their tribe.

"They are the children of the forest," said Attis, "they are blessed by the gods and the favorites of nature. Wherever they go, castles and farms will be blessed."

John frowned, thinking subconsciously that Attis's move would not be as simple as it seemed. "The monks may not accept this."

"Find a few monks who are in a bad situation," Artis said, walking onto the shore, "and ask them to explain the doctrine for this move and debate with the monks who live in the towers in Seagull Town and Old Town."

John understood and did not ask the child of the forest where he came from. He turned and left.

The Son of the Forest followed behind Attis, shaking his head and looking around curiously. He probably hadn't seen so many humans in hundreds of years.

"I still don't know your name," Attis said to him.

The Child of the Forest put his legs together, as if standing at attention. "Hail to Artis Arryn, the great leader of the Andals, Lord of the Vale, and trusted ally of the Children of the Forest. You may call me Redvine, ahem, your Green Maester."

Red vines. Attis glanced at the red vines wrapped around his head and said nothing more. "Ships will come one after another. When the letter spreads throughout the riverlands and even the seven kingdoms, the returning knights will escort you to the valley. As for finding a place to live."

"We will sing praises to the earth, and the earth will give us shelter, food and dew." Hongman was in high spirits, with shining eyes.

Attis nodded, said no more, mounted the warhorse brought by the shore guard, reached out his hand to pick up the Child of the Forest, mounted the horse's back, and galloped towards Harrenhal.

"Don't forget the dragon eggs, dragon crystals, and eagles." Atis murmured to the red vine, admonishing her. The child of the forest shook his head, like a sailor's drum beat, "The green prophet has entrusted you with an important task. Time is very tight. I will help you."

The House of Black and White, the holy room at the bottom.

The priest stared at the water in the middle of the pool, which reflected his face.

Countless faces, surrounding the four walls of the pool, were projected onto the water.

Only the priest's face had its eyes open.

"Someone learns to walk silently, but forgets that his steps make the wind," said the pastor.

"Someone" stood behind the priest, "The King of King's Landing is not dead."

The pastor was silent for a moment, "Someone knows."

He turned around and looked at someone, "Sparrow didn't pay the price he deserved."

"Maybe including the cost of deception," someone said.

"This struggle is meaningless. Someone's mission has been accomplished," said the pastor.

"No news from Oldtown."

"Soon." The pastor's tone sounded more confident, but to someone's ears it clearly sounded a bit regretful.

"The King Who Fell into the Sea"

"It's a mistake." The pastor emphasized and stopped talking.

Someone looked at the stove beside the pool, where a dragon egg was quietly placed.

"It's not a mistake," he said with equal certainty, "It will help resolve the blasphemy in the north."

The priest raised his head and looked at the top of the wall.

A human face hung there quietly, with eyes closed, sleeping.

"Westerlod is a rebel, a living dead." The priest's voice was filled with sadness, tears rolling down his cheeks, "It is the greatest blasphemy."

Someone knelt on one knee, "It is someone's duty to grant death rest."

Without waiting for the pastor's instructions, he stood up, his steps still brisk.

The priest's sigh echoed throughout the sanctuary, and the faces on the four walls seemed to open their mouths and sigh with him.

"The living dead awakened in the frost land, the sea monsters hoping to desecrate death." The priest murmured to himself, looking back at the pool sadly. Countless human faces seemed to be filled with deep hatred, solemn or sad.

"My dear elders," the pastor said, "who can teach me how to bless the whole world?"

No one answered except the pastor's own voice echoing.

He looked at the wall, his eyes seemed to be looking towards the west through the heavy stone wall.

King's Landing, Joffrey wakes up from the Red Keep and looks out the window

(End of this chapter)